#fatfantasy

The nurse is gone, but her words cling like a second skin. “No doctor can save you.” “You’re mine now, sugar puff.”

And Ellie? She just lays there. Heavy. Wide. Full of questions and fear… and something else.

Because what if the nurse wasn’t lying? What if this new body—this soft, slow, beautiful burden—wasn’t a curse? What if it was a gift?

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The crane and it's crew lifted his morbidly obese body through the opening in his wall and he was placed on his bariatric bed. For the first time in weeks, he finally felt a hint of calm. He was home. All these workers were finally leaving. He didn't even want to think of the videos that were taken of him, or what would be news worthy. All he could think about was Beth. She said that she wanted to be his caregiver, but she was nowhere to be found.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and just felt the satisfaction of finally being home.

Suddenly he heard her voice. It was aggressive. She was angry. He heard her yelling at the neighbors, "Don't you all have anything better to do?! Go away and leave him alone!"

Then he heard the doors open and close, and her heels on the floor approaching him... it was such a welcome sound.

He struggled to look her way, the fat of his nonexistent neck and significantly fat breasts prevented the subtlety of such a glance. She hadn't greeted him yet. Instead, it was HER directing the construction crews to repair the hole in the wall from the bay window. They insisted that they couldn't do the repair that day. So they put up contractor plastic over the exposed opening.

Marius just lay there... watching her fight for his privacy and dignity. He wanted to smile, but he was still nervous. Beth approached his bedside as the construction workers put up the black plastic and secured it as a temporary solution towards repairing his wall.

She had that wonderful smile that had aroused him days ago. Approaching his bed, she leaned down towards his face, her dainty hand resting on his belly to support her as she kissed him. He was even more paralyzed with mental fear. A kiss from a beautiful woman? This was real, right?

All the neighbors, the construction crews, and the medical crews had left. He was finally alone in his home. Beth had done was she set out to do: to get him home and taken care of. But, he was still lumbered with fear. Was she really going to stay?

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It was the day of the trial. Marius' lawyer was ready. And she was confident.

That morning, a few hours before his court appearance, she arrived at his cell with the new clothes.

Marius felt the cloth of the dress pants and the button down shirt and tie. Each piece of clothing was big enough to be a blanket for a normal sized person. He said, "Thank you for bringing these. And for purchasing them. I... I can't get dressed on my own though."

She sighed and said, "I'll help you. We have less than an hour now. We need to get you dressed for court before the bailiff comes to escort you."

All Marius could do was blush. No prison employee was going to help dress him. They treated him as an object and not a person, nevermind, a man.

Posted FOR FREE on Patreon. (The next few parts will require a paid subscription and will be posted before the end of February)

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The bars of the cell clinked.

It was 16x16 feet in size. There was no privacy - just four walls of bars of metal, exposing everything in the cell... which contained a morbidly obese man, serving time for murder.

He lay in a gigantic custom bed. He was separated from the general population due to his immobility.

A young woman, a lawyer, dressed in a skin-tight skirt suit walked into the cell. The door clinked closed behind her.

The obese man spoke, mumbled by the fat of his face, "are you my new representative?"

She looked around the cell for a chair, and saw nothing, so she walked closer to his bed in trepidation. She replied, "Yes, I'm here to work on your appeal. I've read the documentation and am familiar with your case, but could you tell me what happened in your own words?"

He looked uncomfortable. If he wasn't too fat to move, he would have been squirming in his bed at the idea of re-living what got him imprisoned in the first place.

He looked away from her, basically staring into space. Then he said with an anxious warble to his voice, "it was an accident. Involuntary manslaughter at best. But they charged me for murder. I... I don't belong here."

She replied, trying to ease his obvious anxiety, "that's why I was sent here. I'll do everything I can to help."

A long sigh escaped from him. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, thinking of where to begin. Then he spoke, "They were taunting me. I... I don't often leave my house. And I wish I hadn't that night."

She was still standing, and kept adjusting her stance due to the 3in heels she wore. He noticed and said, "let's try to get you a chair..." As he pointed to the guard outside the cell. Her heels clicked across the cold concrete floor and she said to the guard, "would you be able to get me a chair so I can converse with my client?"

The guard grunted in a combination of annoyance and affirmation, then grabbed a chair from the opposite wall. He opened the cell and practically threw the small metal folding chair in, then the bars clanged shut again.

She set the chair up next to the bed of her client, got out her notepad and pen, then said, "so, tell me what happened that night."

I've decided to re-write it in my style. It's certainly not the same, and my memory is going to write it differently. But, mainly, it is an homage to one of the stories that inspired me to write my own, decades ago.

Feel free to post a link to the original in the comments if it rings a bell to you!

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I hate grocery shopping, and I had put it off for a while - until I couldn't anymore. I didn't want to drive all the way to the big grocery store considering I really just needed basics, so I drove down the street to the corner store. It was late, and I was glad to get there before closing time. It was completely empty, except for one employee manning the register. He sat on a stool behind the counter, wearing sweats that looked awkwardly tight on him. I found the tightness extremely intriguing, being able to see all the rolls of fat on his body. I almost couldn't concentrate on shopping. I grabbed a few essentials then got to the counter. He put down the book he was reading and without a word began to ring my items up. As he did this, an apple fell behind the counter. He grunted with annoyance as he lifted his fat body off the stool. Leaning to the floor to pick up the apple a loud rip could be heard. His face turned red. I heard him swear under his breath. He stood, and noticed that his sweatpants had ripped. I could see the fat of his rear and thighs bulging through the hole in his pants. His eyes closed and he swore again.

I asked, "is everything okay?"

He contunued to look annoyed and said, almost to himself, "well, I can't fucking get on the bus like this... the store is closing, and... fuck... I don't have a change of clothes."

I don't know what was going through my mind at the time, but I had a sewing kit at home, and I lived down the block. I spoke, "I can fix it for you. My car's outside, if you don't mind going to a strangers house. I'll sew it up for you."

He had a combination of suspicion and relief on his face and he said, "well, it seems that's my only choice. Do you mind waiting for me to close the shop? I also have a few grocery bags myself that I was going to bring home, could you fit them?"

I nodded and said, "no problem, take your time. I'm parked on the street."

