~BHM, ~~WG - A wheelchair-bound man goes from emaciated to BHM.
[Author's Note: I decided to finish this BHM WG story I had started years ago now. Hope you like it!]
Part One
Jim wheeled his chair up the ramp to his apartment, feeling furious as people's stares fell upon him. Once, just once, he'd like to have a woman look on him as a normal man, instead of some freak.
He hurried to tidy what he could of the house because his new health-care helper was coming today. He growled slightly, remembering the call.
***
“Mr. Prop?” There was a dangerous note to Jim's voice.
“Oh, Mr. Hanson! I suppose you are wondering where your health care provider is?” The head health care nurse sounded nervous.
“Absolutely straight, you bastard!” was Jim's shouted response. “You know I need someone to help me! Every day of my entire life!”
“Well…There seems to be a problem…”
There was silence for a moment, then - “What sort of problem?”
“Well, all the girls seem to find you - ah, how should I say this - surly, Sir. But, don't worry, we will find you a replace-” Prop was cut off by the click of the phone. He sighed and hung up.
***
Jim growled deep in his throat, staring at his slightly emaciated hand. The past year he had totally lost his appetite, going from a beefy 220 down to a gaunt 150. His hand curled into an unconscious fist. Ever since he had been in the car accident which paralyzed both legs from the hips down, his personality had changed. He let his fist fall and let his head lay on the back of the chair with a stifled groan of despair.
And that is when Debbie saw him. She felt an immediate need to rush in to comfort him, but waited until he raised his head before she knocked.
“Come in,” the deep, growling voice said.
She started - that voice sounded like it should be in someone a hundred pounds heavier!
"One, two, three pull your mind from the gutter," she told herself firmly. She stepped into the room, a smile hovering around her lips.
Jim gazed at her, eyes half-lidded in resentment. He knew he needed the help, but hated having his home invaded. He nodded to the couch curtly but she first shook his hand, her soft, husky voice pleasant.
“Debbie Glad,” she said simply, smiling at him.
“Jim Hanson,” he said guardedly, then gestured to the couch again.
This time she sat, folding her lithe 5'1 form into the chair easily, yet somehow making it unoffensive to the over-sensitive Jim. She answered all his questions easily, with no pity, embarrassment or judgment over his condition.
Before she got up to leave, he grunted, “You're hired. But, first tell me why you seem so comfortable around me.”
“Perhaps it is because my father suffered a similar condition as yourself.” She smiled at him warmly.
“Now, if I am hired is there anything you need?” Her smooth brown tresses made Jim doubly aware of his dirty, uncut and unshaven condition.
He didn't know how to respond, so all he said was, “Just do whatever.”
He growled, “I'll be in my study.”
He wheeled away slowly and sat at his desk brooding.
Undaunted, Debbie tidied the house, her humming filling the quiet pleasantly. After she had finished she felt her stomach rumble and so began to cook them a meal of steak, potatoes, and corn on the cob. She made sure there was extra, so if he got hungry later or tomorrow he could help himself.
Jim finished his paperwork and sniffed appreciatively. The house hadn't smelled this good in a long, long time! He wheeled himself into the kitchen just in time to see Debbie placing a mouthwatering feast on the table.
“You -” He cleared his throat. “You know I am supposed to be following a strict diet so I don't gain weight?”
She turned to him and sat down.
“Oh shod that! Men need real food, not crackers! Besides, you are seriously underweight!” she said indignantly. She pushed his food closer and began to help herself. He glanced up at her suspiciously but ate nonetheless. Surprise flitted over his face at the first bite, then he dug in with more gusto than he had in a long time.
He began slowly, chewing methodically. Then, as the taste exploded upon his tongue he began eating faster. All too soon he was done and feeling rather full. He blinked when she put another, smaller, second helping on his plate.
“I was raised in a family that believes men needs to eat right,” she said simply, then began washing dishes. Again, all too soon - in his opinion - he was done. He sat back, this time feeling decidedly bloated. Then she plopped a piece of homemade apple pie before him. He started to wave it away but sighed as he gave in, unbuckling his pants and digging in.
“Man, woman!” he exclaimed after finishing. He breathed carefully around his gorged middle and shifted uncomfortably. “If you make every meal this good I'll be huge!”
