YFF Tipping Point-Breathless

Tipping Point
Thanksgiving at the Murphy house was mostly pleasant, though of course there was a conspicuous absence at the table this year.

"URP! Pass the mashed potatoes, please," huffed Junior.

"Like you need any more," said Lucy. "You've eaten, like, a third of the bowl."

"Well does anybody else want more?" Junior asked.

"Just let him have what's left, Lucy," said Greg. "It's not like we need leftovers hanging around anyway."

"Fine," groaned Lucy, sliding the big vat of mashed potatoes across the table to her enormous brother.

Junior licked his lips with greed and dove his spoon right into the bowl. As he leaned forward, his chair groaned. Junior was genuinely massive these days, the happy recipient of two years of gluttony. Tipping the scales at 344 pounds, Junior was as big around as he was tall, his massive flabby belly sagging well down his thighs, his huge bubble butt drooping over the sides of the chair. He was the fattest kid in his high school, needing to sit at the handicapped desks and have his uniforms custom-ordered. Currently he was wearing 5XL sweatpants and a 4XL t-shirt that rode up over his jutting gut. His fat face, wrapped in wide cheeks and a thick double chin, showed just how much he was enjoying his food. He was practically making love to the mashed potatoes, though he managed to pause long enough to say, "I'll have the rest of the turkey too."

With a sigh, Steve passed his obese grandson more food. This family, with the exception of Lucy, seemed to do nothing but gain weight. Even Greg had seemed a little heavier these days. Mary, meanwhile, was huge for a toddler, so big and wide that she had trouble standing up on her own. The minders at her daycare were starting to ask questions about her home life; Jeanette had suggested they switch to a 'less intrusive institution.'

And then there was...

"Come on, come on," said Jeanette, urging Maria and Tabitha to push the trough faster through the hall. "Oh, she must be starving, she's certainly finished that second turkey by now."

"Yeah, yeah," said Tabitha, though she nevertheless pushed harder. At last, they reached the bedroom, and pushed the door open.

Susan turned her massive head toward the door as it opened. When she saw what it was- more food!- she giggled. Then she belched. Then she farted. At last she said, "Mommy... dessert?"

"Right here, honey bunch," said Jeanette.

"Ohhhh," moaned Susan, huge flabby nipples stiffening. Food, to her, was better than sex these days, especially because she didn't really have sex any more. Before her, a table spanned the bed, upon which were the remains of an entire turkey, an empty container of mashed potatoes, an empty green bean casserole, and an empty platter of yams. She had already cleaned this table off once before. Now she rubbed her blubbery hands together. "Gimme."

"Here you go, Susie," Jeanette said, pulling back the trough's lid. "An entire trough of pumpkin pie!"

Drool poured down Susan's chins. She shifted forward, trying to reach the trough before it reached her. She grunted, she huffed, she shoved... but nothing happened. Susan weighed 665 pounds now, and as such she was completely immobile. She spent her days lounging on the bed, eating, watching TV, browsing the internet, and eating some more. She couldn't move even if she wanted to. Her maids and her mother waited on her hand and foot, bringing her food, giving her sponge baths, cleaning her up after she soiled herself.

Speaking of, a gentle ripple sounded through the room, and a foul stench soon followed. "Ah, Susie," said Jeanette with joy, "my baby girl is so healthy these days!" Especially today, in which Susan had been pooping heavily from all the food she was eating.

Susan was guzzling pumpkin pie, so she didn't pay attention to her mother. She didn't even pay attention to the fact that she was shitting herself. All she cared about was food. She was a perfect eating machine these days, and every aspect of her life revolved around stuffing her fat face.

(Option 2)> Susan starts needing oxygen to help her breathe
Breathless

A mixture of drool and sweat trickled down her chins as Susan panted, scooping cake from the trough in thick handfuls. As she leaned forward, a spike of pain flashed through her chest, but she ignored it. Pain wasn’t that uncommon these days, and it normally faded when she stuffed more food in to her mouth – the overwhelming cascade of sugar blocking out the discomfort.
*Hnngg* “uuuh”, she whimpered, but kept eating. The occasional pang of what her dull-witted mind thought was heartburn never stopped her from enjoying cake.

