Keep Going

Author’s Note: A friend I recently reconnected with after 8 years inspired me to write this drabble. He tried to get me to guess how much weight he had gained by saying “keep going.” He only gained about 40 pounds, but he didn’t stop my imagination from thinking about the extremes. This is how I wanted the conversation to go. 

Keep Going

Miles: Hey, big guy! It’s Miles. I don’t know if you remember me, but we used to chat ages ago. I don’t use Kik much, but I wanted to check-in. I know you’re high risk for COVID-19 like I am. I hope you’ve been well and staying safe. Sorry. This message is coming out of nowhere.

Brady: It depends. I know a few people named Miles, but I have a hunch. I don’t use Kik much either. I much prefer Telegram. Can you give me more context?  Maybe I can add you to Telegram if you’re who I think you are! Your initials on here are M.K. Is this Miles King from Nashville?

Miles: The very Miles King you think I am! I’ll switch over to Telegram and add you there.

Brady: How did you find me after all those years? I’ve missed you. I’ve tried reaching out on Skype where we first talked many years ago, but you never responded. 

Miles: You don’t think I’d remember your username? It’s recognizable. Plus, it’s kinky as hell. Anyway, like I said I just wanted to check in on you. I randomly thought of you.

Brady: I randomly think about you sometimes too. I mean, how could I not? We had so many plans to meet up. I thought one day we’d be together and you’d be making me immobile. 

Miles: I’m sorry. Can we bury the past and start over? Not in terms of having a relationship. I want to be your friend again.

Brady: That’s fine. I actually moved away, so I don’t think I’d be happy long distance. Let’s just be friends because I’m sure we’ve changed.

Miles: Yeah, I’m sure we have changed. I can see that just physically. Your face is much fatter. God, you blew up. You also look good with the beard.

Brady: Thanks! It’s fairly new. I grew it in the past year. I’m sure you still look good despite not having a photo up on here. A lot can change in 8 years. 

Miles: 8 years!? It’s been 8 entire years since we’ve talked!? No way! 

Brady: Yeah! For reference, we stopped talking my freshman year of college. I graduated in four years and then went in to earn a 2 year Master’s degree. Since then I’ve been out of grad school for two years and starting my third year in my full-time professional role.

Miles: Shit, man. I’m so sorry. 

Brady: It’s okay. People drift away. We’ve all been dealing with stuff. I’m just glad you reached out. You disappeared from Grommr and Tumblr. I mean way before the NSFW ban. 

Miles: Yeah, I’m not where I thought I’d be at 26 years old. It’s not like I’m mad about it. I just wanted to get a clean break to deal with some mental health issues. I’ve stopped posting completely on websites. You look much bigger after 8 years though. I’m kind of shocked and yet not shocked at all, considering it’s you. Haha.

Brady: Haha! I haven’t gained as much as I’ve wanted, but I’m 320 pounds now. I got down to 150 in college before I decided to take the plunge and say fuck these skinny bitches. I want to be massive and I’m done letting twink a and muscular guys tell me I’m not worth anything because I’m fat. I’m giving in to my desires. 

Miles: That’s great! Whatever makes you feel confident in your own body. I’ve...uh... I’ve gotten bigger, too!

Brady: Oh yeah? I bet you look amazing! How big are you? 

Miles: I think I was 270-280 the last time we spoke? Want to guess my weight?

Brady: Hmmm. Well, I know you were living with your fatphobic mother, so I can’t imagine it’s that much. 350 pounds?

Miles: I moved out when she went too far harassing me about my weight.

Brady: So, how close am I to being right with 350?

Miles: Keep guessing, big guy!

Brady: Higher!?

Miles: Keep guessing.

Brady: Higher it lower, Miles?

Miles: Since being on my own I’ve been chugging cream and incorporating more butter.

Brady: I’m afraid to go too high and look like a horny dumb ass. 375?

Miles: Keep going, tubby.

Brady: Holy shit. 400? I’ve got to see that! 

Miles: Keep guessing ;)

Brady: No way! Uh, 450!?

Miles: ...

Brady: How much?

Miles: Just keep going. You’ll get there eventually

Brady: Is it higher? Or lower? Oh my God, you’re toying with me. 

Miles: Just keep guessing, Brady. You’ll get it. Eventually.

Brady: 500? 500. No way, dude. I’m proud of you. I guess that makes sense for 8 years. 

Miles: Nope. Keep going! Hint: My knees gave me problems when I hit 525.

Brady: 550, then?

Miles: Huff

Brady: 600? Are you serious? You’re 600 pounds or more? 

Miles: Keep going. You obviously want to go higher.

Brady: Oh, God. This is starting to make my stomach have butterflies. I feel weak. Higher!? 

