Pharah's Health and Confidence Crisis (Patreon)

Tags: Extreme obesity, health issues, teasing, slob

This one is pretty extreme! You have been warned!


"Mmmphgh. . .sccchhllluuurrrp. . .BLLUUURRRP. . .needsch. . .moar. . .ssscchuuggar. . ." Pharah belched, snorted, and gorged her way through her latest feeding. A bucket of food was held up to her face, propped up by two nurses. “Add. . .schhoome . . uuuhhf. . .pppllleeeache. . .” Pharah's voice was deep despite her whining and panting, funneled through folds of chest and facial fat. She raised her face only so far as to make contact with one of her nurses. Pharah’s once defined and royal face had become a mess of heavy rolls and folds. Her cheeks ballooned outwards, warping around her cheekbones and fighting her singular chin for dominance of her face. Further, her brows had picked up so much weight that they had started to sag downwards. Lank and uncleaned hair rolled down either side of Pharah’ sweating face, the rest of it tied in a lopsided bun. Pharah’s helpers tried to keep her appearance in a semblance of order, but were often too busy trying to save her from the brink of medical doom. So she was left to cultivate her own unique and personal look.  Pharah had a squinty, hoggish look to her. It was the only kind of look that befitted a woman of her unbelievable girth and bulk. She panted for a second or two before returning to her food. It was calorie dense, sugar infested, nutritionally devoid paste. The kind of thing that industrial companies used in small doses to spike their food and make it more palatable for the masses. By all health standards it was completely inedible, yet Pharah downed gallons of it daily. Her heavy, hogged up face pushed into the paste and sucked it down sloppily. In the background, her health monitors blared and screeched warnings.


Pharah was as unhealthy as a woman could get. Blood pressure spiked through the roof, lymphedema swollen legs, and raging diabetes were all prizes for Pharah’s lack of control. Her hill-like body had a thicket of IV tubes and other medical wiring which wound their way around sagging hills of fat. The pristine white tubes twisted and turned their way back to the former pilot’s monitors and drug dispensers. Pharah was a mound of fat which flowed and fell in all directions, each roll confusingly buried into the next. Her breasts were fat enough to roll off of her stomach, falling into open air like medicine ball sized fruits. Her stomach fell in a gigantic heap, sloping down such that it rested on the floor. Lastly, her butt had begun to take on truly whalish proportions. The twin flabby cheeks filled the wall behind Pharah, constantly quaking and shaking. Pharah was so large that she had been rendered helpless, unable even to feed herself properly. A cadre of nurses were forced to do everything for the Egyptian woman, all under the watchful eye of Ana, Pharah’s mother.


“Daughter, should you really be eating something so sugary?” Ana asked, leaning against the wall of fat that was her daughter. “We said this week was going to be your diet week.” She patted the wall of moist ass fat, rubbing one of the massive buttcheeks. “How are you going to be skinny again?” Ana purred the question out in her sultry voice. Pharah merely continued gorging, her heavily lidded brow squinting as she sucked food down. A small siren went off, alerting the room to an impending blood sugar shock. "Pharah. . ." Ana said softly, trying to draw her daughter out of her feast. 


“Bbbbllluuuurrruuuppp. . .Whatsch. . .Mom?” The former pilot and current health catastrophe finally spoke, heaving her face out of her food. Her heart monitor went up, nearly in tandem with her blood sugar levels. It was time for her daily crash. Her face looked red and there was a dullness in her eyes. “I’m. . .MMMLLLURRRUUPP. . .uuugggh. . .tryin’ tah. . .hhhuuf. . .eat a. . .bitth.” Pharah spluttered the words out of her mouth, a bit of drool leaking out of one side. Her hoggish face drooped more as the diabetic coma raced onwards. Her blood was saturated with so much sugar that she could no longer process it. Her body reeled back and forth, slapping and rolling against itself. Ana stood back, arms crossed and a sly smile on her face. Once again her daughter had eaten herself to disaster. The massive mountain of fat and medical tubing lurched forward and back. “Nawwt. . .ennuufff. . .bbuurrrp.” Pharah wheezed, vision blurring steadily. Between the fat from her eyebrows and the coma settling in, the world was darkening for her. Her sausage fingers, nestled tightly in her pockets of arm fat, wiggled for a bit and started to slow. The nurses were rushing around, trying to maintain the lifesaving machinery hooked up to Pharah. “Itssch. . .your. . .fawlt. . .uhm. . .ffaaaht.” Pharah said before slumping completely over.


