chapter 19 - descent

Two years passed in a pattern for Tiffany. On most days, she would wake up around noon, her husband already prepared with her first several meals of the day. Every day her hunger dragged her from sleep, stabbing at her cavernous belly, accompanied her at every moment of the day, and jabbed at her while she passed out in a food coma at the end of it all. The entire time a little voice or feeling was shrieking in her brain that it was time to continue the cycle. To consume. In the past, even as she was starting to pack on real weight, she had demanded options and selection in what she ate. These days however she was given no options, she had no selection. The reason was twofold: as a now mostly immobile giant mass of a woman, she wasn't in much of a position to do anything about it if she didn't want a specific food. That however was overridden by the fact that there wasn't anything which she wasn't constantly in the mood to eat anymore. She had achieved bottomless pit status. A constant stream of calories were required to fill her stomach to the brim. Even a 10 minute deviation from that state caused her brain to lash out in anger, jolts of hunger pangs coursing through her body - an almost instantaneous state of withdrawal that would make her cranky and desperate to put anything and everything into her body to make the feeling subside.

After waking up to be fed and being helped by her husband into the bathroom, she would relieve herself and then sit on the reinforced bench in their newly expanded shower, while Chris washed her - taking great care to gently scrub between her deep and sensitive fat folds. This was a long process of cleaning and drying but for a woman of her size it was a reality and necessity to keep her hygenic. The first few times it happened were almost enough to snap Tiffany out of her trance. Being scrubbed down like an animal in a zoo, needing to pause between so she could shovel more food down her gullet. She eventually came to not only accept that she had devolved to a more primitive state of existence, but she reveled in it. The kink that had been carefully conditioned and then unleashed deep within her over the past several years transformed her into a beast of pure drive for sex and food. Eating was sex, sex was eating, and her entire existence had become a revolving door of pleasure that was sexually charged no matter what she did.

Some days, while washing his enormous wife, Chris would *** right there in their giant shower. The process for intercourse had also become more animalistic in nature. It was no longer a deeply emotional and sensual experience. It was an uncontrollable urge that they each shared pretty much 24/7 in each other's presence. In the past, Chris would engage in foreplay to warm Tiffany up a bit and get them both in the mood. Now most mornings while scrubbing his wife silently in the shower the sound of heavy and belabored breathing would raise in volume from Tiffany. At a glance, her husband would be frantically pushing her mass of blubber aside and thrusting inside her. It was usually quick and almost violent. They barely ever spoke during this, the shower became a low chorus of grunts and moans mixed with the sound of running water. Upon finishing, the two would simply return to the routine of washing, as casually as someone might stop to scratch an itch and then go back to whatever they were doing. With the kids now in daycare and school, Chris working from home 100% of the time, there was now time throughout the day to spontaneously fuck like rabbits. The detachment of it was exciting to the both of them in itself. It wasn't that they had any less love or any less of a romantic connection than when they married, it was simply that they were both so sexually charged at all hours of the day that they had long since dropped the pretense in order to satisfy their urges with as little disruption to the overarching routine of feeding as possible.

Tiffany's thoughts had become more focused and simple. She used to easily be distracted by casual hobbies, maybe some celebrity gossip, politics and world news. Those distractions were now a massive burden which she had carefully removed from her life. For the most part throughout the day her mind was focused on food and sex. This had begun to have a mildly detrimental effect on her friendship with Katelyn, as the two didn't speak nearly as much while watching television and chowing down together as they once had. Neither girl had really acknowledged the change however, they were both comfortable enough simply having another *** in the room with them that social interaction had become a bit of a chore.

