The Nurse: One Year On - Part 2

Under the direction of Maisey, the gigantic dessert was wheeled behind me, and then positioned by my side, next to Isabella’s bedside. Despite having just demolished a substantial plate of cookies, the eager gainer looked hungrily at the towering cake, and then at me. Gently, she grinned. With Tamsin dismissed, Maisey made her way sulkily to the opposite bedside, with several large beakers of thick, calorific looking milkshake. She placed them down with a moody rattle that jostled the fiery hairs of her messy bun. The straining buttons on the front of her over-taught tunic glared at me with contempt.

“Maisey!” Isabella confronted sternly, “Less of the attitude, please! I know you enjoy feeding me, but there is no need to be in such a mood - you got to this few days ago when I actually hit 1,000 pounds! It's time to let our guest have a try…”

I swallowed hard. What did she mean by that? I aimed an apologetic raised eyebrow and shrug towards Maisey, that she caught with a flicker in the corner of her eye. 

“You're welcome to watch for a while Maisey, and clean up too. I might need you if our journalist friend here doesn't quite have the stamina.”

What did that mean?!

Maisey nodded with knowing compliance, making herself busy around the periphery of the bed.

The stomach of the enormous ex-nurse rumbled furiously, as she returned her attention back to me, “Ever fed a woman? Like, really fed a woman?”

Glancing over her huge body, I shook my head dumbly.

“Well, what with you being a journalist - and quite a good looking one, at that - I thought it might be good for you to get some, you know, hands on experience. If nothing else, it might make your next article a little more insightful?”

Blushing hard, I went to speak, only to stammer and falter.

“It's easy, look. Simply grab a slice of that delicious looking cake, and bring it to my lips. That's right. Close enough that I can take a good, hearty bite of… mpphh… mmm… of it… mmphh… and then give me a moment to… mmm… chew… and then repeat until the… mmm mmph… the slice is gone. Then, grab another, and keep going like that. You'll pick up my rhythm, trust me.”

Within a few greedy bites, the first slice of the lofty dessert had been devoured, and I reached for another. 

“Oh my,” Isabella gasped, smacking her lips, “that is a beautiful cake. So rich, so moist… so fattening! More…”

As requested, I pushed the next side to her lips, and with increasing want she bit into it, hungrily. Bite after bite, her demeanor began to change as she became consumed by her desire to over-indulge.

“More…” Isabella moaned.

Hardened nipples began to poke through the thin fabric of her gown. The vast girl shuffled in an attempt to get comfortable, sending the supple fat of her body into sloshing, quivering tides.

“Mmmm… more!”

By now I was fairly confident that I had found ‘the rhythm’ that Isabella had mentioned. A steady but gluttonous pace, led by the gainer. I paused, I pushed, I prepared, as the ex-nurse glutted herself on the monstrous milestone meal.

“More…”

In my periphery, I could make out Maisey, idly attending to the already-made bed sheets. With an intense, fixated gaze on Isabella, she bit her lip. Her nipples pushed beneath the fabric of her ill fitting tunic with awkward, asymmetry. If one thing was for certain, Maisey loved seeing her feedee feed 

“...More…”

Now several slices in, it was clear that Isabella's body was working hard. Her plump cheeks became flushed, and her brow speckled and glistened. Her upper chest gave a faint crimson glow. With clumsy movements of her heavy arms, she pulled back at the gown as best she could, exposing more of her incredible mounds of flesh.

“You're… surprisingly good… at this,” Isabella commended, punctuating her words with thick mouthfuls of mastication, “if… you're not… careful… you'll make me… immobile…”

The word careful felt misplaced, somehow. For a woman hell bent on gaining, who saw immobility as a ‘badge of honour’, her tone made it seem that she was keener than ever to give into her greed and relegate her legs to relics of a previous life.

“Maisey?” Isabella interjected, holding up her softened hand at me to briefly pause proceedings, “I've just remembered, I need you to head to the requisitioning department to arrange a replacement for my feeding pump. I feel it's high time we had an upgrade, don't you?”

“Yes - yes Miss Beauchamp,” Maisey chirped brightly, a spring entering her step, “I'll get right on it!”

With renewed enthusiasm, Maisey purposefully left the room, leaving just myself and the enormous Isabella.

“Where were we?” She smiled naughtily, “Oh yes, I remember - ‘More’”

“You've no idea how good this feels!” Isabella breathlessly whispered between bites, “...more…”

The intimidating mountain of cake was gradually being eroded, as piece after piece was hungrily consumed by the feverish gainer. With good rhythm, a large, gloopy slice could be devoured at an impressive pace. Occasionally, Isabella would grab the remote for the large, heavy duty bed, and recline the back rest a degree or two, attempting to make more room in her capacious stomach. 

