Shalion
Shalion
December rolled around in a golden haze. Between his online and new real life acquaintances (as well as one or two who he considered actual friends!), Nathan’s self-confidence and mood were higher than he could recall since childhood. By that time, he was fully wrapped into the feedee lifestyle and was quickly becoming a familiar, if notorious, face on the internet. Nathan’s sheer size alone pushed everything forward as he was pretty much the fattest person online who made regular material of himself, not to mention actively gaining weight by this point. And it was hard to deny that even though ostensibly, he ‘simply made no effort to lose weight.’ All of the weight-gain shakes Nathan chugged through hoses and all of the added butter and lard to his diet begged to differ, even if he still did so only occasionally and now exclusively when he was paid to do so. The live streams and videos and chatrooms and patrons made him more money than he could have ever imagined. In fact, after just half a year, he was bringing in enough cash to rival his old full time job!
Given how active he was, it was not hard to see how Nathan was entering into the last month of the year fully loaded into half-ton territory. He knew that much because he could no longer weight himself on the scale which just read “Errr” when he stepped on it now. Garfield was irate and unconsolable, though at least he did not refuse his monthly visits which Nathan still needed, even if he had now come to dread them. He couldn’t totally blame him. It was not as though gaining over 100 pounds in a year had done anything to benefit Nathan’s health.
All of Nathan’s prescriptions had been either increased or compounded. The costs of prescriptions, in fact, was eating a big chunk out of his new income as he transitioned to more expensive medications. He was now chugging more than 30 pills a day. A daily leg strengthening routine helped build muscles in Nathan’s legs and forestall the worst of the mobility decreases and lack of ‘exercise tolerance’ as Garfield would have put it. However, his leg lymphedema, as he’d learned that was what the swelling was called, got progressively worse despite using the compression socks. His calves both swelled with the skin thickening like a troll’s and he had to spend a couple weeks back in September in the hospital dealing with a persistent infection in the swollen lymphs there. Issues with heart palpitations and skipping heart beats became more frequent as the year progressed, though Nathan did not frequently have chest pain.
One bright spot in Nathan’s health regime was that by selectively sourcing his calories from sugar and carbs to fat and protein and following Garfield’s advice within Nathan’s own sensibilities, he had largely gained control over his once rampant diabetes. He was no longer using his insulin pump, or insulin at all for that matter, just an admittedly aggressive prescription of oral medications as well as his diet.
With his new funds, Nathan did invest in a CPAP machine which helped him breath at night. By forcing air into his fat clotted airways to keep them from collapsing at night, Nathan went from needing 10-12 hours of rest per day or longer to a more regular 8-9 hour schedule and felt better for it. Though the air hose made disentangling himself for his still frequent nocturnal pisses more complicated.
Though socially, Nathan had never been more fulfilled in his life, monthly reality checks made his mounting health complications an inescapable part of his daily life, not to mention the large time commitment the maintenance on his body dictated. Part of him had resigned himself to living out the remainder of his current life, never seeing Magic-Fox/Douglas again, and dying young. However, that nagging rational part of his brain that wanted to live for another 50 years kept him from completely forgoing his effort to track down the mysterious user who had sent him spinning in this satisfying but ultimately doomed arc. He paid someone five dollars to make him a crude bot which automatically sent messages each week to the various social media and other accounts he had identified and he spent time each week looking for new ones.
It came as a complete shock when, on December 20, his program informed him that he had received a response. It read, “Please for fuck’s sake, stop blasting my inbox!”
Given how active he was, it was not hard to see how Nathan was entering into the last month of the year fully loaded into half-ton territory. He knew that much because he could no longer weight himself on the scale which just read “Errr” when he stepped on it now. Garfield was irate and unconsolable, though at least he did not refuse his monthly visits which Nathan still needed, even if he had now come to dread them. He couldn’t totally blame him. It was not as though gaining over 100 pounds in a year had done anything to benefit Nathan’s health.
All of Nathan’s prescriptions had been either increased or compounded. The costs of prescriptions, in fact, was eating a big chunk out of his new income as he transitioned to more expensive medications. He was now chugging more than 30 pills a day. A daily leg strengthening routine helped build muscles in Nathan’s legs and forestall the worst of the mobility decreases and lack of ‘exercise tolerance’ as Garfield would have put it. However, his leg lymphedema, as he’d learned that was what the swelling was called, got progressively worse despite using the compression socks. His calves both swelled with the skin thickening like a troll’s and he had to spend a couple weeks back in September in the hospital dealing with a persistent infection in the swollen lymphs there. Issues with heart palpitations and skipping heart beats became more frequent as the year progressed, though Nathan did not frequently have chest pain.
One bright spot in Nathan’s health regime was that by selectively sourcing his calories from sugar and carbs to fat and protein and following Garfield’s advice within Nathan’s own sensibilities, he had largely gained control over his once rampant diabetes. He was no longer using his insulin pump, or insulin at all for that matter, just an admittedly aggressive prescription of oral medications as well as his diet.
With his new funds, Nathan did invest in a CPAP machine which helped him breath at night. By forcing air into his fat clotted airways to keep them from collapsing at night, Nathan went from needing 10-12 hours of rest per day or longer to a more regular 8-9 hour schedule and felt better for it. Though the air hose made disentangling himself for his still frequent nocturnal pisses more complicated.
Though socially, Nathan had never been more fulfilled in his life, monthly reality checks made his mounting health complications an inescapable part of his daily life, not to mention the large time commitment the maintenance on his body dictated. Part of him had resigned himself to living out the remainder of his current life, never seeing Magic-Fox/Douglas again, and dying young. However, that nagging rational part of his brain that wanted to live for another 50 years kept him from completely forgoing his effort to track down the mysterious user who had sent him spinning in this satisfying but ultimately doomed arc. He paid someone five dollars to make him a crude bot which automatically sent messages each week to the various social media and other accounts he had identified and he spent time each week looking for new ones.
It came as a complete shock when, on December 20, his program informed him that he had received a response. It read, “Please for fuck’s sake, stop blasting my inbox!”