Out of options

Chapter 1 - Out of Options

You didn’t know what you were getting into when you started dating me, did you?

I’m sure you thought you were the queen of your empire when you met me. I was nearly a decade your junior --- young, inexperienced, gentle, quiet, nerdy, and trying to make my own way in the world as a late 20-something. I had never been much with the ladies --- you could tell that immediately. I was reasonably athletic and had nice features, but I didn’t see that when I looked in the mirror. I never spent much time thinking about my appearance, or trying to dress snappy, or attempting to market myself. I didn’t think about my career success or how much money I made or how good my health insurance was. I had no ego. I was just a happy-go-lucky guy who liked being active outdoors as much as he liked video games. I was just trying to do my best. I had no clue of my value on the dating market.

But you did.

I’m sure you thought you had lassoed the moon when I reciprocated your advances. You thought you had managed to snag a sweet, attractive, innocent young boy who was just happy to receive a woman’s love, no matter her age. Surely, as you showed me off eagerly to your friends, you couldn’t help but think of me as arm candy. After all, they were all in their late 30s like you. All single. All fat. All struggling with low self-esteem, low incomes, and few dating prospects. All acutely aware that time was passing them by.

When you introduced me to them, you saw the quiet, desperate envy behind their smiles, didn’t you? And you enjoyed it. Even if you loved them as friends --- you were riding such a high from getting my attention that you couldn’t help yourself.

Of course, it’s not as if you couldn’t empathize with their struggle. Your life had gotten started late, and it was already headed downhill. Your last “boyfriend” had “dated” you for 5 years before admitting he was afraid to be with a fat woman publicly, even though he lusted after your voluptuous body in private. Here you were --- a loving, sensual, sensitive, loyal woman who just wanted a good man. And because of your weight, none of them men you wanted could see what you had to offer. Oh, how many losers you had thrown yourself at, only to be rejected! How many compromises you had made, how many sacrifices you had offered, how much time you had wasted!

You couldn’t afford to waste much more. Especially with what your recent lab reports were showing. The doctors would do their best to help you, but the disease was going to be long, slow, and inevitable. You could only manage it, never cure it.

Not to mention your financial situation. Forget thriving --- it was barely enough to survive. I saw the stacks of medical bills, late taxes, and student loan collections that you clumsily tried to hide from me every time I visited your dirty apartment. You thought I didn’t know.

But I did.

When you smothered me in luscious kisses, I know you were hoping I’d put you on my health insurance someday. When you offered me your fat pussy on-demand, I know you were thinking ahead to the day you could no longer work and needed my income. When your plump lips closed around my hard cock, you were sucking with the vigor of a woman whose survival was at stake. When you happily let me stuff you, feed you, spoil you, and buy you bigger and bigger clothes, you were thinking about the house I was saving up to buy and the promotion I was working towards. You were thinking about the business ventures I was building, the investments I was making, and above all, you were thinking about how responsible and reliable and wholly devoted to you I had become.

You thought you had it all in the bag.

But there’s just one thing you weren’t thinking about.

And that was me.

See, you were never the one running the show. Sure, I was inexperienced with dating. I’ll give you that. Sure, I was trusting and innocent. Sure, it was easy to for you to set expectations for me. And yes, I was lonely and happy to receive your attention.

You thought you were setting the terms because I was overwhelmed by your love and mesmerized by your beauty. And to be fair, you could be forgiven for thinking that.

You were truly a gorgeous woman, even at your age. When I looked at you, I didn’t see the occasional grey hair or the small wrinkles beginning to form around your tired eyes. I saw the girth of your hips, the fatness of your ass, the roundness of your belly, the thickness of your thighs, and the heft of your breasts. Above all, I was hopelessly addicted to your warm, wet, juicy, dripping, fat pussy. You offered it to me freely whenever I wanted, knowing the effect that would have on my young and sexually-inexperienced body. I craved only you --- I had become incapable of wanting any other woman.

You must have thought you had conquered the world. What woman in your situation wouldn’t feel like a queen?

But I knew what you needed. I knew what you wanted. And I knew it better than you did.

