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Weight Loss is Hard Work Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2021-07-03 01:59:42 +0000 UTC"Hello Sir, my name is Kevin. I'm a government employee assigned to the Weight Loss Initiative here at the request of one Margaret Benson. Is she currently available?" I asked a very large man who had opened the door. He must have been well over 600 pounds and near seven feet. He looked down at me and my 5'5" frame, maybe 130 pounds, questioning my intentions. Maybe he was offended that I was mentioning weight? Either way, my business was not with him, but with his wife. You see, the government started an initiative to get America healthy again. A person could request a coach, and that person was required to live at that person's house for a month or two. The person would be paid all living expenses and earn a pretty sizable tax credit. The goal was to get the person to lose weight and change the lifestyle of the obese. The more weight lost, the better the credit. The woman I was here to help stood to lose a ton of weight and get a hefty tax credit. She was supposed to be over 600 pounds and be rather debilitated. Per her profile, she struggled with walking, and ate way too much food every day.
"You know my wife is just fine the way she is," the man said in his thick southern accent, rubbing his massive belly covered by a too small (because how could it not be?), mustard-stained, white tank top. "It's skinny losers like you that make her feel so insecure." I had been doing this for about four months. My first cases were not nearly this extreme, but regardless of scale, they always had influences like this where people would defend their obesity. Fact is, it's unhealthy and needs to be curbed.
"I'm sure she's great," I replied, "but she called our association asking to be included in the initiative. It's our duty to help those that have asked for it. Clearly she's concerned about her current lifestyle. We don't need to change who she is completely, just adjust her lifestyle to be more focused on healthy living." I felt like this was the best answer I could give without flat out saying 'fat, gonna die.'
He looked down at me with great skepticism. "I'll show you to your room."
"Thank you, sir," I said, heaving up my luggage and entering the house. Inside was a sloppy mess of a home. The signs were all there; open cans of soda everywhere, empty pizza boxes tossed on the floor, household objects scattered and in complete disarray. The lifestyle these two were living was intensely destructive. The house itself was small, only about a thousand square feet. My room was clearly meant to be a tiny office, a sleeping bag laid out on the floor. Hey, this job paid pretty well, so I was willing to do it. I would have to get used to the smell though; the whole house had that musty, lived in smell of people that put cleanliness towards the bottom of the totem pole. "Okay, sir," I said, after looking over my living quarters. "I think I'm ready to meet Margaret."
He opened the door in the back of the house. "Maggie!" he called. "Your government boy is here to do that thing you were trying to do, for the taxes and whatnot."
"Let him in, Fred," I heard a female say. He ushered me in. Upon entering the room, I saw Margaret, truly a whale of a woman. She took up 90% of a king sized bed. She had pale white skin and dirty brown hair, and her face had a sort of childlike charm to it. She was sitting up on her bed and looking like a small mountain. Her upper body was "covered" by a white tanktop, which was straining to cover her impossibly large breasts, which looked like two pale watermelons but bigger. Her belly was somewhat hidden by her prodigious chest, but her thighs and ass were out there to see. Apparently, again on her case file, she was unable to put on shorts of any nature as her butt had expanded to such a degree and her weight was so extreme that there was almost no way to put anything on her. Miraculously, she wasn't a total blob, and still had some semblance of a person left, albeit an inflated, huge, near seven-foot person who weighed well over 600 pounds. I cautiously approached the bed. Even sitting on it, she was taller than I was, and she had to look down past her bosom to see me.
"H-hello, ma'am," I said, a bit shocked. "My name is Kevin, and I'm here with the Weight Loss Initiative to respond to your request. Are you ready to lose some weight and feel great?"
"Oh thank you!" she exclaimed, clearly happy to see me. She pulled me in for a hug, lifting me off my feet. My head was now resting on her shoulder, and my upper torso pressed against her breasts. I could feel tears streaming from her face roll down my neck. It made sense that this was a big moment for her, and I didn't want to take anything away from someone who was actively trying to change their life for the better. I was glad that she was in it for the health reasons; that would make this process a lot easier, and I immediately respected the client more knowing she would at least try to do what she needed to do to be successful. It's situations like this that made this job worth doing, despite the sometimes-precarious situations we get put in. She let me go. Her grip was really tight. Clearly she had strength, she just needed to lose some weight, and by some, I meant like three or four bodies worth of weight. "So I'm sorry I'm not wearing any pants or shorts, hun. I can only wear this stretchy underwear, and even that I switch out about once a week. I know I must disgust you..."
Well, yeah. "No!" I said. "This is why I'm here. All you need to do is keep a positive attitude and I have no doubt you'll do great."
"You don't have to do this," Fred said, from behind me. "I think you're perfect the way you are. You don't need some skinny little twig telling you how to live your life. If I were you, I'd sit that fat ass on him right now and move on with my life." I turned to look back at Margaret. It's true that if she sat on me, I'd probably die. I didn't take that into account when I noticed her since she seems so docile and kind, but this could be a highly dangerous job, if I didn't play my cards right. Her ass was big enough cover me completely, which was a terrifying thought.
"I want to, Fred!" she said. "This is NOT healthy! I get tired from walking to the street to pick up the mail. I have to wear a huge poncho just to go outside. Honey, please be supportive of me with this. It will benefit both of us if you just help me help myself." He got mad and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. "Oh don't mind Fred, he's just got high blood pressure and he gets super jealous when there are other guys around. He always thinks the worst of everyone, even a helpful little boy like you. To be honest, I miss the days when we were happy. We haven't even been intimate in years. Not that I blame him, since, well you know..."
