Chapter 6 - losses and fat accumulate

And so my cautionary tale all comes down to today's events.

If you are reading this, please heed my warning: Don't forsake your love. Don't cheat on your spouse or partner. Not even once. Let what happened to me scare you away from any infidelity.

I lie in bed and count my losses. I have lost my job and my former life. I have lost my wife, poor Sylvia, too disgusted with me to even touch me any more. I have lost all track of time. I have lost my health, and I am practically immobile now. I have lost any ability to judge just how huge I'd gotten. And I have lost my good looks, my self-esteem, my dignity. Most disturbing, I have lost the ability to even care any more.

I am just a shameful pathetic morbidly obese alcoholic with nothing to look forward to but disgusting decadence, gluttony, intoxication and self-pleasure. All I want is some satisfaction, but there is none. Not really. All I can get is temporary abatement for my growing appetites.

Day to day, nothing changes except my size. Every day is the same, and as I lie in bed this morning, feeling my body heave and wheeze for air, I struggle to get myself up without Sylvia's help.

I am hungry, and she has not come in to help me get up. Where in the hell is she?

I expect the same routine as any other day. I will be helped up. I will be scrubbed clean. I will be well-fed. I will play with myself. I will sleep. I will eat, drink, masturbate and sleep. Again and again. Sleep and repeat, sleep and repeat, sleep and repeat...

Today seems like any other day, but it is not. Sylvia has not woken me up, and I am uncertain what time it is. Outside, it is cloudy and a little dark. I can't tell if it is early morning or dusk.

I assume it is morning because I am incredibly hungry like I am most mornings. I would say I'm starving, but looking down at my blubbery body, I know it would take a long time for me to literally starve.

Sylvia is not here to help me out of bed. I scream for her to come help me since I need to get to the bathroom soon. Maybe she overslept or she is out getting more food. I struggle to get up, straining myself and grunting as I heave myself upright and then stand up. I feel a small sense of accomplishment, but it ends when I have to sit back down from over-exertion.

Later, I go into the bathroom, my fat sides rubbing the door facings. I feel myself harden, but I delay gratification because I am so hungry, and I need a drink. I sit on the toilet, my ass fat wobbling way out over the edge of the seat. I try to shave and brush my teeth, but my fingers are so thick that they can barely grip the toothbrush or electric razor. When I come out of the bathroom, Sylvia is still not here. I don't know what to do, and I start to panic. I call out for her again and again, but there is no reply.

I know she will be upset if I leave the bedroom. I am really hungry now, and I don't know what else to do. Maybe if I sneak out and get some food in the kitchen, I can get back into bed before Sylvia finds out. I open the bedroom door and squeeze my fat body through the doorway and into the living room. I get turned on by the sensations of my flab being pushed through the doorframe, and I reach for my engorged love-stalk. Just a few minutes of pleasure, I think, stretching my fingers beneath my belly to reach my dick. Sadly, I realize I can no longer reach it because my belly is so huge. I've gotten so fat I can't even pleasure myself any longer.

In my months-long drunken stupor, I almost forgot what the living room looks like. When I pass the large mirror over the mantle, I see the reflection of my entire body for the first time since that fateful day when I cheated on Sylvia.

I nearly pass out from shock, and I stumble toward the living room couch and hold onto it so I don't fall over. I look back at the mirror again with my mouth wide open in horror. I had no idea I have gotten so big. My entire body is covered by thick layers of fat, some of which make huge rolls and bulges. A thick bulging belly apron of fat hangs from where I used to have a 32" waistline. This belly completely covers my manhood. No wonder I couldn't reach it.

My love handles are more than any one woman could possibly handle. Even with both hands, I can only grasp a small part of my right love handle. My man-boobs are big and round. They are so heavy, they sag down and rest on the top part of my belly. My hips are wide and flabby, and my thighs are so thick, they rub together all the way down to my knees. I turn slightly to catch sight of only a part of my vast butt, massive and jiggling as I move even slightly.

I am so horrified at my reflection, I forget for a minute that about secretly eating and avoiding Sylvia's wrath. I waddle to the guest bedroom door, calling out for Sylvia, but she is nowhere to be found. I turn around and start toward the kitchen when I notice our missing scales on the living room floor near the kitchen.

I hesitate weighing myself, but after seeing how big I have become, I just have to know. I step on, hearing the creaking groan of the springs.

I cannot see the numbers unless I push my massive moobs to the side with one arm and my bulbous belly in the opposite direction with my other arm. I gasp at what I see.

299 pounds!

I could not believe it, so I stepped off the scales and then back on. The numbers sped by as the scales groaned. The dial came to an abrupt stop when it hit 299.

Then, I came to the horrible realization that the dial only went up to 299. It is likely that I weigh even more!

I step off the scales, and the springs make a sound almost of relief. More than 300 pounds! I'm huge!

Tears roll down my face as I walk into the kitchen, still looking for Sylvia. On the kitchen table is a half-empty bottle of gin, a glass, a $100 bill and a letter from Sylvia.

I am afraid of what the note says, and I start shaking nervously, my flab jiggling wildly as I do. Full of fear, I bawl out loud.

I stumble into and sit on a huge heavy bench next to the table, my love handles brushing the arms of the bench. I feel my dick, buried deep beneath my belly flab, harden at the sensation.

Even in this horribly scary moment, I am turned on by how fat I have become! How is that even possible!

To calm my nerves, I reach over and pour a glassful of gin from the bottle. In one big gulp, I chug it, then begin to read Sylvia's note:

*******
Anthony,

I was crushed when you cheated on me and betrayed me just like my first husband did. You knew this was going to hurt me, but you didn't stop to think about my feelings, did you?

I told you the only reason I was going to make you fat was because then no other woman would want you, and you would never be able to cheat on me again. But now, after doing lots of research on fattening you up, I discover that there are lots of sick women out there that really adore fatties, so I knew that would not work. You would probably cheat on me with one of those chubby chasers anyway.

So I had a new reason to make you fat: I needed to find out if I truly love you, or if I just "had the hots" for your body and your handsome appearance.

Well, now I know. I want nothing to do with you.

I have left you, and I will not be coming back. Ever.

I spent most of your savings on food, booze and weight gain mixtures. I then took all the remaining money to divorce you and move away where you will never find me. I am going to start a new life without you.

I have had such a delicious revenge at your expense. But as they say, "The best revenge is a life well-lived." If that life tastes better than the revenge I've already had, I really look forward to it.

There is no food left in the house now. I have fed it all to you. I left the phone number for a pizza delivery place and some money because I am sure that you are very hungry by now.

This is the last bottle of gin left. I also left you the number to a liquor store that delivers.

You are on your own. Good luck.

You are going to need it, you fat pig!

Your ex-wife,

Sylvia
*******
I am stunned and disgusted. I feel sick to my stomach. The letter falls from my hands and drifts to the floor. I pour myself another drink. I don't know what to do next.

Then I realize there's only one thing to do.

I pick up the phone and order a pizza.

The END?