Cindy's Interview - A Ton, and then Some (Part 2)

Part 2:

“About a thousand pounds,” Cindy gasped breathlessly, still flushed and exhausted from her feeding session over ten minutes ago, “that's when I knew I was really into this for the long haul. I still had some mobility, but, well, when I look back at the videos taken at the time, it was pathetic. I could just about stand, and shuffle one, maybe two steps with Tabby's assistance. Just getting out of bed required a hoist, and handrails. I was pushing my body to the limits of what it could carry, and it was both exciting and terrifying at the same time. I knew there and then that in maybe a few days, or weeks, maybe a month if I was lucky, if I kept on gaining my future would be firmly confined to bed. 

Up until this point, I was gaining the old fashioned way, pretty much. Huge quantities of food, some funnel feeding and plenty of encouragement. Admittedly though, it was exhausting, and we were also running out of ways to keep my gains growing. My record up until then had been ten pounds in a week, however, realistically eight seemed to be closer to the average, and even that was hard work. That's when we began using the feeding pump. 

The feeding pump really did two jobs around that time. Obviously the first of those was to help me gain faster than ever, but secondly, I began packing on weight at such a rate that it pushed me past the point of complete immobility before I had really had a chance to dwell on it. Both myself and Tabby were obsessively distracted as I set new personal records and my body ballooned. It almost doubled how much I could put on in a week, from eight to fifteen pounds. With a little more tweaking, that became seventeen. In some ways I didn't want to move anyway, even if I'd had the choice, as every moment I was being pumped full of gaining mixture felt precious. And the results? Even more so, and Tabby clearly agreed. I just lay back and watched my body swell and grow with anticipation. 

In barely three months I managed to crest a whopping twelve-hundred pounds. I think it was around this time that I started to attract some serious media attention. We were both still posting on social media - that in itself divided many people - especially as we were now both pretty open about my gaining lifestyle and intent. We lost friends, sometimes even family, although we gained others. Soon though, I became the supersize sensation that I had read about in those magazines all those years ago. Whilst the articles were often scathing, the thrill of seeing myself at such an enormous size, just broadcast to the world far outweighed any negativity. It also had the benefit of attracting positive interest in my cause, too; anything from donations and volunteers, to private sponsors, and as news went global, that list only grew. For every one militant detractor that found themselves disgusted by my size, there was a keen, encouraging and often generous soul to balance them out. 

Sponsorship was something that we really hadn't considered until it was offered to us. Up until then, we were relying almost entirely on Tabby's inheritance to fund our fantasy - but getting huge becomes expensive fast! My hoist and specialised bed with built in weighing capability had already taken a significant lump of money from the pot, and the feeding machine was also a hefty amount. Just the day-to-day bills had continued to grow, as we outsourced things such as laundry to free up some more of Tabby's time. Suddenly there were people willing to contribute significant sums of money, with the only caveat being that I continue to gain. That wasn't going to be a problem!

There were also a ton of people who just donated; anything from a few bucks to several thousand. Whilst myself and Tabby had felt quite alone with our fascination so far, it opened our eyes to the fact that a lot of people wanted to see me keep on gaining. We also managed to find some local volunteers, and after significant vetting, we not only made new friends but also had help from others who were fascinated and eager to join in the fantasy. As I ballooned beyond thirteen-hundred pounds, the extra assistance was a Godsend. By now I was almost completely confined to life in my bed, and so the extra help and fresh company gave me another surge in motivation, as well as weight. 

I also began doing what we call ‘eat and greets’ - where feeders, encouragers or just fans could pay up front and then feed me, or even just watch or encourage me to it. Again, it is all very carefully vetted, but once I became used to it, in all honesty I find it kind of hot. I can't feed myself anymore, so these days it is mostly for those willing to feed me, although some people still come just to watch Tabby feed me, or even be fed by the pump. Despite my limited lifestyle, it really does keep things feeling fun and interesting. 

Reaching one-hundred stone, that's fourteen-hundred pounds, was a really big milestone for me. It's a number that has danced around my head since my teens, and I never dreamed I would even come close to it. We celebrated hard - and by that, I mean with more food, naturally. I felt so enormous, so heavy, so helpless, I loved it, even though my body was beginning to creak under its increasing load. I just couldn't stop though, I still wanted more. Much more. So we continued to push towards the next goal, and the next. Tweaks to the mixture, to my schedule, and encouragement and assistance from a growing team of volunteers saw my body stuffing around twenty pounds of fat onto my frame a week!

