July '14

So, Hi all!

Been a long time since I wrote again, and once again I’m left pondering where I should start, but I may as well start with what you’re probably here to read.

I have gained weight. And a LOT of it.

When I started this recent gain last year I was kind of worried that it was going to end as soon as I got sick or I was going to have a heart attack or end up in hospital or something overly dramatic, but so far nothing particularly bad has really happened.

My birthday really sucked, but I got over it. What set it off I think was the realisation that I have been in this room without moving off the bed for over 2 years now. I just couldn’t help but feel like I was wasting my life. I’m 26 now and I don’t have anything to show for it except a completely ruined body. I would probably be living the same life as a paraplegic and be less of a drain on my family’s time and effort if I were. I’ve been immobile for most of my 20’s now and this is my 2^nd year of self inflicted incarceration in this room. It’s also about 5 years this year that I last had sex. All of that just sort of got to me and I got depressed so Vicky and I got wasted. Apparently I drank 3 bottles of wine and most of a bottle of vodka. I just wanted to die the next day, I haven’t had such a bad hangover in ages. I was sick and rude to everyone and I feel really horrible about it.

The last few years that I’ve been living at my aunt’s I’ve had some rather crippling restrictions on my Easter chocolate intake, but this year was different haha ;) I had Vicky go out and get me 2 every day for about a month. I think there were some days I didn’t eat all of them and some days I ate more but I lost track. I got sick of chocolate before they even stopped selling them but I carried on eating them regardless.

She has had a few moments of doubt in all this, feeling guilty when I have been upset about things, having a few days where she’s gone home to be alone because we’ve just sort of fallen out, but she has been an amazing friend to me through all this and while I’m certainly not going to go on a diet, I can for the moment at least say I’m big enough. Just ;) haha! And I have her to thank for most of the extra pounds I’m currently adorned with.

There has been one big change that happened last month but had been on the cards a bit longer than that, I have a new bed. My doctor had been making quite a few visits the last few years but as it’s dawned on her that I’m not going to accept her help and my weight has been fairly stable, she saw me less and less. However with this new push to gain weight I’ve had quite a lot of changes in myself that she refused to ignore.

First of all, my size has become obviously bigger. I mean, even I can see that my fat sticks out higher off the bed, wider and can only really see my feet, the rest of my legs are obscured to me. I have to sit up in order to breathe clearly too, if I lay down then the fat around my throat and chest crushes my throat and causes me to cough and gasp. It got harder and harder for my aunt and Vicky to roll me onto my side, and even when they did, I still spilled onto both beds and hence made changing the sheets a nightmare. It was so exhausting for all of us that I even vomited when my aunt was changing a pad and I feel like I might have passed out for a moment afterwards. It was pretty much impossible to move me and I was hating every minute of every wash, nappy change and sheet change. That’s when my doctor visited for the first time in a while and a good few pounds. She told me she was horrified and wanted to get me on a supervised weight loss program, but since I wasn’t in any immediate danger and I wasn’t cooperating with her, she eventually let it go. Apparently my blood sugar, cholesterol and blood pressure are all worse than ever but for whatever reason I’m still young and lucky enough not to be literally dying at the moment. I try not to think too much about my health to be honest, though every now and then a chest pain and a dizzy feeling startle me a bit and I get depressed and only end up eating more, just for the wrong reasons.

Eventually while talking with myself and my aunt (as my care giver) we all agreed to make a few changes. First of all, my aunt was shocked to be getting the blame for my growth. She insisted that I was free to make my own choices and she only brought me healthy meals, but my doc wasn’t interested in that and still laid blame on her. I lied to her that I was going to change my diet and stick to 2,000 calories a day. I don’t think she brought it, but hey, was easier for us both to pretend. Also if she wasn’t going to literally drag me away because of inadequate care, my bed had to change, since I was living in what she called a nightmare hygiene scenario. It was becoming impossible to clean me properly and impossible to move me and my mattresses were soaked with spilled urine and sweat, my legs and ass had (and still do have but not as bad) a lot of sores, some of which were weeping into the mattresses too. She recommended a proper hospital style bed and told us where to get one, though I wasn’t really paying much attention since I think I was crashing after chatting for an hour with no sugar! Nightmare!

