You thought you were mobile. Years of living on your own, and no access to a scale that could weigh you... you were sure you were only 550lbs; maybe 600. You splurged on a bariatric scale years ago, but it only went up to 500lbs. So, you just had to guess what your weight was once the scale became inadequate.
Your bedroom had been moved to the living room years ago, once the doorways in the hallway became too tight for you to squeeze through. Your full bathroom was one of those doors... and you felt the annoyance of not having access to a shower. You were lucky there was a half bath with a barn style sliding door that you could squeeze though to at least use the toilet... not that the toilet was built for your size. You jury-rigged encyclopedias by each side of the toilet, so they could help hold your weight. Your fat fell to each side of you, and these old books helped take the heaviness of your huge belly and rear end, so the toilet didn't crack.
Almost everything in your home was adapted to your extreme obesity. Once you realized that you could no longer squeeze your fat body through your bedroom door, you were smart enough to order a bariatric hospital bed for your living room.
The day it was delivered and set up was an embarrassing one. You never felt embarrassed by your size when you were alone (which was most of the time). But standing there, with your cane to steady your body, watching them bring the bed in... dealing with stares from the delivery men... it was not your finest hour.
You were grateful for the bed. It increased your ability to be comfortable in your home. But it didn't fix the loneliness. You are only 38 years old, and yet you felt as though you're 60+... no family, no friends who visit... you are alone.
Nights are the hardest. It's when you dreamt of love. Of a beautiful woman who would enjoy your company. You don't need someone to enjoy your body... in fact, you feel that that would be impossible. So you just want to settle for someone who would love you despite your morbid obesity. Each night you dream of that ideal, and each morning you get punched in the face with your reality.
You have no idea that there are women out there who would do anything for intimacy with a beautiful man as fat as you. In fact, you are so uninformed that you have no idea women like that exist. You've given up on the possibility of intimacy.
Your life suddenly changed. You rolled yourself out of bed, like usual; your fat feet touching the floor. Using your cane, you lifted yourself to a standing position. Once you were standing, you had no problem waddling into the kitchen. At least, this was the usual daily procedure. But this particular day was not to be easy.
You filled a pot with water, preparing to make pasta. Standing by the stove, suddenly you felt a sharp pain in your left ankle. You had a high pain tolerance, but this was too much. You gripped the counter to try and stay standing, but there was no hope... and you succumbed to the pain and fell to the floor.
You wanted to shout for help... realizing that you had no ability to get off of the floor. But no one could hear you. You are alone.
Days passed. The only reason you stayed alive was the pot of water you had filled before the fall. On day 2, you used all your energy and strength to grab it, knowing that it would be a long time before help arrived. You rationed the water. Taking sips every now and then.
You couldn't reach your phone, you couldn't call for help... so you hoped that the mailman would notice that the mail was piling up.
You were lucky your mailman was aware that you were a shut-in. After 3 days of mail piling up, he called for a wellness check.
You were weak, embarrassed and ashamed. But you felt a tinge of relief when you heard emergency services at your door... "Hello? Do you need help?"
You screamed, "please! I'm in here!"
You heard them pounding the door down. Although you knew you needed help, you didn't want your front door damaged; but it was too late.
Emergency personnel poured into your home. They found you, laying in your own waste in the kitchen, trapped on the floor where you've been for 3 days.
You disassociated the whole time they were there since it was the only way your mind had to protect yourself: hazmat teams cleaning the floor AND you; male nurses and EMTs using inflation lifts to help you into a standing position. You couldn't stand. Your ankle was broken. It took eight men to help you back into your bed.
You resisted the reality of being too fat to move. But with your ankle, it was a reality you had to confront.
Once you were in your bed, they informed you that a doctor would be by the next day. Then they left. You were trapped: alone, lonely, and discouraged. Knowing your ankle was broken, and you'd have to wait at least twelve hours to be seen by a doctor, you cried.
The sun rose like usual the next day. You used to enjoy the light coming through your window... but now, you felt anxiety. A knock on the door caused your heart to skip a beat in your chest.
A female nurse and a older male doctor entered. You hadn't seen a woman in years, and for the first time in a long time, your dick stood at attention. You blushed, feeling your penis throbbing under the fat of your crotch. But you knew you were too fat for anyone to notice, even if they had lifted your belly.
An erect penis on a man as fat as you can only be described like a throw pillow with a button in the middle. Your dick was the button... barely seen beneath the fat pad. You thought you were impotent; but gazing at a beautiful woman proved you wrong.
The doctor spoke, but you barely listened. Another man walked in with a gigantic scale. You could only watch as they set it up and tried to convince you to stand. They knew your ankle was broken, but finding out how much you weighed was quite important. Being held up by two strong men, they had your good foot on the scale and slowly released their hold to get an accurate measurement.... you watched in horror as the numbers climbed... 500, 600, 700.... then it settled at 825lbs. You gasped. Tears began to fall. You weren't sure if it was because of the pain, or if it was because you had no idea you had gotten that fat. You were sure you were only 550... maybe 600. So seeing the numbers climb to 825lbs instilled absolute terror.
The doctor and nurses left the room once they had you back in your bed. You could hear them talking, but couldn't make out what they were saying. You heard the front door open and close and the voices dissipated; then the clicking of high heels on the floor became louder and louder until the female nurse was by your side.
You weren't sure how to react. This was the woman who caused your dick to stand at attention. You tried to pretend you weren't aroused. She had long black hair, bright hazel eyes. Even making eye contact with her made you look away immediately. She smiled at you... a kind smile, implying she was there by choice.
But you refused to believe it. No one would spend time with you by choice. So you fought any kind of attention she gave you.
Laying in your bariatric bed, she pulled a chair over from your dining room. She placed it next to your bed and sat; still smiling kindly at you. You didn't know what to say. You spent the last five years alone, and had no practice in speaking to another person. For her, silence felt awkward, so she spoke: "I'll be here with you for my shift; so the next twelve hours. I hope this is okay."
You wanted to say, "I'd love the company. I don't have visitors. I think you're beautiful. I haven't seen a woman in ages..."
But instead, you grunted in acknowledgement.
The silence felt deafening. She spoke, "is there anything I can get you?"
You hesitated; breathing deeply, you said, "Would you mind getting me a drink? I have some whiskey in the cabinet... maybe two shots and an ice cube?"
She smiled at you again and said, "Sure."
You watched as she stood from the chair and turned towards the kitchen. You couldn't help but stare at her body as she walked away. She was thin and thick in all the right places. You couldn't help but stare at her rear... perfect childbearing hips that caused a primal arousal in you. Your dick throbbed again beneath your fat. It was an experience you hadn't had in years. There was nothing that could arouse you when you were alone: which was all the time. You couldn't tell whether you were pleased that your manhood worked, or disappointed.
Finally feeling arousal for the first time in years was pleasant at first, until you realized that it was all for nothing. You were too fat for sex... not that you felt there could possibly be any opportunity for that kind of intimacy with her.
She returned with your drink, and to your surprise, she had a drink of her own. She sat next to you and said, "I hope you don't mind if I join you." As she lifted her glass.
You felt joy. For only a moment. You tried to avoid eye contact so she wouldn't pick up on your arousal....
