Bad Habits | Chapter 16 | FATal Attraction (Patreon)

[Content warning: This story includes SSBHM weight gain, queer sex, messy eating, drug use, romanticizing abusive relationships, immobility, and extreme obesity-related health issues. Reader Discretion advised.]

Author’s Note: What can I say? This chapter could’ve been two, but I thought why not? I appreciate all of the support you’ve given me in this endeavor. This is supposed to be the ”happy” ending to the series. I let a few people beta read it, and apparently, it’s still dark as shit. I guess this is just the slightly less dark ending of the series. I’m sorry if the less dark ending should have been more like Disney. This is the end of the road for you more tame folks. For you folks who love hardcore death feederism, you’ll get the real final chapter next month.

Bad Habits

Chapter 16: FATal Attraction

Days turn into weeks, and weeks melt into months. Oliver’s weight skyrockets faster from both fat accumulation but also lymphedema; His lymphatic system is damaged by excess fat deposits causing his massive thighs to bloat. His bariatric bed looks close to breaking, but he’s fortunate that his reinforced bed accommodates even the heaviest of patients. Oliver no longer thinks about his situation because he’s always in a daze from weed and food; Dylan keeps him oblivious to how bad his body suffers from deterioration. Oliver trusts that his husband will do what is in his best interest. Dylan indeed loves Oliver, but Dylan also thinks a fetish is worth dying over. Oliver is a poor, innocent boy caught up with the wrong man. 

One may compare Oliver’s life to a poorly played game of Jenga. If one wrong movement occurs, one seemingly insignificant piece shifts, it might mean game over. Dylan tries his best to make sure the wobbling tower is stable enough to sustain the blubbery structure as long as possible, but he’s also risky enough to have fun rearranging the pieces. He plays with the delicate balance daily without regard to the consequences. Modern medicine is quite good at keeping people circling the drain, but they both know how this is going to end eventually. One day the tower will fall.

Josh visits Oliver and Dylan less frequently, afraid that one day he will walk in on his brother, murdering his best friend with heavy cream. Josh wants to believe Dylan will do the right thing. He holds onto hope that Dylan truly loves Oliver and will help him lose the weight, despite Oliver showing no progress towards this endeavor. When the pair got married months ago, Josh somehow convinced himself that while Oliver and Dylan have psychological problems, things can change. The rewiring of Josh’s brain is no doubt a response to the trauma of seeing his best friend in this state, but deep down, he’s ready to one day snap on his brother.

Josh decides to visit Oliver and Dylan to come up with a new plan to save Oliver’s life as his body won’t likely survive much more abuse. Dylan notices Josh pull up in his car and walk toward the front door. Dylan opens the front door to walk outside with a beer in his hands that he started drinking minutes ago. He gently shuts the door behind him. “Hey, what’s up?” asks Dylan in a soft tone. 

“I haven’t heard from you in a while. I needed to run some errands and thought I’d stop by your place. I just wanted to make sure you are doing fine,” Josh tries to reassure his brother.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine. Most people would just call, or at least give a warning before stopping by someone’s home.”

“Yeah, but it’s also nice to see you in person in a spontaneous fashion. After all, you loved randomness. It’s not a bad time of year for a barbecue.”

“Maybe we can have a barbecue sometime when I have everything we need, but honestly, are you trying to check up and see Oliver?” Dylan grins at his brother. 

“Yes... I mean, no. I wanted to see both of you. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about you both. I sometimes worry,” Josh blushes before he unexpectedly pulls out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, fumbling through the packaging. He pulls a lighter out of his chambray shirt pocket and lights the cigarette before giving it a puff. 

“When did you start smoking?” Dylan asks with shock. 

“Recently. I just have a lot of stress right now with work and life. I don’t want to talk about it,” he inhales. He pauses before blowing out the smoke. “Can I go inside?”

“You want to go inside and smoke near an obese man on oxygen? Have you lost your fucking mind? Mom always said you were the smart one, but sometimes it is hard to believe.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Oliver needs oxygen at all times,” Josh apologizes, turning red with embarrassment. Then, Josh hears a weird noise. “God, is that a bear attacking your home?”

“No, that’s just Oliver sleeping.”

