hedonisticfeedee
Widow-maker
Published: April 12th 2020, 12:59:25 am
You’ll never believe what I just witnessed on my lunch break. Fuck, it was so hot. I know how you love seeing fatties struggle too as a fellow death feeder. I know it’ll turn you on too because of how fucked up it is! It has me rock hard. I mean, I’m just leaking pre-cum right now trying to tell you. I just can’t control it, man.
I decided I wanted to go to Lard Have Mercy for a burger and fries. It’s rare for me to eat there because fast food places that glorify morbid obesity aren’t my thing. They aggressively deep fry all their food and then slather actual lard on everything as if lard is a casual topping in the same way lettuce and tomato are toppings. I try to eat healthier than that junk. Essentially, the restaurant was close and I didn’t feel like driving any further. However, you know that I do love the results of that waistline ruining grease on big boys.
After ordering my meal, I grabbed my food and made my way to a table. I decided to sit in the very back so I could participate in people watching. Sometimes it’s just entertaining to observe an individual’s actions and try to make meaning of it. I guess it’s just the sociologist in me. If the burger wasn’t enough of a treat for me today, watching the eye candy worked me up.
There were some real fatties to come waddling in, but this young guy takes the cake. Literally. I was just enjoying my fries by dipping them in ketchup when I noticed an enormous shadow eclipsing my tray. I heard pound on the floor in front of me like no other. For a moment I contemplated seeking shelter from the magnitude of what I assumed to be an earthquake. I swear the ground practically shook. Okay, so maybe I’m being a little hyperbolic, but nothing in my life prepared me for what I witnessed when I looked back up.
This fat fuck was absolutely unforgettable. He looked 18 years old, but certainly still had a baby face. It’s like the fat preserved his cheeks and age. He was easily the fattest person I’ve ever seen in real life. If I had to estimate, I’d say probably somewhere over the big 700. From head to toe his plump tits jiggled, his belly flowed down to his knees, and his wobbling titanic ass stretched the elastic in his sweatpants all to hell.
His obesity battered his mobility; His weight proved to be monumental and debilitating when I realized the simple act of moving from the counter to the table left him breathless. Questions entered my brain. How much does he actually weigh? Does he have health issues? How big can he get before his life ends? Are his parents also obese?
No booth fit the behemoth. A belly that big would be forced to crush the table, assuming he could make the tight squeeze. Instead, he lumbered forward awkwardly before noticing a table marked with a blue and white wheelchair symbol. Sweat dropped from his forehead as he sat down at the table designed for people with disabilities, taking up two entire chairs groaning under his weight. I watched the chairs buckle, expecting to leave him a beached whale on the floor. His belly reached just a few inches off the ground in his sitting position.
Something seemed off about the situation. I figured it out after admiring his fat fuckery for a few minutes. The poor guy only had a gallon sized thiccshake he sucked down sloppily, gasping for breath after each gulp. I imagined he gave good head. Then, it hit me: He only had the shake. I thought surely that can’t be the only thing he bought. A big boy has to eat! And it was obvious this boy could eat someone out of house and home.
That’s when a worker brought him the most disgusting, artery clogging burger I’ve ever laid eyes on. It looked to be a giant, one pound patty with layers of fried hot dogs, crispy bacon, lard covered onion rings, several fried eggs, and dollops of chili, while drowning in ranch and cheese on a custom made jumbo bun. The sight of it was enough to make anyone sick, especially with parts of the bottom bun quickly becoming transparent from the grease. For a moment I felt my own chest hurt.
“Excuse me, Lard Have Mercy! We have a new challenger in the house! No one has ever been able to eat this entire burger known as the Widow-maker before. The chest pain becomes too unbearable, making the contestant stop. Everyone give this young man some encouragement!”
The entire crowd clapped for him as he took the first bite of the burger. Toppings crumbled from the tour onto both his tight shirt and the red tray. The crowd settled down after the third bite, but I continued to watch him with care. The whale belched heavily while wiping his greasy right hand on his splitting gray sweatpants, leaving a noticeable stain just like on his shirt. Each bite made his chins wobble. I loved watching his triple chin and swollen, puffy cheeks collect the sauces and grease from the burger.
When he hit the halfway point, I became more worried for him. I swear I could hear his heart beating from two tables over. I doubt he even felt shame. He looked like he stopped being ashamed hundreds of pounds ago. I could look away as my blood flowed to my dick.
Eventually he hit the point of no return. His do or die attitude made him determined to finish his meal like I’m sure his parents coached him to do at a young age. The crowd began watching again after noticing his perseverance. They thought he might actually be able to do this. This fatty was in the zone. The other restaurant patrons erupted into cheer with only a few bites left to go, but he looked pale and sweaty. Who could eat such a grotesque burger? If you could even call this monstrosity a burger at this point. It’s just a wad of carbs and cholesterol.
The breaths he took seemed to be pained and labored, but there’s also something to be said about the pleasured look on his face. Food gave him the same derpy look I’d imagine an orgasm would at his size. Clearly there’s a dark desire there to stuff himself beyond recognition, beyond abuse. I wanted that for him too. In the moment the demons in his head must have told him to give into his primal cravings, urging him to take the final bite of the atrocity.
The restaurant worker came out again and exclaimed “We have a winner! This young man is the first at this location to be able to eat the final bite! Unfortunately, our shirts only go up to 3XL, so I can’t give you one of those. However, we want to give you this voucher booklet full of free meals!”
Everyone congratulated him on his incredible victory. The employee raised the man’s arm to claim his title like a wrestler in a ring. His one minute of fame ended leaving him all alone at the table again. I could tell his heart was exploding from within. The poor young man probably faced feelings of fear about his weight and the signs his body gave before. I could see it in his eyes. They had fear in them for the first time in a long time and unlike anything he had experienced before. He was terrified of the reality he’d eaten himself into as he became regretful. Why did he do it? The challenge? The fame and fortune? The novelty of the burger? The food addiction?
I’m not a doctor, but I do know enough about heart attacks to know when someone is having one. I recognized several signs from afar: shortness of breath, cold sweats, fatigue, and discomfort on his face that looked different than the discomfort of walking I noticed earlier. The Widow-maker was causing a Widow-maker. I set aside my own sexual gratification for a moment and called for an ambulance. I waited there while I watched him clutch his arm and then his chest. He looked ready to collapse. I felt terrified for him, but I also fought the urge to excuse myself to the restroom and violently masturbate to the scene. I stayed at my table hiding my boner underneath the table in case I needed to attempt CPR until the first responders arrived.
Don’t get me wrong. I have mad respect for someone comfortable enough in his blubber to try the Widow-maker. Watching a young megachub destroy himself makes me cum so hard. I mean, I can’t help but feel bad watching men love what is killing them. It was a wild, erotic scene assuming that he didn’t pass away in the ambulance. Yet, I couldn’t help but film the whole disaster. This scene is straight up death feedist porn. Do you want to jerk off to it with me feeding you a Widow-maker? I bought one just for you, darling. After all, it will be valuable for you to see your future while I listen to your heart beat trying to process all the lard.