chapter 4

Look. I'm not a mastermind, okay? I didn't mean to make it seem as if I had orchestrated some perfect plot that I knew would end up where it did. I'm not like the woman that was in the news a while back for being a serial fattener. Mrs. Wider? Ms. Large? Big. Bigger.

Madame Bigger.

But the way things turned out, maybe I'm more like her than I realize.

You see, a little over eighteen months after the dinner at our apartment, Neil was, well, he couldn't-

He was immobile.

There, I said it. I had fattened him up so much, that his weight was pinning him to the bed. It certainly didn't creep up on us. When he started to crest 600 pounds, we began to make preparations. We realized that caring for Neil was now impossible for one person to handle on their own. We couldn't just leave Mallory with the burden of looking after Neil after we (sort of) tricked her into falling in love with him.


At least, this was how I sold it to Trent. I explained to him that Neil and Mallory were our piggies. They were our responsibility because of what we had done to them. Without our influence, they may have led normal lives at normal weights. We owed it to them to minimize the negative impact of our actions.

For a moment, Trent was skeptical. I laid it out for him as simply as I could, but it wasn't until after I made it clear that he and I could still be together openly, that he was on board.

So the fattening continued. We had instilled in them a sexual need for food and fullness. We had reprogrammed our lovers to grow without constraint and to openly accept the means with which they expanded the reach of their width.

With all of our incomes combined, we bought a home large enough for the four of us.

Getting Neil into the upstairs bedroom was a task, but we made it happen. It was almost like getting a Volkswagon to the second floor, but he still had use of his own legs at the time, so that helped. But once we squeezed him through the bedroom doorway and eased him onto his bariatric bed, that was the last time he bothered walking.

We've made accommodations and are diligent about keeping him clean and free of sores, but for the most part, the bed is where he stays.

Having Neil upstairs was tricky for Mallory. By the time we moved into the house, she was around 450, so she usually stayed put for long periods of time. When we talked about getting another bed in Neil's room for Mallory, she was against it. And I could see why.

She was scared. A new bed like the one Neil lives on, would be disastrous for her. Sure, she was already fat, but if she were to get too comfortable in any one spot in the house, and if she was no longer receiving the health benefits of going up and down stairs throughout every day, then just about every calorie she consumed would expand her already expansive form.

So against her protests, we got the bed anyway.

Which brings us to today.

"Are you ready?" I ask Mallory as she sits on the couch. Trent walks up behind me and places his hands on my narrow shoulders. As we await her answer, we take her in.

A week and a half ago, she clocked in at 572 pounds. And though I know she's now a great deal heavier than that, I can't put a precise number on it. Her breasts are like slightly smaller versions of her immense belly, creating a trifecta of bulbous, fatty, flesh leading her everywhere she goes (in the rare occasion she goes anywhere at all). Likewise, on the southern hemisphere of her celestial body, is her enormous ass. Like Neil before her, she's reached a point where the sofa is more accurately a chair, leaving next to zero room for anyone else to squeeze in on either side of her hips.

She looks down at the body we have helped her achieve. Her hands sweetly slide over the rounded edges of her body as she takes a moment to fully realize her new dimensions.

Mallory pauses for a moment and rests her hands and arms on the platform of her immense belly. She takes a deep breath through her nose, and simultaneously breathes out through both her nose and her ass.

A drawn out muffled groan of a fart slowly pours from her ass cheeks. It lasts longer than I anticipate and we smile at Mallory with pride as she blushes with embarrassment.

I cover my nose and smile as I tell her: "You and Neil were made for each other."

She lowers her gaze and smiles discreetly before looking back up to us. She nods before letting us know: "I'm ready."

Getting Mallory off the couch turned out to be a foreboding indication of the obstacle to come. I took point, supporting Mallory from the front and steadily guiding her upwards while I ascended the stairs backwards and held her arms.

Trent took the rear and pushed against her sofa-sized butt, providing the support she needed to climb upwards.