“And what's wrong with a little meat on a guy's bones?” she challenged.
“Fat, not meat,” Jim grunted, brutally honest.
“Fine, call it what you like. What's wrong with it?” she repeated, sitting beside him.
“Its wrong, unattractive - it's disgusting!” he growled.
She slid one finger up his thin thigh to his swollen middle and gave it a pat.
“I disagree.” She quickly stood up to clean his plates.
“So what? You're fattening me up?” he said sarcastically. He shivered when all she did was glance at him and smile.
“Don't you dare, woman!” he shouted then coughed in surprise as a large piece of apple pie was shoved into his mouth. He briefly considered spitting it out, but then chewed it furiously, working to clear his mouth. It just tasted too good to waste.
“No mouthing off now, Jim. I won't stand for it!” she said. “And now it's off to the bath.”
When he refused to move, only glowered at her, she wheeled him herself and began stripping him for the shower.
Afterwards, they both came out wet and very clean, Debbie with laugher bubbling out, and even Jim was smiling.
Jim was in such a good mood after his feast and wash that he allowed Debbie to help him out of his chair and watch T.V. together.
***
In the morning Jim rolled into his wheelchair and moved to the kitchen, addicted to the smell of her cooking. She placed the pancakes with syrup on his plate, even though he grumbled that he wasn't hungry.
Jim drank his coffee and ate his pancakes, feeling contented. He grunted in response to a question, causing Debbie to laugh and comment on bears coming out of hibernation. He smiled a little and got to work on the novel he had been working on the last six months.
An hour later he was bellowing from his study that he was starving. Debbie made an a large submarine sandwich and brought it to him. It was large but in his emaciated state it was huge. It took him until lunch to finish, and when he was done he felt full but satisfied.
He realized this was his body's natural reaction after being denied real food for so long, but he began to seriously worry as the weeks went on and he woke up feeling hungry and went to bed full. His middle slowly but unstoppably began to advance, marching forward to claim his lap inch by inch.
A couple months into their arrangement, he really blew up - in several ways.
[Author's Note: I decided to finish this BHM WG story I had started years ago now. Hope you like it!]
Paralyzed with Fat
by Ichida
(aka "Mink")
by Ichida
(aka "Mink")
Part One
Jim wheeled his chair up the ramp to his apartment, feeling furious as people's stares fell upon him. Once, just once, he'd like to have a woman look on him as a normal man, instead of some freak.
He hurried to tidy what he could of the house because his new health-care helper was coming today. He growled slightly, remembering the call.
***
“Mr. Prop?” There was a dangerous note to Jim's voice.
“Oh, Mr. Hanson! I suppose you are wondering where your health care provider is?” The head health care nurse sounded nervous.
“Absolutely straight, you bastard!” was Jim's shouted response. “You know I need someone to help me! Every day of my entire life!”
“Well…There seems to be a problem…”
There was silence for a moment, then - “What sort of problem?”
“Well, all the girls seem to find you - ah, how should I say this - surly, Sir. But, don't worry, we will find you a replace-” Prop was cut off by the click of the phone. He sighed and hung up.
***
Jim growled deep in his throat, staring at his slightly emaciated hand. The past year he had totally lost his appetite, going from a beefy 220 down to a gaunt 150. His hand curled into an unconscious fist. Ever since he had been in the car accident which paralyzed both legs from the hips down, his personality had changed. He let his fist fall and let his head lay on the back of the chair with a stifled groan of despair.
And that is when Debbie saw him. She felt an immediate need to rush in to comfort him, but waited until he raised his head before she knocked.
“Come in,” the deep, growling voice said.
She started - that voice sounded like it should be in someone a hundred pounds heavier!
"One, two, three pull your mind from the gutter," she told herself firmly. She stepped into the room, a smile hovering around her lips.
Jim gazed at her, eyes half-lidded in resentment. He knew he needed the help, but hated having his home invaded. He nodded to the couch curtly but she first shook his hand, her soft, husky voice pleasant.
“Debbie Glad,” she said simply, smiling at him.
“Jim Hanson,” he said guardedly, then gestured to the couch again.