“So, would you like that?” the huge nurse quizzed with a hungry, flirtatious glance, her speech flustered and airless, “Would you like to take my independence? Say you were the one - the one that fed me to immobility? To push me over the edge, past the point of no return. Confine me to my bed, with nothing else to do except eat, and eat, to be relentlessly fed and fattened at the mercy of others. Would you? Would you like to do that?”

Before I could even consider a response, Isabella focused back to her feeding, “More…”

“And then what?” she continued, with a rasping, lustful desire trembling through her winded voice, “So huge, so helpless, what is a girl to do? Just lay there, that's all, being pumped and stuffed around the clock, day after day, watching my poor body gain and grow. Packing on the pounds, bigger and heavier, until the memories of walking are distant and unimportant. Getting so fucking fat that one day my feet are finally swallowed into the swelling mounds of my enormous legs - hopelessly lost forever…”

“... More…”

As we comfortably soared past the halfway point, the vast dessert began to look somewhat decimated. The pace of the feeding started to slow, but at no point did it ever stop. There were brief pauses for quenching gulps of gain ‘shakes, and helpless wiggles of adjustment, but no halt to Isabella’s insatiable indulgence. Her frequent, passionate ramblings only helped to reinforce her overwhelming desire to gain to her absolute extremes.

“...Mmm… more…”

With her plump, clammy hand, the nurse reached out and grabbed at the wrist of my free hand, pulling it with feeble urgency until my palm clamped onto her supple, heavy breasts. Through slanted, hungry eyes she encouraged, as she continued to chew steadily on mouthful after mouthful of highly-calorific cake.

“Oh… fuck… more!” She begged, as my fingers sank into the juicy, fattened flesh. In the centre of my palm, I could feel the firmness of her dainty nipple pushing into my skin with growing arousal. I teased and I squeezed, all the white trying desperately to match Isabella's ambitious rhythm.

“... More…”

Over two hours in, and Maisey finally returned. As she entered the room though the familiar double doors, she eyed the remains of the cake with an impressed tilt to the head. Only two slices remained, along with the dregs of long-gone milkshake. 

Isabella was glutted. She now lay notably reclined in her huge bed, with a notable rise in the fatty swell of her upper belly. She gasped, and she groaned, and she whimpered with exhausted fantasy, “I - I'm going… to get… so… so fucking… huge… just… just you… wait…”

Maisey made herself useful and mopped Isabella’s glistening brow.

“... M - more…” the gainer feverishly gasped.

With some apprehension, I looked at Maisey. She nodded quietly, politely, and eagerly. 

Another slice in hand, Isabella tentatively took a bite. She chewed thoroughly, before swallowing with a purposeful gulp and taking another. There was still pace, and there was still rhythm, albeit much slower. I watched in disbelief as that slice eventually vanished, too.

The final slice oozed with overconfidence as it surveyed the overfed glutton beside it. Lazily, Isabella opened one eye and peered at the final piece. She groaned. Her body heaved and creaked at capacity. “I want it.”

Maisey leaned over the bed and caught my attention, her gentle, timid voice offering her assistance, “That final slice - break it up into smaller pieces. She might protest a little, but she should be fine.”

As instructed, I took smaller pieces of the final slice, and offered it up to the glutted gainer's swollen lips. With a clumsy lick of the tongue, she took them and gently chewed, sometimes almost sucking, until she could cautiously swallow. Eyes closed, Isabella seemed to be focusing on each and every tiny morsel.

With the final, tiny slither in hand however, there came a pause. With the crumbs held to her mouth, she blearily opened one eye, awakening from her intense food coma.

“Nuh… nuh-uh…” she whispered hazily, “I'm… I’m full…”

I looked over at Maisey. The young nurse smiled knowingly. “Give her a minute, trust me.”

The room fell silent for a moment as we all took stock of the scene before us. Not only the gigantic, breathless woman who lay almost completely recumbent, her cheeks, chin and chest smeared in chocolate and milkshake, but also the aftermath of the towering cake that once seemed sturdy enough to satisfy a substantial wedding - now defeated. Well, almost. 

Isabella attempted to adjust, and then let out a soft, breathy burp. “Try now.” Maisey encouraged.

As I once again pushed the last morsel to her lips, Isabella opened both eyes just a little, and shook her head with almost undetectable movement. It was clear that she wanted it, but she was unsure if she could actually take it.

Maisey reached over and began to rub Isabella’s distended belly, the soft, yielding fat giving way to firm, taut fullness beneath. The ex-nurse moaned in contented discomfort. 

“Just push it between her lips.” Maisey encouraged, her timid tone becoming more assertive and impatient. 

As instructed, I pushed the last crumb of cake firmly to Isabella's lips, and, after a few moments of wide-eyed hesitation, she gave way and hesitantly began to chew once more. 

“I'm… too… full…” the struggling nurse pleaded, “I… I feel… as though… I'm… about to… bust!”

Isabella kept on chewing though - ever growing greed and lust to consume forbidding her from backing down, from giving up. 