He asked, "would you mind pulling in the back? I don't really want to go out the front door like this." And he motioned to the huge rip in his sweatpants exposing his fat ass and thighs.

I understood and said, "oh yeah, I'll just drive to the back then."

He looked grateful and said, "I'll be out shortly, thank you."

I drove my small SUV down the alley to the back of the store. I parked and lit a cigarette as I waited for him. After a few minutes, the lights inside the shop turned off, then I saw him waddling out of the back door. He had a few grocery bags hanging on his left arm, as he locked the back of the shop.

I exited my car and walked over to help. He waved me away and said, "I've got it. Where should I put these?" He motioned to his shopping bags.

I opened the trunk and said, "you can put them here."

He grunted in acknowledgement, then placed the bags in the back and closed the trunk. He waddled to the passenger door and opened it. Pausing for a minute, he looked at the seat then said, "I... I'm not sure I'm going to fit."

I replied, "well it's a short drive, it might not be comfortable, but it'll only be a minute."

He seemed to agree, then faced his left side to the open door. He grabbed the top handle as he shifted himself towards the seat. He seemed to jiggle more than I expected, and I couldn't help but stare at his exposed flesh, as his fat rear wiggled into the seat. He let out a frustrated breath once he had sat, then he grabbed the fat of the side of his belly and pulled it towards him to get the door shut. I don't think I took my eyes off his body for even a second.

Once the door was shut, I reached to the gear shift. My hand immediately landed on a soft roll of fat. I jerked back and he tried to look down to his left. Realizing his fat was covering the gearshift, he lifted up the roll and said, "I'm sorry. Try it now."

I was able to wiggle my hand under the fat and put the car into drive. Luckily it was a quick trip, as I worried that his fat might press the button and accidentally shift it into neutral or reverse as we traveled. He seemed to be aware of this, and had his body leaned towards the right, pushing his weight into the door to avoid the center console.

My place was just a few minutes away. We arrived swiftly, I put the car into park, and then exited the driver's seat. The man from the store had opened his door, but was struggling to exit. He wiggled his body towards the opening, but then fell back. He tried again, and again... slowly jiggling himself closer and closer to the edge of the seat. Finally he was able to put his feet on the ground, and he used the handle to heave his weight out of the car. I thought to myself, "thank God it's late and my neighbors aren't seeing this."

After all, here's a morbidly obese man with his ass hanging out of the rip in his pants struggling to get out of my car.

He had gotten out though. He closed the passenger door, then said, "I have some perishables in my bags, do you mind keeping them in your freezer in the meantime?"

I said, "oh, of course."

Then we both grabbed his bags and went into the house.

He had a very distinct waddle, his belly and rear end wiggling side to side as he tried to walk. I wanted to watch it, to stare at his fat body trying to move, but I didn't want to be rude, so I went ahead of him.

I guided him and his grocery bags to the kitchen. We placed them on the counter, then I went to look through them to figure out what needed to be in the refrigerator and what needed to be in the freezer. To my surprise the bags contained only ice cream. It looked like there was gallons of it. I glanced at him and he looked embarrassed. He said, "I, well... I have a sweet tooth."

I didn't want to stress him out, so I didn't say anything. I opened the freezer to find that there was no way I could fit all of his ice cream. I didn't say anything about it, just grabbed each pint and placed the ones I could fit into the freezer.

Two remained on the table and I had to say, "that's really all that is going to fit."

He replied, "that's okay. At least we got most of them in."

I don't know what came over me, but I said, "I mean, we shouldn't let these go to waste. We can have them while I sew up your pants."

He seemed excited about the ice cream, but nervous about the pants. He asked, "about that... what am I going to wear while you're fixing them?"

I thought for a second. Then said, "you could sit on the couch and I'll give you a blanket to put over your lap?"

He agreed and we walked to the living room. I grabbed a quilt from one of the couches as he untied his sweatpants and let them drop to the floor. My intention was to hand him the quilt while I looked away to give him some semblance of privacy. But, obviously, I couldn't avoid looking at him. The fat of his belly hung out from under his sweatshirt, his thighs were so huge that they forced his legs apart, and I saw the rolls of thigh fat that practically covered the indents of where he knees were.

Thank God he didn't notice me staring. He lowered himself gently onto the couch and took the quilt to cover himself. His sweatpants were still at his ankles, and he tried to lean over enough to pull them off his legs entirely, but couldn't reach.

I took the initiative. I said, "I've got it."

Then gently took each leg off, guiding them over his sneakers.

I placed them on the chair so I could go get my sewing kit from upstairs. Before I reached the staircase, he gently reminded me of the melting ice cream. I turned quickly towards the kitchen and said, "I'll be right back!"

I grabbed both pints and two spoons. I had no intention of having any of it, but figured that it might make him more comfortable if he thought I was going to have some as well. I handed him a pint and a spoon, then placed the other pint on the table next to him.

I said, "I'll be right back!"

Then ran my way up the stairs to find the sewing kit. I loved being near such a fat man, so I rushed to grab what I needed so I could get back downstairs to him.

It was only a minute or so, but he was already digging into the ice cream. He noticed me staring. His mouth was full as he said, "... well, it's melting quicker than I thought..." As if he needed to explain his gluttony.

I wanted to encourage him and say, "oh go ahead, eat as much as you can. It's so sexy."

But I nodded instead. Almost disappointed in myself for not speaking up about how gorgeous I found him to be.

He continued to dive into the ice cream. I saw some dripping from the corner of his mouth. His fat hand reached up and he wiped his mouth with the back of it. Then looked at me as if he didn't know what to do. I immediately said, "oh, let me get some napkins!"

I grabbed some from the kitchen, then gave them to him. He burped and thanked me. The burp seemed to embarass him, but it excited me.

I almost didn't want to fix his pants. I literally had my dream man in my living room, stuffing himself with ice cream, belching every few minutes like a glutton. It was heaven.

I did promise him that I would fix them though, so I sat next to him on the couch and began to thread the needle I'd be using to sew them up. They almost seemed like a blanket themselves. I'm a small woman, so they draped across my lap almost enveloping me with the fabric.

He continued shoveling spoonfuls of ice cream in his mouth, as I sewed up the ripped pants. Only a few minutes passed until he had finished the first pint. He placed the empty container on the table and motioned to the second one. I mean, I had brought out a second spoon, so perhaps he thought I wanted some of it. He asked, "do you mind?"