First of all, it’s so fucking comfy. I didn’t realise how much worse that makeshift bed was making my back ache. And I don’t spill off the sides because it has rails so my legs and hips don’t hurt where the skin is stretched. It has an electric motor to raise the back so I don’t have to lean on pillows and walls and it’s also segmented. The rear part can be changed when I lean forward and the part under me can be changed by hoisting my legs into the air (there is actually an attachable winching point, like the kind you see in old movies when they want to set someone’s leg straight in a cast, I find it hilarious for some reason. It does one leg at a time ‘cuz mine weigh an absolute ton but it’s still really handy) and a lot of shuffling of the sheet. Then in the middle where my ass goes it’s a bit different, there is a space where you can slide in a bedpan! I’m still sat on pads for when I wet, since that makes a mess no matter what I do, but its so much better for taking a shit.

Anyhow, I had to first get into this amazing new bed. And that wasn’t easy. It has wheels and is designed for big patients, so it got put together in the living room and then wheeled in to my room through the sliding doors. My Aunt, Vicky and Kate were here to help me move, and we must have spent about half an hour sitting me upright and getting my feet on the floor.

There was no weight on my legs but they hurt so fucking bad I don’t know how to describe it. I think all my muscle has wasted away, it was like they were jelly and tingling and useless, I didn’t know how they’d hold my weight. My aunt was sat back to back with me to help support me and the sweat was just dripping off me to the point where Vicky and Kate couldn’t get a grip on my wrists. Even I could smell the stench, even worse, I had post Maccy Ds sweat so it was all oniony. Anyway, the plan was to get me up, step me on a scale, have me waddle a few feet to the end of the bed and then turn me around so I could flop down onto the new one, then it was just a matter of laying me down.

But yeah, the scale. I wanted to know, my doctor wanted to know, Vicky even wanted to know, and I’m sure a lot of you wanted to know. So I got a heavy duty scale. It wasn’t cheap, but nor was the bed and this is all supposedly to help me lose weight, so its ok ;) haha! I hadn’t stepped on a scale probably since the hospital, unless I’m forgetting something, and I was just about able to waddle a little back then.

But yeah, so here I am, still sat down, and after a while and not nearly long enough, my heart still pounding and my chest still hurting, they make me try to stand. I had my aunt heaving on my shoulders and pushing up into my back fat, with Kate and Vicky pulling at my wrists. We built up a heave-ho kind of a rhythm and eventually after what felt like a few minutes but was probably closer to seconds, I was on my feet. Kind of. My legs sort of crunched and my knees hurt so much I thought I’d broken them. I screamed but it was muffled by the fact that I couldn’t really breathe properly. All three of them were supporting me and I doubt I was responsible for much of my weight, I think the only thing keeping me up to start with was my knees seemingly locking into place. Then came the shuffling. We planned to do things as quickly as possible because I knew my legs weren’t going to work properly. I mean, the fat from my calves was scraping on the fucking carpet, that’s how bad I’ve gotten. I didn’t think I’d even get off the bed without the help of firemen but I’m pretty proud of managing to get up, let alone start to shuffle. The hardest part was getting my first foot up off the floor enough to get on the scale, I must have kicked it forward a few times before I got onto it. I was so exhausted I didn’t even care about the number but I stood there with my eyes closed panting as best I could. I could feel my skin stretching in places it hadn’t for years. For 2 years my weight had been spread over a bed, now some of my heftier folds were sagging down, my breasts as an example are still sore in the places they stretched.

Then I was turned around and I just collapsed onto the bed. I shuffled into place as soon as I could and I think I feel asleep soon after that. I felt so sick, I got a migraine and I didn’t really recover for a couple of days. All that kept running through my head for the first few hours of the migraine was what Kate told me while they were taking the old bed apart.

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394 kilos.

I spent ages racking my almost dead brain trying to do the math.

62 stone.

866 pounds.

