Dreams and shit x

Hi all!

So, I said I would update again, and here I am. For once actually doing what I say I will do. Weird, no?

First of all I want to talk about a weird dream that I had. I used to dream more often than I would have a night where I didn’t, but since I have been bedbound I have dreamed less and less and it’s got to a point where if I have a dream and I remember it I’m like “wow, that was odd.”. I think there are a few reasons for that, and here is why I think I dream less.

1) I sleep weird. Apparently you only dream after a few hours of solid sleep, and its pretty rare that I will sleep a solid 8 hours. My sleeping pattern for the night is getting off to sleep around 1 or 2am and waking around 9am-12pm. In that time I don’t sleep straight, I wake up for various reasons. Usually I’m too hot, too cold, I can’t breathe properly, I think even my snoring sometimes wakes me. Often I need the toilet, which is a fair reason for a normal person to be woken up I suppose, but all I can do about it is piss the bed. I often eat during the night too. I wake up sometimes with a growling stomach. When I’m sleeping is probably the only time I’m not eating for more than an hour, and so after a few hours of sleep my guts are just having fits of hunger and that can wake me up too. I don’t eat big during the night, a pack of cookies, some crisps, leftover Chinese or pizza, whatever is easily to hand and I will eat it. Thirst is a big one too, I can wake up and drink a litre of fizzy drink in a few gulps if it’s a hot night. And I have lots of naps during the daytime too when I’m resting off heavy meals I quite often drift off after eating.

2) I don’t do anything while I’m awake. I used to dream a lot about things like school, work, new jobs, change, when things changed that they would go back to how they used to be, things like that. Since I became this lifeless blob there has been nothing to worry or drive me and I think those things fuelled my dreams before.

3) I’m stupider than I used to be. I used to have a lot going on up in my brain. It may not have seemed like it to people reading this shit but I used to actually use my head. I didn’t do well in my GCSEs for various reasons and never went on to do higher education but I was smart. The closest I come to using my brain these days is playing videogames and I don’t even challenge myself on them. Playing at this distance from the TV (a few feet away from the end of the bed) I only game casually for a few minutes/hours at a time and when I feel like I have to concentrate I just give up.

4) I’m bored. That’s pretty obvious. I’m so bored I feel like I could literally chew my fingers off out of frustration.

5) I haven’t had sex in 4 years since my last boyfriend left me and I haven’t come in about 3 years since I was last able to reach my vagina. Lots of my dreams used to involve sex, or something erotic that was leading up to sex. I used to wake up feeling horny sometimes and have to finish myself off before I got up. I remember one time waking up at school dripping wet between my legs, I don’t even know what I was dreaming about, but I had to go straight to the shower to finish myself. With a total lack of any kind of sex life and only a heart crushing sense of frustration whenever I do get horny, any and all dreams of this kind seem to either be forgotten immediately or not happen at all.

So anyway, the other night, I had a dream. It was neither pleasant or unpleasant, it was just weird.

I haven’t really been able to walk in about 4 years, but I was walking through an orchard. I was looking at the apples and pears hanging from the trees and walking further and further into the orchard which went on for as far as I could tell. Then I started talking with a caterpillar which was on an apple and it warned me that the spiders would be after me if they saw me looking at their apples. They were only little spiders but they started to appear out of nowhere, webs blocking my path and driving me forward and they made me kind of scared so I started trying to run but I could only shuffle along. Then I realised how fat I was and that it was weighing me down and stopping me from getting away. I kept going and eventually the orchard turned into a wasteland, like when they knock stuff down to make way for new houses and stuff. Then I see a people carrier and Jess is in it who I haven’t seen in years and haven’t even spoken to in nearly as long. She is ushering me into the car but there is only one seat in the back in the middle and I have to sit there as she gets in and speeds away. She said the world is ending and we needed to get to somewhere safe but on the way we got stuck in traffic and we just abandoned the car and ended up in a Burger King where I ate and ate and ate (because in real life I was starving hungry, I often dream eat haha) and she told me she has missed me and she came to find me.

I don’t remember anything else but during the next day I sent her a message on Facebook saying Hi (that was literally it, I didn’t say by the way I had a weird dream about you). I haven’t heard back yet but it made me want to get back in touch.

It also made me think a bit about what it meant.

I think it was saying I’m driven away from being healthy (fruits) by my fears (spiders) and they drive me to the wastelands (being big and lazy) and that inevitably leads me to more food. And that it reminded me that I had an old life before I became a blob and those people are still there and are still my friends. And maybe my fears are that I’m scared to change, scared to go back to being normal, scared of what I will do with my life if I could leave my bed, leave the house, go to work, drive a car . . . I’m so useless now and have been for so long that I wonder if I can ever do anything again.

But anyway, that was my dream and that was that.

I saw Sarah too. Not in my dream, in real life. I got her to bring over KFC and Krispy Kremes. I paid her for it, but I asked for fucking loads. I even asked for 2 packs of 12 donuts because I wanted to see if I could eat 24. Its been a while since I have, but I put them aside for when she had left. We talked and chatted about all sorts and I ate so much I ended up feeling properly sick. I was so glad to see her eating so well too, she ate a LOT! Since she got with her new guy she hasn’t cared about her size at all and she has just ballooned. She is the biggest she’s ever been and is wearing a size 28-30. Her sex life makes me so jealous, apparently she gives him blowjobs all the time, even in the bathroom of a nightclub a while ago. He loves her soft curves and her boobs (they are huge, 44F) and he made it clear that she didn’t have to worry about her weight after a night when they went to the cinema and he fondled her in the back in the dark. He couldn’t get between her legs because the seats have armrests and they squished her legs together, but she got so turned on that they had sex for hours that night and he made her orgasm twice. By the sounds of it he isn’t a feeder. Maybe an FA, but most likely he is just a good guy who knows a good girl when he sees one and isn’t interested in her weight. They fuck about 3 times a week and they don’t even live together. She has put on weight and she thinks most of it is from the drinking. When they’re together she drinks cider and lager and goes through several pints a night. For a change though she doesn’t care because her man doesn’t care and I just really, really hope they don’t break up because if they do she’s going to be devastated and she’s probably going to hate herself.

I couldn’t be more jealous of the sex though. I told her how I’m gagging for a good seeing to and we reminisced about how easy it used to be for us to go out and find someone to get laid with. Well, for her it was easier haha! But I did have some luck. She knows about some of the guys I used to chat to online and Steve but I told her I’m still scared of getting with a feeder in case I end up how I did before.

Anyway, when she left I had my dinner of sausages, chips and beans and for my dessert I began wolfing down the donuts. I struggled, not because I got too full, but because they’re so creamy and sugary. I was starting to feel weird and begin to shake slightly by the time I got on to the second box, and then I was starting to really feel queasy. I got to a point where there was 5 left and I just stopped and said to myself “no more”. I washed them down with some Dr Pepper and then felt better a few minutes later so foolishly forced them all down really fast. I sat there feeling sick for a few minutes taking sips of Dr P when suddenly my body sort of spasmed and I threw up all down my front. I was only sick the once but it was quite a lot and I felt horrible afterwards.

I have been pushing myself with food ever since, trying to find out my limits. Last night I was sick on Indian food, having god knows how much Korma, rice and chicken tikka and 4 naan breads, I was so sick I filled a few inches of my bucket. Today I have been much the same and I’m currently sickeningly full of pasta. Supper time is coming up so I’m going to have to go or I will smother my laptop in grease.

