With or Without You

[Content Warning: This story will include SSBHM weight gain, queer sex, messy eating, drug use, romanticizing abusive relationships, immobility, and extreme obesity related health issues. Reader Discretion is advised.]

Bad Habits

Chapter 10: With, or Without You

     Three to six months. Fractures as severe as his could take three to six months to fully heal, but sometimes fractures like his can take longer. That’s what he read online, anyway, and what he told Dr. Montgomery on the phone. Oliver was almost officially at the end of the six months, after having a standoff with his doctor. Everytime Dr. Montgomery called to check up on Oliver, he tuned him out if he even answered the phone. The doctor begged him to come in to be checked out again, especially to see if the bone was healing properly. Oliver spoke to him in a short tone and with only a few word answers. The calls became less and less frequent, with Oliver’s appointment to get the cast removed one week away. Dr. Montgomery knew Oliver was going to do what he wanted anyway, so the professional decided to give him some space. 

     Oliver breaking his leg really was the final straw for his body, per Dr. Montgomery’s prediction. He sat in bed all day, guzzling 52-ounce sodas and gaining endlessly. His leg muscles atrophied at an alarming rate. Oliver stopped getting out of bed because it became too much effort. His leg made it hard to do anything and the crutches the doctor piled in their van did nothing for him except made his arms hurt. It’s easier to sit around he justified. Oliver didn’t even bother to wear clothes anymore because getting dressed to just sit around and do nothing seemed like an unnecessary daily struggle. It’s not like it even mattered because then he’d just be ready for Dylan.

     Dylan was forced to do everything for Oliver. Oliver was shy, even embarrassed a first. He eventually got used to doing nothing but indulging his bad habits. Dylan did the grocery shopping and ordered the fast food. Dylan cleaned the bariatric bedpan Oliver now used for all of his bio fluids. Dylan gave Oliver sponge baths to keep him clean. After the bath, Dylan also had to maintain Oliver’s new skin care routine.  

     Oliver felt like a Thanksgiving turkey getting fattened and stuffed. Most of the time it’s through both ends if Dylan can hold out from pleasuring himself on Oliver’s body and if Oliver has enough energy to be rolled over without hurting his leg. The reward for being stuffed? Besides occasionally getting Dylan to fuck his flabby, gross ass and the endless supply of food, he got basted with creams that kept his skin from deteriorating. “Basted” didn’t even seem to be the right word anymore. The bigger he got, the more lotion Dylan needed to lather Oliver’s whale-sized body. At this point, he’s baptized with lotions and oils to desperately help his grave skin situation. Dylan has to clean and lotion his entire body to prevent the sores from getting infected. Dylan has to lift Oliver’s heavy molten flesh, turn it, and gently rub the creams in without ripping open new wounds.

     Oliver got off almost daily with the help of his boyfriend. Oliver sat on a mattress on the floor because he officially broke the legs of his bed frame, and smoked weed several times per day. At first, it was pain management for him, but with absolutely nothing left to do, being confined to a bed alone for most of the day, he spent his time smoking and eating himself into a food coma. Dylan left him plenty of food, and on his breaks at work, had food sent from local fast food chains. Oliver would wake up and wouldn’t stop stuffing his face until he went to bed. 

     When Dylan came home in the afternoons, he couldn’t keep his hands off of Oliver’s expanding belly. Dylan would tuck his hands under enormous belly folds. His obese future husband would be on his back, gobbling entire sleeves of Oreos from Costco size boxes while the weight of his bulbous breasts crushed his lungs, giving him his own form of auto-erotic asphyxiation. Dylan’s favorite thing about Oliver’s body: How it bent to his will in unique ways. He put his hand on Oliver’s naked, expansive belly and applied slight pressure. Dylan’s muscular hand kneaded the doughy area as flesh moved in waves. As the fat settled, it sucked his entire hand and closed around his wrists as if it would pull him in from a gravitational pull. Dylan occasionally filmed it for Oliver’s fans. They were incredibly grateful and noticed Oliver putting on over one hundred pounds in six months. It was a fantasy come true for everyone. That was, until it wasn’t anymore. 

