SSBBW/SSBHM, Growth, ~XWG - One out of 13 earthlings is impacted by a strange ten year expansion
An Epidemic of Super Obesity(EoS) hits one in every thirteen. Their stories are vignettes fewer than a thousand words long. Strangely, all protagonists seem to have names that begin with “Z”. You can play too.
1- ZECCIAH
Zecciah piloted the tractor down the lane toward the barn, wearily feeling the effects of the nine hours of bouncing around his body had endured as he plowed and planted the “near field.” Still, the hours would have been multiplied by two or three if it wasn’t for the new tractor.
He had had to pay extra — a lot extra — for the tractor’s “EoStension Package,” but that package allowed him to continue farming. It added length to the tractor cab, including the special seat necessary to carry all his EoS blubber, and it had the special controls that never required him to flex any joint above his elbows or ankles. (Just raising his massive thigh, on which rested his massive belly, which in turn carried the burden of his massive moobs, would have taken more time than Zecciah had when he needed to maneuver the tractor.)
In the barn, Zecciah positioned the tractor under the chain hoist, then unlatched the “EoStension” tractor cab. With chubby fingers he hit the keypad and deftly lifted the cab from around him and guided it to its stall. Then he brought the chain hoist back and hooked his custom stainless-steel seat to the four chain hooks.
Pushing buttons, he lifted himself off the tractor and maneuvered his seat onto the “sulky” behind his altFuel ATV. He unhooked the hoist, unplugged the ATV from its charger, and then used the ATVs hand-held to maneuver towards the house. Again his body, especially his huge mound of belly, bounced and jiggled with each minor irregularity in the paved path.
Zecciah considered for about the 15th time about whether to get his seat modified to provide more belly-apron support. Perhaps he could wait until next season.
He guided the ATV into the garage of his custom-built house.
“Thank God for neighbors,” he thought for the thousandth time, as he remembered the deal-making at that Grange Meeting way back when — way back when he was only 300 pounds or so. Zecciah had given up the house he grew up in — the house in which his father had died two years ago, firm to the end in his denial of Zecciah’s “condition.” That house had been traded for Zecciah’s current home — a house designed for the needs of a “BigE” person.
His neighbors, the Sanborns, had organized the house-moving, and had thus acquired a four-bedroom home now on a new foundation across the highway from Zecciah’s farm. In exchange, he had acquired a custom-built house with no stairs or slopes, with wide or non-existent doorways, with EoS bathrooms, and with “task centers” that allowed room for his bulk while requiring a minimum of standing.
Using another chain-hoist, Zecciah lifted himself from the “sulky.” He stood for the first time since breakfast, then disrobed and deposited his clothes into the laundry cart. Nude, he pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge, and then got back briefly into the steel sulky seat. Without it, he couldn’t get into his concrete-reinforced hot-tub.
Zecciah had been hit with the “BigE” seven years ago when he was 16, and he had pretty much followed the expected 1-2-3-4 rule, gaining 145 pounds in that first horrible year of unslakeable hunger, 152 pounds in the following two years, and another 143 pounds in the following three years. Now the 23-year-old was winding down, back to eating almost normal meals at almost normal times and gaining only a couple or three pounds a month.
In the hot tub, Zecciah stared out at the vast mound of belly floating in front of him.
“Buddy, I guess you and I are an item,” he addressed his enormous apron of blubber, “Wherever I go in life, I’m gonna drag you along with me! But why go anywhere when we seem to do a reasonable job of farming together? "
As he sipped from his beer bottle, Zecciah sturdily repressed any thought that his “Buddy” might someday become too big to “drag along.”
The EoS Vignettes
by Kilo Cal (and others as desired)
by Kilo Cal (and others as desired)
An Epidemic of Super Obesity(EoS) hits one in every thirteen. Their stories are vignettes fewer than a thousand words long. Strangely, all protagonists seem to have names that begin with “Z”. You can play too.
1- ZECCIAH
Zecciah piloted the tractor down the lane toward the barn, wearily feeling the effects of the nine hours of bouncing around his body had endured as he plowed and planted the “near field.” Still, the hours would have been multiplied by two or three if it wasn’t for the new tractor.
He had had to pay extra — a lot extra — for the tractor’s “EoStension Package,” but that package allowed him to continue farming. It added length to the tractor cab, including the special seat necessary to carry all his EoS blubber, and it had the special controls that never required him to flex any joint above his elbows or ankles. (Just raising his massive thigh, on which rested his massive belly, which in turn carried the burden of his massive moobs, would have taken more time than Zecciah had when he needed to maneuver the tractor.)
In the barn, Zecciah positioned the tractor under the chain hoist, then unlatched the “EoStension” tractor cab. With chubby fingers he hit the keypad and deftly lifted the cab from around him and guided it to its stall. Then he brought the chain hoist back and hooked his custom stainless-steel seat to the four chain hooks.
Pushing buttons, he lifted himself off the tractor and maneuvered his seat onto the “sulky” behind his altFuel ATV. He unhooked the hoist, unplugged the ATV from its charger, and then used the ATVs hand-held to maneuver towards the house. Again his body, especially his huge mound of belly, bounced and jiggled with each minor irregularity in the paved path.
Zecciah considered for about the 15th time about whether to get his seat modified to provide more belly-apron support. Perhaps he could wait until next season.
He guided the ATV into the garage of his custom-built house.
“Thank God for neighbors,” he thought for the thousandth time, as he remembered the deal-making at that Grange Meeting way back when — way back when he was only 300 pounds or so. Zecciah had given up the house he grew up in — the house in which his father had died two years ago, firm to the end in his denial of Zecciah’s “condition.” That house had been traded for Zecciah’s current home — a house designed for the needs of a “BigE” person.
His neighbors, the Sanborns, had organized the house-moving, and had thus acquired a four-bedroom home now on a new foundation across the highway from Zecciah’s farm. In exchange, he had acquired a custom-built house with no stairs or slopes, with wide or non-existent doorways, with EoS bathrooms, and with “task centers” that allowed room for his bulk while requiring a minimum of standing.
Using another chain-hoist, Zecciah lifted himself from the “sulky.” He stood for the first time since breakfast, then disrobed and deposited his clothes into the laundry cart. Nude, he pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge, and then got back briefly into the steel sulky seat. Without it, he couldn’t get into his concrete-reinforced hot-tub.
Zecciah had been hit with the “BigE” seven years ago when he was 16, and he had pretty much followed the expected 1-2-3-4 rule, gaining 145 pounds in that first horrible year of unslakeable hunger, 152 pounds in the following two years, and another 143 pounds in the following three years. Now the 23-year-old was winding down, back to eating almost normal meals at almost normal times and gaining only a couple or three pounds a month.
In the hot tub, Zecciah stared out at the vast mound of belly floating in front of him.
“Buddy, I guess you and I are an item,” he addressed his enormous apron of blubber, “Wherever I go in life, I’m gonna drag you along with me! But why go anywhere when we seem to do a reasonable job of farming together? "
As he sipped from his beer bottle, Zecciah sturdily repressed any thought that his “Buddy” might someday become too big to “drag along.”