But this time the pain didn’t fade, it grew. It felt like her chest was in the crushing grip of a vice.
*Huff* Susan squirmed in discomfort as the pain failed to dissipate.

Her flabby cheeks grew redder, going beyond their normal rosy to a dangerous crimson as she struggled to breathe. Ragged gasps escaped her cake-smeared lips as she tried desperately to suck air into lungs buried under pounds of lard. She sucked in long and desperate breaths, trying to escape from the self-inflicted suffocation.

Panic rose like a wave through her - her heart pounded, her overtaxed airway stung, and a foul stench rose from her vast behind as she shat herself in fear at the building pain in her chest.

 “H-huh, my chest mommy, *ugh* it huurts mommy” Susan whined pitifully as she cringed in agony.

Jeanette rushed over to her daughter, reaching out to clasp Susan’s pathetically reaching hands in her own, marvelling at their plump softness even as she bent down to comfort her daughter.

“TABITHA!” Greg roared, and within seconds the young maid burst into the room. “Susan’s chest hurts,” he said “find out what it is, and if we’ll need to call a doctor.”

With his wife’s ever-increasing size and utterly total helplessness, Greg had thought ahead and given Tabitha a small bonus to take a night study course in nursing and bariatric care – he wanted only the best for his baby (a term whose appropriateness he didn’t like to think too hard about these days).

Having fully accepted months ago that Susan – the woman he’d loved, the woman he’d married – was irreversibly embarked on this path of morbid obesity and having committed to lovingly supporting her (not to mention having initiated a discreet affair on the side), Greg was loath to deny his supremely spoilt wife anything, but this looked serious. He pulled the trough away from her feebly grasping hands and looked her in the eyes.

“Now Susie, just let Tabitha have a look at you, I’ll get you cake when she’s done honey”
“NO!” She blurted childishly “I don’t hnngg   wannaa hhow  wow …owoww” she trailed off pitifully, whimpering in pain.
“Susie” Greg said slowly, not breaking eye contact “Susie sweetie, it’s okay. Tabitha will have a look at you; she’ll help you”
Susan returned his steady gaze with a vacant look, barely seeming to understand, and then she blinked as comprehension eventually dawned.

“Okay hon…” she sighed heavily, then flinched as another stab of pain coursed through her chest. She looked around frantically, looking for some distraction from the pain, blinking as her vision blurred. She couldn’t concentrate on the telly, flickering on the wall, and she hadn’t used her laptop in a while – all her time was spent eating or sleeping these days. In her distress she fidgeted, but all it did was smear shit across her butt cheeks and exhaust her. She stopped and turned away to stare longingly at the trough – merely a few feet away, it might have been a thousand miles for all that immobile Susan could reach.

Tabitha crouched next to her massive mistress, preparing to examine the stinking hog. Most of the time she was in the kitchen, and though Susan’s horrifically unhealthy condition wasn’t exactly a shock it was still disturbing to get right in close to see the damage her lifestyle catastrophic overindulgence had done to her. Now though, she considered glumly as she opened the medical examination kit, she’d be unlikely to remain in the kitchen any longer – she’d be in here, looking after Susan.

Susan’s pale, spongy flab was sticky to the touch, enveloping Susan’s enormity and sagging everywhere. Even doing nothing the gelatinous adipose quivered, and the milky flesh flowed around Tabitha’s slim fingers in a deeply unpleasant way as she probed for Susan’s vitals. Her overtaxed heart beat like a drum. Her core temperature was low, despite the sweating warmth of her blubber. The pressure in her clogged arteries was high, and the blood oxygen was low. The sputtering breaths she was able to record were pathetically shallow. Suffocating under a blanket of blubber, Susan’s body was crying out for help, smothered by fat and crushed by its own weight… and it was Tabitha’s job to enable Susan, to facilitate the filthy pig as she grew ever larger.