“Shit,” Josh pauses to listen to the labored breathing. “You’re right. He sounds like he’s suffocating to death by his fat. I can’t believe it’s so bad,” Josh prompts concern to his older brother, who ignores him.

“Let’s stay outside for now. It gives Oliver time to rest, and you can finish your cigarette,” Dylan suggests. “Want a beer?”

Josh shakes his head no. The brothers sit down on the front porch. Dylan gulps his beer. “So, does he always sleep like that?” Josh asks his brother. 

“A lot or loudly? The answer is both when he’s not eating. He spends a lot of time sleeping like he’s exhausted all the time.”

Josh sighs. “I was surfing through channels last night and found a rerun of the show America’s Fattest Fucks. The episode was from an older season and had a guy named Ian Ham. His boyfriend, Forrest, didn’t care about Ian’s mobility or health. The poor guy died after weighing about 1200 pounds if I remember correctly,” Josh takes another puff of his cigarette. He pauses, knowing the gravity of what he wants to ask. He almost doesn’t, but he forces himself to ask. “Dylan, Oliver is much bigger than that, isn’t he?”

Dylan sips his beer. “I’d say he’s probably around that size. Oliver might be a little smaller. Why do you care so much?” Dylan inquires, knowing Oliver weighs more than the number Josh suggested with his special diet.

“Despite everything, he’s my best friend. I don’t want him to die.”

“Are you sure there’s not another reason? Are you jealous that he chose me over diets, over exercises, and over...” Dylan hesitates before saying, “you.”

“No! It’s not like that! He’s just my friend. My best friend,” Josh blushes with embarrassment. “I’ve watched him kill himself for the past seven years with you. I care about him too much! I know you don’t want your husband to die either. This has to end now!”

“Do you think that a half-ton young man is going to lose weight? How do you expect him to willingly give up all his favorite foods for medical help that no one wants to give him? What if he loves his current life?”

“There’s got to be someone out there who can save him. I don’t think we’ve tried everything yet. I don’t think you’ve been the most supportive husband,” Josh hints that he’s tired of the games.

“Dr. Montgomery already wrote him off. One of the world’s most renowned bariatric surgeons didn’t give a fuck about him,” Dylan makes an excuse, hoping the conversation will end. He will not let Oliver lose weight, let alone entertain the thought. 

“There must be some diet that makes him feel full, some weight loss drug, a doctor willing to perform surgery as a last-ditch effort, or something,” Josh suggests before putting the cigarette back up to his lips.

“Oliver is happy. I wish you’d stop trying to take that away from him,” Dylan growls.

Josh exhales smoke. “I don’t know why you’re so resistant to helping him. Don’t you love him?”

“I do love him, but weight loss is not something he wants or needs to be happy,” Dylan tells his brothers firmly. 

“Cut the shit. You want him like this. You don’t care if he dies as long as you get off. It’s your fault why he is like this. He thinks this is love. It’s abuse.”

“He loves me, and he loves food. Why are you like this? What are you getting at here?”

“We both know that I know about your dark fetish. Promise me you’re not doing this to Oliver on purpose. Promise me you’re not going to kill him. Promise me you’re going to do better. He’s your husband, and he needs serious help and a support system, Dylan. This has gone too far. Shit, it was too far over 1,000 pounds ago. It’s time we stand together and have a real intervention with him,” Josh’s eyes water, but he wipes the forming tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

Dylan is tired of being accurately accused of his sins. He says the only thing that comes to mind. “It’s a little late for me to promise all of that, huh?” Dylan gives a sly grin. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“God damn it, I was right this whole fucking time while you were gaslighting me! I thought when you came back, you’d help him lose weight. I thought you changed!” Josh shouts, his face turning a darker shade of red than the blushing. 

“Nothing changed, not even my love for him, Josh.”

“Someone needs to lock you up! This is murder, Dylan! You’re murdering him and making him thank you for it! You never cared about him!”

“Really? Ollie-pop seems to be happy with the constant flow of food. He’s happy with the sex. Was Oliver happy with you at all since high school, or did you abandon and hurt him? When I went back to school, I made sure he was taken care of by sending him money and ordering him food. Even when I was physically gone, I still took care of my boy, so you can’t accuse me of not caring,” Dylan’s smile gets more crazed.

