chapter 3

At the far end of your property, sat a shed. This shed looked normal, but inside it underneath old tools and boxes, was a metal hatch. Lucia was out with some friends for the day, and you knew she’d have a blast at brunch and doing some shopping. She had once again outgrown her wardrobe.

Opening the hatch and stepping down led to a dark viewing area, which you lit up with lights. The room was lavish, with many expensive amenities. On the far end of the room were large glass windows, the darkness beyond them. Condensation gathered on them, as if the area ahead was hot and steamy. Activating more lights, the exhibit beyond the glass lit up.

To the untrained eye, it was a mass of white flesh. Pale, white, pasty flesh that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Skin with stretchmarks covering it, rolls red with irritation, and all very sweaty.
So sweaty.
A large tarp held the mass above a grated floor. This allowed it to be easily cleaned without water building up. Many medical tubes and hoses and whatnot connected the blob to machines. Machines keeping it alive. A tube led down from the ceiling into its mouth, pumping god knows what into it.

This was your cash cow.

Cameras in the room captured every moment of this flesh piles life, and streaming it on the dark web resulted in very large donations from shady people and organizations. Your cash cow made you good money, and enabled you to live the life you did with Lucia. But it wasn’t just for money. You loved this. Yes, 250 pounds wasn’t enough for you. Neither was 350, or even 450. You needed higher weights, 800, 900, even half a ton. The rolls in front of you last weighed in at 1100 pounds a year ago, and was surely heavier now. It’s name was Stephanie, and it was a hot little Italian number with an hourglass body and olive colored skin. Much like Lucia, you doted on it and nurtured it until it passed the point of no return, and then you locked it away underground and let it fester into a blob that had so much fat packed onto it that it became blind, deaf, and mute. Beautiful skin had now been stretched and torn by overflowing adipose, once tan colored was now as white as a cloud. Fingers that had once wrapped around your c*ck now overflowed with lard, fingernails fallen off from the fat pushing below. Once gorgeous black hair, long and full, had now mostly fallen out, the fat cells on its head overtaking it. Lips that had kissed you on the aisle once, now permanently pushed out around a feeding tube, unable to stop the flow.

It had no dignity left, as you watched the mass that you once called Stephanie relieve itself onto the grated floor. So weak was it that it lacked the muscles inside to hold back any waste. It was not in control of what went inside it and couldn’t stop anything coming out. A hard spray of water cleaned it off. Long ago you would sensually clean its rolls in the shower, spending all night under the water. Now it was sprayed off like a dirty car.

You were well aware of its degraded health, and it couldn’t survive many more heart attacks. At that point, your viewers would need new material, lest their money stop coming in.



Poor Lucia.