I nodded no, and he tried to reach for the second pint. He grunted as he tried to reach over his belly for it. So I grabbed it for him. He belched after having bent down, and said, "thank you."

We both remained on the couch: him shoveling more ice cream down his throat, and me desperately trying to pay attention to sewing up his pants instead of watching his impressive and sexy gluttony.

I heard his huge belly gurgling as he ate. I continued to sew, but kept glancing his way. As he stuffed himself I noticed his sweatshirt rising, exposing more of his stretchmark-ridden belly. I tried to be subtle, but was given away when I accidentally pushed the needle into my thumb. I shouted, then put my thumb to my mouth, cleaning the little drop of blood.

At this point, he definitely realized I had been watching him instead of the needle. He put the spoon in the container as if done eating and said, "I'm sorry."

I finished up the stitch I was on, then said, "no, that was my bad, you don't need to stop."

He smiled, grabbed the spoon, then asked, "so, you're sure you don't want any?"

I nodded, "oh, I'm good, you can go ahead and finish it."

He seemed relieved, and continued to shovel it into his mouth.

Only a few more minutes passed and I was done sewing his pants. I almost didn't want to let him know I was done. I was tempted to feign sewing as if I was still working on them, just so I could continue to watch him eat.

But, I was finished with them, so I folded them in my lap and placed them on the chair next to me.

With his mouth full of ice cream, he mumbled, "are they done?"

With disappointment that he didn't pick up on, I said, "Yup, all fixed."

He burped. Then placed the second empty pint on the table. A moment passed and he looked at the two empty pints of ice cream with a sense of disappointment in himself. He groaned quietly and said, "I can't believe I just ate all that." As if he didn't eat like that all the time.

He motioned to his pants and said, "I'll get these on and get to the bus."

I wanted him to stay. I wanted to tell him he was beautiful and that I wanted to see if he could eat all the ice cream he brought - not just the two pints that didn't fit in the freezer. But that would be weird, right? So I grabbed his pants and handed them to him.

He put his feet into each pant leg, then he tried to stand. He belched again with the movement. He said, "excuse me."

I smiled. I just couldn't help it.

He tried to stand. He wiggled himself to the end of the couch and placed his right hand on the arm of it, trying to get up. He grunted with each thrust upwards until he was on his feet. He pulled the pants up as much as he could, then realized his belly was too bloated to fit them.

They had rested on his belly originally, so tucking them under his stomach was not an option. I heard him say, "oh shit." Under his breath.

I asked, "is everything okay?"

He paused for a moment before replying. Then he stuttered, "I, uh, I don't want to trespass further, but I think I've outdone myself. They wont fit over my belly." After a pause, he said, "I can't believe this. I'm so sorry. I'm probably gross to you."

I finally said what I had been thinking this whole time, "oh no. Actually it's quite the opposite, I think you're incredibly handsome..."

For a second he looked offended, as if he thought I was lying to him. But he looked me in the eyes. His facial expression changed to one of slight surprise and he asked, "really?"

I stood up with him. I took his hands in mine. Just holding the huge fat hands in my small ones was such a pleasure. I gestured for him to sit back down. He didn't question it, and lowered his body back on the couch. It groaned under his weight.

I remained standing and said, "there's still quite a few more pints of ice cream in the freezer..."

The Leonhart family had ruled over the country of Leondia for the last 500 years. Their hereditary obesity was well known by their citizens and came more to the forefront of common knowledge once the modern age of pictures and movies came. For hundreds of years, the Leonhart men dealt with arranged marriages as it was a common practice in their country, especially for royalty. They never thought that their morbid obesity was an issue when it came to marriages because of the long history of forced betrothals. But, here they were, in 2023. The five remaining brothers were all in their forties and had yet to produce an heir to the throne. Their obesity was a constant roadblock for sparking romance with women. And the royal advisors were getting more and more insistent that their King should at least produce an heir. They wanted to institute a forced marriage in modern times, and it caused much anxiety.

Their concentration was on King Jiminy VI. He had been fit and thin for the first 38 years of his life, but during that time he never thought about establishing a romantic relationship with anyone, nevermind a marriage.

His time was up. The advisors, the estate lawyers, the head servants... they all encouraged their King to marry. Jiminy thought it was futile. At the age of 46, Jim weighed over 700 pounds. Even though he was King, he felt that any of his brothers could take the responsibility of creating an heir. They were thinner, they were able to procreate, they should put the burden on themselves for producing progenitors.

But public opinion thought otherwise. A child produced by the King himself would have more pull on the throne than a nephew or niece of the King.

After months of beaurocratic red tape and various interviews with many female Leondian citizens... a young woman was selected. She was only 19 years old, but her parents practically gave her to the royal family.

The marriage itself was unusual. King Jiminy VI insisted that they marry before she had the opportunity to see him in person. The nuptials were quick and only attended by a friend of the bride as well as a friend of the King, and a huge black curtain separated the two. His bride had no opportunity to see him in full until hours after the vows were said. The closest she got was seeing his swollen fat hand through the break in the curtain as they exchanged rings.

There was a small celebration, but Jiminy was not present for it. He insisted on being taken back to his bed chamber after the ceremony.

He would have normally laid in his bed, but he was dressed in his regal suit, with his military medals and his royal sash spreading across his huge chest. The sash kept lodging itself between his breasts, highlighting his morbid obesity. He knew his bride would have to view his full body before the night was over. But his main cause for anxiety was knowing the marriage must be consummated.

The weight he was encumbered with was relatively new to him.  He knew what had happened between his parents... a similar situation, where his mother was forced to consummate a marriage she was terrified of. And all he could think of was that history would repeat itself.

A couple hours of celebration passed until his new bride was escorted to his bed chamber. He knew she would be seeing his extreme obesity for the first time, and was riddled with anxiety. He felt that he would be lucky if she could handle just looking at him, nevermind the effort of consummation.

She was led into his bed chamber after the party. She wore a small white dress with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of royal jewelry. The expression on her face showed that this display of wealth was unnecessary and that she was more interested in getting to know her husband as a person, than be showered with jewels and precious metals.

A servant opened the curtain and bowed as he directed her into Jiminy VI's room.