Before Josh gets the chance to respond, he notices a white car pull into the driveway beside his car. Josh looks at the side of the car, seeing the name “Porky’s Pizza Parlor” with a cartoon pig. Josh puts the pieces together in his head, seeing the familiar logo from the side of the car. He gasps. “It was you.”

“What was me?”

“You watched Oliver’s nasty little cam shows. You sent him all those pizzas that day. You knew I’d have a breakdown and he’d want to call you to come back into his life.”

“Guilty.”

“Fucking Christ,” Josh sighs. “It’s just a revolving door of delivery drivers. You’re sick! You’re evil!” Josh yells again.

“What are you going to do about it?” Dylan taunts Josh. Josh throws his cigarette on the ground and stomps on it before storming off to his car. 

“Fuck you! Fuck you, Dylan! You’re a fucking piece of shit!”

The pizza delivery driver gets out of his car with a carrier filled with pizzas.  He looks at the brothers with confusion, feeling the tension between them. “Letting someone eat their fill is not a crime. Oh, you should also probably quit smoking, little brother. That shit will kill you,” Dylan grins with irony. Josh gives the pizza delivery person a death glare. He slams his door, puts his car in reverse, and drives off recklessly.

“I’ve got your regular order, Dylan,” says Jared.

“Thanks,” Dylan pulls out his wallet.

“Family drama, huh?”

“Yeah, but it’ll all be just fine. You know how Josh is, right? Oliver told me about the way my brother treated you the first time you delivered pizza for me,” Dylan manipulates poor Jared. 

“Yeah, I remember. I almost feared for my life the time he caught me in your home with Oliver. Yet, I’m always your delivery boy these days. You order a lot of pizza, and I’m very grateful for the generous tips you give me. I was able to get you an extra small pepperoni pizza for free. My last stop was an apartment, but no one came to the door, so Oliver can have it. I know it’s not much for the big guy,” Jared explains, pulling out a stack of pizzas from the carrier. 

“That’s very sweet of you. I’m sure Oliver will appreciate the extra pizza,” Dylan smiles, handing Jared a wad of cash for a tip. Jared grabs the money, and walks back to his car. Before closing the door, Jared says, “I hope our best customer enjoys the pizza!”

“I’m sure he will. Oh, and Jared. You look like you’ve filled out a little. The extra weight in your belly and perky tits look delicious. Keep up the good work, tubs!” Jared blushes at the strange compliment about his weight. Jared doesn’t want to get nearly as big as Oliver, but he enjoys the weight he put on with the extra food he purchases with his tip money.

“T-thanks, sir,” Jared says shyly. He closes the door, buckles his seat belt, and drives away. Dylan takes the pizza inside the house. Once the door is closed, he places the pizza on the nightstand that Oliver uses as a table.  He can hear Oliver’s enlarges heart pumping away rapidly and decides to get closer to it by pressing his head against his lover’s chest. Dylan feels the vibration of the overworked organ. The feeling scares him, but there is something oddly satisfying about hearing the increased thumping.

Oliver’s voice startles Dylan. “Is that...huff... pizza I smell?” Oliver breathes heavily. “I-...love pizza,” he gasps as his eyes open. Dylan pulls his head from Oliver’s enormous breast. Oliver smiles at Dylan, making Dylan’s own heart thump out of his chest. 

“I know you do, big boy. There’s plenty here for you, my precious Ollie,” Dylan coos at his husband, grabbing a slice and forcing it into Oliver’s face. Oliver gratefully opens his mouth, his stomach growls with anticipation after digesting his last meal while sleeping. Oliver eats the first slice ravenously as if he hasn’t eaten in days. The slice goes down easy, prompting Dylan to put two slices on top of each other, and he hands it to Oliver. The two slices prove to be no challenge for Oliver. Dylan gives Oliver an entire box to gorge on. 

Oliver grabs another two slices and double fists them as Dylan strips out of his clothes. Once Dylan is entirely naked, revealing a throbbing cock, he sets up for the show; Dylan turns on the webcam for another live feed for Oliver’s fans. He also makes sure to record the entire session, like usual, so that he can post the video online. 