Both Maisey and myself watched intensely as the mouthing slowed, and stopped. Then, a slow, controlled swallow, peppered with heavy, nervous breathing followed. Isabella wriggled uncomfortably, buried beneath her own weight and a half-digested mountain of cake. Maisey mopped her feedee’s brow, before continuing to rub the straining mound of belly.

There were deep, echoing grumbles from Isabella’s heaving gut, and eyes began to widen. There were creaks, and darting, panicked movement of her gaze. Maisey remained calm, still attending to the stuffed belly, listening, and massaging, until finally, Isabella let out a long and whispered burp. Her breathing began to steady, and her weight relaxed, her eyes flickering as they struggled to stay open. 

“I know what I'm doing,” Maisey grinned, “that's why she picked me.”

And then, I could hear it; a soft, purring snore as Isabella Felicity Beauchamp drifted to sleep, exhausted from almost three hours of continuous, unbridled, old-fashioned gluttony. Maisey began to clean up the enormous gainer as she snoozed, and delicately began to clear away the remains of the celebratory treat.

With that, the intercom to the room buzzed, and a short and well dressed nurse entered the room. 

“Lydia here will escort you to your accommodation for the night,” Maisey quietly informed me, “as I think Isabella is going to be snoozing for a while. You did a good job - for a beginner, anyway. Besides, I need to clean things up, and to arrange the mixtures for her pump feeding…”

Maisey noted the mildly alarmed look on my face, and responded, “Oh, yes, well we will wake her up in half an hour you see, and she will be pump fed for the rest of the day. Maybe a break for some supper, but she is rapidly getting used to a life of living on gain ‘shakes. In fact, I've requested a higher capacity machine that should be with us tomorrow morning, all being well. I know Isabella will want to say goodbye though, so we’ll arrange something shortly.”

—

After a pleasant breakfast and refreshing cup of coffee in my guest apartment, I was greeted by a polite knock at the door. It was Maisey, and despite her clearly long shifts of servitude, she somehow remained fresh faced and energetic. The front of her tunic gaped slightly, as one of the buttons had given up the fight and removed itself, allowing a brief glimpse at the inadequate, overfilled bralette beneath.

The walk back to Isabella's suite was brisk and uneventful. We passed a few other nurses, some pushing equipment and others trotting with purpose. 

Buzzed back into the room with the rasp of the intercom, I stood and observed the scene before me. The feeding pump beside Isabella's bed had now almost doubled in size and capacity. Its long rubber hose flowed with gravity over the bedsheets and pressed gently into the soft flesh of its feedee, as it delivered impressively fattening fluids in a continual rhythm, matched by the soundtrack as it hummed, whirred and hissed. Isabella obediently suckled from the machine, as she lay spread across the heavy duty bed, pointing and gesturing with two other nurses at her bedside, at no point pausing from her consumption.

The room felt busy, yet composed, with everyone in it focused on the same, common goal - keep this woman gaining. I could just about make out the readout for the electronic weighing scales fitted to the bed; they read 1016 lbs. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but at the rate she was going, it wouldn't be much longer at all before Isabella finally achieved her ‘trophy’, and spent the rest of her life as she was doing right now - laying in bed and being pumped and stuffed until, well, until what? 

There was a question I had neglected to ask. From the notebook, her ambition and her fevered, food-fuelled ramblings, it was clear that Isabella was obsessed with reaching her body's extremes, but that didn't really answer the question of what would happen if she became too big? Sure, the tests were getting better, if that's the right way to describe it, however it wouldn't be possible to keep gaining forever, would it?

For now, it seemed, my question would have to go unanswered. As Isabella caught my eye, she gave me the friendliest smile she could with her lips wrapped around the feeding tube, and raised her left lower arm to give a playful, lumbering wave. She then nodded to Maisey, who took us both back out into the corridor.

“Miss Beauchamp… I mean, Isabella, just wanted you to know that she really enjoyed your visit, and hopes that you did too. I'm sorry she hasn't got more to spend with you this morning, but she's been obsessed with the new feeding machine since it arrived at like, 6 am. She's really taken to it!”

The now familiar figure of Tamsin, the tall, willowy nurse arrived to escort me back to reception. She greeted me with a pleasant, crooked smile. 

“Oh, and we would love to invite you back for a visit in the future, maybe another big milestone.” Maisey added, as Tamsin and myself began the trek through the maze of corridors, “Someone will be in touch.”

Pacing down seemingly endless concrete corridors, turning at sharp intersections and weaving through pockets of polite conversation, my mind raced. Just when would I see Isabella again, and more importantly, what kind of state would she be in? It had been quite the shock already, seeing what was once an active and energetic woman be transformed into someone now so big and over-fattened that her last remaining crumbs of independence were almost all but gone. Then, with those last few crumbs gone, just what would Maisey have in store for her?