Finishing up the diagnosis, Tabitha straightened, standing back to digest what she had learned and to get as far away as she could from Susan’s reeking rolls. The training had emphasised that the patient’s wellbeing was paramount, so before turning back to tell her employers the news she moved back to the trough. Well aware that Susan’s spoiled nature and dependence on a constant influx of food meant she was likely to try and throw a tantrum and work herself up into an even worse state if she had to wait much longer, Tabitha wheeled the trough back into reach of Susan’s tubby mitts, ending the enforced fast.

Then she turned to Jeanette and Greg, their concern plain to see on their worried faces.

“Miss Susan’s not getting enough air – it’d be hard enough for her with all the, ah, that is to say her size-”
“ yes, she’s a beautifully growing girl all right” Jeanette interrupted, beaming over at her obscenely obese daughter, gasping for air between the greedy handfuls of cake she scooped from her trough and practically wallowing in her own filth.

“yeees, er-indeed, as I was saying, with her size it’d be difficult enough for her to get enough air and breathe anyway, but with how full her mouth is most of the time it’s really going to be a problem” she finished, not mentioning the normal advice that would be given with such a severe diagnosis would to stop giving such an overweight patient food every five minutes.

“I was worried something like this might become an issue,” Jeanette said thoughtfully. She looked over at Greg, whose look of concern was less that of a worried husband and more like that of a man who’d just been told his car needed extensive repairs. It was not that he didn’t still care for his wife, it was just that there wasn’t much left of the woman he’d married. Then her face brightened.

“I think I saw just the thing on the online catalogue where we got her trough – they do quick delivery, so if there’s some way we can get Suzie to stay mostly asleep and take the strain off her, we’ll be right as rain” She continued, “I just don’t know how we could get her to drift off”. She frowned in puzzlement, remembering her massively obese daughter’s disturbed sleep recently.

With her size, laziness and constant hunger Susan rarely slept for long periods of time these days, generally just slipping into food comas and then waking up a couple of hours later when her massive guts had cleared some room – indeed it was often the entirely involuntary  (but still faintly pleasurable) sensation of her bowels emptying  that triggered Susan’s awakening.

“I think I have an idea” Greg said, after a moment “When we were first married Suzie used to be quite the lightweight – one or two drinks and she’d be falling asleep on the couch”. Looking over at his wife, her massive wheezing bulk taking up most of a queen-sized bed, he couldn’t help but feel the irony in calling such a hugely obese woman a lightweight. “Do you think that will put her out for long enough?

“Hmm, it’s worth a shot I suppose – I remember that any drinks at Christmas would have her snoring away when she was younger” said Jeanette, “and even a small one would have her waking up at lunch time the next day. Yes, this might just work Greg.”

Nodding, Greg rushed off to fetch the alcohol from his den. For a while, as it gradually became clear that Susan had grown too large, too lazy and too damn disgusting for sex, Greg had dealt with the dry spell through drinking, shutting out the world to ignore the insanity gripping his family and regularly passing out in the den to avoid going back downstairs to his stinking hog of a wife. He’d gotten over it, eventually, facing up to the changes in his life and finding comfort somewhere much less harmful than the bottom of a bottle, but his den still stored quite a collection of drinks. He hurried from the room, considering how much alcohol he’d need to put Susan to sleep, but found his way upstairs blocked. At the bottom of the remodelled stairs stood the wheezing form of Greg Junior.

(Chapter break for Writing.com)
Hooked Up

Never an active boy, since being enlisted by Susan (when she was still somewhat aware of her size) to help control her eating by “removing” temptation, Junior had grown tremendously. Though nowhere near as fat as his massive mother, compared to anyone else his age he was huge, a true poster boy for teenage obesity. His round cheeks were red with the effort of descending the Murphy’s wide, shallow stairs, and his double chin shone with sweat. One pudgy hand was braced against the wall, the other clutching at his fleshy chest; he was bent over and gasping for breath. His massive spare tire surged over the waistband of his once baggy sweatpants, pushing them down over his wide, feminine hips. His fat formed a double belly at the front, his huge and heavy gut hanging out from his over-tight t-shirt and drooping past his knees. Junior’s soft sides folded into thick rolls, encircling his wide body with blubbery flesh and piling up on the shelf of his protruding ass (clearly inherited from his mother). His heaving breasts, Greg observed, were far larger than any of the maids’, flab quaking beneath a thick but feeble bicep as he struggled to breathe, reminding Greg of Susan’s state.