Love love! Ali xXx

Septemeber '13

Hi All, As usual it’s been fucking ages, so I have no idea what to write about first, so forgive me if this is all a bit random. And sorry in advance for spelling mistakes and grammer, I’m pretty tired haha :P I am still in the same room and I still haven’t been off the bed. When I realised it was over a year I think I cried myself to sleep for about week. It was my 25th birthday this year and I didn’t even celebrate it. I was too depressed and I didn’t want to acknowledge that I’ve now been immobile/practically immobile for over 3 years now. In that time I’ve literally done nothing with my life, I felt like I may as well have died at 22 because I’m just existing in this room, so I was just on a really big downer from the time I last updated until about now. To make matters worse, I developed a chest infection during the summer when it was really hot and muggy and I was in hell for about a week. According to my doctor it was only a bit worse than a cold, but at my size everything is worse and I felt like I was dying. I struggled for air and I didn’t even have the energy to roll over so my aunt could clean me for about 4 days, so I was in a terrible state. By the time I could work up the strength to get on my side there was so much mess under me that it took her an hour to clean it up. The only good thing was I was just eating bread and soup for about a week and I lost a ton of weight. The summer was horrific anyway, I was so hot I felt like I would die and I was drinking around 6 cans of Monster a day. I was probably drinking a 2l bottle of fizzy pop a day too, plus a few pints of water, and I felt like I was sweating the lot. My sheets were pretty gross and soaked most of the time and my folds had a kind of grey sludge in them, which I think is sweat and dead skin. Pretty fucking grim. I got a lot of migraines too, and I know the sugar probably wasn’t helping, but the heat does make me feel a lot worse. The only benefit to migraines is I can’t eat much, no matter how hungry I get, so that and the chest infection probably curbed my weight gain from being as bad as it would have been otherwise. Whatever I lost, I’m guessing was about 4-5 stone, I have probably put back on since then. When I realised how deflated I was (though, probably a lot of that had to do with no longer being bloated and a lot of retained water passing through my system), my aunt and I tried to see if I could get up. I couldn’t even get my legs down off the bed. It’s like all the muscle has just faded away and it felt like trying to lift a ton with a numb leg. I was panting and getting faint so we stopped. When I roll over, I do most of the work with my arms, pulling on the other side of the bed and my aunt rolls my left leg onto my right as I go over. I hadn’t realised how little effort I put into it, but it seems my legs are now totally useless. I definitely feel bigger again and I’m probably back to my biggest. I haven’t seen my doctor since I had the infection so I can’t wait to hear what she says. Not. When I started to feel better I got back to bingeing, and I still haven’t stopped, but my diet has changed quite a bit. I was having really bad diarrhoea, I couldn’t hold it in and I was having to keep the doors closed all day because of it, but since I made some changes it’s gotten better. Instead of rice pudding, I now fill up on bread. I have a lot of sandwiches, mostly things like peanut butter, nutella, jam etc, but I also use up anything that’s left in the fridge, like ham or roast chicken or whatever. I also had terrible stomach cramps and just a general bloated ache in my guts that never went away, well that’s a lot better now since I cut back on the amount of meat I eat. I still eat a lot, but I generally don’t have meat every meal now. Sometimes I will just have a pasta or a vegetable pizza and I have felt a lot better. I have been having less energy drinks too, because during the summer I was feeling really weird, like I was always getting dizzy and I felt short of breath and like my heart was racing when it shouldn’t be. I’m sleeping a lot better too, I think because of cutting back on the drinks, and I’m back to about 12 hours straight every night. I also had to change my drinking habits. When I was depressed I got through a bottle of JD or Morgans in a night. I don’t remember those nights, but apparently I was rude, argumentative, I cried a lot and I even shat the bed once to make my aunt leave. When she told me about the last one I couldn’t apologise enough. I don’t know why we were arguing but she is so fucking good to me and I would never be rude to her on purpose, so I have tried not to drink as much. I’ve gone back to drinking beer instead of spirits, and I only drink every other night now. Usually with beer I drink 4-8 cans and I’m fine, I get tired and bloated and just want to go to sleep, so she is happy for me to be drinking them instead. Because I was depressed and drinking myself into a stupor, Vicky didn’t really see me much. She seems to be my only good friend at the moment apart from my aunt and I missed her loads. I didn’t see her most of the summer but she came over a couple of weekends ago and we had a girls night in as we usually do. We watched the Hobbit, drank a couple of bottles of rose, ate £73 worth of Chinese food, had 24 krispy kremes between us and just chatted shit until we fell asleep. Her mum has been really worried about her weight because she got really bad in the summer and barely moved for weeks. She tried to get her on a scale but it maxed out at 28 stone and she was well over it. Eventually she got another scale and weighed her on both (apparently after a lot of badgering) and found she weighed 42 stone 3 pounds this summer. She’s been to the doctors with her snoring and waking up all night and she was diagnosed with sleep apnoea. She isn’t on oxygen but she wears a thing to hold her nose open and stop her snoring as bad and she has to sleep on her side in a certain way to be safe. She also has high blood pressure and her doctor checks her regularly now since she was also told she is very likely to develop diabetes with her weight and diet. She still isn’t working, but given her size I doubt she could do many jobs. She is still able to walk and even get up and down the stairs, even though it’s a huge effort, she used to do the asda run with her mum once or twice a week, but now mostly she just sits in her room because she’s ashamed to go outside. She can drive still, so she’s not as bad as I was, though she only gets into the Astra now. As an incentive to lose some weight her mum has told her that every stone she loses and keeps off she will get £100. She wants her down to 12 stone and that’s a potential £3,000 (where she would get that from, I don’t know, but obviously she isn’t actually expecting Vicky to lose that much weight). She lost 4 stone easily just because she stopped gorging herself every waking minute, but since August her weight has stayed the same. It fluctuates quite a bit but the deal is she has to keep a whole stone off for a whole week and she hasn’t managed any more since August. She is on a diet at home but I allow her to use my card so she buys herself junk and ruins her mum’s efforts. I don’t want her to end up like me, but I can’t stand the idea of her being denied food. I know how horrible it was for me and I think she feels the same. Vicky is still seeing her boyfriend and they still haven’t done anything in the bedroom. This must be a record, two young people going out for almost a year and neither of them has made a move. I can’t imagine how she isn’t gagging for it, having never had an orgasm, but then I figured maybe you can’t miss what you never had. I on the other hand sometimes break into tears of frustration when I need to pleasure myself. I haven’t had anything in my pussy for years now and thinking about it actually gives me heartache :( Given the way he behaves around her, from what I hear, bearing in mind I haven’t met the guy, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gay. He seems to have no attraction to her at all and doesn’t mind when they only hang out once or twice a month. He isn’t bothered that she got huge or that she’s started losing weight and when they do hang out it seems they just watch TV. I don’t know what to make of it, but she’s happy so, whatever. Kate came over in August when we had a BBQ (one of many, I might add) and she was showing off her svelte new figure. She had the band fitted in November and she was down to 12 stone (ish) when I saw her. She had a really nice floral dress on and I could make out a shape on her which last time I saw her was just round. She was talking to me about getting it done while I was wolfing down a plate of 4 burgers and I just kept winding her up, pointing out that if I had it done I wouldn’t be able to eat so much yummy meat haha! She hates that she can’t eat properly anymore, and its really hard on her seeing us all gorge ourselves all the time when she knows she can’t. She also has lots of loose skin and she hates it. Her arms wobble like crazy and she wears cardigans even when it’s hot so she can cover them up. She might get a skin removal and a tummy tuck if she can’t tone it up but that costs a lot so she might have to wait a while. She is apparently struggling to lose any more but that’s probably because of the skin, so she might get to the weight she wants to be when its done. She said if she can just be a size 10-12 she’ll be happy. I see my mum quite often, she has been over to see me and she sits and chats with me for a while. She is still keen on me coming home, but the fact is she couldn’t care for me if I did. I don’t know how I would move anyway. I can get out of the door since it’s been changed, but I doubt even if I was walking or in the wheelchair I’d be able to get out of the front door and into a car. Maybe the patio door and maybe the back of a transit, but I certainly wouldn’t go through all that. Even if I got home I could never get upstairs, so they’d have to turn the dining room into a bedroom or something. Its not even worth thinking about lol. Oh I got GTA V, I had to order it and it arrived late but I started playing it and it was as awesome as I expected. For a few hours a day I can forget about the real world and have fun in Los Santos lol! It hasn’t left the xbox drive since I got it. I don’t like getting my aunt to change the discs anyway, she gets confused about what boxes they go in :P she never had anything like an xbox, when she was my age she had a job and looked after screaming kids :P (like me, haha!). At least my xbox helps keep my mind from rotting. I feel so bored just staring at the same walls all day it just adds to my depression. I feel like I’m in prison sometimes, I can’t go anywhere at all. It makes me think about how I’m missing out on life. If I hadn’t gotten this fat I could have had a life, a job, friends, social life, holidays . . . I could go down the pub rather than drink alone. I could buy (and wear) clothes and I could pleasure myself every night. I could go to the beach and get a sun tan. I could go for walks and not have my joints ache all day. Sigh . . . it’s better when I don’t think about it. Today I have been a bit of a pig. I woke up early(ish) at about 9 and had 8 waffles and 12 pancakes (all readymade and microwaved/toasted), 4 pop tarts and 2 bowls of krave. After my wash and change of pad I had a brunch of toast, 3 scrambled eggs and 4 sausages and 2 chocolate croissants. I played GTA for a while eating Pringles and chocolates until lunch when I had 2 rustlers cheeseburgers with oven chips and a selection of 8 cream cakes. I was still really hungry when I finished so my aunt did me an oven pizza. By the time it came out I’d filled up on crisps and cookies but I was hungry enough to finish it. I snacked again and had dinner at about 4, we had spaghetti and meatballs (I had 3 platefuls) with garlic bread (two whole baguettes for me) and I was so stuffed I almost puked. That didn’t stop me putting away a whole Victoria sponge and a tub of chunky monkey right after though. I’m so full right now that I can barely eat the oreos I just opened. Later tonight I have plans on Indian takeaway and there is a cheesecake in the fridge with my name on it ;) I don’t know what else I might get through. I have had a whole 2l fanta today and I’ve just opened a coke, so I might finish that. And there are loads of chocolates next to the bed like revels and malteasers, they will probably go. Not to mention the Halloween tub of haribo that I have been munching today. I’m allowed my booze today too so I will get my cans of fosters if I promise to behave myself :P I don’t know how much longer I can keep eating and living like this before it kills me, but I’m too weak to stop now. In fact, if it was to kill me tomorrow, I don’t think I could stop myself eating everything I have planned tonight to save my life. I’m that fucking weak. Sometimes I feel like I would love to try and gain more, but my body is starting to really give up, every time I put weight on I seem to lose it because I’m always getting sick. I feel stuck in a limbo between being record breakingly big and light enough to stand up. I often wonder how much weight I’d need to lose to walk again, but given how my legs have wasted, I don’t know if I ever will. I can hardly move them at all. I could probably get back into the wheelchair if I could slim back down to 45 stone or so, but even then I’d be housebound. I may even be 45 stone now, I have no idea really, I just know I can hardly move, but as I get more and more unfit, the weight at which I can move myself gets lower and lower. I think I may just have to accept that I’m now disabled for life because of my gluttony. While I was typing this I got thinking about Sarah and I text her, and she just got back to me. She has agreed to come over tomorrow night! :D I’m so happy! I asked her to get KFC and she is fine with that. It’ll just be her, her boyfriend is working so I don’t get to meet him yet but apparently he is happy to come meet me if I don’t mind him coming (which I don’t). I haven’t seen her in ages so I’m really looking forward to it! I may write about it if I get time, but I’m going to go now and watch the Simpsons and have a donut or 5 ;) Laters all! xXx