“Oh Pharah. . .what am I going to do with you.” Ana sighed like she was scolding a small puppy. Reaching into her pockets, she drew forth a syringe. Insulin mixed with nanites. It was something that Ana and Mercy had pioneered together, each testing on their own morbidly obese charge. The small woman stepped forward, prodding her daughter’s flab with strong and nimble fingers. Somehow, inside of all the fat, she was able to find a vein. The lifesaving medicine was soon flowing in Pharah’s sugary blood. The little nanites carried it far and wide. Almost immediately, Pharah’s condition began to improve and stabilize. Ana helped the machines and medicine along by massaging Pharah’s leg. The lymphedema stricken, bloated expanse of fat was nearly buried under stomach folds but Ana was able to reach. Her fingers slowly working on the massive leg, squeezing and massaging the moist, doughy expanse. Slowly, adjusting to the insulin shot, Pharah came out of her state. Ana wasted little time. “So, it’s my fault that I have a porky daughter?” She asked, smacking the heavy stomach for good measure.


Pharah scowled, her fat facial folds falling even further down over her eyes. “Yes.” Was all she said. She might have crossed her arms in bratty denial, had she still possessed the ability to move her arms. Instead she simply scowled. “You. . .jusscht. . kept. . .feeding me.” She huffed the words out, feeling one of her immense breasts falling further off of her stomach. A nurse glided over, softly moving the heavy orb back into place. 


“I did nothing of the kind.” Ana played with the folds around her daughter’s swollen knees. The joints were utterly hidden, completely obfuscated by the fat. Sufficiently proud of her work, Ana moved away to poke and prod at other parts of Pharah. Ana kneaded and shoved at the folds running from Pharah’s stomach to her love handles. They were heavy, like pushing yards of fleshy rope. “You. . .UGH. . .got heavy. . .ooof. . .because you couldn’t. . .haah. . .control yourself!” Ana would push a roll up, let it air out, and then let it drop. Pharah, despite her annoyance, smiled. She could take a perverse pleasure in making her mother work. The tanned blob needed constant attention, much of that attention being rather back breaking. It was nice to see that her mother had to suffer right along with her. Though, Pharah’s frown returned when her mother dropped her folds. “Was I not supposed to make cookies for my daughter?” Ana asked, again patting and rubbing Pharah. Her hands traveled to the space where Pharah’s dangling breast fold met her stomach. “I wanted to give little gifts to my growing girl.” Ana rubbed and smacked the ample cleavage Pharah had nakedly on display. “I enjoyed you looking chubby, you enjoyed you looking chubby. I see no issue.” She backed away, raising her arms in an exaggerated shrug.


“Shuh. . .UURRRP. . .problem isch that. . .whew. . .zhat I. . .can’t move.” Pharah wheezed, her cantaloupe sized cheeks resting on her chins. 


“We have the best technology in the world for health!” Ana strolled around the immense pile of fat. “I could be twice your weight and lose it all.” Reaching the point where Pharah’s gut hit the floor, the older woman simply flopped forward. She fell onto the stretch of gut-fat before her. Ana rose and fell like she was on a waterbed. “Admit it, Pharah, you just want to be my porky little hog!” Ana teased, looking up at the rising slopes of blubber before her. She could only see the smallest section of Pharah’s meaty face, just where the eyebrow fat started to fall forward. She winked, knowing that her hoggish progeny could see her. Ana loved to tease her daughter. If nothing else, she figured, the little prodding might bring some sense to her.


“Thatsch. . .not. . .true.” Pharah wheezed, trying to force the words out of her fat lips. Yet, some deep part of her knew that she shouldn’t argue the point too much. She knew that she didn’t really have an answer for any of her mother’s retorts. Though she would never admit it aloud and certainly not to Ana, Pharah knew that she was coated in denial as much as she was fat.