I lift my cup of cream too my lips scrolling they fitness videos wiggling my toes like it’s a hard work out. And for my lard ass it does get me so winded I have to turn my oxygen up. You don’t make me get up often enough to work out that hard. Not since I got to 700lbs. All I do now is suck down gallons of my special health shake and stuffing myself with the greasiest, sugar filled food a piggy could want.
I see you enter the room with my favorite, 3xl extra cheese all meat pizzas, 3 gallon jugs of my health juice and 4 plates of chicken wings. Not a veggie in site just how your piggy likes it. I start linking in excitement, wiggling my lard laden legs almost off the bed. My breathing is so heavy from this i start coughing
“God *weeze* you almost starved me this time *coughs* I could almost feel myself *sharp inhale* loose a pound” I take the top off my current shake and chug the rest, letting a tiny bit drip down onto my blubber. Only to get it up quickly with my fingers and put it in my mouth. Can’t let any ounce of food go.
“Not quite yet hog. Doctor says we can’t go any higher on your heart meds, and I can already tell by how much sweat is pouring from every roll that your too out of breath just thinking about this meal. So yoy need to prove your healthy enough to keep eating like this. Starting with a weigh in. Can your lard ass even sit up on your own”
I gulp, wishing what I swallowed was more creamy sugary shake instead of fear. It’s been almost two weeks since I stood for any reason. You have been changing bed pads, washing folds, and gorging me in bed this whole time. And I admit I shouldn’t be this tired from simply wiggling around. I throw my arms forward in an attempt to sit up. But I know it’s not going to work. One throw and i feel tears rushing down my face. I turn up my oxygen a bit more and you just laugh. My heart is racing already. But I do manage to pull myself up.
“Can I *gasps* please have *wheeze* just one gallon *gags* of shake please *belches* I just need more energy!!!!* im so red in the face I could be a tomato. My heart is about to explode. You slide the scale next to the bed.
“All yoy have to do is stand on it fat ass, don’t you want this heart attack bate at the end of the bed” you open the pizza box to show me everything I’m missing out on by being too fat to stand up. I’m crying, pouring sweat, but with about 5 minutes of hard work I swing my fat thighs over the edge. I’m about to throw up from how much work it is to even wiggle mg ass to the edge of the bed
Another 10 minutes of catching my breath (and yoy giving in to letting me down a gallon of health shake before I stand up) I’m on the scale, oxygen flowing full force, face red and legs trembling under my sheer mass. This wasn’t suppose to get like this. With a loud ring out, I hear ERROR EXCEEDING 800lbs.
“Wow, hog, you really were hungry this month. I can’t believe you hit 100lbs gained so fast. Sit back down and I’ll get you set up with your lunch.”
As I slam my ass back down on the bed. I hear a crunch. But im too lost in the pizza you just brought to my face to care.
Who cares if I can never do this again. At least there is food to eat.