Feb '13

Hi all, Well, another couple of months have passed and for me it’s been another couple of months of staring at the TV like a zombie and stuffing my fat face. I’ve been freezing cold too. I have 2 outside walls on my room and it’s been so cold that even with an extra electric heater in here the walls are getting condensation and the window has been literally dripping so much that there are towels on the windowsill to soak it up. I keep warm with a double duvet over the lower half of me and a fur throw over my shoulders, but I still get quite cold at times. Worst is if I wake up in the night and the heater isn’t on, its so hard to get back to sleep. Mainly I’ve been keeping myself busy playing GTA IV, since I saw a trailer for V and I got all in the mood for gaming again. I haven’t seen anyone except my aunt since just after xmas, which really sucks. Vicky hasn’t been well and has stayed home a lot apparently so she hasn’t been over. Mum keeps saying she’s going to come but I haven’t seen her yet either. Something gross happened a couple of days ago, one of my hips just randomly split open when I was shuffling onto my side so my aunt could wash me and change the sheets. I can’t see or feel the skin on my back and bottom, but I can see on my sides and it’s dry, dead, yellowish skin, like you get on your feet, and it’s the same only worse behind where I can’t get to it. As I was rolling over it just split open and seeped fluid for hours, I was soaking it up with tea towels, it was horrible. The fluid was like runny cooking oil. It hurt a lot at first but now it’s just a bit sore. I have some dressings left over from an infection I had last year, so we used those and it’s healing I think. I don’t think I’ve gotten much fatter. I wasn’t well for a couple of weeks last month, I had flu and was vomming up every 15 minutes so I went almost 2 days without eating, that’s the longest in a fucking long time! I was so hungry but I couldn’t keep anything down, so ended up the day after on a ration of soup and bread. I got back to my usual diet after that and I’ve been more or less eating slightly more every day since, naughtily coaxing my aunt into bigger portions and extra snacks haha :P My aunt shops at a cash and carry, and she was saying to me, because I eat so many sweets, that she could probably save money if she just brought them in bulk. I didn’t realise that you could, but she can get the sweets in big tubs like you get from pick and mix, so I was like ‘I MUST HAVE!’ and she got me loads of flying saucers, space pencils, haribo and sherbet. I also drink lots of energy drinks so she’s getting those by the case for me too, but that’s only heightened my addiction lol :P I now drink about 5-6 cans of relentless a day. Fuck knows how many I’ll be downing when it starts getting warm again. I haven’t even drank coke in a while, seems like all my fluids are energy drinks now. All the sugar has made my gums hurt a little, but they are fine when I clean my teeth. Not sure what I’ll do if I need them filled or plucked out, haven’t seen a dentist in ages. Probably need fillings anyway. I love the sweets because even when I’m really full I can just pick at them until my next meal and they don’t spoil my appetite. I’ve gone through half a tub of haribo and half a box of space pencils so far today alone, so that might give you some idea of how much I get through every week. Because Vicky hasn’t been over with any McDs or KFC for a while now, I’ve been allowed extra takeaways. Usually it’s ‘you can’t have any because you pigged out already today’, but since I’ve been so lonely and haven’t had my fix I’ve been pretty down, so my aunt has been letting me get whatever I want. Last night I had a half duck, satay chicken, seaweed, prawn toast, sweet and sour chicken balls, kung po king prawns, crispy chilli chicken, mixed meat chow mien, chicken fried rice, chips, curry sauce and a bottle of sauvignon blanc all to myself. It took ages to eat and I was just stuuuuufed after, I struggled to breathe for a while. We got it late, so I didn’t finish eating until gone 1am, and my aunt was in bed, so I had to get my own dessert, and since all I had in reach was rice pudding, I ate 2 tins of that before falling asleep. It was pancake day a while back, and, while I haven’t mentioned this, I’ve been texting Steve for few weeks now. Well, it was when I was sick, I got all melodramatic and thought I was going to die and he was helpful, but anyway . . . He text me in the morning, reminding me it was pancake day and asking how many I thought I was going to eat. I hadn’t given it any thought and I woke up about 12 so it was late by the time I got the message. My aunt asked what I wanted for breakfast and she said pancakes would be fine. I asked if she could do double the batter because I was feeling really hungry and she sighed and agreed. She’s so awesome, I know. I counted 19 pancakes in the first batch and I went through loads of sugar, lemon juice and maple syrup with them. When I was finished she took my plate and I asked for more she was like ‘how are you not full?’ and I just shrugged and said I loved them so much, I just wanted a few more. She made another 9 and I just wolfed them down too, but by the end I’d had so much sugar that I was getting a headache and feeling a bit funny so I stopped. I’d gone through an entire bottle of syrup too, which was probably a bad sign. So I was able to tell Steve 28 pancakes and he just laughed. Today was a pretty standard day. I was up early at about 9 because of the cold and called my aunt to put the heater on. I’d wet myself in the night too but I didn’t have the energy to roll over so I told her to leave it until the evening. Unfortunately that meant I had to have the doors shut all day, but it didn’t bother me much because there was no-one else here. She gave me a bowl of frosties and I asked for a fry up, so she made me 4 sausages, 4 rashers of bacon, 2 scrambled eggs, 4 pieces of fried bread and baked beans, then after that I had 2 buttered croissants, 2 pan au chocolate and 12 slices of white toast with butter and jam. For lunch at 12ish I had 2 oven pizzas, a tray of oven chips with mayo and a side salad followed by a tescos own chocolate trifle and 4 cream cakes. I munched through loads of crisps and chocolate bars for a while until it was time for dinner at about 5 when I had a 4 enchiladas and 4 tacos with loads of cheese and chilli. That gave me quite a bellyache so I had lots of ice cream afterwards, going through two tubs of ben and jerrys. Since then I’ve been snacking on cookies and donuts nonstop. My belly still aches a little but it’s getting better. It’s very noisy, I can hear it over the TV gurgling away. I suppose it would help if I let it rest for an hour or so but as long as I can reach the food I just can’t help myself from eating it. My throat just feels weird if I’m not swallowing. I’ll be going to sleep soon. It smells pretty bad in here and I’ve been going to the toilet all day, so my pads are soaked and there’s shit everywhere, I need my aunt to come change me. After she’s done that I’m probably going to have as many tins of rice pudding as I can before I get too full, then try to sleep. It’s probably to do with the relentless, but I’ve had trouble sleeping lately, so despite my efforts, I’ll likely be up until the early hours, and that will inevitably mean snackage, so I’ll probably power through some crisps, sweets and chocolate before the morning. Anyway, I’m gonna go :P night all! loves loves loves! Ali xXx-xXx-xXx

Xmas 2012, and other things!