I wanted nothing more than to change the subject. "Well let's change all that! I think, given the current situation, we aren't going to be able to do much cardio, at least the walking and jogging kind. That's okay, though. We have to start somewhere. We are going to try to do some stretches first, and we'll just go from there. We'll work nice and slow, just so you're comfortable. When would you feel comfortable to start?"
"Thank you," she said, still crying a bit. "That makes me feel really good. I'm ready to start now. I feel motivated."
"Okay, great," I replied. "Let's stand up." She got to her feet, and now towered over me, so much so that if I looked forward, I would be staring at her huge breasts. This could get tricky, especially with a huge, jealous husband lurking about. Her tank top, which had to be at least ten sizes too small, did little to hide the massive amount of cleavage bulging out of her top. "Now, put your hands together and try to reach for the ceiling." I did it with her, and my hands barely reached over her head. She did it, and her fingers easily touched the ceiling. She bent them a little to accommodate the stretch. "Good," I encouraged her. I approached her and walked around her body. I nudged her back a little bit to try and adjust her posture, but was met with pure flab. Finding a bone in this woman would be a task in and of itself. Her ass stuck out like a miniature sofa. I could have rested a plate of food on it, pulled up a chair, and eaten off it if I wanted. "How are you holding up, Margaret?"
I could hear her tensing up. "I'm... I'm okay. It's kind of hard, but I can keep it up."
"We don't have to push it too hard. You can relax." She dropped her arms and panted a bit, sweat rolling down her forehead. It was sad that this was considered strenuous activity, but this is the clay I had to work with, and I had no doubt that I could mold this into a fantastic success story. "Okay, this one could be a bit harder, but I want you to start stretching your legs so we can move around safely and comfortably. Let's do a leg raise. Lift your right leg and hold it close to your chest, like this." I modeled how to do it. I was a bit worried, as this actually took some balance. She took her knee and pulled it up, and immediately I could sense a balance issue. She was jerking back and forth a bit. I stood in front of her and held her arms on either side, which was like trying to hold a double-sided door in place. It was especially difficult considering how huge her breasts were. I had to get very close just for reaching purposes; I was now completely invading her personal space, which I didn't want to do.
"I'm falling!" Margaret exclaimed. I tried desperately to push her back as she fell forward, but here was where that 600 pounds was coming in to play. I couldn't even begin to hold her back. Her body slammed into mine and crashed to the floor. Her breasts smashed into my face, and the rest of her enormous frame completely covered my body. Panic was setting in, and I thought I was going to die. "Ahh!" she yelled. My head was being swallowed by her heaving breasts, but I could vaguely hear what was going on in the room. Her breasts pinned down my arms, and my legs were trapped between her huge, meaty thighs. Unfortunately, our crotches were perfectly aligned, and to say that she was wet would have been an understatement. Her vaginal area was as swampy as the South was humid. Wetness was oozing over my pants. I recalled that she hadn't been laid in years, and this fear was now washing over me.
The door slammed open. "Hehe! So, you took my advice, honey!?"
"Fred! Help me up before I squash him!" Oh, so now she couldn't even pick herself up. Wasn't that great...
"How did he get his face stuck between your big tits, huh? He some kind of pervert? Do I gotta put the beatin' on him?"
"No, Fred! I was trying to stretch, but I lost balance and fell on him! Get me up, he's gonna die under me!" As she said that, her legs seized up on either side of me, and a rush of wetness came from her midsection. Did she just cum? I could feel her hard nipples on my arms. She was probably having a sexual experience, crushing me beneath her. "Hnnnggg," she moaned. "Help... me..."
"You two are practically fuckin'!" Fred yelled. I couldn't tell if he was angry or just being a dick, but his lack of caring for my well-being could easily be the death of me. The wetness never ceased. She was gushing like a geyser down there. The sweat from between her boobs was overwhelming, and I was starting to sweat back. "You know what," he yelled. "You got your fat self in this mess, you can get your fat ass out of it." I heard the door slam shut. Okay. This is how it all ends.
She stirred a bit, trying to lean to her right. I felt a small passage of air open, which felt like heaven. She slammed back down on me. She grinded on me again and moaned. Oxygen was starting to get hard to come by in the swamp between her boobs. She leaned again, and once again crashed back down on me. "I've... got this..." I heard her say. With a loud grunt, she heaved herself to her right and rolled over, taking me with her. My face was now stuck between her two boobs. She plucked me out and I rolled of her, now lying next to her. Her cleavage stared at me like an old prison. I panted and breathed the sweet, musty air like it might be my last. Both of us just looked like we had run a marathon. I looked down at her underwear, and her thighs were glistening in the light shining through the window. She crawled to the bed, and slowly hoisted herself up. She made her way back to the bed and sat there, sulking. When I got my strength back, I stood up and sat next to her.
"Are you okay?" she asked me, still panting. A tear rolled down her now rosy cheek.
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
"I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid and fat and I almost suffocated you under me. I blew it, didn't I?"
I shook my head. "No, that was all part of your growth. You came to a serious situation and you had to take action, so you did it. You got out of your comfort zone and saved the day. I'm proud of you."
She lit up. "Thank you for being so supportive. With you here, I feel like I can do anything. Can we try again tomorrow? I feel like this has been enough action for one day."
"Agreed," I said. We said our goodbyes and I wandered out into the hallway and into my room. I could hear the television blaring in the living room. I hated that guy. He left me to die. I reminded myself I was on the clock, then walked into my room and prepared my lesson plan for tomorrow.