Dylan has a devious idea to make it even more fun. He goes to an end table beside an armchair in the room and pulls out a purple vibrator. He returns to Oliver, turning on the device to the highest setting. Dylan pushes through rolls of belly lard spread out in front of him. Despite Oliver’s size, Dylan flexes his phenomenal skill of finding Oliver’s fat pad area by spelunking in his folds. He discovers the area as close as he can get to the buried nub of a penis before backing out. Oliver curls his toes a bit as he moans at the first touch of the device, but he feels nothing from his numb digits below. A diabetic amputation is in his near future, depending on how much longer his organs agree to function. 

The first pizza disappears by the time Dylan climbs on top of Oliver’s belly. Oliver already started the second at a quick rate. Dylan tries to pull himself up closer, like climbing Mount Everest. In no time, Oliver discards the second pizza box on the floor with all the other garbage he’s recently accumulated. Oliver reaches for the third box of pizza. “Daddy is going to make your heart ooze lard,” pants Dylan.

The entire third pizza gets demolished in minutes, and the box makes its way to the floor. Dylan grinds into Oliver’s belly. “Get nice and fat for daddy.” The amount of pizza would discuss any normal individual. However, Oliver quickly ate three boxes of pizza. The fourth proves to be a challenge when Oliver belches and slows down. Dylan feels Oliver’s upper abdomen tighten, either from the full feeling or the pulsing sex toy. It takes Oliver several more minutes than usual, but pizza four finally makes its way into his ample stomach.

“Tsk-Tsk. Don’t you want more? There’s just one pizza left. It should be easy for the future world’s fattest man!” Dylan encourages his husband. 

At this point, they’re both astounded with how many slices of pizza Oliver consumed. Dylan isn’t serious, but Oliver is up to the challenge. After all, Oliver hasn’t orgasmed yet; Oliver is desperate for release. “Feed-urp...me more-huff, Daddy,” Oliver whines, trying to please Dylan. The throbbing vibrator sends him closer to the edge. Dylan lovingly shoves another greasy slice of pizza into Oliver’s begging mouth. A goofy, dreamy look spreads across Oliver’s face, and his eyes glaze over in ecstasy as he chews. 

“You can do it, babe,” Dylan moans, feeling Oliver’s expansive, stretch mark covered flesh against his hard cock. “Good fucking God, you’re a greedy glutton.”

Then, Dylan notices a pained expression and desperate unintelligible noise escaping Oliver. His breathing is more shallow than ever. “Don’t exert yourself too much,” Dylan reassures Oliver while grabbing a handful of Oliver’s tit. 

“I’m-Huff...fine,” Oliver wheezes out. “Just takes a-a lot...out of me.”

Dylan offers another slice of pizza. “Just a few more! You're so close! I’ll never judge you for how much you eat, baby boy. Food will never judge you either.”

Watching Oliver’s facial expressions with a vibrator jackhammering his buried penis and grease drooling down Oliver’s chins excites Dylan. Who would have thought a reasonably fit track star would be too obese to roll himself over? The old Oliver is gone, crushed to death under the enormous weight gain and extreme gluttony. Dylan pushes another slice of pizza between the obese blob’s cheeks, Oliver’s face turns a shade of red that isn’t familiar, especially to someone like Dylan, who shoves junk in it every day. Pain runs down Oliver’s arm. Oliver grunts at the feeling, causing Dylan to push yet another slice onto Oliver’s lips. He’s not finished chewing the previous piece, but Dylan brings more to Oliver’s mouth like a machine. 

“Pleas..e- Huff. D-Dylan! S-stop Dyl-!” Oliver chokes on his words. Dylan doesn’t want to stop. He thrusts into Oliver’s belly once more. He hears his husband’s plea, but a primal urge surges in Dylan’s brain. It takes everything in him to force his body to stop pounding his morbidly obese husband’s belly. He reluctantly puts the pizza back on the nightstand and climbs off of Oliver. Even though he gets off of Oliver’s blobby body, deep under the waterbed of flesh, the sex toy continues to buzz. 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Dylan asks Oliver with panic. 

