Weight Room Title Bar

By Sherri Miller
(As told to Bruce Powell)

I woke up and then looked around the room to get myself oriented. Sunlight streamed through the curtains and lit a strip of the bed coverings. I reached over and hit the top button on the strip that was installed on my bed. This button would tell the kitchen staff that I was awake. I could smell baking cinnamon rolls and my mouth had begun to water.

I stretch my arms and wiggle my toes, just about all of my mobility at once. I punch the button that will bring my schedule and menu for the day up on the computer screen hung over my bed. My tummy rumbles at the thought of pigs-in-a-blanket and biscuits with gravy for breakfast. I notice that today I will be taken from bed to the spa where I will float in my hot tub for three hours before my massage. I turn off the screen.

As I brush my blonde hair out of my face I notice (not for the first time) that my upper arm is as big as the pillow that I lean against. I smile at the fact that even my lower arms are bigger than most women's hips. My tummy rumbles again so I begin to run my fat hands over the rolls and bulges that rise 4 feet off of the bed.

As I lay there waiting for one of the kitchen staff to bring me my breakfast I think back to how I got here. It was seven years a go that I met Bob, my husband. I was a senior in college studying Nursing. I met him at a party and immediately fell hard. It took three weeks for me to get a date with him. I thought it was because of my weight. At the time I carried 135 pounds on my 5'1" frame. While most people called me chubby, I thought of myself as fat. A fatso in a thin world. I went on a crash diet while waiting for our date. Finally, I asked him out. He then told me that he was waiting for the right time to ask me out; I flipped.

He took me out to an Italian place. I was starving, due to my dieting. Normally I could resist most foods in public. It was in private that my insatiable appetite would get me into trouble. I had been struggling for the last three years to maintain my weight. As a result I had only put on around 20 pounds in the last four years. But that night I couldn't help myself. I ordered Lasagna, one of my favorites. When the meal came my eyes bugged out over the size of the portion, it was huge! But after two hours I managed to finish it. I felt like such a pig! I thought at that moment that Bob would be revolted and never want to see me again.

Strangely, he drove me around and then parked in the shadows of my dorm. Dredging up the courage I leaned over and kissed him, hoping not to be rejected. His response surprised me. I about came as his tongue probed my mouth. His right hand caressed my overstuffed belly. Instinctively, I reached out to remove it. But he moved my hand away and continued to stroke by bulging belly. I found it to be very erotic.

On our next date he took me to a French place. Good food, with lots of cream sauces and the like. This time he ordered for me. Again the portion was very large. After dinner he took me to a pie house not far from the college. I had a double helping of apple pie a la mode. As he took me back to the dorms I was so stuffed that I was almost in pain. This time I took him to my room; my roommate was out of town. We spent the rest of the night making slow passionate love. I began to figure out that Bob liked me to eat. And was beginning to see that he liked me fat.

We were married two weeks after graduation. I had put on another twenty pounds and my mother was telling me how chubby I had gotten. She told me that 150 pounds was too much to weigh for somebody as short as I was. Well I didn't tell her the promise that I had made to Bob. I promised that as long as we were married I would never diet and that I would eat everything put in front of me.

Our honeymoon was a constant feast for me. We spent it in San Francisco. I think we hit every restaurant in the town. I ate so much that by the end of the two weeks I couldn't fit into most of my clothes. But that was only the beginning. We set up housekeeping in this house and I have never regretted it. I spent most of the early months getting used to my new routine. I would wake up in the morning to a huge breakfast left by Bob as he went to work. After breakfast I would get up, shower, and move to the front room. There I would constantly snack until Bob returned from work around 5:00 PM. Bob would then treat me to a huge dinner and late night snacking. Needless to say I began to gain at an alarming rate.

