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Archive-name: Fetish/immobile.txt

Archive-author: Sherri Miller  As told to Bruce Powell

Archive-title: Immobility

    I woke up and then looked around the room to get myself 

oriented.  Sunlight streamed through the curtains and lit a strip of 

the bed coverings.  I reached over and hit the top button on the 

strip that was installed on my bed.  This button would tell the 

kitchen staff that I was awake.  I could smell baking cinnamon rolls 

and my mouth had begun to water.

    I stretch my arms and wiggle my toes, just about all of my 

mobility at once. I punch the button that will bring my schedule and 

menu for the day up on the computer screen hung over my bed.  My 

tummy rumbles at the thought of pigs-in-a-blanket and biscuits with 

gravy for breakfast.  I notice that today I will be taken from bed 

to the spa where I will float in my hot tub for three hours before 

my massage.  I turn off the screen.

    As I brush my blonde hair out of my face I notice (not for the 

first time) that my upper arms is as big as the pillow that I lean 

against.  I smile at the fact that even my lower arms are bigger 

than most women's hips.  My tummy rumbles again so I begin to run my 

fat hands over the rolls and bulges that rise 4 feet off of the bed.

    As I lay there waiting for one of the kitchen staff to bring me 

my breakfast I think back to how I got here.  It was seven years a 

go that I met Bob, my husband.  I was a senior in college studying 

Nursing.  I met him at a party and immediately fell hard.  It took 

three weeks for me to get a date with him.  I thought it was because 

of my weight.  At the time I carried 135 pounds on my 5'1" frame.  

While most people called me chubby, I thought of myself a fat.  A 

fatso in a thin world.  I went on a crash diet while waiting for our 

date.  Finally, I asked him out.  He then told me that he was 

waiting for the right time to  ask me out, I flipped.

    He took me out to an Italian place.  I was starving, due to my 

dieting.  Normally I could resist most foods in public.  It was in 

private that my insatiable appetite would get me into trouble.  I 

had been struggling for the last three years to maintain my weight.  

As a result I had only put on around 20 pounds in the last four 

years.  But that night I couldn't help myself.  I ordered Lasanga, 

one of my favorites.  When the meal came my eyes bugged out over the 

size of the portion, it was huge!  But after two hours I managed to 

finish it.  I felt like such a pig!  I thought at that moment that 

Bob would be revolted and never want to see me again.

    Strangely, he drove me around and then parked in the shadows of 

my dorm.  Dredging up the courage I leaned over and kissed him, 

hoping not to be rejected. His response surprised me.  I about came 

as his tongue probed my mouth.  His right hand caressed my 

overstuffed belly.  Instinctively, I reached out to remove it.  But 

he move my hand away and continued to stroke by bulging belly.  I 

found it to be very erotic.

    On our next date he took me to a French place.  Good food, with 

lots of cream sauces and the like.  This time he ordered for me.  

Again the portion was very large.  After dinner he took me to a pie 

house not far from the college.  I had a double helping of apple pie 

ala mode.  As he took me back to the dorms I was so stuffed that I 

was almost in pain.  This time I took him to my room, my roommate 

was out of town.  We spent the rest of the night making slow 

passionate love.  I began to figure out that Bob liked me to eat.  

And was beginning to see that he liked me fat.

    We were married two weeks after graduation.  I had put on 

another twenty pounds and my mother was telling me how chubby I had 

gotten.  She told me that 150 pounds was too much to weigh for 

somebody as short as I was.  Well I didn't tell her the promise that 

I had made to Bob.  I promised that as long as we were married I 

would never diet and that I would eat everything put in front of me.

    Our honeymoon was a constant feast for me.  We spent it in San 

Francisco.  I think we hit every restaurant in the town.  I ate so 

much that by the end of the two weeks I couldn't fit into most of my 

clothes.  But that was only the beginning.  We set up housekeeping 

in this house and I have never regretted it.  I spent most of the 

early months getting used to my new routine.  I would wake up in the 

morning to a huge breakfast left by Bob as he went to work.  After 

breakfast I would get up shower, and move to the front room.  There 

I would constantly snack until Bob returned from work around 5:00 

PM.  Bob would then treat me to a huge dinner and late night 

snacking.  Needless to say I began to gain at an alarming rate.

    By Christmas I was over 200 pounds and still climbing.  I was 

distressed to see my new figure in the mirror and the one one the 

scale.  I had been brainwashed by 22 years of "thin thinking".  But 

I was also deliriously happy.  I loved Bob, and he loved me.  With 

every pound I put on it seemed that he was more in love with me.  

