Chapter 4 - Matthew's POV

I groan as I wake up, grateful but simultaneously disappointed to see another day. I slip my CPAP mask off my face and prepare myself to get out of bed. I grunt as I roll and shift around in bed, struggling heavily to get up. My 5’7 frame flails helplessly for a few seconds as I attempt to roll over. I wheeze and gasp hard, sweating from every roll and fold as I manage to roll myself onto my side. I wiggle the bottom half of my body towards the floor as carefully as possible. I groan as my toes and feet touch the carpet of my room and prepare to heft myself to my sore feet. I rock back and forth a few times before finally getting the momentum to get to my swollen, fat feet.

The effort of just getting out of bed has drained me and the day hasn’t even started. Before getting to my computer I pass by a full body mirror and cringe. I must have swelled past 850 pounds by now, my medium-dark brown body ripples and wobbles as I waddle across the room to my computer like I do every morning and turn it on. Just going across my room has been difficult to do for the last few months but I don’t even want to know how much I weigh. The mere thought of possibly being over 850 pounds makes me want to cry, followed by the need to stuff myself stupid so I don’t think about anything. So I follow that need instead. I pick up my phone from my computer desk and start scrolling through places to eat, sitting down on my computer stool.

As I’m looking through places to eat I get a message on discord from one of my feeders and I cringe. I don’t hate the guy, he’s nice but I often feel conflicted taking his money for food when I’m not into this kink. I think. I tap on his message and its a general good morning message followed by him asking how I’m doing this morning. I tell him I woke up starving and not even a few minutes later he’s sent me 200 bucks for food. I shoot him a quick thank you message before settling on getting breakfast from Denny’s today. The total rounds out to $170 after tax and without hesitation I complete the order. I take a closer look at whoever accepted my order and I recognize the name from several other times this week. Angel.

I keep that name in the back of my head since it’s shown up so many times. I put my phone back on my desk and log into my computer. I check my twitter and I’m immediately inundated with feederism and fat fetish content. Most of me is disgusted by the content I see in general but lately…there’s been a few things about both that have given me some pause. As much as I hate being the size I am, there’s not much else I can do. I’ve tried everything but surgery and I swore to never go that route. There’s been more times than not that I figured if I became immobile I wouldn’t have to do much of anything anymore. My dad always had us and the nurses to look after him until he passed so immobility can’t be so bad.

I quickly push that thought from my head again, not wanting to let it linger. I figure since I have about an hour until my food gets here, I might as well try and shower despite always ending up sweaty less than 10 minutes later. I heft myself up and begin the long trek to the bathroom. Every step feels like an eternity as I gasp and wheeze, barely 10 steps away from my room and I have to stop to catch my breath. As I lean against the wall I whimper softly not only from the pain shooting up my legs but from the fact that my dick is hard. This is the 3rd time this week that this has happened to me and its been humiliating every time. I try to will myself to go soft out of sheer humiliation that my own fat wobbling against my dick has made me stiff.

“God damnit go soft already!” I wheeze to no avail, only making my member jump at the sound of my own soft wheezing.

I force myself to continue towards the bathroom in hopes that I go soft like both times before. My heart thumps out of my chest as I waddle along and I feel my dick throb in time to my thudding heart. I can’t help but to whimper the entire way down the hall, feeling my dick start leaking pre cum as it jumps. Fuck. I can already feel my orgasm starting to build as I inch ever closer to the bathroom door. I try my best to waddle faster but feel my left leg, my heavier leg, nearly give out. I wheeze and gasp in pain but my dick throbs hard in response, making me groan. I waddle at the sluggish pace from before and I can already feel my dick is nearly on the cusp of exploding deep in my lard. I manage to make it to the entrance of the bathroom door before having to stop again.

I lean against the well worn double wide door and wheeze endlessly, my dick throbbing and leaking profusely. The longer I stand here and wheeze the closer I get to cumming. I force myself to take the last few steps to the shower area next to the toilet and manage to plop myself onto the built-in bench. That’s when it hits me, a combination of the fat wobbling against my dick and my own desperate gasping sends me over the edge. I whimper and wheeze hard as my smothered nub spurts into my fupa. I can’t help but to rock my hips into my fat as I tug on my nipples and that makes me cum even harder. This is possibly the hardest I’ve ever came! My heart continues to thud in my chest as I see stars, still wheezing for air. I whine as my nub throbs deep in my flab before softening and receding even further into my fatpad.

A wave of euphoria and calm washes over me and I bask in it temporarily before a crushing block of humiliation and shame drops onto me.