Did I have a target in mind? Perhaps to begin with, but in truth I have always been curious about my limits. Eventually, laying in bed all day, there really is little else to do, except just eat, and eat, and eat. My mobility has dwindled to nothing, and I became able to do less and less, apart from just lay back and watch my body continue to grow. The heavier I became, the more praise and adoration I received from Tabby and our enthusiastic group of helpers, it was incredibly satisfying. 

Yet it wasn't quite so straightforward behind the scenes. My mother was barely speaking to me; on the rare occasion she would visit, she would hardly look at me. I remember the one time, I'd be at least fifteen-hundred pounds, she just stopped and stared, and I could see her eyes fill with tears. Things are better now, thankfully, but for a while I thought I'd lose her for good if I continued. It was a turbulent time, and despite the protestation of some, I must confess I had become totally addicted to gaining. I had to get bigger - it didn't matter by how much, just that I had to. I had to keep pushing. 

By seventeen-hundred pounds, however, the reality of all that weight really began to take its toll, and yet I could think of nothing else but getting even bigger. There didn't seem to be another option, really. I don't think I could have stopped, even if I had wanted to. My life's soul purpose seemed to be just getting fatter, and without it I'm not sure what else I would be able to do. There were moments of apprehension, of course, but they were quickly buried as I focused on my fantasy to grow heavier still. 

Eighty-six pounds I managed in one month! We all heartily celebrated such a mammoth gaining record, there’s no doubt about that. It motivated us all to push even harder, perhaps to break ninety pounds a month, or more, but it quickly became clear that despite the eagerness to continue, packing on fat at such a pace meant my body was quickly reaching breaking point. My skeleton ached, I could hardly breath and I began having panic attacks as my ability to, well, do almost anything was accelerating quicker than I could adjust to. For example, I could only lie down or sit up with the help of the bed, and even then only to about forty-five degrees or so, as my enormous belly pushed me back. My upper arms were so big and heavy that I could barely move them, causing my shoulders to ache constantly as they sat at an uncomfortable angle supported by the bulk of my torso. I'm pretty sure I was now well over eighteen-hundred pounds, and I still couldn't stop. The two-thousand pound milestone was beckoning on the horizon, and I just couldn't help myself. We eased and tweaked the routine a little, but for all intents and purposes, I was still hovering around twenty pounds a week when it came to gains.

There were moments when I really began to struggle. As well as panic attacks, I began getting night terrors; many of them would just involve me getting larger and larger, heavier and heavier, until eventually I would be so enormous I'd actually explode - often waking me up in panic and confusion. In others, I would fight with Tabby, and then everyone would just leave me, abandoned, alone and helpless. Again though, I continued to fight fire with fire, and despite setbacks, somehow my body continued to pack on more weight, even though I was desperately running out of room on my frame. My vantage point was fairly limited, but when Tabby or anyone else showed me photos or videos of myself, I was mesmerised by the swelling, bulging array of mounds and rolls I was becoming. 

Finally though, we did it. Two-thousand pounds. It was a lot. After the weigh in, I remember just laying there, gasping for breath under all of my groaning, heaving fat, and as I watched people celebrate both in the room and on a sponsor livestream, I just remember thinking, ‘What next?’

Maybe that's just the way my mind works, but despite my crushing weight, I just had to see what was around  the next corner. That, of course, was the ton. One actual ton - now wouldn't that be a record? Wouldn't that be incredible to see? It seemed a long way off, especially with how hard it had been to crest two-thousand, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I outlined my plan to continue, and sure enough the sponsorships and donations flooded in - now I had to do it! 

Progress this time was slower, as my poor body continued to show signs of fragility. Slowing my gains down to around sixty pounds a month, which I still forget is an incredible amount, helped things somewhat. The rest, I suppose, is history - or at the very least in the record books - I just lay back and watched as it swelled up like a big heavy balloon.

As I alluded to earlier though, I am still actively gaining. I recently smashed twenty-three-hundred pounds, and despite the fact that I can feel myself reaching my limits, I just don't seem to be able to stop, not yet. Deep down, part of me knows that I need to quit whilst I'm ahead, but the other part, well, still wonders what will be around the next corner…"

(Continued in Part 3 - One Year On (Extended/Alternate Ending...))