     The dirty sex talk became more abrasive. Things like, “Maybe you can go to a truck stop to be weighed like cargo, but you probably can’t get in a car anyway,” and, “I love satisfying all of your gluttonous holes with lard, junk, and cock, you unhealthy hog,” came from Dylan. Oliver wasn’t sure he wanted to be that big deep down, but it did make his tiny dick hard like the old days. However, once the high of sex was over, Oliver became moody. Immobility took its toll, his body not producing enough dopamine or serotonin on its own to combat depression. The reality of being so massive and confined to the mattress was not as sexy as Dylan made it sound when he fucked Oliver. Oliver did everything he could over the last six months just to feel good for a few hours before the haze lifted: eating, sex, smoking weed. 

     Oliver lays back against an army of pillows that keeps him propped up. Tonight, just like each night before, he looks his biggest. Being naked emphasizes just how big his body expanded over time. His legs are open, but neither are sure whether his tree trunk thighs are so big they force his legs into an obtuse angle or if he is just trying to avoid his broken from touching anything. Regardless, his belly covered much of everything up pushing forward and down onto the mattress. He’s wide enough now that he almost takes up the entire width. 

     “Thank God you’re finally home,” Oliver says, as he watches his lover walk into the room and over to him. “You stayed out late again! I could have starved!”.

      “I guess it’s a good thing the meeting ended earlier than we thought it would,” Dylan replies with exhaustion. The last three weeks were tough on Dylan. Dylan’s boss took him under his wing and started grooming him to move up in management in the future, if he ever gets his degree. Recently, another gym across town went out of business, causing many employers to find new gym memberships for their employee's benefits packages. Dylan, being one of the best employees, started working later in the afternoon to organize contracts with the surplus of employers. Oliver wasn’t thrilled with the extra shifts. “What are you thinking for dinner?” Dylan asks with fatigue.

     “Is that even a question? I’ve only had pizza twice this week. You’re depriving me here, Dilly,” Oliver says, only half jokingly. He pauses for a second before asking, “What’s that in your hand?”

      Dylan walks over to his blubbery lover and kisses him on the cheek. “It’s just the mail. I brought all of it in. There seems to be a lot of it. I’ll go through it later.”

     “You order pizza, and I will go through the mail. I’m hoping my Paypal card came in so I have a physical card with all of the camshow money to use, in case of an emergency,” Oliver says with excitement. 

     “Sure thing,” Dylan hands over a stack of envelopes and opens the Dominos app on his phone, as Oliver flips  through the mail. His face falls flat.

     “Dylan. What is this?” asks Oliver with a stern voice, looking at the letter with a college seal on it and Dylan’s name. He pushes it in Dylan’s direction over the mattress. 

     Usually, Oliver is the one with anxiety. Now, it’s Dylan’s turn to be nervous. How could he have been so careless to not check who the mail is sent to, especially after looking at being readmitted, due to his position at work? He was going to have to tell Oliver that he applied eventually, as the semester starts in two weeks. Dylan wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, assuming he even got accepted. “Oh, uh... it looks like a letter from Valetudo College’s Office of Admissions,” says Dylan shyly.

     “Why is Valetudo sending you information on admission, Dylan?” asks Oliver with suspicion. 

     Dylan gulps heavily, his mouth becoming dry.. “I may have considered just seeing if I could be readmitted and potentially finish out my degree to become a certified personal trainer. I haven’t made any decisions yet. We don’t even know if I got in after petitioning, but my boss wanted me to apply since he’s been giving me additional duties.”