Sweat pools on Oliver’s forehead. The sheets in his bed collect sweat from his naked back fat. Oliver’s mouth becomes dry. Oliver moves his fat engulfed hands up to his bulky chest. He desperately grasps for the middle of his chest, but his broad chest keeps his sausage fingers from reaching the throbbing tissue around his enlarged heart. Oliver clinches his teeth together in a weak attempt to cope. The issue is evident to both men: Oliver’s lard encased heart is beating too fast to pump blood through Oliver’s failing, artery clogged body. Dylan clutches onto Oliver’s hand and reaches for the phone to reluctantly make the inevitable call. 

"Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?” comes a voice on the phone. 

“I have a medical emergency. Well, technically, not me. It’s my husband. I think... I think he is having a heart attack,” Dylan explains, keeping as calm as possible. 

“Where is your husband?” 

“He is at home with me now. We live at 632 Arbilla Street. Please send an ambulance! You’re going to need to send a really big one!” Dylan adds inflection on the word “big.”

“Oh, is he extremely tall? All ambulances are big. I’m sure it’ll accommodate his height just fine.” 

“What is your name?”

“I am Dylan Edere, but-” 

“What is your husband’s name?” asks the operator, interrupting Dylan’s concern.

“Oliver Dives. Well, it used to be Dives. His last name is Edere now, but you don’t understand,” Dylan attempts to get the operator’s attention.

“What am I not understanding? Can you clarify the information for me?”

“As I said, he’s big! He’s, well, I don’t know how to say this without embarrassing him.”

“Sir, I need you to let me know how I can help. I promise I won’t judge.”

“Oliver is humongous. He’s super morbidly obese. He’s not gotten out of bed on his own for a few years now!” Dylan shouts, half induced in panic while the other half incredibly turned on.

“Mr. Edere, thank you for clarifying. I’m looking through the last log on file. It appears you called for a bariatric ambulance previously. Are you trying to tell me you are requesting a bariatric ambulance to accommodate Oliver Edere’s weight?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“I can request one with a capacity of 1,000 pounds.”

“Do you have anything larger?” Dylan asks.

“What do you mean?” questions the operator. 

“Oliver is much bigger than last time. He’s significantly over 1,000 pounds now.”

“Oh, sir,” the voice on the other end, gasps. “I understand now. I’ll do everything I can do to get the biggest ambulance available. Don’t hang up! Help is on the way!”

The next thing Oliver does makes Dylan’s jaw drop: Oliver reaches for the pizza again while Dylan is on the phone trying to save his life. Dylan’s excited penis throbs again at the surprise of Oliver’s perseverance. Oliver could die, but he is still engrossed with finishing the last pieces of pizza. Oliver rationalizes if he’s going to leave this world, he will leave doing what he loves for his husband. He eats past the pain, overstuffing his stomach while his deathfeeder husband holds on the line. Dylan wants to tell Oliver to stop eating, but he can’t bring himself to give the command. Instead, Dylan gasps “Hurry!”

“We are dispatching someone to your location as fast as possible,” the woman on the line assured Dylan, oblivious to the context of Oliver’s out of control appetite. Oliver takes the “hurry” as a demand, one that is a labor of love, a gift, one present that could be his last, to give his husband.

Despite the tightness in his chest, Oliver manages to vigorously chew and swallow the last two pieces of pizza. Oliver hacks from the effort. Dylan stands there, half worried, half turned on for a few minutes. Watching Oliver cling on to life is just as arousing as it is terrifying. He’s out of control. In minutes, the couple hears sirens blaring in the background. That's when he sees it. Dylan notices the biggest load of cum he’s ever seen splattered on Oliver’s belly. He looks down at his dick. It’s dripping heavy globs of cum onto the floor. Dylan didn’t even realize he orgasmed in all of the panic. 

“Shit. Shit! Shit! Shit!” Dylan shouts, watching Oliver almost pass out from the pain. Dylan puts the phone down, and runs to the bathroom and grabs a random towel from the rack. Then, Dylan sprints back to the living room to wipe up his load off Oliver’s flesh with the cum rag. Oliver’s stretched skin looks red as if the skin tore from the rough rag. He winces as Dylan cleans him, still gasping for any oxygen he can claim from the cannula in his nose. The sirens blare louder as emergency vehicles enter the neighborhood. Dylan grabs his clothes and dresses as fast as he can. He barely gets all his clothes on before there is a knock on the front door. 