Around our first Christmas it began to dawn on me that I liked being 

fat.  I love to eat and the added fat did not detract from our 

lovemaking.  On the contrary, it added to it.

    I began to fantasize about enormous meals with me being so fat 

that I need help eating.  And I did my best to make these dreams 

come true.  By our first anniversary I weighed just under 300 pounds 

and was loving it.  I would eat just to gain "a few more pounds".  

In doing so I would force myself to devour that last bite of 

cheesecake, or that last spoon of custard.  Most nights I would lay 

in bed stuffed beyond all reason, eyes glazed over and breathing 

heavy due to the pressure in my round tummy.  It was then that Bob 

would make love to me for hours.

    Time passed and I got fatter.  Boy, did I get fatter.  By our 

second anniversary I was over 500 pounds and I was beginning to have 

to revise my lifestyle.  Stairs were becoming something that I 

avoided like the plague.  Also, it was becoming harder for me to 

spend hours at the stove to continuously feed my gluttonous belly.

    It was near our third Christmas that Bob brought home a slightly 

chubby redhead.  I remember thinking that it was over.  I had 

finally gotten too fat that that this redhead was his new lover.  I 

was laying in bed, just after eating three dozen chocolate covered 

doughnut and drinking a gallon of chocolate milk.  I was so stuffed 

that I couldn't sit up to slap her face.  In fact, I was so stuffed 

that I could hardly talk.  I remember being so hurt and mad that I 

almost missed his words.

    "Linda, this is my gorgeous wife, Sherri.  Sherri, this is 

Linda, who is going to help out around here.  Her biggest duty is to 

keep you full."  The relief flooding over me was almost too much.  I 

felt like the Queen of the World.

    Linda and I soon became very good friends.  Every morning she 

would wake me up to a mountainous breakfast.  After breakfast I 

would go for a short swim and then have a snack.  By the time Bob 

returned from the office I was usually so stuffed that dinner was a 


    But my lifestyle began to rub off on Linda.  Soon her clothes 

were too tight and then I noticed a second chin forming.  By summer 

she had become a glutton herself.  We would lay around the pool and 

gorge ourselves on sweets and other things.  By Labor day Bob had to 

hire another cook.  Linda had reached the 350 pound mark and was 

getting to like laying around and gorging herself.  In 18 months 

Linda gained over 250 pounds and found herself a feeder for her 

own.  She made a lovely 500 pound bride and the last time I saw her 

she was over 700 and becoming too big to move.

    About the time that Linda waddled down the aisle I was rapidly 

becoming to large to move.  or the last few months I was able to get 

out of bed only with help.  Once on my feet I could walk just about 

the length of the house.  This exertion would leave me breathless 

and exhausted.  Unlike, around 550 pounds, when I met the milestone 

of having my belly touch the floor while seated, the thought of 

immobility scared me.  I didn't like the idea of becoming totally 

dependent on others.  But on the other hand the thought of being 

totally incompasitated by my appetite was a erotic turn on.

    I soon found that I had little choice in the matter.  Around our 

fourth Christmas I slowly became an immobile mountain of flesh.  Not 

only was I still gaining the fact that my exercise was severely 

reduced caused an acceleration in my growth.  Soon, Bob had designed 

a whole group of special appliances that were designed to help me 

get around.

    I continued to grow.  Bob redesigned the house for me.  Extra 

large doors, special design bed and a 20 foot is diameter jaccuzi.  

I continued to do aqua-robics and tried to maintain my heart in good 

condition.  I continued to grow.

    Just last week Bob's latest invention allowed me to get 

upright.  Most of my massive weight was supported by a hoist-like 

device.  Once on my feet, for the first time in almost two years, I 

was amazed at the fact that not only did my belly reach the floor, 

it flowed over it for a few feet in front of me.  Bob had taped four 

36" tape measures together to measure me, but it was too small.  

While he could measure my thighs by reaching under the expanse of my 

flowing belly.  I was overjoyed to know that they measured over 93" 

around each.

    I see the door opening and one of the newer kitchen girls 

pushing two large carts in.  My mouth beings to water at the thought 

of her feeding me this portion of my breakfast.  Of course, I will 

help but my 73" upper arms makes it almost too hard to do.  A 

shudder passes through my 3/4 of a ton body.  I wonder what the next 

few years will bring.


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