By Christmas I was over 200 pounds and still climbing. I was distressed to see my new figure in the mirror and the one on the scale. I had been brainwashed by 22 years of "thin thinking". But I was also deliriously happy. I loved Bob, and he loved me. With every pound I put on it seemed that he was more in love with me. Around our first Christmas it began to dawn on me that I liked being fat. I love to eat and the added fat did not detract from our lovemaking. On the contrary, it added to it.

I began to fantasize about enormous meals with me being so fat that I needed help eating. And I did my best to make these dreams come true. By our first anniversary I weighed just under 300 pounds and was loving it. I would eat just to gain "a few more pounds. In doing so I would force myself to devour that last bite of cheesecake, or that last spoon of custard. Most nights I would lay in bed stuffed beyond all reason, eyes glazed over and breathing heavy due to the pressure in my round tummy. It was then that Bob would make love to me for hours.

Time passed and I got fatter. Boy, did I get fatter. By our second anniversary I was over 500 pounds and I was beginning to have to revise my lifestyle. Stairs were becoming something that I avoided like the plague. Also, it was becoming harder for me to spend hours at the stove to continuously feed my gluttonous belly.

It was near our third Christmas that Bob brought home a slightly chubby redhead. I remember thinking that it was over. I had finally gotten too fat that this redhead was his new lover. I was lying in bed, just after eating three-dozen chocolate-covered doughnuts and drinking a gallon of chocolate milk. I was so stuffed that I couldn't sit up to slap her face. In fact, I was so stuffed that I could hardly talk. I remember being so hurt and mad that I almost missed his words.

"Linda, this is my gorgeous wife, Sherri. Sherri, this is Linda, who is going to help out around here. Her biggest duty is to keep you full." The relief flooding over me was almost too much. I felt like the Queen of the World.

Linda and I soon became very good friends. Every morning she would wake me up to a mountainous breakfast. After breakfast I would go for a short swim and then have a snack. By the time Bob returned from the office I was usually so stuffed that dinner was a challenge.

But my lifestyle began to rub off on Linda. Soon her clothes were too tight and then I noticed a second chin forming. By summer she had become a glutton herself. We would lie around the pool and gorge ourselves on sweets and other things. By Labor Day Bob had to hire another cook. Linda had reached the 350-pound mark and was getting to like lying around and gorging herself. In 18 months Linda gained over 250 pounds and found herself a feeder for her own. She made a lovely 500-pound bride and the last time I saw her she was over 700 and becoming too big to move.

About the time that Linda waddled down the aisle I was rapidly becoming too large to move. For the last few months I was able to get out of bed only with help. Once on my feet I could walk just about the length of the house. This exertion would leave me breathless and exhausted. Unlike around 550 pounds, when I met the milestone of having my belly touch the floor while seated, the thought of immobility scared me. I didn't like the idea of becoming totally dependent on others. But on the other hand the thought of being totally incapacitated by my appetite was a erotic turn on.

I soon found that I had little choice in the matter. Around our fourth Christmas I slowly became an immobile mountain of flesh. Not only was I still gaining the fact that my exercise was severely reduced caused an acceleration in my growth. Soon, Bob had designed a whole group of special appliances that were designed to help me get around.

I continued to grow. Bob redesigned the house for me. Extra large doors, special design bed and a 20 foot in diameter Jacuzzi. I continued to do aqua-robics and tried to maintain my heart in good condition. I continued to grow.

Just last week Bob's latest invention allowed me to get upright. Most of my massive weight was supported by a hoist-like device. Once on my feet, for the first time in almost two years, I was amazed at the fact that not only did my belly reach the floor, it flowed over it for a few feet in front of me. Bob had taped four 36" tape measures together to measure me, but it was too small. While he could measure my thighs by reaching under the expanse of my flowing belly. I was overjoyed to know that they measured over 93" around each.

I see the door opening and one of the newer kitchen girls pushing two large carts in. My mouth begins to water at the thought of her feeding me this portion of my breakfast. Of course, I will help but my 73" upper arms make it almost too hard to do. A shudder passes through my 3/4 of a ton body. I wonder what the next few years will bring.