Hi all, Surprise, surprise, I’m fatter. A few little changes have taken place in my life, nothing major. Since I moved in with my aunt I’ve had regular visits from my doctor, though not the same GP who knew me when I was smaller and saw me do this to myself, she’s been seeing me for over a year now. In that time she’s been trying to get me to lose some weight and make some progress towards being able to walk and get some exercise so that I can be considered for weight loss surgery. I haven’t been weighed since the hospital, but like me, she knows I’ve put on a lot more weight. I can feel it in myself and how small the beds seem to be getting and she said she can tell just from looking at me that I’m considerably wider than when I first came here. She hasn’t judged me or been mean about it, which I’m really grateful for because I’m emotional enough as it is at the moment without someone drilling in how much of a pig I am. Because she’s so understanding I opened up to her about how much I’ve been eating and that I’m very much back on the junk food. She couldn’t believe the size of the portions I’ve been stuffing into myself, but my aunt showed her the kind of baking dish she has to make my food in. Anything like lasagne or pasta bake she does in a tray that’s about 3 inches deep and fills the oven side to side. And I always have other things at the same time. Because I’m bigger it’s become harder and harder for my aunt to change my pads, so now I sleep on my side, so that she can change it at night and in the morning without having to move me as much. In order to get me on my side I have a rail on the side of the bed that I can pull and she pushes from my side. It usually takes quite a few tries to get me over, then my gut just sort of folds onto the bed. I sleep better on my side anyway since my chest isn’t so crushed. I developed a lot more sores and some got quite badly infected a while back, so I get washed more often now. I was offered an assisted living nurse a few times a week but I couldn’t handle the idea of it. At the moment my aunt’s help is all I need but my doctor said that if my aunt needs more help taking care of me then it can be arranged. I also confided that I’m constantly bored, frustrated and lonely. My aunt’s suggestion to widen the doorway led to the idea that we could remove the wall between my room and the living room/hall. So a few weeks ago some of the wall was removed and two big sliding doors are now in the middle. Having the work done was so awkward. My aunt put up some temporary curtains so that the two guys who did the work couldn’t see me. I felt like a circus sideshow, even though they were only ever nice to my aunt and made no comments about me or the work they were doing. I never really saw them, but they saw the huge trays of food my aunt was bringing me, so they must have known what was going on. The only condition of the wall being open is that I have to hold it in when I need the toilet for as long as I can. If I can’t hold it then my aunt closes the doors until the next morning so that the smell doesn’t fill the whole house. I feel really horrible holding it in, it’s hard to describe, but I need to go all the time. My guts just get so bloated it actually hurts. I get a lot of diaorreha too, so sometimes I can’t hold it at all. My doctor puts that down to my diet and how quickly I eat, she thinks my body just doesn’t have time to process it. I have some medication but it just blocked me up so now I don’t take it. And my bladder hasn’t had to hold anything in about a year, so it’s been such a hard job learning to control myself again. The first week I just wet myself all day long and it hurt to try to hold it, but now I can hold it in for a few hours. I’m supposed to be losing weight again, but I’m just being a total pig. My doctor thinks that now I have less to stress and depress me I’ll eat less. She doesn’t understand that isn’t how it works with me. For example, today I woke up at about 9 when my aunt came to clean me. In the hour it took to clean me I was eating 4 buttered croissants, 4 pan au chocolate, 2 bowls of sugar puffs and 8 buttered cinnamon and raison bagels. My aunt just sees it all as routine, that I’ll never change, so rather than lecturing me or just refusing to bring me these things, she just does it anyway. She likes to make sure I’m full, and because I wasn’t, she made me a fry up while I watched some TV. Then she brought me the fry up consisting of 4 sausages, 4 rashers of bacon, 4 fried eggs, baked beans and 8 pieces of fried bread. On the side I had 8 rounds of buttered toast with jam and a big mug of tea with 2 sugars. Before I’d even finished the toast she cleared my plate and asked if I’d like anything else, to which my reply was obviously yes. By this time it was nearing lunch time so she gave me a pile of snacks, 5 packets of crisps, a multipack bag of assorted chocolate bars, a frijj milkshake and some haribo. I mentioned to my doc that I’m also very sexually frustrated because I can’t pleasure myself, but her reaction to that was less helpful. She said it was something I could look forward to doing again when I’ve lost enough weight. Given that I haven’t been able to touch myself since before I even reached 40 stone, and she now estimates that I’m around 60 stone, I don’t think that will ever happen. Because of my boredom and frustration, whenever my aunt is out I’ve been trying to contact Steve, begging him to come and sort me out, but he hasn’t come, always making excuses and saying he doesn’t want to anger my family any more. It gets so bad sometimes that I feel sick that I can’t finish myself off. I still get aroused all the time and it just depresses me and makes me cry that my pussy has to go unloved forever. Vicky is still coming over with fast food quite often, but her mum is angry with her for getting so big that she’s outgrown all her clothes. There isn’t much left in my wardrobe which fits her either. She’s also struggling to walk and breathe and she’s getting lots of colds. She seems to be ill every other week, so she has spent quite a bit more time at home. All of it in bed eating, apparently. She still has it in her mind that she’s going to end up like me and be happy about it. I’ve given up talking her out of it. When I was really bad I was going through a bottle of whiskey in a day and I’m back up to that again some days. I don’t think I’m an alcoholic, because I don’t feel any worse if I go without it, but the fact that I can put away a litre of JD in a night is pretty shocking. It’s costing too much to drink that much on a daily basis, but I find it helps me deal with the monotony and boredom as well as the aches and soreness all over my body, so until my aunt stops me I’ll be getting drunk every night I can. Xmas at my Aunt’s place was the usual affair, except I had to spend it in bed. The doors were open and my family all came in to see how I’m doing. I tried to clean myself up and look as presentable as possible, but that’s not easy when all you have to wear is a bedsheet. I was so pleased to see my cousins. Kate, who just turned 19, had put on so much weight over the summer that she got a gastric band fitted back in November. Obviously as this was her first xmas with it she was bitchy and annoyed that she couldn’t eat like everyone else, she can’t really eat anything with too much fat, so she just nibbled on her dinner and had some of her jelly that she’s allowed to eat. So far she hasn’t weighed herself apparently but she thinks she’s lost some weight. Before the operation she’d gone up to almost 20 stone. My little cousin Tim has been put on a strict diet because of his diabetes. He hates it, and because it was xmas he was allowed to pig out. Apparently he’s something like 23 stone, which for a 13 year old is just shocking. Knowing his mum and dad, I don’t think his diet will last much longer though. His mum said she was getting cravings for Chinese and Indian food, she hasn’t had any in a few weeks now, so I can see things getting back to normal at some point. Then there’s Jess, she turned 12 a few weeks ago and we had a party for her here. It says something that they had to buy 2 birthday cakes when there was only 4 kids turned up. She was weighed by her GP back in autumn and was apparently 20 stone. Given what she ate over the festive season, there is no way she didn’t put on yet more weight. Fortunately for her she’s quite tall for her age, about 5ft, but she’s still having trouble with just life in general. Getting school uniforms is near impossible for her mum, and apparently she wears through her school shoes in a couple of months. Rather than put her on a diet, which her mum thinks will mess her up (even though Tim’s on one, wtf?) she’s just tried to make life easier for her, like helping her get dressed in the mornings and helping her get her seatbelt on, things like that. Apparently she even has to help her in the shower because she’s not cleaning herself properly, she doesn’t realise that she needs to get into her folds or she goes to school smelling terrible. There was even talk of, if she gets bigger, buying her a scooter. Sometimes I despair at my own family. Vicky came over too, obviously, and she spent the most time with me, chilling in my room with me and eating chocolates and snacks. I had the doors open for lunch, but at about 3 I shat myself so the doors were closed. Vicky doesn’t mind the smell so we had dinner together as she didn’t want me to be alone. We ate so much we both just passed out in pain later in the evening. I think my aunt came in 4 times with our food, we had a whole xmas pudding each and a 500ml of double cream each. Vicky thinks she weighs about 40 stone. Looking at her I’d say she’s right. She wore a huge purple top and a pair of leggings up and over her belly, but the top rode up enough for her fat to be exposed whenever she moved. She struggles to get out of her seat the way I used to, but she seems a lot fitter than I was. Presumably because she doesn’t spend all day every day at home. She still sometimes goes out, not just in the car. She can even waddle around Asda when she as to, as she has still occasionally been coming over with desserts and treats for us to share. When we last had McDonalds, she got through 3 big mac meals and 2 boxes of nuggets, among other things. While we had some privacy on xmas I tried to get her to open up about sex, asking her why, if she’d never had it, she hadn’t ever sorted herself out before, and when I said about how I can’t play with myself anymore, she admitted that she’s been too big to reach herself for quite some time now. She has however been dating. A friend she hasn’t seen since school has been messaging her on facebook so they met up. Seems he wasn’t aware that she’d doubled in weight since leaving school, but he is either desperate or he didn’t really mind. I’m probably going to go with desperate, as bad as that may sound. He’s not good looking, at all, not that I’m judging or trying to be bitchy, he is unemployed and just looks like shit most of the time. I have only seen photos of him on facebook though, obviously. Apparently he’s really sweet to her, but they’ve done nothing as far as the bedroom is concerned. Apparently she can’t even get up his staircase as its steep and narrow, so I’m not sure how things will go between them. She still thinks she’s destined to be like me, but now she thinks he’ll be there to take care of her. She’s so stupid it makes me want to cry, but she’s also my best friend now and I can’t really be mean to her. Talking of best friends, Sarah came to see me. It was a nice surprise, though it wasn’t on xmas, it was like, 15th or something like that. Anyway she had a present for me, which turned out to be perfume, which was nice. Helps cover up the smell, but I didn’t say that to her. Apparently she gave up dieting, she’s met someone who loves her as she is, which is nice and makes a change from the usual pigs she dates. He doesn’t like her to diet since he enjoys taking her out to restaurants and out for drinks on the weekends. She said all the weight she lost got put back on in just a couple of weeks of being with him, and even more has just piled on top. She still hates being fat, but she’s kind of accepted it by the sounds of things. I think now she has someone she loves and loves her back, she can live with her huge size. She’s wearing size 30-32, her biggest ever, but doesn’t want to weigh herself, she doesn’t think that’s a productive thing to do anymore. He’s a big guy himself, a drummer for a local band though I forget the name. Apparently I met him before while drunk one night many years back. He’s built like a tank but with a huge beer belly. She said the sex is amazing but a lot of hard work since both of them are so big. The only way for him to penetrate her is in the doggy style position, missionary just doesn’t work. He wears a 50” waist in jeans and has a belly that bulges out further than that, so that and her huge belly means they can’t get close enough. She went into lots of little details though, apparently penetrative sex isn’t something they do much of. It’s usually that she gets fingered or pleasured with her toy. She said she’s blown him at least once a day since they started seeing each other, which I thought was shocking, but even if she’s not in the mood she does it for him. She swallows too, apparently because with the amount she does it, it’s just easier. She’s been sex starved for a long time, which I think has a lot to do with it too. She’s doing some admin work at the moment and said she could probably find work for me that I could do at home, if I was interested, but I told her I would probably just be lazy and not get it done, either in time or at all, because I’m just like that. I saw my mum on xmas day, she was so nice to me, she misses me I think. She also misses cooking for me and on boxing day she did my breakfast, it was soooo good. Not that my aunt isn’t an amazing cook, but my mum just really knows how I like it. I think she probably used butter instead of vegetable oil for my fry up for starters. She wants me to come home, but if I do I know she will try to control my diet. I’ve been through this before so many times now, telling them that if I don’t get what I want I will run away with a feeder, but they never really give up. I suppose I can understand it, I am virtually on the brink of death every day. Anyway mum has lost weight, she’s down to a size 28-30, which is very slim for her, but she still had some clothes left over from a few years back. And one surprise occurrence was seeing my old friend Amiee on facebook. I haven’t seen her in years but she just suddenly popped up in my people you may know section and we got chatting. She has lost soooo much weight! She’s like a model! She’s a size 12 now, which is shocking because at one stage she was massive. After I lost touch with her she said she went through some hard times and turned to food, ballooning to about 25 stone before she had a massive wake up call when her boyfriend ran off with a girl who was half her size. She lost weight on Slimming World then had an operation to tighten her loose skin, so she just looks amazing. She’s saving up to have her breasts done though, after the weight loss they’re apparently not looking how she’d like, so she wants them augmented. Apparently her surgeon can put in implants for basically the same cost as the procedure she wants, so she wants to have them enlarged. She’s a DD cup as it is, but she figured what the hell as she loves male attention. I was pretty shocked to see her like that, I hardly recognised her. It reminded me of when I had a strange lesbian crush on her. Pretty stupid, but seeing how beautiful she’s made herself now just made me feel sad for myself and the way I’ve utterly destroyed my body. She goes on holidays all the time, one of the reasons she’s acquired herself a bikini body. They don’t even make swimsuits in my size, let alone bikinis. I didn’t tell her what I weigh, just that I’m unemployed and living at my aunt’s place. I don’t have any other news at the moment, but I will update when something else happens. Sorry, I really suck with this blog. Toodles! Love love love! Ali xxXXxx