She took a deep breath and walked through the curtain. There was her husband... a 700 pound pile of fat, sitting in a wheelchair by a small table next to his bed.

She hesitated for a second, then looked at her surroundings. The bed itself must have been almost twice the size of a king mattress. She saw a few metal handles above it which led to the ceiling, as if his room was designed by a bariatric hospital.

She took a deep breath and gently walked towards Jim, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

A normal sized chair was placed next to him, and she sat down.

The servants knew that their king needed a drink for this interchange, so they asked her if she would like anything. She ordered a cosmopolitan martini and in less than a minute, she was handed what she asked for while her husband was handed his usual: a double whiskey with one ice cube.

The drinks were delivered, and the servants bowed and backed out of the room. Suddenly the newlyweds were alone.

Sweat dripped from Jiminy's face.  He could barely make eye contact with her. He didn't know what to say or what to think. But she picked up on the silence and placed her small porcelain hand on the fat bloated hand of her husband.

Nervousness permeated the room.

One of them had to speak, so she did. "I know this is unusual, but, I'd like to know you. I see your appearance and can't help but pick up on your fear. Shouldn't I be the one who's scared?"

Jiminy let out a chuckle, more for easing the conversation than actually finding any of it amusing. His low voice, with a slight Leondian accent, replied, "It's just that I'm not sure how to navigate this..."

She smiled at him. The warmth of her smile eased his mind a bit.

A knock on the door interrupted their first conversation. The estate expert came in and went straight to the point, "I know you two are just getting to know each other, but it is required by law that the marriage is consummated immediately."

Two bulky muscular servants stood behind him. They knew what job they had to do, but one could tell that they desperately did not want to do it.

Jiminy closed his eyes tight in nervousness.

The servants offered his royal highness his cane. Implying that he should get out of the chair and into his bed. Jiminy took a huge gulp of his drink, finishing it in one go. He shook his head to get the sharp whiskey down. Then, knowing he had to get out of his wheelchair, he took a deep breath and rocked himself forward and back to configure his bloated ass cheeks on the edge of the chair before he forced his legs to take the weight of a standing position.

His bride watched this and her first thought was, "he's not capable of consummation. Unless.... " she looked at the muscular servants and her brain finished the thought, "unless they are going to hold up the fat of his belly to keep it from blocking his... his manhood."

She shivered slightly at the thought, but pushed it from her mind. She wasn't exactly an expert at bariatric obesity. This showed, considering the fat pad surrounding the cock of her new husband never even came into her thoughts as an option. She figured his belly just needed to be lifted out of the way, but didn't consider the fat hiding his manhood from view even if his belly was lifted up.

King Jiminy waddled his way towards his marriage bed. He slowly lowered himself down on the edge with the help of his servants.

One servant began to automatically help him undress - removing the medals to place them in their boxes, and unclipping his gold sash. They continued with undoing his dark maroon tie. Then the estate expert spoke up and said, "his wife should undress him."

His bride looked wide eyed at the man in surprise, but then said, "yes, I can help."

Jiminy groaned in embarrassment and his fat hand went up to his forehead in an equal expression.

She stood, her heels clicking on the marble floor again, as she approached him. She stood in front of him and placed her long gentle fingers on his shoulder. His hand went down to his side and without opening his eyes, he said with slight annoyance, "then let's get this over with."

She reached out towards his tie, gingerly undoing the knot, then feeding the fabric through his collar to remove it. The long painted nails worked on the shirt buttons,  going through one at a time. The more buttons that were undone revealed more of the scarred bloated flesh of his chest and belly.

The weight gain he had went through was so rapid that his flesh had ripped apart on multiple occasions, creating long red gashes that required stitches instead of regular stretch marks. She gasped quietly seeing the harsh scars meandering across his skin. The King clenched his eyes shut. Then he felt her gentle touch. Her index finger traced the scars, not knowing how sensitive they were. He shuddered, whether in fear or enthrallment, she could not tell.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. His expression was apologetic. But she did not pick up on this. Instead his undressing continued until he sat naked on the side of his bed.

Rolls of bloated flesh hung on his body. His right hand lifted the right side of his belly and readjusted it on his fat thigh, and his left hand did the same.

One of the servants handed him a pill with a small glass of water. His new bride noticed this, but did not question it. If she had, she would have found out that he needed drugs to help his buried cock do it's job.

The estate expert whispered something to one of the muscular servants. Then the two men went on either side of the King's bed. Jiminy lay back, trying to swing his weight in the right direction so he would be straight on the bed. His size didn't help his effort and he seemed to just fall on his back, like a turtle in his shell.

He grunted. Laying flat on his back could suffocate him, given the fat breasts that fell with gravity, pushing against his almost nonexistent neck.

The servants knew this and grabbed his arms immediately to help him jiggle and roll himself into a reclining position.

Given the intimacy that was about to occur, they could only recline his upper body so much, without the huge layer of belly fat blocking his cock.

His royal highness laid on the silk sheets on his bed, completely nude and exposed. His head was lifted as much as possible, then the servants on either side of him lifted each side of his fat belly, exposing the fat pad which buried his cock. His manhood was now throbbing in anticipation that the medication was doing its trick. Every person in the room looked at the bride as if to say, "now is the time."

She looked horrified. There was no level of intimacy here. It was almost like they were animals forced to procreate in the eyes of their owners. She hesitated. The two men, holding up hundreds of pounds of belly fat to allow her to mount their King, were getting weak. There was only so much time that they could lift that weight without a break.

The man on the left dropped Jiminy's belly, and the man on the right had to follow suit, as he couldn't hold up the whole thing himself.

Jiminy let out a swear in Leondian, unknown to his English bride. Then he said, with the authority of his position, "hold me up again so we can get this over with."

Both men obeyed. Then his bride was told again to undress. She did so, dissassociating the whole time. As the thin, pale, beautiful woman dropped her dress to the floor, Jiminy made the effort to look over the fat of his breasts to see her. The perfection of her body... her unblemished skin, her own perky breasts, and the long black hair that cascaded down her shoulders... caused her new husband to feel a desire he never thought he'd experience at his size.