This time she sat, folding her lithe 5'1 form into the chair easily, yet somehow making it unoffensive to the over-sensitive Jim. She answered all his questions easily, with no pity, embarrassment or judgment over his condition.
Before she got up to leave, he grunted, “You're hired. But, first tell me why you seem so comfortable around me.”
“Perhaps it is because my father suffered a similar condition as yourself.” She smiled at him warmly.
“Now, if I am hired is there anything you need?” Her smooth brown tresses made Jim doubly aware of his dirty, uncut and unshaven condition.
He didn't know how to respond, so all he said was, “Just do whatever.”
He growled, “I'll be in my study.”
He wheeled away slowly and sat at his desk brooding.
Undaunted, Debbie tidied the house, her humming filling the quiet pleasantly. After she had finished she felt her stomach rumble and so began to cook them a meal of steak, potatoes, and corn on the cob. She made sure there was extra, so if he got hungry later or tomorrow he could help himself.
Jim finished his paperwork and sniffed appreciatively. The house hadn't smelled this good in a long, long time! He wheeled himself into the kitchen just in time to see Debbie placing a mouthwatering feast on the table.
“You -” He cleared his throat. “You know I am supposed to be following a strict diet so I don't gain weight?”
She turned to him and sat down.
“Oh shod that! Men need real food, not crackers! Besides, you are seriously underweight!” she said indignantly. She pushed his food closer and began to help herself. He glanced up at her suspiciously but ate nonetheless. Surprise flitted over his face at the first bite, then he dug in with more gusto than he had in a long time.
He began slowly, chewing methodically. Then, as the taste exploded upon his tongue he began eating faster. All too soon he was done and feeling rather full. He blinked when she put another, smaller, second helping on his plate.
“I was raised in a family that believes men needs to eat right,” she said simply, then began washing dishes. Again, all too soon - in his opinion - he was done. He sat back, this time feeling decidedly bloated. Then she plopped a piece of homemade apple pie before him. He started to wave it away but sighed as he gave in, unbuckling his pants and digging in.
“Man, woman!” he exclaimed after finishing. He breathed carefully around his gorged middle and shifted uncomfortably. “If you make every meal this good I'll be huge!”
“And what's wrong with a little meat on a guy's bones?” she challenged.
“Fat, not meat,” Jim grunted, brutally honest.
“Fine, call it what you like. What's wrong with it?” she repeated, sitting beside him.
“Its wrong, unattractive - it's disgusting!” he growled.
She slid one finger up his thin thigh to his swollen middle and gave it a pat.
“I disagree.” She quickly stood up to clean his plates.
“So what? You're fattening me up?” he said sarcastically. He shivered when all she did was glance at him and smile.
“Don't you dare, woman!” he shouted then coughed in surprise as a large piece of apple pie was shoved into his mouth. He briefly considered spitting it out, but then chewed it furiously, working to clear his mouth. It just tasted too good to waste.
“No mouthing off now, Jim. I won't stand for it!” she said. “And now it's off to the bath.”
When he refused to move, only glowered at her, she wheeled him herself and began stripping him for the shower.
Afterwards, they both came out wet and very clean, Debbie with laugher bubbling out, and even Jim was smiling.
Jim was in such a good mood after his feast and wash that he allowed Debbie to help him out of his chair and watch T.V. together.
***
In the morning Jim rolled into his wheelchair and moved to the kitchen, addicted to the smell of her cooking. She placed the pancakes with syrup on his plate, even though he grumbled that he wasn't hungry.
Jim drank his coffee and ate his pancakes, feeling contented. He grunted in response to a question, causing Debbie to laugh and comment on bears coming out of hibernation. He smiled a little and got to work on the novel he had been working on the last six months.
An hour later he was bellowing from his study that he was starving. Debbie made an a large submarine sandwich and brought it to him. It was large but in his emaciated state it was huge. It took him until lunch to finish, and when he was done he felt full but satisfied.
He realized this was his body's natural reaction after being denied real food for so long, but he began to seriously worry as the weeks went on and he woke up feeling hungry and went to bed full. His middle slowly but unstoppably began to advance, marching forward to claim his lap inch by inch.
A couple months into their arrangement, he really blew up - in several ways.