“Fuck me, that was fast,” Dylan says. “Hang in there, Ollie.” Dylan walks to the front door to open it before he realizes the cum rag is on the bed beside Oliver. Dylan snatches the towel up quickly, thinking about how to discard the evidence. He sees his armchair and promptly tucks it under the seat cushion, hoping the cloth doesn’t make the chair’s seat bulge. Meanwhile, each breath from Oliver is forceful and raspy like it’s coming from a lifelong smoker with emphysema. Dylan forgets about the dispatcher on the line until he hears “sir, are you still there?”

The crew’s leaders knock loudly before shouting, “EMS, coming in!” 

“EMS is here now,” Dylan tells the dispatcher before hanging up. As Dylan ends the call the front door swings open with force allowing two men to rush into their home. A few other crew members also make their way into the living room behind them. Some make up the ambulance crew, while others are fire fighters there to assist. The lack of surprise on their face suggests that they are fully aware of how much Oliver weighs and expect the transport to be horrific for them.

“We are going to quickly assess you to make sure it’s safe to move you,” one man tells Oliver.

The EMTs poke, prod, and squeeze his lard. Oliver’s head swims through scenarios of dying as he fights his body to breathe with a heart painfully fluttering. Oliver loves the manhandling by a variety of people. He’d want much more in a more sexual way if the situation weren’t so dire. Various crewmembers reassure Oliver that he will be okay with their help. Dylan thinks of the title for this video still being filmed: “Megachub ObedientBlobBoi’s Massive Coronary.” Dylan is sure this won’t be Oliver’s last video thanks to the crew’s encouraging comments regarding Oliver’s survival. Oliver’s last videos will most likely be “Immobile Megachub Eats Himself to Death” or “How to Remove a 1,400 Lb Body.” The thought gives Dylan chills, feeling fortunate that he still has some time left with Oliver despite everything he curated for the poor boy over the years.

A woman checks his oxygen tank to ensure that his lungs get enough air. Another crew member attempts to listen to his heartbeats per minute to determine how to rate the awful cardiac event. “Does anyone hear a buzzing noise coming from somewhere?” asks the man checking out Oliver’s heart. 

“I think there’s something in-...” says a woman as she trails off. 

“Where?” the man asks, looking at his partner. She glances towards the belly folds that spreads down past Oliver’s knees. The two members look as if they want to play a game of nose goes. Unfortunately, moving Oliver’s folds is a two-person job. He understands her cue, and they both try to roll Oliver’s fat up to take a look to solve the mystery. Dylan sweats nervously. Shit, he forgot to get the vibrator out of Oliver’s fat pad. The pair grunt heavily, professionally ignoring the stench from lifting Oliver’s slabs of lard. They gasp at the bedsores discovered inside Oliver’s enormous folds. A few seconds later, the vibrator violently rolls out from under Oliver’s belly, hitting the ground with a thud, soaked in jizz and sweat. Everyone glances at the toy gyrating on the floor, and then back at their obese patient in disgust. Dylan walks over to the toy, picks it up, turns it off, and puts it on the table without a single word.

Another EMT clears his throat. “Mr. Dives. It appears that maybe something triggered the episode you had today,” the man informs Oliver. Then, he looks at the new empty pizza boxes on the floor. Finally, he gives Oliver a look: The glance of disgust that screams, “you’re never going to be able to lose all this weight even with severe medical intervention.” Yet, it’s his job to convince Oliver to save his life. 

“Everything that elevates your heart rate is dangerous right now without medical supervision. Every moment you’re still alive strains your heart. You’re stable for now, but we need to transport you to the hospital. We are going to cut open the wall behind you and then move you onto a flatbed truck with a forklift. We will do everything we can to preserve your dignity,” says the man. His facial expression suggests otherwise. What he’s thinking is closer to “who cares about your dignity? You sure as hell didn’t while getting to that size.”

Oliver appears to be back to semi-normal. “No,” Oliver firmly states between heavy breathing as another professional continues to examine Oliver’s worn-out body.

“What? You could have died a few minutes ago. There’s a chance your heart is permanently damaged. Come with us, and you’ll survive. You might need a transplant or some surgical repair.”