I’m honestly astonished I’m not dead. Either from the movement of that much blubber, or the sheer strain on my body. I guess I’m healthier than I thought. Of course, I’m still stuffing my face, but I’m over 60 stone now, which seems like a good bracket to stay in. No danger of leaving the bed, probably not going to die of a weight related illness tomorrow, so its all good.

And I feel so good right now. I’m eating more or less constantly, nothing new there, but I’m spending all my private time caressing my flab, pinching and squeezing everything I can reach, wobbling it back and forth, stimulating my clit as much as I can by squashing down on my massive bloated tummy and working myself into a fever by rolling my massive, seriously heavy breasts across my chest and even smooshing my nipples together, licking cream off them whenever I get a chance. I’m so horny it hurts and I’m loving it, even though I can’t reach orgasm, I’m just so turned on by my mass that I’m quaking and convulsing and soaking my pads and through to my sheets.

I’m having what you might call a cream cake fetish right now. I’m basically making love to cream cakes haha ;) I’m sucking éclairs like they’re cocks, gobbling them down one after another. I’m not even counting, I’m probably eating 10-20 cakes a day, maybe more. Depends what Vicky can get me and she hasn’t been here as much as I’d like, she went home about 6. I’m smearing them on my breasts and licking them clean, feeling them ‘fill’ me, licking them gently before devouring them whole. I guess that’s the sum of my sex life right now, I fuck cakes. Fucking hell I’m weird.

At this precise moment my stomach is suffering from an Indian takeaway, chicken korma, madras, a large rice, nann bread, poppadoms, onion bajhis and a tub of ice cream, which I have followed up with 6 choux buns that have left me in a state of total bliss. I probably won’t get to sleep for a few more hours, I will finish some coke and a tray of 12 donuts that I ate 7 of earlier, probably put away some crisps, chocolate and cookies like a good fatty, fill myself to bursting with a 600ml double cream tub (have to hide it in the bed with me, aunty can’t know :P so its kinda warm and probs a bit icky now), then play with my breasts until either I fall asleep or chest hurts or I feel sick or I get a migraine (sadly all those eventualities are as likely as the others at this point).

I will do another update soon so you can get a better idea of how my lifestyle has changed a bit lately, some things are different obviously just because of the bed but there are other factors I’m too tired to go into right now. Anyway, I need my fingers to get sticky again so see you all laters!

Ali ~xXxXx~

Febuary '14

Hi all,

Well, had a bit of a weird few weeks since I last wrote anything on here, and I’m bored tonight so I thought I may as well do an update. I know some of you are keen to hear what I’ve been up to :P

No big changes, I’m still in bed, still not getting any exercise, still eating loads, blah blah blah. I have however put on a considerable amount of weight ;)

If you read my last update you’ll know I was trying to gain more all over xmas and I still am putting away a shit ton of food every day.

I may as well start with xmas day since that’s my favourite time of year. It’s the second Christmas I have spent in bed and while the last one was a bit upsetting for that fact, I have stopped caring that I’m imprisoned in my fat now. Because I was in bed for the whole of it but didn’t want to be alone I fixed myself up a little with help from Vicky.

Vicky has been a saint and we have gotten even closer over the last few weeks and months. For starters, around the beginning of December, she practically moved in here. There’s no room for her but there was a spare single bed and there was room for it in my room so my aunt has let her stay here whenever she wants and she can stay comfortably, which at her size is a real plus. She hasn’t been here every night obviously but she has been here more often than not and it’s been great fun having her here. I feel so much better not being alone all day.

Because she is here and because it’s a lot of work for my aunt Vicky learned to help take care of me. Most of it is just common sense stuff and basically the only skill is not being grossed out, but as Vicky isn’t working she has time to help and it just made sense. She hasn’t taken over caring for me but the idea was that Xmas morning my aunt would be hyper busy cooking so it was better if Vicky did all my morning routine for me.

She stayed over on xmas eve, and xmas morning she woke up before me and shook me awake about 8. We were up late drinking and I was soooo tired and achey I just felt like death. I had a throbbing headache but she helped me sit up straight, got me a glass of water and got me my migraleve, the first but definitely not the last thing to pass my lips that morning haha. I was hungry as I usually am so she got me a bag of 5 custard donuts and 5 jam donuts to start with while she went to the toilet.