He groaned in pleasure quietly. Then she was instructed to get on top of him. His belly was still being held up by the two servants, and the medication had his cock as erect as it had ever been at his huge size. She climbed on the bed, still pretending she was not there in this situation. She tried to straddle him. His thighs were so thick that she almost had to perform a split in order to mount him.  Her own inner thigh muscles stretched in pain as she sat on top of him - his fat belly still held up by the two strong men at his sides.

She wanted it to end quickly. The embarrassment of being watched during such an intimate moment flooded her brain.

She reached down between her legs to find his cock. Reaching it, she guided him gently inside of her. He gasped when he felt the warmth and wetness of her surrounding his manhood. Pulsing her muscles, she also began to rock back and forth. He grunted in pleasure and tried to catch his breath as she rode him. 

The two servants tried to look away, to capture some semblance of professionalism.

Less than a minute passed before his royal highness finished. It was his first time being intimate as an obese man. He didn't think it was possible... but as his cock pulsated and finished inside her, he felt like a man for the first time since the morbid obesity claimed his body. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he nodded to let all in the room know that he had succeeded in his sexual obligation.

His bride climbed off of him. The two muscular servants gently lowered his belly. Jiminy lay there in his bed, satisfied that he was able to fulfill his duty - despite the fact that it took multiple servants and medication.

Phineas was confiding in his best friend, Marcus. They had been neighbors growing up in a small town where everyone knew everyone else. Phineas had always been known as the fattest person in the small suburb of less than a thousand people.

Marcus had a wanderlust that brought him all over the world, but he was never satisfied with his travels and always returned home.

The two men sat in the decrepit screened in porch of Phineas' home. The house was small, but served Finny's needs. And there was really nothing he could do to repair the various broken items throughout the house. In the winter, one could feel the cold breeze throughout the home due to the old windows. But Finny was too fat to even complete the chore of sealing the windows with plastic for the season, nevermind getting the windows properly replaced. And that was just one of the many repairs needed.

Marcus had made the acquaintance of a young woman on his last trip to Italy. She had been studying there at the Vatican, and the two met in a small bar where the young lady was looking over copies of old biblical texts. They got to talking and realized they both resided in the same state in the U.S. After a long night of academic back-and-forth, they decided to meet up when they were both back in America.

Marcus had immediately thought of Finny when the two of them met. Phineas was somewhat of an amateur scholar himself. Due to his extreme size, reading was one of his most fulfilling hobbies. And Marcus felt that the young lady would enjoy Finny's opinions and commentary on Catholic theology.

On this occasion, Marcus' visit to his childhood friend was to convince him to receive a new guest. It was antithetical to Finny's instinct to stay isolated. So Marcus knew he had some mental gymnastics to go through to convince his friend to meet someone new.

Phineas sat in a bariatric chair on the porch. He had dark auburn hair riddled with grey around his cleanly shaven face. The chair itself had been an expense that he could barely afford, but it was necessary if he wanted to be anywhere else but his bed.

His bed consisted of a large mattress in what should have been his living room.  Just the fact that he couldn't fit in any of the bedrooms in his small house was a frustrating reality.

Marcus replied, "She won't think you're a glutton... we'll explain your situation."

Finny retorted, "explaining my pituitary gland issue would just sound like an excuse... no one believes it."

"I believe it. I knew you back then." Marcus replied.

Phineas said, "But she didn't. All she is going to see is a disgusting blob of fat."

His face looked down, at least as much as he could considering the fat of his face and nonexistent neck. He put his chubby hands on his bloated round belly. His shirt barely covered him, and his hands grabbed the exposed fat flesh sticking out of the bottom of his shirt.

Marcus could see his nails leaving marks on his belly and spoke up, "don't be so rough with yourself."

Finny gave an annoyed grunt, then moved his hands away as the fat plopped back down on his legs.

"So, did you tell her to meet you here?" He asked.

Marcus blushed slightly, giving himself away. He replied, "... I might have... We have a few hours before she gets here though."

Finny groaned with annoyance. "You always take liberties with your decisions. What is she going to think when she sees the squalor I live with?"

"I wouldn't call it squalor... you actually do quite well keeping things clean."

"Things could be cleaner..."

"True, but I promise, she's not going to judge."

Finny sighed and said, "Fine. It seems I don't have much of a choice. But if she sees me and runs out of the house... I will say that I told you so."

Marcus laughed kindly and said, "I'll take it, if it happens."

Both men had finished their beers, so Marcus got up and went into the kitchen for more. He looked through the refrigerator and noticed that there were only a few left. Knowing he would like to be able to offer his female friend a drink, he went to the liquor cabinet and investigated the stock. Among other bottles, he found a few half empty bottles of vodka, gin, and years old bitters that sat on the shelf. He took out the vodka - an import from Russia, with a gold cap and frosted glass bottle. He blew the dust off of it and wiped it down with a wet cloth to create the illusion of newness. Then he grabbed two beers and returned to the porch where his morbidly obese friend sat.

He handed Finny a beer and then said, "you wouldn't happen to have any mixers? Maybe seltzer or juice or something?"

Phineas replied, "I should have some cans of lemon seltzer in the pantry."

Marcus nodded and said, "that should work."

The two men lit up some cigarettes and passed the time discussing Marcus' most recent trip to Italy. Their conversations always ended up academic and as they discussed ecumenical policy as it related to Canon, Marcus' phone chirped. His new friend has arrived.

Finny took a deep breath. He tried to calm his nerves and he pulled his shirt down as much as he could to cover the stretch mark riddled fat of his lower belly.

Marcus stood up and said, "I'll go meet her and bring her in, you'll be okay?"

Finny nodded.

Before Marcus left the porch he said, "I'll bring her into the kitchen first and we'll make a few drinks - would you like anything stronger than beer?"

Finny replied, "I think I have some Glenlivet in the back of the cabinet... fill a small tumbler with that and two ice cubes please."

Marcus smiled and nodded. Then he left the porch to meet her in the driveway.

Phineas sat alone. He tried to listen to see if he could hear them. Maybe Marcus was telling her what to expect. That she would soon be face to face with an impossibly obese man. But he couldn't make out any words. He heard her voice, a lower timbre than most women - a voice filled with meaning and intention. He heard her laugh. It had melody and for an instant made him smile. Then his anxiety kicked up again.

Footsteps were heard. She was wearing heels; he could hear the gentle clicking on the wooden floors of the house. The sound changed as they moved to the kitchen and the gentle tapping changed pitch on the tile floor. He could make out their words now, mainly talking about what drink to make; but no mention of his obesity.