      “It looks like you made a decision… without me,” accuses Oliver. “You didn’t even ask how I would feel or tell me you were applying. You’re really going to abandon me, after making me this fat? Maybe Josh was right after all. I’m you’re fat fuck-toy pig, until something better comes along,” 

     “It’s not like that, Ollie,” Dylan says, solemnly. “I haven’t accepted any offers yet, but this could be good for us. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you into a blob just to leave. I mean, I did make you into a blob, but I also didn’t want to hurt you. I love you, but I’ve been seriously thinking about this lately. Maybe I should go back and get a degree for us. It could better our lives, and I know for sure you need this. It’s stupidly hot how fat we’ve made you. It’s so fucked up how turned on I am, that you’ve been facing all these consequences for our actions. You’ve taken the brunt of them, though, and I think maybe it’s time I let you slim down to a healthy weight. At least for now, so we can follow our dreams for a while, and then when we’re more stable, we can focus on your gains again,”

     “Don’t you dare fucking leave me, Dylan.”

     “I’m not leaving,” Dylan tries to calm him down. “I mean, I won’t physically be here everyday, if I do go back, but we can make this work. I’ve really thought about this. It’s only a three hour drive. I can be here every single weekend, and maybe take some online classes here or there.”

     “What the actual fuck. You’re seriously considering this?” Oliver asks in disbelief. 

     “It’s only three semesters in this accelerated program. All my credits apply, and it’s being paid for by work. If I go back, I’ll get a promotion, and I get college credit for my work experience.”

     “What the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m basically confined to a fucking bed at this point, and you’re my caregiver. Look how fat I’ve gotten for you! We own a home with each other! How are we going to make payments if neither of us have legit jobs?” shouts Oliver. 

     “Well, this gives us plenty of time to get you down to a lower weight, so you can be happy, healthy, and mobile again. You have disability until you can lose weight... a-and maybe your parents can help us a little. Then, maybe we can live normal lives… or  you could always gain it all back later. I’ve also saved up some money for a few months of bills, and if you lose a little weight, maybe you could get back to work, and stop spending so much money on food deliveries.”

     “The fuck I will. Big, fat chance. Are you really going to make me beg people on the Internet for more money, or even worse, my parents?” Oliver asks in frustration.

     “I’m so sorry,” Dylan trembles. “You wanted it to stop way back when you were only 200lbs. There’s no way you’re happy being bedridden. It’s so hot, believe me, but after I climax, I always feel bad that we’ve done this, and that just persists until I need to cum again. We can get you a physical therapist with your insurance and get you out of this hell. I know it’s my fault that you’re in this position, and it’s not fair to you. Just let me try to fix it.”

     “I don’t care about me, or my health anymore,” Oliver cries. “I’ll eat my weight in cake for you a thousand times over if it turns you on and you’ll stay. I’ll make myself too fat for a fucking industrial scale. I enjoy it now! See?” He grabs his tits and shakes them. The massive bags of fat bounce wildly in waves.

     Tears run down Oliver’s cheeks as he dramatically opens up the night stand beside their mattress. Dylan is reminded that his handiwork made Oliver’s body break the bed. Watching Oliver struggle to reach the drawers, Dylan realizes how much Oliver’s changed since they first met. 

     Oliver pulls out several snack cakes, shredding the thin plastic open one by one with his teeth before shoving them in his mouth. Oliver turns red choking down the cakes along with his feelings. “See? I’ll make myself over a thousand pounds for you. Fuck Dr.Mongromery! I’ll be the world’s fattest man for you, daddy. I don’t care!” he cries, his voice muffled by the cake. “Leaving me won’t get me to lose weight or make our lives any easier. I’m going to keep fucking gaining and nothing is going to stop me. This will happen with, or without you, so for the love of God, please, do it with me.”

     “Do you think it’s normal,” Dylan began, “that I make you do weekly weigh ins? Do you think it’s fucking normal to take progress photos? Do you think it’s fucking normal that feeding your boyfriend to death makes your cock so hard, especially when he didn’t want it to actually go this far in the first fucking place? Do you think it’s normal that it’s so indescribably fucking hot that you’re doing this, just so I don’t leave? Because it is. I think it’s so hot, but I know you don’t want this! I’ve turned you into a fat monster, who relies on me for basically everything. You just don’t want me to leave. I’ve… I’ve destroyed you. You’re right, maybe you should have listened to Josh.”

