Chapter 10 - heavy(er)

For those of you who have read through the first volume of my first gaining "memoir" and followed my story from the beginning, you may remember my writing about really "feeling the weight" once I'd grown to about 350 pounds. Although I'd continually been growing, at a certain point it just really seemed to hit me, to really have an impact on my daily life. I really FELT heavier, like the reality of it had snuck up on me, and the impact of being a big fatty really took effect. I felt heavier, slower, and bigger - far more so than I'd felt even just 25 pounds earlier.

The same kind of sensation manifested itself as I hit around 475 pounds in the Fall. Now, don't get me wrong, there was no way to mistake that I was a big, fat guy before this. But sometime after passing 450 pounds, I really started to FEEL like I was BIG. Not just a big, slow, out-of-shape fat man - I started to feel like a gigantic, blob-like pig of a man. Or maybe more of a blubber-laden beached whale.

It's really hard to put into words what this feeling was like, but it really became apparent at certain times, while performing certain tasks. I already felt really heavy, of course, and I was obviously a lot slower than I'd been in the past. But now I felt very, very heavy and slow. My waddle had grow quite pronounced, much to the delight of my feeder, and to the concern of co-workers and relatives. I often needed help getting up from our couch now, which was not only a nuisance, but was kind of embarrassing.

Part of it was due to my increasing weight, obviously, but it was also due to my increasing size, too. My body was growing like a balloon, and that presented an interesting series of challenges. I spend a lot of time at work, and at home, using desktop computers, or laptops in a docking station. I really noticed my increasing girth as my belly pushed me further and further away from the keyboard as I gained more weight. The fat accumulating at my sides, combined with the growing thickness of my arms didn't help matters, making it harder to reach the keyboard around my body. My moobs, usually held tightly up against my body in chest compression undershirts, further complicated things, creating another obstacle for my seemingly shrinking arms to reach around in order to type. Using the computer became a tiring exercise.

Reaching for anything started to become more of a chore, to be honest. Even reaching the dinner table was getting difficult. With my belly pressed against the table, or bulging over the edge of it, forcing me to sit further back, my reach to the table was pretty limited. I usually brought my plates of food up onto my chest while eating for easier access (as well as to avoid dropping food my chest, which happened pretty regularly).

Limited reach created a lot of other challenges. I'd had to request assistance in tying my shoelaces for quite awhile, things like that. As I got bigger, getting dressed required some assistance at times as well. Washing was starting to become a bit of a problem, and I really needed help to really get dried off well.

You know you're fat when you have "helpers" to reach things. By helpers, I mean basically glorified sticks with hooks (or other things) on the ends of them. I could no longer reach the high rack in the closets, with my big belly and wide hips preventing me from getting close enough, so I used the stick to reach clothes which were hung up high, and pull them down. My wife got another "helper" so I could pick things up off the floor. I had similar devices to reach other things, for other purposes... I won't dwell on it, you can use your imagination.

Walking was growing more difficult, even just standing up seemed to tire me out more. But walking and standing were easy compared to stairs! Stairs had been a pain for awhile, but I'd grown to truly dread them. I became very good at planning my activities so that I would have to make one trip up the stairs to go to bed at night. We moved my home office from the second floor down to the main floor to minimize the number of trips I'd have to make. A side benefit of this was that my computer was now much closer to the kitchen (heh heh!).

One of the things that has really amused me over the course of my gaining has been how much higher I sit. My butt has accumulated its fair share of my increased poundage, and when I sat on a hard surface the added padding on my fat butt would prop me up a little higher. My increased width was more of a problem, though. We had a love seat in our house that, by the time I'd passed 450 lbs, I almost completely filled up, which I thought was neat. Not so neat was my recliner. The recliner that I loved to sit in and watch TV had grown very tight. My hips and thighs were squeezed tightly in between the chair's arms, bulging over them. It was getting less comfortable as I continued to grow, but my wife liked it, especially when I'd find myself wedged in and stuck. She had free reign to grope at me, tease me, and I was powerless to do anything about it.

My wife really enjoyed this aspect of my gain, she loved it. She was always very attentive in helping me, in typing shoes, getting dressed, and doing household chores that were just too demanding for my growing body. But she also delighted in seeing me in situations where my fat got in the way. This wasn't new, even back when I first started gaining she'd loved to see my clothes get too tight, and when I got a little larger she loved seeing me get stuck because of my girth. But ever since our trip to the gym together, where she'd established her "physical superiority" (her words), things had changed... She was clearly acting more dominant, physically, particularly in the bedroom. While being in charge isn't anything new, I noticed she was pushing me around a little more, physically. For example, she told me to sit on the edge of the bed, and then when I wasn't expecting, she pushed my shoulders back causing me to fall back onto the bed. From there she was able to hold me down, pinning me by my chest or my arms. Sometimes she would challenge me, tell me to try to get up, but I couldn't. I don't know who enjoyed these games more, but I can tell you that it usually led to some more fun!

Both my wife and her friend Rachel seemed to delight in teasing me by putting things just out of my reach. Like, they would leave a plate of food at a spot on the table that they knew was just too far for me to reach without getting up. My wife would put things on high shelves that she knew I couldn't get to. She would just do these things to see me struggle and try. Then she would tease me further, and say something like, "Oh, are fatty's chubby little arms to short to reach? Or is that huge sack of blubber getting in your way?" Her favorite thing was see me in a tight squeeze, like a too-small doorway, getting stuck between pieces of furniture, or even getting stuck in chairs. When I told her about my experience getting stuck in the turnstile at the subway, she just said, "Oh my." I could tell it really turned her on.

Of course, all of these things only egged my feeder on, making her want to grow me more, and more, and more...