July 2012

Hi All, A few weird things have happened that I felt like sharing. First of all, I haven’t left my room in over a month now. It’s not so much that I’m physically incapable, I did go out of it for the jubilee weekend, but my aunt has a problem with my smell. It’s not something I can really help but there are two main smells. One is the sweat, and most of all the sweat that gets in my folds and sort of rots. I have a few rashes which smell bad too, and some bed sores that weep and smell even worse. This is despite getting a sponge bath every day from my aunt which can take half an hour. The other smell is something I have even less control over, and it’s the stench of shit from under me. It’s gotten gradually harder and harder for me to move and I’ve reached a point where rolling over to change my pad is so hard that I think I’ll pass out. I don’t know if I’m bigger or just more unfit, but it’s so hard that I can only manage it once a day. Because of that I’m sitting on a days worth of it most of the time. I hold it in for as long as I can but I guess because I’m constantly eating, there’s always something wanting to come out, so I can’t hold it long. This has depressed me and I’ve been eating even more because I’m upset. My cousin Vicky is unemployed at the moment and has a lot of time on her hands. She spends most of her day at home in her room eating junk food. Like me, she doesn’t have a lot of friends so she’s been spending time with me, and we’ve gotten a lot closer over the last few weeks. She reminds me so much of me before I became like this (and when I think that I’ve been bed bound for about 2 years, it seems depressing, and it feels longer). I try to warn her that when I was her size, as soon as I stopped walking I was screwed. My legs just stopped working properly and I ended up ballooning and half dead in hospital. She says she can’t diet, she’s tried and it hasn’t worked. I know how that feels and I just can’t convince her. On Saturday she came over to spend the night, sleeping on the spare mattress on the floor in my room. For the past 2 weeks my aunt had refused to buy me fast food (even though I was getting oven chips and pizzas all day, go figure) because she felt I was getting bigger again, not smaller. I can’t honestly tell anymore, it’s like I’m so big that even 5 or 10 stone is hard to see on me. Vicky had also been attempting to diet, so had gone the whole week without any herself. She usually eats fast food every day so we were both craving it badly and decided that on the Saturday we’d eat all the junk food we could, and then go back to normal. She phoned me about midday. I’d only just woken up but my aunt had already brought me a full English and two bowls of coco-pops, so I was just getting warmed up. She hadn’t eaten so she was starving, which didn’t help her decision making at the McDonald’s drive through. She asked what I wanted, I told her my usual, 2 large big mac meals, one with a chocolate shake, one with a coke, 4 double cheeseburgers and because we were being extra naughty, I asked her to get me 2 chicken mayo’s, 2 quarter pounders, a crunchie mcflurry and a smarties mcflurry. I felt at the time like I could eat a whole pig, but when she placed 2 heavy bags on my belly in front of me and put a 4 cup holder down on the table next to me, I started to think I might have bitten off more than I could chew. I’m not sure if I recall it all exactly, but I think she had a big mac meal, a quarter pounder meal, a double cheeseburger and a couple of shakes and a mcflurry. There might have been more, I can’t remember. While she was out she also picked up two 12 packs of Krispy Kremes. She ate like she’d been starved for months and while I masticated away slowly pacing myself through my piles of food she just inhaled everything in her bags. She leaned back in the chair (we were watching TV all this time, ironically, a US biggest loser) and she was sweating and breathing like she’d just been running. She sat there drinking her shakes and I could see that her clothes were tight and her jeans were digging deep into her belly. “That’s one good thing about being this big,” I said to her, “that I don’t have a waistband digging in when I’m stuffed.” She laughed and placed her hands on her gut. “I’m going to have to get changed.” She said, undoing her top button and zip and flopping her belly onto her lap, sighing with relief. As I carried on slowly eating and we watched big Americans trying to lose weight, she told me that she’d been weighed again by her GP, and she was now over 35 stone. That got me lecturing her again, trying to scare her into slowing down a bit. I told her that she wasn’t far away from where I was when I stopped being able to walk. I told her all the things she was likely to miss out on if she ended up like me. Independence, freedom, a normal sleep pattern, normal relationships, being able to go outside or travelling, holidays, sex, even being unable to masturbate anymore . . . Then she told me that she never has. Never once, apparently, had she had an orgasm. At 21 I found it hard to believe, but we talked about it. She’s never had a boyfriend and never really felt the urge to do anything to herself. Since she’d always been big through her teens it was a lot of effort anyway, I know myself. But for me there’s always been sexual reward from food. I’ve always gotten myself in the mood by swelling my stomach with junk food (even though now I can’t bring myself to climax, the urge is still there to do it). I tried to tell her how amazing it feels to orgasm, the surge of pleasure through your whole body, but she didn’t get it. She said how she wasn’t going to miss any of those things when she ended up like me because she had never really had them. She didn’t go out much, didn’t do holidays, didn’t exactly have a life to lose, and she feels like its becoming increasingly inevitable that she’ll end up like me. She said food makes her happy and she thinks that what I have going on is ideal for her and she’d swap with me any day. I can’t express the physical pain I’m in all day, she won’t listen to it, she seems to think I’m just sitting in comfort eating. Yes most of the day I suppose I’m comfortable but any movement and my sores and my back kill for hours. She doesn’t understand. I asked her if she’d ever eaten deliberately to gain weight. She said that she knows every time she eats too much that it’s going to her hips, but she happily continues to eat anyway, so in a way, yes. I told her of all the times I’d eaten just to be bigger, and the times I’d eaten to the point of being in pain just to please my feeder. I told her of the times I force fed myself out of boredom, frustration, heartache, depression . . . it was good to talk about it, for both of us I think. I didn’t really get as full as I thought I would on my McDs because I ate it so slowly. Vicky changed into stretchy leggings and a really big t-shirt and we started to think about what we wanted to eat for dinner. Pizza was all I could think of and we ended up ordering a delivery. I got 2 large pizzas, one all meats one vegetarian, some chicken dippers and some garlic bread, plus a tub of ice cream. Vicky got a large meat feast, the same sides and a different ice cream. We also started drinking around 4 and had finished off a bottle of JD by about 6. While we were eating our pizzas we got through most of a bottle of apple Bacardi and were both fairly drunk. For the rest of the evening we ate the donuts and some other junk she got from tesco like crisps and desserts, then we drunkenly decided that we should eat as much as we possibly could and ordered a Chinese delivery. I was pretty drunk by that point and I remember eating a lot, being sick once or twice and falling asleep. The next day we slept in until about 2, then Vicky went out to get us brunch. My aunt changed my pad and told me off for the bin bag full of junk food packaging she found and threw away. She changed the sheet I’d been sick onto as well. I admitted we’d gotten a bit drunk, but I don’t think she realised that mostly I’d been sick from overeating. She’s become used to me puking on myself. Sometimes I do it when I have a migraine, sometimes its just because I comfort ate something too rich or too much of something, and lots of the time it’s because I’m drunk. It’s gross but she’s good at dealing with it. Vicky got back with KFC (having not changed out of her food covered black leggings and tshirt), which I’d been dying for, and I wolfed down a bucketful and a big bottle of Pepsi. We had more snacks over the course of the afternoon and some home cooked roast chicken (which, while delicious, was eaten by 2 overfed and slightly delicate stomachs, so we didn’t eat as much as usual). Before she left, I told Vicky to take some clothes from my wardrobe. They were too big for her, but I said if she was sure that she was going to keep growing, she may just as well take them, because I’m unlikely to ever fit in them again. She tried some on and it sort of sank in I think, the idea that if she were to keep growing, she’d fill the tents that she was stood in and then eventually not wear clothes anyway. I also told her to take my vibrator from my knickers draw. I explained that it was pretty much impossible for me to use it without help, and it might even help her have her first orgasm. She was pretty reluctant to take it and nervous to even touch it but I eventually convinced her to stick it in her bag to take home with her, along with a few outfits that she liked the look of. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her, I don’t like the idea that she’s resigned to getting this big, but I do find it kind of exciting in another slightly sick and twisted way. I’m eating like crazy since the weekend, like even more than usual, I’ve just really kicked my gluttony up a gear. Vicky is planning to come over this weekend too for more of the same, which I’m really looking forward to because it was a lot of fun and I really enjoyed the company and the junk food. Anyway, I’m going to keep laying here slowly feeding myself to death and I’ll update again when something interesting happens. Love love. Ali xxx