     The room goes silent with the gravity of knowing this might be the end of their relationship. Oliver shoves another snack cake in his fat cheeks. Dylan continues his plea:

     “Please, let’s try to make this work. I promise, I’ll come see you every chance I get until we’re married, if you still want to be with me. We can clean up our lives and live the ones we were supposed to have. Let’s not blow this. I can help you get healthy, and I can fix this, and maybe you can get into a school somewhere too. Just, please, put the gaining on hold.”

     “We are living the lives we’re supposed to be living! I can’t believe you’re ruining something good, because you don’t have the balls to go through with it.  If you walk out that door to go back to college, it’s over Dylan! I’ll do anything... You can have all this if you stay. I’ll become the world’s fattest man if it means I get your love. It’s either college or me,” cries Oliver, not in the right state of mind, as he smacks his enormous gut, making it jiggle in waves. His mouth is stained with chocolate from the snacks. 

     Dylan takes the letter from the side of the mattress and opens it slowly to see what the official decision for admission is, but Oliver starts hyperventilating looking at Dylan’s expression. “Fuck. You got in, didn’t you? Fuck. FUCK! You choose college over me! Why don’t you love me anymore?” Oliver panics with a shaky voice.

     “Stop being so over dramatic, Oliver. I clearly love you, or I wouldn’t be wiping your ass. Why are you being like this?”

     “Being like what? A fat bitch?”

      “I didn’t say that, but don’t you care enough about me to let me follow my dreams? My future has you in it, I promise it does, but you knew when we got together that I was going to go back to school once the fresh start policy was applied to my GPA. You had the opportunity to go to college, but you didn’t, because you couldn’t get a scholarship, or couldn’t get accepted into the one you wanted. You had choices too, and you ignored them all,” Dylan says, the words somberly escaping his lips.

     His words are a slap to Oliver’s face; He saw it as another way to invalidate his feelings. He felt like he’s losing everything he wanted, everything he worked tirelessly for the past four years to earn. 

     He turns red in anger. “Don’t you fucking turn this back on me! I thought you cared about me! You fucking wanted to marry me, and now you don’t. We moved here to officially start a life together, and now we can’t. Fuck you, you God damn piece of shit,” shouts Oliver as he tries to pull the ring off his swollen sausage of a finger. He’s so irascible he could throw it at Dylan. The issue is the only way it would come off is getting it cut off by a professional. 

      The pair goes silent and stare at each other. Oliver turns back to the snack cakes and tries to fill the void in his heart with them. His breathing is shallow and rapid. “You didn’t even let me explore the idea. It’s like you don’t even care about my goals or personal development,” Dylan says in a lower voice.

      “You’re leaving me here to die alone in my bed. Do you think I have the ability to survive on my own when I’m too big to even make it to the toilet? I can’t do anything for myself because of you! It’s selfish to use someone as your fetish and then leave them when things get tough,” says Oliver through a strained voice.

     “Oliver, it’s like you didn’t listen to me,” Dylan tries to explain. “All I want is a chance to improve myself. No one said I wouldn’t be back for you. A better job means more food money for you, and by the looks of it, medical equipment and a down payment on a bigger house that can accommodate your girth, if you truly want to live this lifestyle, which I know you don’t. I have this opportunity to help you if you still want to be this big or bigger in the future. If you don’t want it, that’s fine. I am still going to get my degree. If you want me to leave and throw all this away because I’m going to finish a degree, then I will.”

     Oliver feels like an asshole. He is just scared. He is frightened that Dylan will find someone else to love. He is frightened that he couldn’t do anything by himself, and the endorphins from food and sex were the only things keeping him going. He’s not about to swallow his pride and apologize. He has feelings too. Dylan shouldn’t have kept this from him.

     “You think I don’t find this hot? Don’t you remember me jerking off countless times to you talking about how fat I’m getting? Does it mean nothing that I get off when you tell me you’re going to make me immobile, and then it basically did happen?.”

     “First of all, you’re not immobile because you’re fat. You’re immobile because I’m terrible for you and made you sit in bed all day once you broke your leg. You don’t know what true immobility means. Second, you can find this just as hot as I do now, but you’re so damn anxious all the time. You have an undiagnosed anxiety disorder and you need help!”