I’m doomed to live a life of overwhelming obesity and instead of trying to lose weight, I’m starting to get horny over my own fat. A wave of disgust comes over me and I hardly even feel like washing myself anymore but I’ve gotten this far. I power through my shame and embarrassment to turn on the shower, warm water flowing over my rolls and folds. I huff and puff as I soap up and as I wash I find myself getting hard all over again. By the time I’m finally finished showering I’m starting to sweat again, my legs are swollen and hurt, and my dick is still hard. With a resigned sigh I grab onto the steel support rails in my shower area and lumber to my feet, towel in tow. I wince in pain, followed by a whimper because my nub throbs in response to the pain shooting up my legs.

I huff and start my trek back to my room. I manage to make it to the bathroom door again before having to stop. I wheeze and gasp, sweat pouring from every roll just from that short walk. I push myself off the doorway and make the arduous waddle to my room down the hall. I pant as I shuffle forward and my buried nub starts to dribble with precum the closer to my bedroom I get. It feels like an eternity until I reach my bedroom and I hurriedly waddle across my room to my bed. I “gently” drop onto my sunken mattress and cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure, my dick leaking and legs throbbing simultaneously.

My phone buzzes on my computer desk and I groan. As quickly as I can manage I dry all the essential rolls and folds, namely my overhang and blubbery thighs. I get up and waddle to my dresser, grabbing a pair of shorts and a shirt. I put on my shorts first followed by my shirt that I find out is too small by at least 2 sizes but I don’t have any other clean ones. Fuck. I guess I’ll just look like an overgrown slob today. My phone buzzes again and I waddle over to look at it. It’s a dasher that I’ve had nearly everyday this week and they’re already outside. I hear a knock on the distant front door and I grunt. Hunger roars through my belly at the mention of food and I begin my trek to the front door.

I put my phone onto my desk and shuffle to the hallway. I go right past the bathroom and make a beeline for the living room. I have to stop and take a break at the couch, leaning over it and gasping heavily. I even cough a few times between wheezes as I struggle to catch my breath from what should be a 30 second walk. I hear another knock from the nearby front door and I look up at it, wiping sweat from my forehead. My near knee slapping belly growls loudly as if it demands I go and open the door now instead of taking another minute to catch my breath.

I stand upright and wince, my back muscles aching and twitching from the strain of carrying my weight. I start waddling for the front door and open it, wheezing and sweating still. On the other side is my delivery guy and he’s cute. Seemingly disgusted but cute. His name from earlier rings in my head. “Angel”. He’s sure got an angelic face.

His eyes are dark brown and almond shaped. “Part Asian maybe? Possibly Caribbean though.” I think to myself. He’s significantly shorter than me but I find that cute too. His hair is cut short, edges lined up and hair moisturized. Angel is a little lighter than I am, a more red undertone tinting is medium-brown skin. Given how short he is he’s pretty muscular under the chubbiness, his forearms and biceps thick as they grip my food bags. He looks quite surprised to finally see the person he’s been delivering all this food to.

“O-order for Matthew Blanche?” He asks and I reach forward for the bags in his hand. He revolts back probably out of sheer horror that he’s seen me so desperate for food. I’m a little frustrated that he’s not handing over the bags and snap at him.

“Please just hand me my food! This happens with every fucking delivery driver, I swear…” I wheeze out as I shuffle a little closer to grab the bags.

“Forget it, just bring the bags inside for me.” I pants at him from the doorway, struggling to stand upright and turn around.

I feel his shorter frame under my right arm and the strain on my back and knees is immediately lifted. I look down at my delivery driver and he beams right back at me, seemingly happy to be helping me. I can’t help but to feel a little upset at how this stranger assumes I’m too fat to help myself. I mean he’s right, but all I need is my friend Persephone to help me when she’s around. I can get by on my own.

“W-why are you helping me? Do I really look like that much of a helpless whale to you?!” I pant in the delivery driver’s face, every word struggling to leave my mouth as I waddle around a corner and into the main hallway.

“I wouldn’t say helpless but in need of some support on that poor back? I’m surprised you don’t have a walker or something to help you get around easier.” I feel a pang of guilt pierce my heart because he’s right. Before my father became immobile he used walkers, canes, walkers, wheelchairs, mobility scooters and eventually cranes of course.

As we walk down my hallway my left leg begins to really swell with pain and I have to stop. I take my arm off of Angel’s shoulder. I lean against the wall by the bathroom and gasp for air, sucking it in desperately before gathering the strength to continue. I put my arm back around Angel’s shoulders and we continue on. I still wheeze and pant by the time we make it to my bedroom door and I waddle in, settling in my computer chair. Angel hands me my bags and my stomach groans loudly in approval.