Oh, should point out because I forgot to, I came clean with Vicky about me wanting to put on weight. She didn’t actually think much of it, but I explained to her that I just want to make sure I never have to get on with life, basically, so I stay immobile. She was very supportive and has been an absolute blessing. It’s thanks to her that I have loads and loads of treats in my room like the donuts she got. Apparently she has cleared the shelves at sainsbury’s getting them for me haha ;) though she doesn’t usually buy too much fresh stuff at once, after all there is only so much I can put away before I explode.

I had the runs that morning so we had a real nightmare cleaning up. First of all Vicky had to use all her strength and mine to roll me onto my side. It took a good 4-5 minutes of rolling and rocking and panting and puffing, two fat girls having a tug of war basically :P my heart was killing me and I was gasping for air, my lungs are so useless now that I was on the verge of passing out a few times. I could feel my heart thud and feel it beat in my ears and head, it wasn’t nice, but I don’t often have to change the sheets. It was only the sheet on one side because I was so exhausted that I refused to shuffle over and do the other side too, but I had only wet one side so it didn’t really matter.

Vicky cleaned me quicker than my aunt but just as well, probably because it is still a bit weird and less routine for her. She talced my back, bum and thighs, changed all the pads and sheets and then helped me roll back over. I hadn’t had such chest pains since my little heart attack misadventure, so I was quite worried at the time, but as the tight and twisting pain cleared and I started to feel better I was able to get back to concentrating on the food. While she finished sponging me off I got through a 4 pack of double chocolate muffins ;) haha! I wouldn’t normally feel right eating while my aunt was cleaning me but since Vicky is helping me grow it seemed right.

Anyway, she helped me get my makeup on and got me a light breakfast (for me) of 4 pan au chocolate, 4 chocolate croissants and a 500ml tub of double cream with loads of chocolate syrup mixed in ;) to be honest I was getting sick of pastries and bread stuff and crying out for meat and protein but there was going to be sooooo much of that later that I was trying to pace myself so I’d have more room.

The family started wandering in about 10-12. They mostly came in to say hi to me before going into the living and dining rooms and Vicky stayed in with me. Vicky’s mum told her off (semi-jokingly) for pigging out with me. She was laid on her side on her bed and she just looks huge! Its amazing to see the difference the last couple of years have made to her body. Her belly spills out in front of her when she lays down, its so gorgeous! I’m not like gay for my cousin here you understand, but really jealous of how she is still a really nice shape while I’ve just become a gross blob of oddly sized rolls. We snacked lightly through the morning, went through a multipack of crisps, various chocolate bars, a tin of heros (yes a whole tin, and over xmas I had 4 tins of chocolates to myself anyway haha), some nuts, most of a tub of haribo and I drank another double cream because a) I can and b) I wanted to get rid of all the incriminating evidence in my room lol.

Now, there had been talk of this, but I hadn’t taken it too seriously because I didn’t think I’d be able to do it even if I hadn’t gained more weight over the few months prior to xmas, but my mum and my aunt both wanted me to try to get into the wheelchair and come to the table for dinner. I think the main problem with that is that my muscles are fucked. I have literally spent over year and a half in this bed hardly moving at all and I can’t even lift my arms above my head any more for more than a couple of seconds. So anyway, mum, auntie, Vicky and Kate were all there to help and after a lot of goading (which had been going on for a while over the days previous and this was the tip of the iceberg) they got me to ‘attempt’ to get into the chair.