     “I need help? You’re the one trying to intentionally fatten me to death!” shouts Oliver.

     “Oliver, that’s not my goal for you. It’s our reality now, but…” he trails off as Oliver interrupts.

     “It’s like you’re Dr.Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Your personalities split so easily. One minute you’re sweet and comforting and the next you’re encouraging me to eat myself to death and spitting harsh words at me,” cries Oliver.

     “For fucks sake, Oliver. Why am I some kind of evil feeder only when I’m trying to help you? I’m giving you the option to pump the breaks, or at least turn your life around. You can be big and happy without going into the death zone. Humanize me for a minute, please. I didn’t see you try to stop your eating. You wanted me to make you big and all of this gets you off just as much as it does me. I do know that. Remember when you jerked off in bed? You’re the one begging me to make you immobile as if it’s only my sick fucking kink. You have this fetish too, or at least you’re using it to justify your eating habits. You’re not a victim in all this. Just look at you. You have cake in your hands and you’re telling me you’ll make yourself the fattest man if I stay? You tell me you’re hungry and want me to feed and admire you for your morbid obesity. Then, you tell me I’m sadistic trying to feed you to death and that you don’t want it. That’s borderline abusive, King Gluttony. Fantasies become burdens. Food addictions become burdens,” states Dylan, trying to keep calm towards the end of his speech.

     “So I’m a burden now?” Oliver fires back at Dylan.

     “Why do you have to keep doing this shit to me? You’re not a burden. I just think that the time away will help us make the right decision: do we pump the brakes or do we accelerate if you really think that I want you so fat you die? I mean, you’re miserable at this size. I love the sex and would make you so much bigger, but you’re clearly depressed and trying to blame me for something we did consenually. This is me trying to do what is best for you. Do you think we are both at a point in our lives where you can be satisfied at half a ton? Can we go without fighting about this relationship dynamic? Do we even have the money? Death will come a lot faster for you if we aren’t prepared to handle the reality. That is what I meant by burden. You’re not a burden, but this situation can take its toll on both of us. I’d argue we don’t have that kind of money right now for around the clock feedings and care if we plan on making you bigger and survive as long as possible. It’s something we should plan for carefully if you still want to do this in the future,” Dylan says, his body starting to shake.

     “Fuck you, you pervert!” shouts Oliver.

     Dylan appears defeated. His lover drains everything out of him. He grabs his keys and starts walking toward the door of the bedroom. He takes off his engagement ring and places it with a hard clink against the dresser. “I guess this means that after everything, you think our relationship can’t take this. I was there when you needed me. I’m still trying to look out for your best interest. I don’t know why you can’t be there when I need you. If you’re not going to let me entertain the idea, well, I’ll see you around. I’ll let your mom know what happened and maybe they can hire someone to take care of you. I’ll have someone come get my things, because right now I’m done with this bullshit,” says Dylan gently as he starts to walk out.

     Oliver’s something unintelligible, causing Dylan to look back at him. Oliver starts gasping and clutching his chest. The feeling is similar to the panic attacks he experienced, but something feels off. His heart normally beats fast, but this isn’t normal, even for a panic attack. His enlarged heart doesn’t have much room to expand. He feels his heart valves clapping open and shut trying to pump blood through his arteries and push thick globs of the red jelly he calls blood.  He’s practically screaming at this point. 

     “Oliver! Is it another panic attack? Do you need a Xanax?” asks Dylan with concern.

     Oliver doesn’t respond with words. His body language says more than any sentence he would be able to say. “Oliver!?” Dylan shouts, realizing that this may actually be a heart attack. He picks up his phone and calls for an ambulance. 

     Oliver doesn’t  hear anything. Time feels like it slowed down. He clutches his arm as it wobbles and sweat pours from his face. Everything goes numb. He moves his hand to his chest and clutches it hard. His breathing is as rapid as his heart beat as he unintentionally pulls his light chest hair out, trying to stop the aching of his tissue. He shuts his eyes tightly, trying to massage the heart muscle, but the closer he gets, the farther away it feels, until he goes unconscious.