I ♥️ FAT BITCHES

SuperXLChubBoy is going to be murdered by the Canadian government.

Calling this premeditated murder on the part of the state is not exaggeration at all. They know that people in this level of bariatric care need physical assistance to turn in bed to prevent bedsores. By choosing to withdrawal physical assistance they are intentionally creating a scenario guaranteed to cause a bedsore. That bedsore will be left untreated because it cannot be accessed without turning the patient. And it will quickly become an abscess and lead to sepsis and organ failure within a week or less possibly.

THIS IS MURDER

This is also a moment for our community to stand up and do something. Aside from the obvious legal intervention needed here there are a few other things that can be done.

1. Raising funds to cover legal costs

2. Creating a petition to save Luke’s life

3. Making phone calls to province and even federal (or Canadian equivalent) officials asking them to intervene to save Luke’s life

4. Writing emails to these same officials asking them to intercede.

5. Contacting the media to raise awareness of his planned murder by the state

6. Creating a social media campaign urging people with any level or humanity or care for others to donate, call, or write an email

Whether it is moving him to another facility, getting his care home the proper equipment, or simply legally requiring the people in charge of his care to not murder him via intentional medical neglect. There are ways forward that allow everyone involved to retain their humanity and dignity

I don’t know him closely enough to start most of these. I don’t know the name of the care facility for starters. his full legal name, or how to get him access to funds for legal help. But at minimum I can spread the word about this. So that’s what I’m doing.

like i used to feel sick eating more than 2.5k calories a day, but now i can eat that for breakfast and still want a snack right after.

pints of ice cream used to last me months, eating a couple of spoon fulls every few weeks until it was eventually gone, and now the pints last less than the hour it takes me to buy it and eat it at home. i traded in buying pints for 48oz tubs of ice cream that are gone in less than a week.

i remember when overly sweet things, like chocolate chip cookies, made my stomach hurt, an uncomfortable amount of sugar in my system and that was after 2 normal sized cookies. but now. . . now ill bake the entire cookie dough roll. portioning out these supersized cookies and eating them with thick choclate milk. i still feel that sticky sugar in my veins, it still makes my stomach hurt, but i don't know how to stop. i still make sure to finish eating the batch.

i grew up not eating snacks all that often but now i snack all fucking day. ill eat a family sized bag of chips waiting for my food to get here. ill see a box of cheez its and tell myself "ill only eat a handful," and before i can realize im full, and oh so bloated, the box is gone.

and for dinner ill order takeout and it's gotten so. . . embarrassing! my once small order of just one meal, one kind of food, has turned into me ordering enough to feed a small family. i can't just order a pizza -- i have to order a meatball sub too, and some chicken tenders, which of course come with fries, and even though there's plenty to drink in the fridge i cant turn down the free 2L coke that comes with my order. because my order is supposed to feed 4 people not just greedy ol me.

and when i sit down to eat, and glutton myself on it, i feel compelled to finish it. i know i could just have the rest tomorrow but i want it today. i worked my way thru the chicken tenders first, practically drowned in honey bbq sauce, then the fries -- sometimes double, tripple dipped in sauce -- and then i eat the sub. it was a slow and steady thing but i got through it. and i knew i was full, borderline stuffed, knew that my body had had enough. . . but i kept going. when i got to the pizza, i sat it in my lap, and just stared at it. i was already so stuffed, i was wheezing, panting, burping, squirming around but it just didn't occur to me to not eat it. i got through 4 pieces before i fell asleep. . . feeling fat, heavy, pinned down by my own gluttony and i looked it too.

my shirt had ridden up, my face was stained with sauce and grease, my stomach was so round and distended it's obvious i just ate to eat, but the biggest piece of evidence was the open pizza box sitting in my lap, and all the open containers surrounding me.

You just kept eating and eating. You’ve been letting yourself go for months now, overeating at every meal. You look down at your body, and you can see all the pounds you’ve put on recently.

You’ve gone up a couple sizes in pants, and now nothing fits the way it’s supposed to. Your belly gets in the way. The rest of your body is getting pudgy too. You’ve put on about a hundred pounds and it’s all gone to your belly, thighs, hips, and butt.

You’re out of shape, because the only exercise you’ve been getting is waddling to the fridge or pantry. Stairs are getting much harder, they get you out of breath embarrassingly quickly. And even hoisting yourself from a chair is a humiliating ordeal, your fat thighs quivering with effort, your ass swaying as it’s pulled forward by the momentum of rocking your fat gut out in front of you.

Everything is an effort, even eating. You wheeze a little when you stuff your face, you eat so quickly and so fucking much that you’re out of breath constantly. You prefer to have things brought to you now, it saves you the trouble.