Miles: If I said 600 and I started at 280, that would only be a 320 pound gain. 320 pounds in 8 years is only a 40 pound gain a year. 

Brady: I mean, I guess you’re right. If we break the 40 pounds a year down to months is about 3.3 pounds a month. I guess that’s legit, but my god I’ve never heard of someone putting on so much weight in 8 years other than maybe a news story.

Miles: Even some of the best gainers and food addicted civilians gain a hundred pounds in a year. We’re talking about 8 years! Keep going! 

Brady: Seriously though? 

Miles: Lymphedema can make you heavy fast and makes walking a challenge. Keep going.

Brady: My heart is seriously starting to speed. It’s pounding out of my chest. Are you serious about this?”

Miles: I said I keep going, blubberbutt!

Brady: You’re one to talk! 6...50?

Miles: It’s been a real fun time downing heavy cream. Double fisting burgers and pizza. Always having a meal or snack in hand.

Brady: So... higher!?

Miles: What do you think? Oink! Go higher!

Brady: Miles, please tell me. This is agonizing! 

Miles: Just keep going. 

Brady: 700? Surely not. You’re playing with me. 

Miles: Serious gains, serious problems.

Brady: Huff. What does that mean!?

Miles: It means exactly what you think it means. It means my organs are swimming inside a sea of fat. It means sometimes I feel my heart failing. It means without wearing an oxygen cannula, my oxygen levels plummet below 60%. It’s not a good situation. It means keep going...

Brady: Oh, no! I’m so sorry. I’m seriously scared for you. People die at such extreme weights. It’s a vicious cycle. Most people don’t ever get themselves out of a deadly obesity situation at 700 pounds... much less when you’re bigger than that. 

Miles: No need to be sorry. It’s reality. I knew what I signed up for when I packed on weight. And it’s not like you didn’t fantasize about it back then. I know you’re a horn dog. 

Brady: I’m blushing so hard. I don’t... it just makes me so fucking horny. But I am worried. 

Miles: Do you want to keep guessing?

Brady: I don’t know. It feels like you keep playing mind games. My anxiety is kicking in and I’m so fixing horny. I guess this time I’ll try 725.

Miles: Keep going. You’re getting warmer. 

Brady: 750 pounds. 

Miles: Nope.

Brady: 775...

Miles: No. 

Brady: Do I need to go down? I assume it’s not a nice number solid number. It’s probably something odd like 778.6.

Miles: That’s funny. 

Brady: Can you at least walk at your weight?

Miles: My enormous gut covers my legs. I’ve been in bed for 2 solid years now. I’m just several swollen bags of fat glued together at this point. I can’t find a comfortable position to be in because I can’t breathe on my back. My bedsores are getting to be too much. I feel nasty. And sexy. 

Brady: I feel like it can’t go much higher. I’ve been going up increments of 25.... just... for fuck’s sake.... there’s no way... I can’t believe it.... 8....800?

Miles: What’s my favorite phrase?

Brady: It almost feels silly going any higher. This is a prank.

Miles: It’s not a prank. Keep going. 

Brady: You said I was getting warmer at my guess of 725. 

Miles: Technically, that’s not wrong. 725 pounds was a much closer guess that anything you said previously. Do you want to keep guessing? I think you should keep going. 

Brady: I’m going to say something fucking ridiculous. You’re...where over 1,000 pounds. Ha. Ha. 

Miles: It’s not fucking ridiculous. 

Brady: ...

Miles: 1,023 pounds at my last weigh-in when I was in the hospital. 

Brady: Quadruple digits!?! Oh god... I’m going to be sick from my heart pounding so quickly. My stomach is in knots.

Miles: Quadruple digits. I promise.

Brady: Prove it!

[Miles sent a Photo]

Brady: OH MY GOD, MILES.

Miles: You’ve been saying that a lot lately.

Brady: That’s photoshopped! 

Miles: It’s not. You knew what would happen to me. You knew all along.!

Brady: Once again, prove it.

[Miles sent Photo]

Brady: It’s...it’s you!

Miles: I told you. I’m glad this newspaper clipping changed your mind. It’s from when an emergency crew had to get me to the hospital. One word: Sepsis. 

Brady: Just...what!? How!? You’re..not kidding...HUGE...I can’t...I just... I fucking came so hard. 

Miles: I’m glad you like what you see. Wheeze. 

Brady: Holy shit. I think I’m going to cum again looking at this. 

Miles: I need help. 

Brady: Medical help? Are you okay!?

Miles: ....

Brady: Miles, answer me!!! Do I need to call 911?

Miles: Help me, Brady. Help me. Help me keep going.