He closed his eyes and took another deep intentional breath to calm his nerves. They would be entering the porch at any time now. He reached for the cigarette pack, his hand shaking gently with anxiety. It took three tries to ignite the lighter due to his fear, but he got his cigarette lit, and took a deep pull on it.

As he exhaled the smoke, he saw her through the cloud. She wore a long black dress - nothing formal, just a summer dress with the color applying to the dark winter season. The smoke abated and he saw her face. She was pale, not due to any illness, but the color of someone who spent most of her time out of the sun. Her long black hair framed her gentle hazel eyes as it fell on either sides of her face. He did not look any longer than a glance, as he was expecting an expression of disgust that he did not want to see. 

Marcus led her to a chair next to him, then gestured to Phineas and said, "this is my good friend, Finny."

Before she sat, she smiled, with no hint of bother or malice. She reached out her right hand towards Finny and said, "thank you for having me, it's good to meet you."

He reluctantly took her hand in his and they shook in greeting.

She sat. Marcus handed Finny his whiskey, then sat down himself. Finny took another drag of the cigarette, then as he exhaled, realized it might be rude that he was smoking. In this day and age, smoking was not a popular activity, and he worried his clouds of smoke might be a bother to her. His first words to her were, "I hope you don't mind if I smoke."

She smiled and said, "oh, no problem. In fact, could I have one as well?"

Marcus smiled and handed her the pack. She gently took one, her long black nails pinching the filter end and delicately putting it to her mouth. She lit it, took the same kind of deep, intentional puff that Finny had done, then sat in her seat.

There was a few seconds of silence. Finny sipped his whiskey, but refused to be the first to start any kind of conversation. He wanted to say, "I'm sorry I'm so fat. I'm sorry I'm so ugly. I promise it wasn't my fault. There's nothing I can do..."

But the silence remained.

Marcus broke the silence with, "oh, I can't believe I forgot! This is Amy."

She smiled; nodded towards Finny, and repeated, "it's nice to meet you."

Finny wanted to ask, "how could it possibly be nice to meet ME?"

But instead he nodded back and said, "thank you for coming, I don't often have visitors."

Amy acknowledged his statement with a facial expression of kind pity. Finny hated being pitied, but he didn't see any malice in her face, so saw it as sympathetic rather than pitiful.

More silence followed. It only lasted a second or two, but felt much longer. Finny spoke, "so, I hear the two of you met in Italy?"

Amy said, "yeah we did; quite a small world since we're both from here."

Marcus smiled. He said, "I figured, with the both of you into theology, you'd get along."

Finny put his finished cigarette out in the ash tray and said, "I'm not exactly a scholar, but there's not much to do at this size, so I tend to read a lot."

She smiled. "I don't know your situation, but I read a lot as well."

Silence, again.

Then Amy asked the question that all three of them knew was coming, "I don't want to be rude, but, how did you get this big?" She blushed and continued, "I shouldn't have asked that. I have an idea."

Finny quipped back, "I don't think you do."

Marcus face palmed, then said, "it's not what you would expect."

Amy asked ambiguously, "oh?"

Finny said, "as a teenager I contracted rubella. It damaged my pituitary gland and my growth hormones went into overdrive. The weight kept piling on after that, there was really nothing I could do... there still isn't anything I can do..."

His hands went to the sides of his belly in emphasis. He noticed the skin of his lower belly was exposed again and he violently pulled his shirt down in frustration and embarrassment.

Amy looked sympathetic. She said, "oh no, I... I'm sorry."

Finny just grunted in acknowledgement and awkwardness permeated the porch.

Marcus' phone chirped again. He didn't look, but it chirped a second time, then a third. He looked embarrassed and said, "I've got to check this."

Less than a minute passed and he made a noise of frustration. He looked up at both Finny and Amy and said, "I know you just got here... but it's work. They need me to go take care of something."

Amy replied, "oh no problem. I could stay here with Finny...." she looked at him and continued, "...if it's okay, of course."

Marcus smiled and spoke for his friend, "oh I'm sure Phineas would enjoy the company. I'll be back in a few hours, if you'd like to stay."

Finny looked panicked. Marcus wasn't wrong, he would enjoy the company. But whether he was mentally up for it was another question. Amy gently placed her small porcelain hand on Finny's and said, "we can get to know each other in the meantime."

He blushed. Surprised that she would actively choose to stay with him.

Marcus stood and said, mainly to Finny, "I'll be back in a few hours, I promise."

Then he left the porch. A few seconds later they heard his car turn on, and then Amy and Finny sat alone together... an 800lb man in a bariatric seat he barely fit in, and a beautiful thin woman who could spend her time with any man she wanted... but she chose to be near him.

Magnus, Freddy and Mary saw the transport ambulance coming towards them from deep within the trees surrounding the driveway. They all sat up from where they were sitting on the lower patio and made their way around to the main entrance where the ambulance would be stopping. The driver reversed the vehicle up to the ramp to the right of the staircase that led up to the front doors. Mary and the brothers held their breath as the two back swinging doors were opened and the boys saw their cousin for the first time. The gurney was pulled at from the back and what looked like a huge mass of flesh only covered by a transparent white sheet was rolled out of the ambulance. The boys knew where to look, but Mary’s eyes kept searching for the face of the morbidly obese man in front of her – all she could see was a jiggling pile of fat that barely looked human. The crew rotated the gurney and before anyone had any chance to even greet one another, Winston was rolled up the ramp and into the mansion.

Winston had never seen such a splendid place before. His eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped at the wonders inside the ancient building. There was a moment of silence as he looked around until one of the ambulance crew spoke, “Where should we drop him off?”

Magnus stepped forward and replied, “Ah, yes, please follow me. Winston – I’ll be taking you to your new bedroom.”

Mary could see a gentle smile from underneath the oxygen mask that Winston was wearing. Freddy then said, “Mary and I will go into the parlor while you get settled. Welcome home.”

They moved their separate ways: Magnus, Winston, and the ambulance crew continued on to the gold elevator where they would escort Winston into his bedroom; and Mary and Freddy took a left and walked into the parlor.