More than a few times, Mallory accidentally farted on Trent, but he was understanding and she was apologetic. I was just thankful I was smart enough to be on the proper end of a true fatty. Trent still had a thing or two to learn.

We reach the second floor and guide Mallory to a reinforced bench we had installed for Neil's journey to the top. She eases her mass upon it and leans back, allowing her body to breathe. Insidious rumbles emanate from her enormous belly and her body works on her most recent meal. Soon, those insidious rumbles become insidious releases.

For a moment, I think it's the wide and bolted-down bench groaning from the effort of having to support such an enormous woman, but I soon realize it's the gas escaping from underneath her, rocking the very foundation of our home.

Trent and I trade glances as I fan my nose and he pinches his. "Sounds like she's ready," I say to Trent loud enough for Mallory to hear.

"Smells like it too," he concludes, his voice muffled by his hand covering all points through which he can inhale.

He and I each take an arm and an elbow, Mallory unexpectedly engulfing both of us as we bring her to her feet. She lumbers towards the bedroom door as Trent and I follow her. I lean ahead and grab the knob. I turn it and shove open the door, revealing Neil's half-ton body.

Neil's bed begins to lean him forward so he can see who is entering his room. He's able to control his bed with subtle gestures and finger movements.

Mallory's bed has the same amenities.

"Hey baby," Mallory huffs to Neil as she turns sideways to squeeze through the doorway while Neil watches. After some wiggling and shoving, Mallory shuffles to her bed and stands against the edge of it before slowly rotating her fat body. Trent and I help her ease into a sitting position. She begins to slide back onto the bed, her body wobbling with every shift in weight. Her belly doesn't shake so much as undulates as she settles into her permanent spot for the foreseeable future.

"Do you feel that hole beneath you?" I ask, concerned, so she knows this is information she needs to listen to.

She nods, the fat framing her face morphing with even the most subtle of head movements.

I reach to a control panel beside her bed and press a button.

"Ooh!" she shouts as the device that will now serve as both her toilet and her bidet slowly rises up against her ass, between her cheeks, and deep into her flesh, reducing the speed of its approach as it begins to breach her anus and twat. She moans at the sensation I cannot see but know she is experiencing.

And yes, this device sort of acts as her vibrator as well.

See, up to this point, accommodations for immobile fat people have been reactionary. But if you were expecting such accommodations for a woman or man that you just knew would someday outgrow their ability to walk and had enough time to prep, well...you could do wonders for your fatty.

"Rest up," I tell Mallory as I stroke her hair. Her eyelids appear heavy as she lazily looks over to me and smiles. "Your next meal is in ninety minutes. Plenty of time for a restorative sleep."

Mallory closes her eyes and nods, her smile remaining as she drifts off to sleep.

I press another button that causes the bed to revert to a more horizontal position and watch Mallory's fat upper body slowly lay back, already grunting from the euphoric pleasure of sleep after immense exertion.

"Mallory's staying in here now?" Neil asks. "With me?"

I had forgotten about him, absorbed by mine and Trent's latest accomplishment. I slowly turn and give him a friendly smile to put his mind at ease.

"She's gotten too fat to make regular visits up and down the stairs, so we all came to an agreement that this was the best for both of you and your budding relationship," I explain, almost condescendingly but mostly just trying to be as comforting as possible.

Neil closes his eyes and moans contentedly. A muffled fart eases its way from beneath his incredible bulk. He takes a deep breath and moans again, only louder. "She's going to love it," he says dreamily as he drifts off, a gentle snore confirming that he had indeed passed out and would be out till the next meal.

We keep their sleep patterns irregular, as that has had a proven effect on weight gain in numerous studies. This sleep will be ninety minutes. But the next one could be anywhere from three hours to ten. As long as the body cannot rely on a regular feeding pattern, it will store as much fat as possible as energy reserves.

Basically, Neil and Mallory's bodies are in a constant state of preparation for a famine that never comes.

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