Junior’s overfed girth all but blocked the hall, forcing Greg to turn sideways to reach the stairs. He squeezed past his perspiring bulk before the winded teen could collect himself, barely even noticing the incredible tonelessness that had become the norm for three fifths of the Murphy household as he brushed against his son. As he rushed up the stairs he heard Junior lumber ponderously away, his slow waddle a stark contrast to his father’s quick walk.

Reaching the den, Greg considered what to give Susan: nothing high-quality, which put most of his beers out, and something that she wouldn’t be surprised at would be a plus – with how rarely she drank Susan would be sure to notice wine and want to know why he’d bought it. She actively disliked whisky too, he recalled. He bent down to look in the room’s mini-fridge and smiled as he saw the answer to his dilemma. A while back he’d bought Lucy some alcopops, as part of the ongoing cost of her silence regarding Susan, but, as it turned out, Lucy took after her mother with regards to alcohol and the neon beverages remained undrunk. The sugary liquid would be perfect for his needs – Susan often drank fizzy pop, and the surprisingly high alcohol content was almost undetectable.
Filling one of Susan’s massive cups with the leftover booze, Greg returned to Susan. Like anything brought before her, Susan immediately lifted it to her mouth.

“Mmm, this is great Greggy, really tastesh huff  great” she said when she came up for air, her greedy gulps causing her chins and jowls to wobble as she swallowed down the booze. She chugged the sugary drink thirstily, gasping and spluttering between mouthfuls as she emptied the barrel-like cup. Nearing the bottom, her guzzling slowed as the alcohol took effect – for all her size, Susie’s tolerance for drink hadn’t improved, and the numerous strong alcopops were having the intended effect – her blinks becoming longer, her face slackening.

“M-mummy,” she mumbled huskily, just before her drooping eyelids finally met each other, and it wasn’t long before the noise of snoring rumbled forth from her sleeping form.  Jeanette smiled, happy that her plan had worked, and that she now knew she had a way of getting her big baby to sleep, should it be an issue again.
*****
Susan’s booze induced slumber lasted throughout the night, her sleeping undisturbed, much to the maids’ pleasure – with Susan’s unsettled sleeping recently they were being run ragged. Though she’d wet the bed during the night, she hadn’t stirred; indeed, she slept until almost noon.

As she was finishing up the third table-load of breakfast, there seemed to be the noise of something heavy being dragged from outside her room, but Susan ignored it, gasping and snorting as she scooped up a ladleful of scrambled eggs from the remains of the massive meal.

“Susie-pie, sweetie, something very special came for you in the mail today”

 Susan didn’t look up from her food, but Jeanette waited patiently – as her daughter was clearly in less pain this morning she decided not to disturb her mid-gorge.

Finally finishing the last of the eggs, Susan looked up to her mother at last, jaw slack and mouth agape as she breathlessly swallowed, chest heaving. A thin droplet of drool trickled down her blubbery chins as she tried to focus on her beaming mother.

“Now sweetie I know you’ve been having just a little bit of trouble with your breathing” Jeanette said softly “you’re just so energetic, so we thought we’d get you some oxygen so you’re not so stressed out, how does that sound honey?” she asked, smiling down at her bedridden baby.

Susan blinked slowly, struggling to realise what her mother was talking about. Behind Jeanette Maria and Tabitha had entered the room – Tabitha wearing a pair of rubber gloves and holding a medical kit and some clear tubing, while muscular Maria hefted a pair of bulky gas bottles. A lazy fart slithered from Susan’s blubbery behind, accompanied by a small flow of runny fluid.

“tha… sounds uh, umm UURRRPP, ooh… ah…good?” she hazarded with a wheeze “It’ll make… me hurt…less?” she asked, tilting her head slightly in confusion.