              Freddy let out a loud groan as he sat himself down on the couch. He had his left hand on his big round belly as if to steady it as he sat. Mary went over to the bar to make a drink. She saw that Freddy had already sat so she asked, “Would you like me to bring you over anything?”

He replied, “Oh yes, a double whiskey – one ice cube.”

Mary smirked, “The same drink Jim usually has, huh?”

He smiled back, “Yeah – I need something to just calm my nerves.” A long pause followed. Then he continued, “I mean: Winston. You saw him. He was not in good shape.”

Mary grabbed the drinks and went over to where Freddy was sitting. She replied, “Well, he’s about the same size as Jim and Emmitt – is it even surprising?”

“Well, yes. It wasn’t his size that was surprising. I expected that. It was his skin – all the sores, and just, how the fat settled about him. It’s pretty obvious he hasn’t received proper care in a long time. I-I don’t even think he’s left his bed until coming up here.”

Mary hesitated, then said, “I suppose I would have to look closer at him to determine really any of that.”

Freddy leaned back with his drink resting on the shelf that was his hard round belly as he said, “At least he will be getting proper care here.”

Mary then sat down with her drink and she asked, “How did you guys get in touch? I heard that you didn’t even know you had a cousin until a few months ago.”

He nodded, “Yeah, we didn’t even know he existed. It’s a long story, that. But for Winston’s sake, I am glad we found him.”

Mary lifted her drink and gently shook it in a circular motion as if to say, I have all the time in the world; so Freddy continued, “I guess it all started before we were even born. It was just our father and his older brother, who was Winston’s father, living in the mansion. Our father began putting on weight when he was only 13, and his brother, who happened to be named Jiminy as well, decided he wanted nothing to do with the situation. He turned 18 later that year – abdicated the throne and moved to Scotland. Our father never heard from him again. Apparently Winston was born in Scotland and was raised by his father – until he turned 17 and then was kicked out of the house on account of his size. I’m sure Winston could say more than I could about that situation. But, from 17 on – he lived in a small apartment alone. What he told me was that it was only the last 5 years of his life where he was completely immobile. The time before that he could at least move about the apartment.

‘To answer your question about how we got in touch: Winston began to research his ancestry. His father wanted nothing to do with the Leonharts when Winston grew up, so he knew nothing about his father’s side (OUR side). His father even changed his last name when he moved – he dropped the Leon and went with Hart. It was a common enough name to make him blend in. But that meant Winston didn’t even have the right name to search while looking up his ancestry. Eventually he found the plane that his father emigrated on, checked the manifest, and saw the name Leonhart. Once he had the right name, he found so much information – even our address here. He wrote us, explaining who he was and his situation. Magnus immediately wanted him to move in with us, but Jiminy was a bit more cautious. Winston had to prove he was our cousin before Jiminy let him move in here. It was simple enough – he took a DNA test. And that was conclusive: he was a Leonhart.”

              Mary had finished her drink by the time the story had ended. Freddy saw this and gulped down his whiskey, handing the empty glass to Mary and nodding his head in a single motion to subtly ask if he could get another. She smiled and took the empty glasses over to the bar to refill them. While she was mixing her drink, Magnus came through the parlor doors. He looked exhausted and was waddling over with his cane to the couches, with much difficulty. Freddy looked over and said, “Do you want help Magnus?”

He huffed and said, “No, I’m almost there.”

He slowly lowered himself onto the couch, using his cane and the arm of the couch for support. Once seated, he lifted his hands under the fat of his belly to even out the fat across his lap; lifting one side and gently placing it down, then reaching under the other side and following suit. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief from his breast pocket and then, between labored breaths said, “Mary, would you mind?” As he made a drinking gesture with his hand.

Mary was still at the bar, so she said, “Sure. Whiskey?”

Magnus nodded. Then Freddy asked, “How was Winston? I mean, what was the shape of him?”

He sighed and said, “Well, it’s not very good. He hasn’t had a proper bath or shower in years. Sure, in-home nurses came over to do basic tasks for him, but the closest he got to a shower was being wiped down with soapy rags maybe once a week. He has a lot of skin infections from not moving, or from the moisture between his rolls not being taken care of, or bed sores in general – it’s just not a good situation. The doctor is in there now, and once he is done, Winston will finally have his first real shower in over 5 years.”

Mary handed the boys their drinks and said, “Poor Winston, being neglected for so long.”

Magnus nodded, “Oh it’s quite the tragedy. Especially knowing that, if his father had stayed with the family, he would have been fine; he never would have been able to get to the point he’s gotten to.”

The three of them changed the subject and spent the rest of the afternoon in the parlor while they waited to hear from the servants that Winston had been taken care of.

                It wasn’t until the sun had gone down around 8:00pm when the parlor door opened. They were expecting an update from either the doctor, or even one of the servants, so they were surprised when the door opened and Winston himself was there. He was dressed in a dark red button down shirt and black pants (which were obviously Jiminy’s clothes), and he sat in a new motorized bariatric wheelchair made specifically for him. A servant had escorted him to the parlor and held the doors open as he maneuvered his wheelchair into the room. At first, the three of them stared silently, until Mary spoke up, “Winston, it’s good to see you! Please, come in.”

The boys snapped out of it and both greeted Winston and encouraged him to come and set his wheelchair by the couches with them. He had his round, fat fingers on the control mechanism of his wheelchair and the chair sporadically moved towards the couches, while Winston muttered swears under his breath at himself while he tried unsuccessfully to steadily roll over to where Mary and the boys were sitting. Freddy saw the difficulty he was having and stood himself up to help. He walked over behind the wheelchair and pushed it into position. Winston was grateful. Once he was next to the couches, Freddy helped him find the button to lock the wheels, and for the first time in decades – he was sitting with family. Winston spoke up, “Thank you – I haven’t really figured this thing out yet. I think I’m a bit too heavy handed on the throttle.”

Magnus replied, “Oh, Emmitt had a hard time with his when he first began using it. It just takes practice.”

Winston nodded. He looked over at his cousins and Mary and his eyes welled up with tears. He put his hand on the bridge of his nose and said, “I’m so sorry, it’s just…”, the tears began to silently fall down his fat cheeks, “…I haven’t had company in a very long time. Being here is just too good to be true.”

Freddy patted Winston’s hand with his and said, “We are glad you’re here.”

