Tripper ordered KFC.

10/26/01
[4:11 p.m.]

Now, this is a little embarrassing, but I've been open with you folks so far, so here goes. After I finished lunch (a selection from Arby's - or rather: the selection from Arby's), I'd settled back and dozed off. With the pump still in my mouth! Neither Tripper nor the workmen bothered to wake me; I only roused when the sound of the pump's sputtering grew insistent enough to break through my dreams.

Felt a mixture of mortification and anger - with anger winning out. Feeding, I realized, is plainly something that I love. But it's also something that I want to relish. Leaving me unconscious while my body reflexively sucked and took in nutrients was a violation of everything that I'd learned to enjoy. So I took a few moments to gather my thoughts and sent an email to Tripper/Ample Stuffer. He must've been at his computer because he was in my room within minutes.

I kept it cool.

I explained I had no intention of being some unconscious force-fed bimbo. Eating, I stated, was too enjoyable an experience for this. This was comparable to, I noted, a husband taking sexual advantage of his wife while she was asleep. "I'm not some fictional airhead who needs to be tricked into eating," I concluded. "I've learned to love being fed by you. Please don't ever let this happen again."

Tripper was suitably contrite. He should've realized, he admitted, how accustomed I'd become to my lifestyle.

"Plus," I added, "I missed out enjoying a whole keg." It was, I added, like being told you'd just eaten a large ice cream sundae and not remembering any of it.

"Two kegs," he admitted. "I replaced one at about 2:30." My chins dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry," he concluded.

"We're still learning about each other," I relented. "But now you know." I tried to lean forward as an invitation to a kiss, but my belly felt too overstuffed for even that limited move. Despite my fullness, I still wanted to make up for what I'd missed, though. "What's for dinner?" I asked. As I spoke the words out loud, I could feel my bloated discomfort abating.

10/26/01
[11:40 a.m.]

My future roomie brought some bags o' bagels with assorted fixin's. Had a lon-ng breakfast, followed by some activities I prefer to remain discreet about. Tripper then helped me into the bathroom, which is right off my bedroom. He showed me how to work the equipment (much of which is voice activated!) then withdrew to let me get acquainted with the facilities.

The room has a seated shower that's larger than my whole former bathroom. Clearly this place was meant for a mega-sized inhabitant from the get-go. It's designed so I can do most of my personal hygiene while sitting in the shower. The walls are floor to ceiling mirrors; within reach is a cabinet for toiletries; there are air dry vents strategically placed throughout the stall. The toilet itself has a bidet (and that's all I'm gonna say about that!)

Took a quick shower, pounding my epidermis with a massage-set showerhead, then I sat and let the air jets do their work. Very stimulating. Feeling a blast of air waft through my shower-soaked hair, I felt like a model in a shampoo commercial - if they allowed half-ton models in front of the camera, that is.

Cleaned and dried, I took a good look at myself. The mammoth figure seated on the wide support bench was a good five hundred pounds larger than Patti Dorian. I'd once mis-estimated her weight at a quarter ton (when, in reality, it was some two-hundred pounds heavier). But now I have a working knowledge of the amount of space that super- and mega-sized bodies inhabit.

What can I say? I remember the first time I saw Patti D., being surprised that a woman could still look so beautiful, so feminine. Yet looking at myself, I think I can see what's got Tripper so aroused. This globular body is overstuffed with womanly sensuality. Maybe there's something to this fat/magic equation, after all.

Did my hair up and put on a fresh dress, then used the handrails to get back on my chair. (At my present size, I'm amazed I'm able to stand, though, admittedly, I'm a little wobbly trying to maintain it longer than a minute.) Returned to my bedroom, where I found brunch waiting. Been noshing since, occasionally taking my tube out long enough to tell Phil and Jer' where to hang a picture or position the dresser drawers. If I'm not too tired (all that earlier activity with Tripper was exhausting!) this afternoon, I'll wheel out into the rest of the apartment and see what's to be done.

10/26/01
[7:24 a.m.]

Awake and rested, so I probably should be describing my new surroundings, right?

I'm writing this from a mega-sized adjustable chair/bed that Ample Services makes for its clientele, with keyboard on a swiveled tray and a combination TV/monitor hanging on a shelf from the ceiling. To my right is one of those ubiquitous kegs; to my left is my motorchair. I'm wearing a white faux silk nightgown designed to cover my voluminous self. Last night I slept comfortably without sheets or blanket.

My bedroom has to be large enough for me to wheel around without running into the furniture - or bruising my burgeoning butt when I ride through the doorway - and in this it fits the bill. Today, Phil and Jer' will be unpacking my stuff. Tripper's given me permission to spend the day overseeing it.

Soon as I have a little pumped sustenance, I intend to roll out of bed and take a closer look at my new environs. Have a pretty good mental picture of the kitchen (lotsa high tech gadgetry), but that's about it. Couldn't tell ya what the bathroom looks like, though I will be able to soon enough.

Just noticed that Tripper's standing in the doorway. Gonna cut this short.

10/26/01
[12:31 a.m.]

Three hours later and your humble blogger is back writing on her home p-c. Two of Tripper's workmen have set it up in my room in back. They're still carting in the rest of my stuff as I write this. Yuppers, I'm a-movin' on up into the Ample Services building. No more fretting about floor support.

And, yes, I will be sharing my new domicile with Tripper.

Left off a teeny detail when I was writing about my dinner earlier. Midway into the meal, Tripper locked the front door and tore my dress off. We finished my feeding in the buff, and kept plenty active after the food was done, too. All I can say is at one point I found myself off my chair and lying on two queen-sized futons, a fresh tube dangling within reach and Tripper checking out my fleshy expanses. Let's just note that a splendid time was had by all in attendance . . .

Finally got to talk with the two guys doing all the hammering and banging back here: two sumo-sized Midwesterners who used to run a sports bar in the area but took to working for Ample Services to get the company's employee discounts. Both their wives, the larger of the two told me, are avid customers.

"Maybe we could all have dinner together some time," I said. The two just grinned and returned to their unloading.

Sumo Phil just came in to announce they're done for the night. Tripper's heading back to his temp lodging, so looks like I'll have the place all to myself. Details later in the a.m.!