“I said-huff...no. No, no...” Oliver declines treatment before coughing. 

“This is serious!”

“I’m f-fine now,” Oliver manages to inform the crew weakly. The sharp pain in his chest subsided when the vibrator left contact with his genitalia. However, redness still discolors his face and sweat droplets remain on his forehead. 

“Do you have to take him if he doesn’t want to go? He’s conscious and refusing care,” Dylan interjects. 

“If he insists…” says another man with a mustache disapprovingly, “but I’m certain that he won’t survive the next one. He needs help now. If he signs a document, we will leave, but I can’t think of a more selfish and stupid choice.”

“F-th... fine!” Oliver exhales. 

“You’re okay with signing your life away? If you sign this document, you forfeit medical treatment.” The paramedic brings Oliver a release form and a pen. For a moment, the paramedic thinks that Oliver will make the right choice, but his face sinks when Oliver scribbles an unrecognizable signature with the pen. The crew make their way outside of the home without their beached whale.

“If you’re going to deny medical treatment, don’t bother calling us next time,” the EMT grabs the document, and slams the door, causing the walls to rumble. A picture of Oliver in his fitter days falls to the floor.

“You scared me,” Dylan says softly.

“S-sorry. Huff- I’m s-so sorry, D-Dylan. I didn’t...I did not-huff...mean to scare you or...” Tears drop from Oliver’s eyes. 

“Shhhh. Ollie-pop, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Dylan puts his hand on Oliver’s enormous, soft belly. He gives it a quick jiggle causing rolls of lard to quiver through Oliver’s entire expansive body. If it’s not his fault, who’s fault is it? Oliver has no self-control, and it all started with Dylan giving him weed, and convincing him to gain weight in exchange for romance. Yet, he doesn’t care. They both want him disgustingly obese. No one will take the blame for Oliver’s condition as if it’s reasonable to be the fattest man alive. What happened is to be expected at over 1300 pounds. It will happen again, and there will be no going back, no saving him next time. A body can only go through so much before it gives out, ultimately used up at an alarming age. 

“I-I. Huff- fucked up,” Oliver cries.

“You didn’t fuck anything up, baby. It’s all okay. I promise,” Dylan responds, rubbing the back of  Oliver’s hand.

For a moment, Dylan feels guilt for what he said before the medical incident. “Daddy is going to make your heart ooze lard,” he thinks to himself, replaying the moment he thought Oliver would die, pain-stricken on his bloated red face. “Mission accomplished.” His husband begged for help, but he shoved pizza into his mouth until he climaxed as he watched the light, almost leave Oliver’s eyes forever. Dylan shivers as he wipes away a tear with his right hand. Any admission to regret or sorrow fades as Dylan’s pulsing dick reminds him that his sexuality will kill his husband, and neither can stop it. Dylan is horny again. 

“On a scale from one to ten, how inappropriate is it that I have your favorite cheesecake in the fridge?” Dylan asks with an evil smile.

“Oreo- huff... Dream Ex-huff-treme?” Oliver puffs, his eyes light up again.

“The one and only from the Cheesecake Factory. 1520 calories per slice.”

“Ca...cake,” Oliver coughs.

“What was that?” Dylan teases.

“Cake!” Oliver shouts before coughing several more times. 

“Didn’t your experience just scare you? You don’t have to eat it. You know that, right?” Dylan offers.

“Please...cake,” Oliver breathes heavily. 

“Here I thought you’d eaten enough. Don’t worry. Daddy will make it all better,” says Dylan, once again getting high on reality. He goes to the kitchen and comes back with the cheesecake and only one fork. The situation reminds Oliver and Dylan of their wedding day and the phenomenal sex they had afterward while devouring cake. Dylan climbs up on Oliver’s belly, his erection pushing into Oliver’s fat. 

“I l-l -huff...ove you,” Oliver breathes heavily.

“I love you too, Ollie-pop,” Dylan says calmly as he pushes the fork into the cheesecake and moves it toward Oliver’s mouth. Oliver takes a bite, but before he can chew it, Dylan sticks his tongue in Oliver’s mouth for a French kiss. They make out with the cheesecake in Oliver’s mouth.