Mary handed Winston a small whiskey, and with tears still streaming down his face, he thanked her and gulped it down in one go. He closed his eyes and let out a big sigh as he said, “I just feel so much better. I mean, today – for the first time in years – I got a real shower. I was seen by an expert bariatric doctor. And, I finally have company. Not to mention these beautiful surroundings!”

They smiled at him. Magnus asked, “Have you had a chance to meet Emmitt or Jiminy yet?”

He replied, “No, not yet. I was actually surprised to find out one of you was named Jiminy – same as my father. I don’t really have any good memories with him though; the man tortured me over my size, so even the name Jiminy doesn’t really sit well with me.”

Freddy said, “Well, I’m sure our Jiminy is very different from your father. After all, he’s about your size, so you wouldn’t see him using your weight against you.”

Magnus seemed surprised and asked, “Your father never got big?”

Winston replied, “No. At least, not while I was around. I started putting on weight when I was about 11 or 12. I was terrified. As you all know, of course, the weight gain was not my fault. But for some reason, he couldn’t look at me, he didn’t talk to me… and when he did, I was something to be shamed and made fun of.”

Mary said sympathetically, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Winston smiled and continued, “I know that I didn’t really help our relationship. He was so cruel about my weight that when I was about 15, I just had this rebellious urge to stick it to him, I guess. It manifested itself as purposeful gluttony. I would waddle out of my room, shirtless, just to bother him, and grab all the food I could from the kitchen. I spent hours every day just stuffing myself in my bedroom. I don’t know why, but I felt that, by overeating the way I did, was a way to get back at him for his cruelty. It turns out it didn’t help. I made my situation worse. He kicked me out when I turned 17, and by that point I must have been around 400 pounds. I had no money, no job. I was too fat to really work - so I had to move into government housing. I had a single room. Once or twice a week, groceries were dropped off by volunteers, and occasionally I was cleaned with wipes by nurses who didn’t bother to hide the fact that they thought I was disgusting. I’m actually surprised that I have lived as long as I have given the horrible care I received.”

“Well, you will never receive horrible care again.” Magnus continued, “This is your home now, too.”

“And I am indescribably grateful.” Winston replied; the tears beginning to well up in his eyes again. He seemed to compose himself quicker this time and he asked, “Emmitt and Jiminy… they don’t come downstairs to the parlor?”

Mary stayed silent as she didn’t know them very well. She had met Emmitt once, but Jiminy was a complete stranger. She had been a guest at Leonhart Manor for over two weeks now, at the behest of Phineas (who had a panic attack and left the mansion for fear of the size of his brothers); and Mary ended up staying. She enjoyed the company of Freddy and Magnus. She even enjoyed the few times she had spent with Emmitt. But, in a sense, she was still on a hypothetical waiting list to meet Jiminy. Being who he was, not many people were allowed into Jiminy’s room; and Jiminy himself, never left his room. He was royalty. His brothers were as well, but they weren’t The King. Jiminy was. Every introduction had to include, “His Royal Highness, King, Jiminy Leonhart II.” And Jiminy himself did not like the formality. He was very reclusive on account of his long history of being a public figure. And his brothers didn’t even like to introduce him to new people given all of the complications and variables involved. After a few seconds, Magnus answered Winston’s question, “Emmitt comes down occasionally. Although, as you can imagine it takes quite a while to get him ready to come downstairs. Jiminy doesn’t leave his bed chamber. I mean, there are a few instances where he will – but only if he has to. Usually, if he has to meet with someone, he will insist on them coming up to his room.”

Winston replied, “Does that apply to me? Do you think I will have to meet him in his room?”

Magnus said, “Yes, most likely. I don’t think he will feel comfortable coming down to the parlor. It’s been quite a few years since he has.”

Winston said, “Well, I would really like to thank him in person. I know it was ultimately his decision whether I could move in with you all or not.”

Freddy said, “I’m sure we can arrange that. Considering you and he are basically the same size, I will be surprised if Jim has any opposition towards meeting you.”

Mary rolled her eyes and Freddy added, “Whereas Mary here – Jim still hasn’t agreed to meet her.”

Winston asked, “Why not?”

“It’s out of basic fear,” Freddy continued, “in his mind, why would anyone want to see him; especially a beautiful woman.”

Winston said, “Well, Mary, you don’t look bothered by my size. And I am sure I am much more terrifying looking than Jiminy.”

Magnus replied, “That is actually right. Not to be insulting, but you haven’t been taken care of properly – which of course is not your fault.”

Mary looked down to the floor. She didn’t want to imagine what the flesh looked like under the dark red shirt Winston was wearing. She had an idea of what it looked like, but she was sure her imagination was not in alignment with the reality of his body. Winston noticed the awkwardness and said to Mary, “You-you know, don’t you?”

Gently biting her bottom lip she nodded. Then she said, “I mean, I don’t know exactly. I haven’t seen it. But we were given an update.”

Magnus volunteered, “I did tell them both about your condition after I left your room. Not to be rude, but to just inform them of the circumstances.”

Winston moved his hand as if he was shooing away a fly and he said, “Oh I’m not offended; with the amount of strangers that have had to see my body over the years, I certainly don’t mind my own family seeing it and discussing it. At least with you all I’m confident you weren’t making fun of me... believe me, the comments I used to receive from the social service employees…”

He trailed off and his eyebrows furrowed with the negative memories.

Magnus spoke up, “I’m very glad you are here with us now. I can’t imagine what you went through all alone over the years.”

Winston nodded. Then Freddy said, “Well, that is the past, and now Winston is with us.”

They all nodded and expressed agreement, then Freddy continued, “Hey, why don’t we have a toast? To the reunion of family.”

He wiggled to the edge of the couch and pulled himself up by pushing off of the arm of the sofa. Then, with his hard round belly resting on his hand, he waddled over to the bar and pulled out a chilled bottle of champagne. Then Mary stood up and walked over to him – knowing that he couldn’t carry the bottle, the four glasses, and his belly, at the same time. She grabbed the four champagne flutes and they both walked back to the couches. Freddy popped the cork and then gently poured the glasses full. Mary handed a glass to Winston and Magnus, then Mary and Freddy picked theirs up. All four of them lifted their glasses in the air as Freddy said, “To Winston. Welcome to Leonhart Manor!”