May 2012

Hi All, So, it’s been a while. Again. I haven’t been doing much, obviously, but I did have some plans when I first came to live with my aunt. First of all, I wanted to loose some weight. Not loads, just enough that I could walk again. Then I wanted to walk around the garden, get my strength up and be able to go out. Nowhere in particular, just out. It’s been about 3 years since I’ve been out for anything other than a hospital visit and I’m dying inside just to do something with my life. I am still totally ruled by food and rather than loosing any weight, I have put some on. I haven’t been weighed since I was 50 stone and I’ve turned my back on medical help and the idea of a gastric band. However I know I’ve grown. When I was first here, even though I was weak from months of doing nothing and heart problems, I was able to stand long enough to waddle to the bathroom. I needed help getting up but I could at least move. Since a while before Christmas last year, I haven’t been able to move at all. My aunt, bless her, has taken to caring for me. She was used to looking after my gran when she was too big and old to look after herself, and she’s warmed to having me around. She takes care of me in ways that I hoped no-one would ever have to do. The basic set up of my room is that my bed is in fact 2 double beds, side by side. They’re held together by bolts (they’re the kind of beds that screw into walls so they’ve got flat panels on all sides). I can shuffle myself from one bed to the other, which, even though one leg always spills onto the other bed, allows my aunt to change the sheets. I have incontinence pads under me which she changes as and when I need it done. In order to let her change them, I roll onto my side. She cleans me each time with a wet towel and honestly, it’s the most shameful and embarrassing thing I’ve ever gone through, and it happens every day. She’s so nice about it, and never, not even after cleaning up a huge 5 pound turd, does she ever tell me to get my act together. I watch Sky+ and play my xbox during the day. That’s pretty much it. I avoid facebook, my friends all think I’m suffering some kind of illness and I don’t want them to know the truth. I haven’t been outside since I got here, so the only daylight I get is from the window across the room. I have a big TV, so that’s something. Because of my lack of activity, my body has really suffered. My back aches all the time, literally, all the fucking time. My breasts sag either side of my belly and they’re not nice to look at anymore. My belly, when I’m sat in my usual position (as I am now, back against the cushions, legs spread), goes out further than my knees. My skin is sore and in some of my deeper folds, despite the fact that my aunt cleans them daily, a sweaty, yellow pus accumulates. The skin on my outer thighs and lower back that takes most of the pressure of my weight when I’m sat, that’s dark, hard, thick, dead skin and it’s fucking gross. When it cracks it oozes fluid and the gap is really sore, and it cracks most of the time I shift from one bed to the other. The rest of my skin is spotty, stretch marked and in some places, like on my lower back where I can’t reach, I have pretty nasty sores. I find it hard to breathe most of the time, I feel hot all day while at the same time my feet always feel cold because the circulation in my legs is bad. My hair hasn’t been cut in over a year so it’s just a total mess and I only wash it when my aunt has time to bring a second wash bowl for me. The current situation is this. My parents don’t want me to go back to how I was in my flat, just a recluse with no contact except someone who was making me fatter, so I get to stay here. They pay my aunt to look after me. My aunt, considering me an adult capable of making my own decisions in life, lets me eat whatever and however much I want, and brings it to me as I ask for it. A normal day will be something like her waking me at 8 or 9 with a tray of cereal, 8 pieces of buttered toast and a glass of whole milk. She then asks me if I want anything else, which my answer is usually a fried breakfast of some kind. The usual is some eggybread with sausages but depending on my mood, could be a full fried breakfast. After that I usually get some pancakes, waffles or crumpets. Whatever I’m in the mood for. She then changes my pad, gives me a washbowl so I can do my teeth and face and if I want she goes over whatever she can reach with a flannel. For the rest of the morning she cleans and cooks around the house most days and sometimes goes out. In that time I have access to whatever I want as long as I ask for it before she goes out. I usually get a tray of cream and jam doughnuts, a cake of some sort (usually one meant for sharing with 6 or more people), crisps, chocolate, coke, biscuits, pastries, that sort of thing. The main thing she gives me to fill up on is rice pudding. She gets cheap stuff from the cash and carry, so she’s happy to just let me sit and eat a whole case of them. Usually I’ll have 2 or 3 cans along with my other snacks because I find it almost impossible to stop eating until I’m really full. For lunch, if she’s been out, she’ll phone me and ask what I want brought back. Usually I’ll ask for McDonald’s or KFC, sometimes I’ll have something else but it’s usually one of the 2. I’ll have either 2 big mac meals with shakes and 4 double cheeseburgers, or I’ll have 12 pieces, a couple of wraps, lots of fries and coke with a krushem. If she’s home, she’ll cook me whatever I ask for. Most of the time it’ll be something quick and easy, like a pair of oven pizzas and a bag of oven chips, but she often makes me 4 beef burgers if she has the time. I usually get something else as a kind of second lunch like a quiche, sausage roll or pasty or something, then I get dessert. I usually go with cake and ice cream but she sometimes gives me readymade trifles or a pack of cream cakes. I snack again in the afternoon and have my pad changed again if she has time. Dinner is around 5. I eat whatever she’s cooked and usually there’s enough to fill me up, and by now you know how much that can be. There’s almost always dessert and again, I get loads. She makes an incredible apple crumble with custard, she usually makes 2 dishes because I can eat more than one to myself. I also start drinking around dinner time, sometimes I’ll have a bottle of wine or two if we’re having something nice, if it’s just simple food I often eat beer or have jack daniels with my coke. There is more snacking followed by supper. Usually supper is a takeaway, which can be anything from Chinese, Indian or Pizza to kebabs. I usually order far too much and, being stuffed from eating all day, I end up finishing it after she’s gone to bed. Regardless of what I was drinking earlier, I always have sprits by this time of night because that seems to stop me getting a hangover. I will usually commence a self-pitying binge at this point too and have another 4 cans or so of rice pudding, which makes my stomach ache and I end up having a bad night’s sleep in considerable pain. Given that I don’t actually move much in the day, I tend to have a lot of trouble sleeping anyway, and just doze off gradually through the day between meals. I’m supposed to be loosing weight for a gastric band or gastric bypass, whatever seems the best option when I’ve gotten down to a weight where its even possible. I can’t bring myself away from the food though, so I’m just getting bigger each day. I look at my aunt and wonder why I can’t be more like her. All her life she’s eaten what she wants and she’s only about 30 stone. She doesn’t stop moving all day until she sits at the end of the day and watches TV, so I think that’s got something to do with it. Plus it doesn’t take nearly as much food to fill her up. I watch my cousins come and go from the house. It’s good to see them, but it worries me that they’re not learning from my example. I thought by being here I might scare them into taking care of themselves, but they’ve never been bigger. Tim is 13, obese, and has type 2 diabetes. Kate, who is 18, once lost a lot of weight. She got down to 15 stone a couple of years ago but has put most of it back on and is now about 18 stone again. Her sister Vicky has piled on more weight and proudly boasts, in a sick joking way, that she’s the second biggest in the family (after me, of course). She has high blood pressure and sleep apnoea and regularly gets weighed at her doctors surgery. She tells me without a care in the world that she gains weight every time she goes and last time I saw her she said she was 33 stone. She’s only 21 and she eats like I used to. She’s becoming just like I used to be and it scares me that she might end up as fat and useless as me. I hate the thought that, maybe in her mind, I’ve made it okay to be this big. I hide behind a veil of ‘I’m fine’ even though I can’t get out of bed and she just seems to think it’s acceptable to spend your whole life in bed eating yourself to death. In my opinion, the worst of my cousins is probably Jess who is only about 11, who has been allowed to eat so much crap that she’s wearing size 20 adult clothes. I dread to think what the poor girl weighs but she has trouble at school with bullying already. When they are here they get treated to so much food. I can’t tell my aunt to stop feeding them so much, it would just be too hypocritical. But I do feel like history is repeating itself with them. I see my mum regularly; she comes over to see how I’m doing. We don’t go into the fact that I can’t look after myself, and she still thinks I’m in bed all the time because I feel weak. My only lasting friend, Sarah, texts me a lot, I tell her I’m not well. I don’t want to lose her but I don’t want her to see me like this, it’s a hard balancing act. I know she is going to the gym and swimming these days, but she’s on the way down from a high of 23 stone, which she swears she’ll never weigh again. I know that’s probably not true, since she swore that at 12, 14, 17 and 20 stone before-hand. This weekend, for the Queen’s Jubilee, we had a barbeque where most of the family came around. It was a nice change for me, sort of a special occasion. At Christmas I was able to get into my gran’s old wheelchair and scoot into the dining room, where I spent most of the day on the old sofa. Since then I haven’t left the bedroom and as I’ve probably grown a fair bit, it took me, my aunt and my cousin Kate struggling for half an hour to get me standing. I was dizzy by the time I was upright and they helped me down into the chair. I felt so pathetic, especially when they both had to push me. The worst bit was when we got to the doorway, we had to stop while I scooped up a huge slab of flesh that was hanging over the side of the chair and making me too wide for the door. It was nice to be out of the bedroom again. It makes you feel like a prisoner, that you can’t even get up for a minute to stretch your legs or breathe some fresh air, but coming out this weekend was wonderful. They moved the old sofa into the conservatory so that I could sit down in the sunshine. I would have liked to go outside but we were worried that if I went down the ramp, nobody would be strong enough to push me back up it. I don’t have any clothes that fit so I was wearing a bed sheet tucked around me. It was about midday and I was starving so my aunt got me my breakfast, cereal, a box of pop tarts, 4 croissants, 4 pan au chocolates, 12 pancakes with maple syrup and a fruit salad. It was only a small breakfast because the BBQ was starting. It was a lovely day, I spent all day chatting and eating, I must have had about 10 hot dogs (lost count), I ate 5 cheeseburgers and at one point I had a huge steak and chips. No salad whatsoever, haha! I know I drank 12 bottles of beer too because I collected them all next to me. Didn’t really get drunk though. I’m back in my room now though, don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep eating like this before something bad happens again. I feel like death most days. Anyway, I’ll post another update when I remember. Love, Ali xxx

Update . . .

Ok . . . this is fucked up. Feels wrong coming back to this after everything that’s happened but I’ve missed my little diary, so here goes.

Something bad happened, but it changed my life for the better.

Steven and I never actually had sex, but despite that he continued to feed me right up until August, when, aged just 23, I suffered my first heart attack.

The first signs that I’d let myself go beyond anything I’d ever intended, was when I was no longer able to get out of bed by myself. Shortly after my last post I stopped even trying, and Steven began to order incontinence pads because, pathetically, I wasn’t able to hold it in until he was around to help me. Olga, as nice as she was about these things, was clearly disgusted that she was working in a flat that smelled of shit. Steven had to change my bed sheets because Olga wouldn’t go near the pads. I kept getting bigger though, Steven kept helping me eat more and even though I was at this point thinking I had to stop, I didn’t have the strength. I was dependant on him in so many ways and if I lost him, I didn’t know what I would do.

