Weight Room Title Bar


By Sasha Steele

It's always the victims who suffer. The drug lords don't give a damn about the victims. Don't care who they might hurt in the process, as long as they can show a profit, and most times there is nothing that can be done about it. Sometimes, however, even they step over a line. They make a mistake, and things get turned around. Then they become the victims, the hunted, and the condemned.

Opposites attract for a reason. In nature, to stick out like a sore thumb can mean sudden death, so there is a certain amount of safety in conformity. That instinct might explain why some tall men prefer short women, or visa versa, or why a regular size man might prefer a very large size woman.

In Simon's case - he of the heavy training fraternity, where the size of his chest was two feet greater than that of his waist size - he was attracted to Adele, who was very much the opposite, her hip size being two feet larger than her waist. She was thick and smooth, his sharp musculature hard as a rock. Not that Dell was all that fat when they first met; she did weigh 250 pounds, but, man, what a body: 44DDD-38-62.

Dell's bust was magnificent, thick all over in her torso, her arms and legs heavy, big perfect shaped torpedo tits, her little belly with a six-inch overhanging paunch. Hips so wide that you could set a glass of water on either side without spilling a drop - same as her big protruding rear end (although a bucket might sit better on its shelf) and flaring upper thighs. Even in a bathing suit Dell looked as though she were wearing riding britches.

Simon wasn't sure if Dell ever worried about her weight. He never did, and the times when she let it slip up past the 350-pound mark, he liked it. Dell liked to eat. Bingeing Beauty he called her at these times, and he was always disappointed when she came back down again. It was like Dell was only teasing him with these temporary weight gains of hers. But still Simon could take solace in the fact that Dell's weight had grown steadily since they first met, and she retained more with every binge episode.

At one time, liposuction was used to rid people of unwanted fat, and the product of that operation discarded down the drain. In the early part of the century, with the steady rise of affluence in society came a rise in the average weight of people. Fat was becoming fashionable, particularly with women, and liposuction no longer in demand. This caused a problem because the product of that operation - the fat withdrawn from people - had found a use, an extremely profitable use, as it was discovered that in an errant form, injected directly into the blood steam, one could get stoned out of their mind for an extended period of time. LAP, Lipo-Alto-Preparation was in high demand, but the supply of fat was extremely low.

Necessity being the mother of invention, the drug lords had solved the problem by kidnapping and holding young susceptible women on farms, holding them like cattle to be force fed until they became mountains of lucrative fat. They picked only the right type: young healthy women who had big appetites and who were already large and could be made even more so - sometimes with very little effort. And then they were harvested, the liposuction causing so much trauma that death couldn't be avoided, but, hey, that's the price of doing business in a bull market - or maybe, in this case, an elephant market.

Del had been on one of her binges, a bit longer than usual this time and her weight was at an all time high of 450 pounds. She was spotted in a restaurant, wearing a path in the rug as she hauled plate after plate, piled high with food back to her table, and sat with her eyes glazed over while she stuffed herself into near immobility. They followed as Dell made her way to her car, the zipper of her tight blue jeans undone to accommodated her massive bloated gut, her huge monstrous ass almost ripping through the back of them. Deliriously self-satisfied, it was easy to take her: a little gas over her mouth and nose from behind, a bit of a struggle to get the fat bitch in the van, but a cake walk compared to most.

And, man, did she take to the farm. Del needed little encouragement by her captors to eat; that she could do quite well all on her own, thank you. The stimulants weren't really needed, and Dell saw the consequence of attempting to deify her captors. So Dell ate; she ate and was forced to eat more. She got fatter and fatter, and she continued to eat because Dell knew that the moment she stopped eating, stopped growing, that she would die. Two pounds a day, five pounds, more - at this rate how long could she last?

At first, Dell held out hope that Simon would come riding in like some hero in a paperback novel to rescue her. But as the days and weeks rolled by, turning into months, not knowing how long she could sustain her weight increase, Dell realized that the drug lords held all the cards, and not even Simon could defy them.

There are no real heroes in life; they are only in the storybooks. Del wept as she placed a hand upon her swollen stomach, aching from the pressure inside of it. She had no idea how much she weighed now, only that it must be a tremendous amount. Getting herself to a standing position was almost impossible; walking had become extremely difficult, as Dell's thighs were so large that she couldn't bring one past the other without adopting an extremely wide stance - and even then it was hard. She could no longer clasp her hands in front of her stomach, which had swollen to her knees as she sat, but that was partly due to the thickness of her back and her gigantic arms.

Dell couldn't even begin to imagine how wide her hips were now - or how big her ass had become. She could bring her arms back past her extremely wide hips on to the ballooning swells of her massive fat ass, and that was it. She had a mirror and enough basic necessities to keep some semblance of her dignity. Dell looked at the colossal reflection of herself in the mirror and wondered what Simon would think of her. She knew that he had wanted her to get bigger. But this big? This fat? Dell wondered, too, what Simon would think if he knew, even though she hated her captors, that she actually liked being made to eat constantly with no restraint. Dell looked at herself in the mirror, thinking that she didn't really look all that bad for all that she had been put through. You're still hot girl, she thought and realized that she was getting hungry.

Law enforcement was ineffectual when it came to the kidnappings. There were so many of them, but with the political decry of overpopulation, human life, it seemed at times, took a back seat. The bad guys were smug. It was their second mistake; the first was taking Simon Book's girlfriend. Simon tried the police route, wasting valuable time. He took to the streets and overturned enough stones to find a lead. The trail led him south into Texas. Four months had passed, and he feared that Dell might already be dead, harvested as the bastard who had kidnapped her had said before Simon had snapped his neck. Simon didn't stop there. He snapped a lot of necks and brought down an entire operation.

There are no heroes in real life, Dell thought; that's only for paperback novels. When Simon burst onto the farm and killed her keepers, Dell realized how wrong she had been. When he put his strong arms around his 900-pound girlfriend and - with tears of joy welling in his eyes - told her how beautiful she was and how he loved her so, Dell found the answer to her question of what Simon would think when he saw how fat she had become.

There was just one question remaining really. It was a question still nagging at Dell, months afterwards, her ordeal all but forgotten. The question played on her mind as Simon helped her from the car and she waddled the short distance into the restaurant where he was taking her for supper. Her appetite still what it was because of the force feeding, Simon had accepted Dell's weight which still hovered around the 900 pound mark. But would he accept the fact that his girlfriend’s increased rate of eating was by choice, her gluttony a byproduct of her desires, not of her ordeal?

"Simon," Dell said as she finished her fourth helping of pasta. "What if I can never bring my appetite under control - if I never lost weight, even gained more?"

Simon looked at his huge girlfriend and smiled. "Then we'll just have to keep feeding you baby," he said. "You are, after all, my Bingeing Beauty."