You can feel yourself jiggle when you move, your pants got tight and then your replacement pants got tighter still. You wear mostly sweats now with plenty of room for your impossibly big belly. And now, stuffed as you are, you need someone to take care of you, reach the bloated parts of your tummy with a soothing hand, reach under your gut to get you off.

You did so well. You gobbled down everything I put in front of you, sweet and rich. Now all that food, all that excessive eating, is catching up to you. It’s really starting to show.

You sure are a sight right now, shirt riding up on your engorged belly, pants undone and straining to contain your love handles. You jiggle as you try to sit up into a more dignified position. Your stuffed stomach protests and you wrap your arms around the gigantic curve of it.

A massive bowl of macaroni and cheese was placed in front of her. She knew she was supposed to wait, but the smell of it combined with her ever-present hunger were overpowering. Laying down on the couch, she looked at it, her view partially obscured by a new fat roll. She thought about eating it right now, all of those calories making their way into her mouth and down to her belly. Nothing but carbs and fat - she knew a huge meal like this (or snacks as she now called them), would add to the impossible amount of weight she’d gained over the past year. She thought about how constantly gorging on meals like this had transformed her figure - once petite and and lithe, into one clearly shaped by excess and hedonism. She always wanted more, and today was no different.

She struggled to sit up, feeling the spandex in her stretch pants reach the end of its extension. Hand’t she bought them two sizes too big to grow into? She made a mental note to ask her feeder to buy her new ones. She pushed her arm back against the couch and began to lift her upper body. Her belly, previously stretching toward the ceiling, now jumped her waistband and poured between her soft thighs. She struggled, more than she ever had before, and she was eager to make it worse. As she began to sit up, her belly and thighs battled to occupy the same space. Her belly won, forcing her thighs apart, and resting on the couch between them. She wondered about how long it would be until her belly reached her knees - not long at all if she kept up her current pace. She lifted her arm - now doughy and filled with fat of its own. She mused about the times when her arms hung freely, whereas now they were met by cascading side rolls, bulging love handles, and ever widening hips. Her fingers met the bowl, and she dug in like ravenously, like she hadn’t eaten in days.

The macaroni and cheese was sublime, made with extra cream and butter just how she liked. She had stopped eating out of normal bowls a long time ago - too many dishes to clean. The mac and cheese instead occupied a large salad bowl, and on its own contained enough calories to last a normal person an entire day. The lines between eating and sexuality had become blurred, and she felt herself getting wet as she scarfed down bite after bite. The pressure growing in her stomach only intensified things, and the pace of her gorging quickened. The bowl was empty just minutes after she started, and she leaned against the back of the couch in satisfaction. Instead of reflecting on what she had just consumed, she was already thinking about the next meal. What would be the next fattening snack today? How many pounds could she pack on in a single lazy Saturday? How much harder would it be to sit and stand up tomorrow? She intended to find out.

He walked back to the couch, a pitcher full of special weight gain shake in hand. He found her laid back with an empty bowl beside her, belly distended, looking fatter than she ever had before. “I was going to feed that to you!” he laughed, realizing he should have known better than to leave something fattening alone near her. “Too slow” she smiled, with a new double chin forming. “I need something to wash it down with though”. He was way ahead of her, putting the pitcher aside on the coffee table. His other hand held a funnel, the end of which he placed into her open mouth. She closed her eyes and quivered in excitement, anticipating her favorite feeding ritual. She had never been funnel fed before meeting him, but now she couldn’t imagine life without it. He had rigged up a funnel holder next to the bed, so he had a free hand as he poured the the thick fattening mix inside. He used it to reach his hand under her shirt, and feel her soft expanse of fat. She moaned involuntarily as she sucked down the shake, his hand rubbing and kneading, making room and helping her expand. He was mesmerized by the sight of her, and she could see his jeans struggling to contain how hard he was getting. He knew she must have been soaking wet, but her belly had long since gotten too fat to reach around and explore while funnel feeding her. He wondered how long they would last before they could no longer contain themselves. She gulped hungrily, blowing past the halfway mark, and past the three quarters mark just as fast. At this point the fullness in her belly, its pressure resting on her pussy, and the sight of him lustfully feeding her had taken her to the tipping point. It was almost enough to make her cum on its own, and maybe it would be with just a few more pounds. She wanted more though, and she drank as fast as she could. She knew he wouldn’t give it to her until she drank every last drop. He squeezed her belly harder, his fingers sinking deep into her rolls, feeling nothing but more softness inside. He could barely stand seeing her like this, and he watched desperately as the shake got lower and lower in the pitcher. She could feel the moment getting closer, as the shake crept past the funnel and into the tube leading to her mouth. They both watched as she gulped ravenously, desperate for what would come after she took her last mouthful. His hand crept as low as he could reach, lifting her massive belly and reaching the softness beneath. She shook and drank faster, five more gulps left, three, two…