When I added you to my health insurance, you thought were beating the American healthcare system. But I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d be dependent on the care I could provide. When I offered to move you into my home, you cried with relief, hoping that you’d finally be able to save money instead of living paycheck to paycheck. But I knew that once you got used to the standard of living I could provide, you’d never be able to move away. When I took over your finances and titled your car in my name, you thought you were freeing yourself from bothersome responsibilities that weren’t fit for a goddess like yourself. But once you handed over your checkbook and keys, I knew you’d never want them back. When I paid off the last of your student loans with my quarterly bonuses, you thought you’d freed yourself from a mountain of crushing debt. But I knew that you had merely traded one master for another.

And when the day came that you could no longer work, I begged you to stay at home and let me take care of your every need. You were beside yourself with joy, but you missed the glint in my eye. I knew how lazy and spoiled and fat you’d become.

That day is years in the past now. And now….

Now look at you.

You’re a 42-year-old woman whose weight recently surpassed 600 pounds. You haven’t worked in years --- not that your sluggish mind and body could handle any sort of employment at this point. You are wholly dependent on me, and my cock stiffens with pride and lust every time I think about your helplessness. Over the years, I’ve watched with joy as your whole body has softened, widened, thickened, and expanded due to my persistent love. You’re wheezing, tired, lazy, and pinned to the couch by the weight of your massive body. Due to my constant feeding, your belly has inflated like a balloon. It now sags heavily between your legs, like a gigantic beach ball full of dough, pushing your tree-trunk thighs further and further apart each day. Your enormous breasts rest in front of you, their weight counteracting your belly’s constant attempts to expand upwards as it grows. The pressure makes you burp and fart frequently, but you stopped trying to restrain yourself in that regard long ago. A girl who’s let herself go this badly can’t be troubled with such things. Besides, at your current size, I can usually make you burp or fart on command by simply pressing lovingly on your bloated gut.

Your ass was always my pride and joy, the crown jewel of your voluptuous physique. It was delightfully plump, round, wide, thick, and hefty, easily destroying nearly every pair of jeans I bought for you. I always loved being behind you, grasping your buttocks firmly, feeling my hands dig deeply into the luscious flesh as I entered you. Now it's three times its former size, rapidly spreading to fill the couch and is clearly starting to force your body forwards. Your buttocks have become two gigantic globular masses of female flesh, stuffed with fat to the point that they look ready to burst. Your asscrack looks like a tight vertical belt that your cheeks are ready to split in two. Riding you is a heavenly experience, as I can nearly support myself entirely on your backside. You can barely waddle around my house thanks to the enormous cushion you carry behind you.

You’ve gained weight so rapidly and become so submissive that at this point, it feels like your body is just a bag for me to stuff more and more fat into. I feed you enormous meals by hand, and almost overnight, I feel the changes in your body. Sometimes it feels as if I could just shove my hand down your throat and stuff you like a pillow to the point of bursting.

Soon the day will come when you can no longer move on your own. Perhaps another hundred pounds or so will do the trick. I dream often of what your body will look like when that day comes --- how your belly will hang to the floor, how your hips and thighs and ass will spread to take up most of the couch, how your breasts will rise and squish up around your neck and cheeks, how your cheeks will be so fat you may not be able to open your eyes fully. Don’t worry --- I have plans for that, my darling. You will be fully cared for.

Please remember --- I do love you. I adore you. I’m more in love with you now than the day we met. And I suppose that if you woke up tomorrow and decided that you didn’t want to get any fatter, I would respect your wishes. I may be a sly and relentless feeder, but I am not an abusive one.

But I know you’ll never do that. You’ll sit here happily on the couch as I funnel gallons of fattening liquid down your throat, your belly swelling and gurgling and pushing forward. It doesn’t matter how heavy and labored your breathing becomes, or how hard it is for you to stay awake nowadays due to the constant food coma I keep you in. It doesn’t matter if you’re happy with the fact that I’ve taken to bathing and cleaning you and helping you relieve yourself. It doesn’t matter if the hundreds of pounds I’m adding to your body will render you immobile long before your disease will.

You’ll never want to leave me.

Because the day you do, you are thrust back into the cold, cruel, harsh reality of having to survive entirely on your own.

And aside from me, what options would you ever have?