During a hot, muggy week in August, Olga took the start of a 2 week vacation to see her parents. Steven was busy most of the time and was preparing for a holiday too which really stressed me out because I had no idea what I would do without him. Steven was at the time feeding me quite a lot of fast food, I had a thing for fried chicken and it seemed like the more I ate, the more I was expected to eat, so it came to a point where he would be bringing in enough to fill me 3 or 4 times. I tried not to disappoint him and as I usually do, when faced with more food than I want, I made room.

I think it was a combination of stress, the extra greasy food and my steadily increasing weight, that led to the chest pains. They became more intense and one night, when Steven was at his home and I was alone, munching my way through a very rich Mississippi mud pie, I got a really tight feeling in my chest. I stopped eating and started panicking, but that made things worse. I was sick and felt paralysed, but it wasn’t like I was numb, I was just too weak to move. The pain lasted for what felt like hours but I didn’t black out, which I was practically begging my body to do.

The pain spread all over and true to what people say, I got sharp pains in my arms. Mostly my left but it was generally sharp shooting pains all over. I thought I was getting better throughout the night and I managed to get my strength back so I could drink (though all I had in reach was coke, which wasn’t ideal), but a few minutes after that I had another attack and called Steven.

I could hardly breathe and I felt like I would pass out. He arrived saying he’d phoned for an ambulance. I remember it was hard to hear and hard to see and I thought I was dying. I don’t remember everything that happened but I do remember being given drugs and that 2 ambulances came, I think because the first was too small for me. According to my mother the fire brigade was called but weren’t needed, something which gives me some small shred of dignity.

I was kept in hospital for almost a week under observation. I was tested and weighed and given tablets for the pain, cholesterol and my blood pressure. In hospital I apparently weighed my all time high of 58 stone, which is 812 pounds. A lot of it was retained fluid so after treatment I left hospital weighing a little over 53 stone. About a month later I now weigh around 50 stone.

All the while in hospital I begged for a gastric bypass but I’m too big for surgery. I didn’t want to look at food and up until a few weeks ago I avoided eating quite a lot. Even so I’ve got to loose another 15 stone before I’ll be considered healthy enough for surgery.

I don’t think I’ll manage that because despite the support of my family, I’m still overeating. I live with my aunt now in her large house. I can happily stay downstairs and everything I need is here. I can't walk but my grandmother used to live here and as morbid as it may be, her stuff is still here. Being very big, her wheelchair was massive and now I use it myself. The ground floor was also well designed for someone like me, with disabled rails in the bathroom and wide corridors, ramps at steps and so on.

My aunt knows that I will eat no matter what, so she cooks very large but very healthy meals for me, so I fill up on good stuff. She buys me all the snacks and treats that I want but they’re in top cupboards so I only get them when she thinks it’s appropriate. It’s given me some restraint that I badly needed. I still eat loads and when my cousins come over we binge like crazy (all of them now scared to end up like me though), but I’m much better than I was when Steven was feeding me.

Apparently he had a lot of difficult questions to answer when my parents arrived after my heart attack, and he hasn’t seen me since. He’s text me but we haven’t really spoken. I want to avoid getting into a situation like that again, where I was his play thing.

Anyway, I’m still settling into my life at my aunts and I will write more about it another day. I wanted to write more but I'm very tired these days. It’s late for me though so I’m off to bed. Night all!

~xXx~

Xmas and the New Start

Hi all,

I have all sorts of news, none of it really what you would call bad, but lots of developments, lots good.

I want to start with Christmas. It’s always a special time of year for me, as food is one of the most important parts of it. I was invited home for Christmas, as usual, and decided I’d go. But unlike last year, I wasn’t really going to fit at the table.

Just before Christmas I’d had a bad case of flu and had dropped a little weight. It wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but when I got better, I was having bad stomach pains, so I saw my doctor. Among the usual tests, which again confirmed that my blood pressure was too high, I was tested for diabetes (and thankfully cleared) and weighed. There is a scale in my doctor’s surgery that is down the hall for weighing very obese patients. It was enough of a struggle to get out of the house that morning, drive to the surgery, sit in the waiting room and then waddle to her office, let alone waddle down the hall to the scale, but breathless, I managed it.

Clothes have become a big problem, so I was just wearing a beige top with curry and sweat stains on it, and black leggings that were meant to be baggy, but hugged my leg rolls. I don’t have bras that fit, but I’m beyond caring how I look, or that my breasts hang down as far as they do. I wore trainers, but my feet still ached in them.

I had requested to be weighed, she had weighed me back in summer and I wanted to see if my gluttony had piled any more weight on me.

I didn’t understand how to read the scale, so when she told me to step off, I did. Without being asked to, I took the nearest available seat, because I was so exhausted I felt like I’d be sick. It didn’t help that before coming to the surgery, I’d had a McDonald’s lunch of 2 big macs, 2 double cheeseburgers, a McChicken sandwich, 2 packs of fries and 2 milkshakes, all of which were sloshing in my stomach as I moved.

She asked me to come back to her office, and I realised I didn’t have the strength to stand. It was embarrassing, but I had to use a disabled support on the wall to haul myself out of the seat. I waddled back to the office.

She was stern and harsh with me again. She asked about my lifestyle and diet. I told the truth. When I’d had flu, I hadn’t eaten as much. I’d gone from (and I’m estimating based on when I used to count calories, because I really can’t be assed to list my daily diet and work it out, but you probably already know what I eat day to day) about 20-25,000 calories a day down to less than 10,000 for about 5 days. When I started to feel better, I was back consuming as much as before.

She took a guess that the pains were probably my body’s way of telling me it doesn’t want the food. That maybe my digestive system had gotten used to a more sensible intake of food, and that suddenly forcing my old, very unhealthy and fat filled diet back into it had been what was causing me the pain. She asked me to keep track of what I eat and try to cut out dairy and meat for a while, and try to eat around 2,000 calories a day. She said if I could do that, and still felt ill, that she’d refer me for tests.

I really can’t do that. And I didn’t.

Then came the shock. I’d suspected for some time that I was over 40 stone but I’d never seen it on the scales or heard it from my doctor. But here it was, 43 stone and 4 pounds. 606 pounds. 274 kilos.

She told me, firmly, that if I don’t change I’ll probably be dead by the time I’m 30. She told me straight, that I’d always been severely overweight, and throughout most of my life, never had a decent standard of fitness. I haven’t exercised in over 3 years and before that I don’t think I ever have in my life. It was a bad combination that is, statistically, quite likely to kill me young.

Then she blamed my general lack of health and my migraines on my weight. I didn’t want to talk about the random chest pains that I get, or the sores, because I was nearly crying in the office.

I tearfully waddled back to my car. Planning ahead, there were 3 crunchies, skips, and a yazoo milkshake waiting in a carrier bag on the passenger seat.

Driving has become difficult. My right thigh pushes up against the door, along with the overhang of my fat belly and hips, making it difficult to close the door. The seatbelt doesn’t go over me (but I ordered an extender from an American website that sells things to help the obese with their ‘affliction’, however I don’t know if it’s legal so I hope I don’t get pulled over should someone notice). My left thigh and hip spill over onto the handbrake. I have to literally lift my flab before I can pull up the handbrake. With my seat all the way back, I can just about reach the pedals, but my gut presses against the bottom of the steering wheel. Getting in and out? If you’ve ever seen that episode of Top Gear where Jeremy Clarkson tries to fit into the world’s smallest car, it’s a bit like that. I had to work out a system to get in and out.

However, the last time I drove it was the last time I left my flat, Boxing Day. And I have put weight on. And I don’t think my system would work anymore.

After that, I had a moment where I decided I need to change my life. I’ve had those before. They don’t work but at the time I was certain. Anyway, I phoned my mum, told her my weight, and that I wanted to come for dinner on Christmas, as long as she would accept that I want to sit on the sofa this year, rather than at the dinner table. She was understanding and could tell that I was upset.

Closer to the day, when she was planning for Christmas, she asked if I had started my diet yet, because she wanted to know how much I was going to eat. I hadn’t, obviously, and told her I’d start in the New Year. Mum was about 30 stone herself around Christmas and wanted to loose weight so she insisted we could try together, but that for Christmas we’d just enjoy ourselves.

I arrived on Christmas day at about 11 to find the dinner table pulled up closer to the sofa. Exhausted from walking, I collapsed onto the sofa and panted. I’d decided to do some laundry and have a wash, so I was at least slightly presentable, but still just wearing a massive top and a pair of leggings and trainers. Mum brought me coke, and extended the edge of the table over me, so that I could reach onto the table. It also meant I had an entire metre long extension of table for my food to go on. When lunch began, mum brought in so much food it was unreal. There was only us and dad, but the amount was immense. She dished me up a plate that must have weighed a couple of kilos. It was loaded with turkey, potatoes, veg, cauliflower cheese, sausages wrapped in bacon, Yorkshire puddings and loads of gravy.

As I gorged on my first plate, mum and dad explained to me that they understood why I ate so much, and mum took responsibility for overfeeding me as a child. She said that from Christmas until New Year, I was free to eat what I wanted, but that in the new year I’d be expected to diet, and that they were going to pay to have my stomach fitted with a gastric band.

I was horrified. Gob smacked. That is my worst nightmare. Food is my comfort, it’s the reason I wake up in the morning, and it’s what fills the empty days of my nightmare existence with a flicker of light. I would still want the food; I just wouldn’t physically be able to eat.

For the guys reading this, many of whom apparently still find my ramblings ‘hot’, try to imagine that you’ve got a huge sex drive, a harem women that you want to sleep with, and you can’t get an erection.