Just sitting up has long been a challenge for me and takes me quite a while. I have to shuffle my arms up the bed and my back hurts like hell, cracking and creaking as I try, I feel as breathless as I ever have in my life, I sometimes and more recently have bad chest pains because of my heart thudding heavily away in my chest like I’m running some sort of bloody marathon and I fear I’m going to break my skin on my lower back, bum and thighs. It stings like hell and soaks my bed sheets in fluid and its so annoying when it happens. Thankfully with Vicky and mum’s help I managed to sit up straight, but then came the really difficult part L

While my aunt supported my back, my cousins pulled my legs over to the side. They were panting and grunting and I could feel my heart racing, even though I wasn’t doing anything, god knows how they felt, they were breathless after just a few moments. It took them a while of yanking and they had to stop for a few minutes, but eventually I was sideways on the bed. My aunt had sat back to back with me, she was giving me lots of encouragement but by that time I was really feeling it. Everything was going kind of faint and distant and my vision was blurry and dull, my heart felt like someone was holding it in their hand and squeezing it. It was like all the fat in my arteries had chosen to take this particular moment to harden around my heart and finish me off.

It was a weird feeling having my feet on the carpet, with so much pressure suddenly on my ankles. I was really finding it hard to breathe and my mum was getting worried because I kept kind of ‘stopping’ was how she put it. I just glazed over like I was hypnotized for a moment at a time but I don’t really recall. I know I kept closing my eyes because I was in agony and I was trying to mask that fact. They let me rest until I was feeling a bit better, then my mum and Vicky both took my wrists and tried to pull me up.

They tried so hard, bless them, but I didn’t even try. I was so exhausted that I simply couldn’t do it. I was honestly worried that I was going to have another heart attack, it felt so similar. Maybe not as bad as the first time but definitely bad. I didn’t want to take the risk, I gave it no effort at all. My arms ached and I could feel my back being pulled up and forward and I actually shouted from the pain a couple of times and after a few tries they decided it was best to give up and let me stay in bed.

The sweating ruined my makeup and we probably wasted the best part of an hour trying to get me to stand up, but it got it out the way and they know not to try again. Certainly not until I have lost weight, which I never intend to do. At least not smaller than I am now. Vicky and my aunt managed to lift my legs back onto the bed surprisingly easier than getting them off (maybe because I was kinda helping that way round and not the other) and I was soon back in bed with a white sheet over me.

Its been warmer lately because we’ve had the heaters on full so I only needed a sheet, however Vicky helped me into a black t-shirt. It didn’t even really cover my boobs but it looked a lot smarter than just the sheet on its own. For starters I didn’t have bare shoulders which must look kind of weird to people. I just realised how that must sound, someone walks in to find a young girl pinned to the bed by her own immense weight, flabby rolls spilling out everywhere and piles of food around her and the bare shoulders are the weird bit . . .

Anyway I don’t think I have worked up that much of an appetite in a long time, I ate like a fucking horse! I lost track to be honest, there were just plates and plates of roast turkey, I must have had a dozen or more pigs in blankets and I still wanted more, Vicky and I went through over a pint of gravy to ourselves, piles of potatotes, Yorkshire puds, cauliflower cheese had quite a bit of veg but nothing compared to the rest of what we ate. I actually wanted to be sick I’d eaten so much. I really over did it, I couldn’t even face the idea of pudding for about an hour.

I had a little nap after dinner, Vicky had been up and down most of the meal having some plates with me and some with the family, and she was knackered out on her bed watching the vicar of dibley when auntie came in with our pudding. Normally we would get a fairly decent sized one each but this was a monster. She left us with a tub of clotted cream and a tub of double cream and I just felt myself tingle at the prospect of putting that much fat into my bloated body. Vicky only wanted a quarter, she was so full already she couldn’t eat much more, so she encouraged me to finish it all. It looked massive and I was feeling pretty sick so I took aaaagggges to finish it all. There must have been 3-400ml of cream left and it was a 1kg tub of clotted cream which I managed to eat most of by myself. Oh and through dinner I drank a bottle and a half of merlot and was pretty tipsy by the time I’d finished the pudding.

I wanted to throw up for ages after, but I kept drinking and I can’t remember much of xmas night, sadly. We had a good time and I didn’t make too much of a tit of myself but I wish I hadn’t drank so much. I remember lots of leftovers but the details of what I ate are long gone to the ravages of my drink addled memory :P Boxing day was more of the same, so much eating and drinking that I actually was sick though, so kinda made a tit of myself boxing day night, but that’s not really me at my worst. To be honest I think the whole period up to and including new year was alcohol filled. Like, really way too alcohol filled.