My brain is suddenly empty as the smell of fried food fills my nostrils. I start digging in, forgetting about Angel entirely as he stands there. I chow down for a minute or two before I hear Angel begin to walk out of the room. I look up and open one of the drawers in my desk and grab an 8th I never smoked followed by a $10. I call him back and hold it out to him, hoping that he smokes.

“Is that my tip? Well that’s a first!” Angel chuckles, stepping over the mountains of trash in my room to retrieve it. His eyes light up not upon seeing the $10 but upon seeing the 8th included. Both the 8th of weed and the 10 bucks disappear from my hand and into Angel’s back pocket.

“It’s the least I can do for snapping at you earlier and still helping me into the house… It hasn’t been too much fun spending most of my time alone at this size. Roommate works a lot and all that.” My eyes drift down to the food bags resting on my belly shelf and I begin to cry. Even if I become immobile I’ll be alone all day. I reach into one of the bags and pick up a burger, unwrapping it and bite into it.

“Hey, I know I’m just some doordasher but if you ever need any help or want to get to know each other I can totally give you my personal number.” Angel says to me, taking his phone out of his denim pocket and holding it out to me. I look at him skeptically as I continue to inhale my burger and fries.

“...Fine. It’s not looking good for me since I don’t even know how big I am and struggle doing everything now. Give me your number.” I grab my phone from my computer desk, handing it over while Angel hands me his phone.
We exchange numbers and now just like that I’ve possibly got a new friend. Angel and I say our goodbyes before he leaves. I turn my attention to the bags of food on my gut and moan as the burgers, fries, and chicken nuggets are packed into my belly. I suck down the 2 milkshakes and 38oz soda I ordered, followed by an order of 10 chicken fingers and a large side of fries. As I make my way through all this food my dick throbs to life and dribbles precum the more stuffed I feel. By the end of it all I’m soaked down there and absolutely stuffed but my stomach growls. I’m distracted by my phone buzzing with a message and I pick it up.

“I know you’re a gamer too so I have to ask, do you play any multiplayer horror games?” Angel’s message reads. A warm flush goes through my body as I read and I can’t help but to smile. This is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

“I've only played phasmo but I heard devour is pretty good! We can play sometime soon if you add me on steam. Here’s my friend code: xxxxxxxx” I reply back after looking up my friend code in the steam client.

I put my phone back onto my desk and lean back, absolutely wiped from the day I’ve had despite not doing much at all. My mind drifts to Angel and what he’s possibly doing right now. From the back of my head the thought of Angel feeding me beyond my limits takes over and makes my dick throb to life yet again. I try to push that thought out of my mind before it lingers and becomes a full blown fantasy.

I try to distract myself with a game but the thought of Angel feeding and fucking me to immobility makes me hard as diamond. I can feel a wave of embarrassment and shame wash over me again as this thought blossoms into a full fantasy. Flashes of Angel taking off his shirt to press against my bloated, sloshing, immobile body make my dick throb. I whimper as I throb, reaching my hands up to my tits to tug on my nipples. I buck my hips into my lard and cry out as I imagine Angel on his back with my dick inside of his hole.

I wheeze and pant pathetically as I struggle to fuck my own fat. I can feel my orgasm just on the horizon but unfortunately the longer I go, the less I’m able to fuck my fat. I have to stop after a few minutes because I’m breathing so goddamn hard.

“I’m such a useless ***. I can’t even get myself off without being too fat to do it.” I think to myself but I’m caught off guard by my dick throbbing at the harsh words I lob at myself.

My hands wander back to my tits and I begin to play with them again. Instead of my own voice narrating the degrading words it’s Angel’s this time and I can’t help but to dribble precum into my blubber. Clips of Angel calling me a wheezing blob of lard or a wallowing pig make me throb so hard I swear I see stars. I can’t help but to rut against my wobbling fupa and I near immediately cum, my nub spurting and throbbing against its flabby prison. As I tug on my nipples and grind into my fat, I cum a second time from the sound of my own labored wheezing. I finally stop cumming and my hands drop from my nipples, my nub receding even further into its lardy home.
“Fuck…maybe I should just get fatter. I don’t know if Angel likes bigger guys but I might as well try and ask him…” I wonder out loud to myself, panting softly as I come down. I put that thought out of my head completely out of fear that Angel will reject me. As tears well up in my eyes my stomach roars with hunger, making me sob harder.