The growth Tiffany and Katelyn had experienced was lopsided and had slowed as the two hit different weight barriers. Katelyn had always enjoyed a significant size discrepancy with Tiffany, even as Tiffany doubled in size. Just a few years ago when her friend had rocketed past 350 and then 400 pounds, she had already managed to top 450 and then 500 herself. Oddly, that's around where she seemed to max out. Curtis might have been a major enabler but she had always done the majority of the work. It seemed that she had found a balance between what she enjoyed eating in a given day vs. the amount of calories it took to sustain her body weight. She watched in nervous curiosity however as her best friend steadily caught up. 400 turned into 450, turned into 500, turned into 550, turned into 590 pounds. Katelyn was not only no longer heavier than Tiffany, but she was noticeably smaller when sitting next to her. Her appetite - always the larger and more bottomless of the two looked reserved and modest by comparison to what her friend had become.

Tiffany had long since begun to ignore the numbers on the scale. She had lost most of her mobility aside from belabored shuffles from one room to another, to and from her mobility scooter, etc. A while ago her weight had tantalized her - there was something so scandalous about growing past 200, then 300 pounds. Willfully becoming a fat whale of a housewife and secretly enjoying every second of it. That novelty had worn off. She had no ambition for a weight goal, simply "bigger" and "heavier". She had been relieved of any fear that might have given her an upper limit. It was unimportant what she weighed, because whatever it was wasn't quite enough, and never would be again.

She was a sight to behold perched on the couch as Chris entered one afternoon. The sofa which had been custom reinforced by Chris and Curtis was originally a spacious 3 seater. Tiffany's flabby body would plop heavily in the center of the cushions, and in the following seconds as her fat form oozed and wobbled outwards it reached a position where she only had about a foot's worth of clearance from her love handles between either arm rest. It had occurred to her that if she ate enough, she would become constrained by the sides of a couch made for three people, which of course drenched her pussy, buried deep under layer upon layer of blubber and folds. She had given up on wearing clothing - bending and lifting enough to get clothing around her was no longer physically possible with her extreme lack of fitness. She was not nearly strong enough to hold and contort her body into the positions necessary to do so. She was living out of large mumus for modesty's sake whenever Katelyn and the kids were around. When it was just her and Chris in the house she didn't bother with clothing of any kind.

That was how she appeared on the couch - a naked pile of human flesh vaguely resembling the figure of a female - contorted and exaggerated beyond belief by the results of her gluttony. Her neck was swallowed when her fat upper torso and shoulders merged with the blubber drooping down from her face, creating a deep fat roll between her python thick double chin and collarbone blubber. Her tits had progressed to simply two fat, flat and wide tubes of stretchmarked blubbery flesh that hung far to the left and right of her belly and were capable of making contact with her thighs. Her belly was a prominent protruding dome coated in deep red and long stretch marks, and creased in multiple places by canyon-like folds. A combination of her belly size, the enormous expansion of her fupa, and the width that her thighs had taken on meant that she perpetually sat with her legs akimbo, spreading them as far apart as they were willing to go in order to accommodate her growing flab. Though her thighs in this seated position were completely covered by her belly, when she and Chris worked hard to heave it up so he could mount her, it revealed that her thighs had developed fat, deep, blubber rolls in multiple spaces on the inside and outside. They had a uniform texture of well whipped up cottage cheese and were a mesmerizing sight to behold.

It wasn't just that her body was a temple - a living testament to excess and intentional morbid obesity, it was also the little things. She had always had a thin and pretty face. She was now an unrecognizably puffy marshmallow. Fat encased her head, formed into several permanent rolls on the back of her neck up the back of her head, her ears had the perceptible pressure of fat from the widened sides of her face pushing against them, her cheeks were like two slabs of ham jostling up and down - the only clear indicator that she was chewing, since her jaw line had long since disappeared under layer upon layer of fat. Her fingers and toes had grown so plump that she was unable to straighten them together, as the fat at the base of the appendages prevented them from pressing flush up against each other. At her wrist and elbow were huge creases, and large overhanging folds of flesh. The same was present at the dimples where her knees had once been visible, and her calf blubber flowed over the crease at her ankles so far that it had become a very real tripping hazard.