For the weeks since xmas Vicky and I have basically been trying our best to fatten me up. She wasn’t here for a lot of last month but she’s been with me a lot, bringing me TONS of fast food. I’ve drunk cream almost every day, had enough chocolate to put down Battersea dogs home, drank several litres of fizzy drink every day . . . It’s a pretty sweet deal for her, I pay for our binges all she has to do is go get them haha ;) I honestly wouldn’t know where to begin explaining how much I have been eating, I think I will write a food diary one day soon to give you an idea.

Anyhow, a few days ago I got a visit from the doctor. She isn’t exactly being very nice with me lately because lets face it, I’m making her job harder, but she is still coming to see me quite regularly. She has told me before its not just because I cant get in to see her but because she fears I’m going to have another heart attack. She thinks its amazing I’m not already seriously ill. I’m on some medication but I have never really gone into it, talking about my bad health has always been a bit of a downer for me. I have pain killers for my general aches and pains, mostly she gives them to me for my back though. I have stuff to thin my blood to prevent clots, anti-depressants, cream for my sores and dead skin, pills to manage my blood pressure, quite often have antibiotics if I get ill or a sore gets infected, I have pills to help with my fluid retention, pills for my headaches, pills for my irritable bowel and even pills to help me lose weight, however they are just pilling up in the drawer, probably have enough to shit out my own liver if I wanted to.

Anyway that wasn’t what she came around for, she just wanted a friendly check up and to ask how I was doing. She took one look at me and told me I’d put on weight. I tried to seem upset but I felt like I was glowing inside. I only wish I knew what I weigh haha! She said I look like I have ‘grown significantly’ and she thinks I’m likely to die soon if I don’t start changing my diet and losing some weight. She said most people would take what happened to me as a warning but 2 years later I’m just shrugging it off like it never happened. She has no idea just how much I have been eating, I lied that I’m trying to stick to 2-3000 calories a day, which would see me losing weight gradually, but she knows that isn’t true. Vicky cleaned my room before she came over so there wasn’t any evidence laying around like usual. She wants to weigh me still but if I can’t/won’t stand up then she isn’t able to even if she brings a scale with her. She tried to scare me by saying she would just weigh me when I ended up back in the hospital soon.

Oh and we were talking so long that I actually took a shit while she was nattering on about my weight haha :P I didn’t mean to I just had the runs again and couldn’t hold it in. I was struggling for ages to hold it in because I didn’t want a smell when she got here and even though I tried to let it go slowly I made quite a bit of noise :P she didn’t say anything but I reckon she knew what I’d done ;) I’m such a fucking animal haha.

So yeah after a good solid hour of telling off, her taking my blood pressure and telling me its ‘way, waaaay too high’ and making me feel queasy by talking about all the pressure my heart is under, she left and I was allowed to recommence my gorging ;)

Tonight I’m alone again because Vicky is at home. She’s still about the same weight as she was before xmas, maybe a little more, probably not less haha ;) I have had two large dominos pizzas, a few boxes of sides, a tub of ben and jerrys and some dr pepper. Not to mention 3 cans of monster to keep me awake while I type this. I have eaten almost a whole tin of quality street while writing this too and I’m currently trying to drink my second 500ml tub of cream for the night. I get the feeling that the doctor may have been right about the heart attack because my chest has been killing me all night and been getting worse for days. I’m just a timebomb waiting to happen, but I need to keep this up and gain a bit more.

I’m getting so turned on by my expansion, I feel like my cunt is going to actually explode if I don’t get it seen to soon :S this has taken way longer than it should to write because I have been playing with my breasts and rubbing my fat all night, and its working me up so much that I actually feel like I could cry with frustration, but it feels so good to get this horny again. I haven’t felt like this in years.

I’m going to have to try to get to sleep, my chest is killing me and I feel like I could puke. Loving every second of it though so if you are going to tell me to lose weight then save yourself the time of commenting ;)

Love love love, Ali xXxXx