“Yes, very good sweetie, it should make it so much nicer for you, and Tabitha will be here looking after you if you’re hurting now – she should be able to help you feel all better” Jeanette promised. Certainly the training and the cocktail of drugs the young nurse-maid had been bought to equip her to care for her employer should help deal with any of that, the doting mother thought.

 “Just sit right there and we’ll get you all set up dear” She continued, “and then Clara will get you some milkshake, chocolate with extra cream for my brave little girl, just how you like it.”

At the mention of milkshake Susan gurgled, a waterfall of drool spilling down her sagging chins in pavlovian response. Jeanette watched with as Maria carried the tanks round to the side of Susan’s bed, muscles used to manhandling Susan completely unfazed by their weight. Tabitha attached the flow meter and humidifier to the tanks, plugging in the oxygen tube. Then she moved over to Susan.
To fit the cannula, Tabitha had to lean right over Susan’s front, and try as she might she couldn’t avoid brushing against the obese housemom. Her slender hips sunk into the flaccid rolls below Susan’s shapeless breast, skirt picking up a stain from some gooey detritus of her patient’s sloppy gorging. Susan grunted. Placing the tubes gently into her nostrils, Tabitha couldn’t avoid thinking of Susan’s upturned nose as a pig’s snout – in the middle of her fat face the resemblance was uncanny: broad, snorting, the way it nestled between her bulging cheeks. It was even slightly moist. Hooking the tubing over Susan’s ears, she came to a dilemma – where to run the plastic hose that it wouldn’t restrict Susan, get filthy or get lost under fat? Certainly, behind her was out of the question, at least. Deciding to make the best of a bad situation she tucked the thin tube just below the lowest chin and used some medical tape to affix it to her chest – being on Susan’s front meant she’d have to clean it a lot, but it was better than trying to dig it out of her rolls.

Just as Susan was all hooked up, Clara in came carrying one of Susan’s massive cups, full of chocolate milkshake,  so thick the oversized straw was standing freely in the sugary brown goop. She placed the drum-like cup before her mistress, and then deftly plucked the straw up to place it between Susan’s wet and suckling lips. Excited by the scent of chocolate Susan started sucking greedily at the milkshake. Usually such vigorous gluttony would have her panting, struggling for breath; instinctively Susan’s nostrils flared as she inhaled powerfully – her body, at least, knew how to maintain the pace of her gorging. It was at that moment that Tabitha opened the last valve of the respirator.

The little tubes blowing pure fresh oxygen into Susan’s nose felt heavenly – she was thinking clearer than she had in months, she felt so light and free. Comparatively, at least - she was still pinned down with over six hundred pounds of blubber, her complete lack of muscle rendering her helplessly immobile, but at least she felt freer and more conscious. Her nipples stiffened in pleasure as she breathed in deeply for the first time in months, and a wide, lazy smile spread across her flabby face.

“Mmm, that feels so good mommy”, she moaned “could you get me a cheesecake, no, three?”

“Of course Susie” Jeanette with a smile, a smile that turned into surprise as Susan continued to speak, clearly and with much less dopey confusion that had grown to define her conversations recently – this was more non-eating activity than she’d seen from her daughter in months.

“Bring me my laptop, I want to do some shopping. And then tell Consuela to get my body lotion - I haven’t had a nice massage in ages. Oooh, and get some more of that – URRPP  - cola from yesterday, that was wonderful stuff.”
 BRRTTT

“Ah…Mmm” Susan gave a sigh of contentment as the sagging blubber of her ass rippled, feeling the pleasurable warmth of the mushy flow of poop oozing between her dimpled cheeks. Feeling loved and cared for, Susan smiled as she wallowed in her wet faeces, evacuating her bloated bowels without thought when her great belly churned.
*****
The weeks wore on and Susan, now happily hooked up to her oxygen tanks, continued to glut herself around the clock, her newfound clarity doing nothing to abate her enormous appetite.   However over the next few weeks…

(Option 1) > Cognisant again, Susan has become more demanding - she wants to be spoiled
(Option 2) > Susan begins to drink more and more heavily