Food is my sex. I wasn’t about to give it up without a fight.

I argued from a few standpoints. One was that I am thoroughly addicted to food and I would just find a way to break the band and that would be dangerous. Another was that it was my body and I’m free to make my own choices about these things. And lastly, that due to my size, a doctor would probably just refuse to operate on me. They wouldn’t listen to my reasoning but my dad, ever the push over, just agreed that I shouldn’t have to do anything I don’t want to. My mother just sighed and huffed and became grumpy with me for a while.

I gorged on 4 large plates. I enjoyed the intense feeling of the heavy, rich foods pressing against the walls of my stomach, weighing it down, expanding it like a huge, heavy waterballon. I wondered what the 4 piled plates of food looked like. I wondered how big my stomach actually was and how the doctors fitting a band would be freaked out by what must be a very above average stomach. I washed it down with 2 pints of cola, loving the way it made me belch every time. The pressure in my stomach became soooo good. I hadn’t felt this fulfilled in a long time, even though I was worried about my health and my parents insistence on a gastric band.

I started to feel kind of woozy after my 4th plate. My breathing was laboured and I felt exhausted and as though I had to sleep. I was becoming a boring conversation partner when I realised that I’d almost single handedly cleared the table. For sake of not wasting anything, I finished off the cauliflower cheese, the sausage meat stuffing and the last of the veg while mum prepared dessert.

Despite our recent history of mum trying to make me loose weight, during my childhood, she fed me loads. I was her portly princess and I was encouraged to finish every last morsel of the adult sized portions that she put in front of me. For old times sake, and because this may be our last big meal together, mum had prepared 3 desserts. The first was simple, Christmas pudding. It was a fairly large one; it should have served 6-8 people I’d say. I ate about 2/3 of it with about a pint of cream. Mum, like with the dinner, didn’t complain, because I know seeing me eat her cooking is actually reassuring for her, and I know she’s missed feeding me. I’m sure part of why she’s upset about my growth is that it wasn’t her that’s put the last 30 stone on my body. In fact her last major contribution to my shape was removing about 10 stone of fat when she forced me to diet and exercise.

Dad left the table at this point, I’m sure, partly grossed out by my slow and steady consumption, but partly just full himself.

Mum then brought in the trifle. A monstrosity of cream, custard, cake and jelly in a glass dish the size and depth of a mixing bowl. I was full. Very, very full. For the first time in a long time I was thinking ‘actually, I don’t know whether I want to eat this’, but it looked and smelled soooo good. She’d sprinkled cocoa powder on the whipped cream and my mouth was literally watering. She dished some up for me, then some for herself. My bowl was gone before she’d had a couple of mouthfuls. She said she didn’t want any more, and dad declined, so she let me eat it straight from the bowl.

It took me back to my childhood; especially since I felt so short, being as I was sunk into the sofa. As I swallowed mouthful after mouthful and my stomach expanded more and more, the blissful pain and heavy, complete feeling washing over me, I remembered how I got this big and why I love eating so much. It brought back memories of the first times I thought about the feelings that the food gave me. The times when I was not only allowed, but encouraged to eat between meals. Encouraged to keep eating, even when my stomach was clearly protesting. Told I was a good girl for finishing my plate, my takeaway, my dessert . . . it became clear to me as I ate that trifle, that I do want a feeder.

The next dessert was a chocolate log, with more cream. Mum was too full any allowed me to finish it all myself. It was over a foot long, loaded with buttercream and sprinkled with icing sugar. The cream was unnesscary but it was left over from the pudding. I ate it all, then I don’t recall anything for 5 hours. Apparently I slept like a baby on the sofa, with chocolate around my mouth, “Just like when you were little”.

Dinner was at 6, by which time I was hungry again. Mum had planned for there to be leftovers, but as I’d eaten everything, she had to go into the kitchen to prepare more. She roasted a chicken and potatoes, did some macaroni cheese and then made more pigs in blankets, but this time using large sausages and whole rashers of bacon. She gave me 6 and had 2, dad didn’t want any. He just had some chicken and potatoes. I was left to finish nearly all the chicken (I’m not really proud of this, but I can eat a whole chicken if I have to), most of the mac and cheese, tons of potatoes and my pigs.

I was drowsy again, but had to get up to use the toilet. Shamefully, I had to ask for help getting up, then even more shamefully, I couldn’t fit into the toilet and turn around, so I had to back in and go with the door open, which was so embarrassing I cried to myself a little. Apparently I was in there for the best part of an hour. And I do remember that I flushed twice while I was on it and once after I got off. After all, what goes in, must come out.

I stayed the night, watching the crap on TV, then struggled up the stairs, stopping to catch my breath every other step, and slept right through to 3pm. Mum made me what she thought was a healthy lunch of pizza and salad, but on the drive home I filled up with KFC.

When I got home, I started to change some things for the better. But when I say I have continued to overeat and not left the flat since then, that really does require some explaining.

First of all, I have a cleaner, Olga. She is awesome and I love when she comes around. She comes once on Tuesday afternoons and once on Friday afternoons, and I leave the door unlocked in case she comes while I’m still asleep. Dad pays her but she’s become like a friend because we always chat when she is here. I now make sure I shower twice a week, so while I’m in the shower, she can change my bed sheets. Then when I’m out of the bathroom she can clean that. She takes care of all the rubbish I leave around the flat and I really would be living in total filth without her.

But I have put on weight. I can hardly move without help, so how do I get from bed, to the toilet, to the shower? Because I have met, through my blog and chat, a very wonderful feeder. Steven is 37, and unfortunately married, but he’s very good at D.I.Y, and has helped make my flat more liveable, but putting hand rails up (the kind you see in disabled toilets) and that’s meant that I’m able to distribute my weight more evenly onto my arms and balance and support myself as I move. He has rearranged my flat so that I have minimal distance possible from my bed to the bathroom and I only have a short walk to the door to pick up deliveries. I can watch TV from bed and really, I don’t have to move from it much. It’s not a perfect system yet and I will need to change it if I keep growing, but for now I’m coping well, and with less exhaustion, my chest pains have almost stopped.

Apart from that, Steven comes over whenever he can and keeps me company and feeds me whatever I want. He’ll phone me during his lunch break and ask what I want to eat and bring it to me in massive quantities. He has cooked for me a few times, but he can’t stay long as his wife wonders where he is. We haven’t done anything sexually yet, but the tension is building and my pussy is hot and wet and all his when he wants it. Of course, he’ll need to find it because I can barely reach anymore. I haven’t come in such a long time it’s depressing.

Last month, he sent me a huge Dominos order, even more than I would ever eat on my own, and told me he wanted me to finish all of it. 4 large pizzas, one chicken, one pepperoni, one veg and one the works, along with chicken dippers, potato wedges, chocolate desserts, ice cream and coke. I looked at it in shock, but he told me if I ate it I would get a pleasant surprise. I was thrilled. It was about 1pm and he was coming over at 6 and he wanted it all inside me by the time he came. I was so excited to be encouraged to eat that I felt alive, I felt horny, I felt like I had a purpose. So I did, I ate.

I ate so much that I got totally sick of pizza for weeks and I still feel sick thinking about that afternoon. It was hard work, my stomach swelling and swelling and the time it took to digest made it all the harder to eat. By the time I got around to desserts I was literally light headed, it was about 4.30 I suppose but it was such a daze I don’t really recall the details. The ice cream had melted so I drank it and practically swallowed the desserts whole with it.

I fell asleep around then, with the TV on. The door was unlocked and when he came in his footsteps woke me, as he wears boots at work. His mouth dropped wide open as he looked at me, food around my mouth, naked on the bed, empty boxes all around me. He gave me a hug and I groaned as he put pressure on my stomach. He eased off. I felt so good holding him, my heavy arms taking too much energy to actually encompass him, but I touched his sides. I felt his cock bulging into the fat of my belly which was spilling over the left side of my bed, where he was. He actually thanked me for eating it all and said I was a good girl. I didn’t expect him to go all weird but he was loving it.

My surprise, it turned out, was a milkshake maker. It’s more of a blender really, or a smoothie maker. But he showed me how it worked but putting it next to my bed and making me a whole bunch of milkshakes, using ice cream and either strawberries or oreos, or both, which he had brought when he’d picked it up. It was an amazing night and I would have given him my body but he never asked to take it. He had to leave by 7.30 and I was so stuffed that I literally fell straight to sleep.

He’s thinking of ways he can make my life better, as well as ways to give me more incredible foods. We’ve had nights where he’s brought me takeaways and in the last two months he’s pretty much managed to double what I eat. Instead of 2 meals and a couple of sides from the Indian, it’s 3 or 4 and sides. Instead of an 8 piece bucket at KFC, it’s that and lots of extras like sandwiches, wraps and krushems. Instead of my usual from McDonalds, he literally brought 3 times what I normally eat and hand fed me every single burger and every single French fry. Some nights he’s cooked for me and I’ve eaten entire packets of pasta, 2.5 kilo bags of potatoes and so, sooo many filling carbs, with creamy sauces and curries and meatballs and sooooo much good stuff!

He tries to think of affordable ways that he can make my flat more liveable as I grow, but so far the handrails are the only affordable thing he’s managed. He works in home improvements so it’s ideal, otherwise he probably wouldn’t be able to do these things. He’s hoping my dad will fork out for a bath with a door, but I’m not holding my breath.

I want him inside me. If he were here now I’d suck him off and swallow it all, but he’s working, which really sucks. He said he might make it over tonight so hopefully, I’m going to get a filling in more ways than one.

I’m truly happy right now, just as long as I don’t think about the future.

I will keep you all posted.

Love and XX’s

Ali xXx