Self bondage story gone wrong

In 2022, the government kicked off an initiative rightly called ‘Make America Healthy’. All across the country, this gave people the choice of requesting a health coach who was then obligated to live in that person’s home for a lengthy period of two years. The health coach in question would be paid all living expenses and earn a pretty sizable tax credit in return. The primary goal was to get the other man/woman to lose as much weight as possible within that timeframe and change their lifestyle from that of an obese American to something the government could work with.

The lady Tim had been assigned to stood to lose a ton of weight. According to her profile, her name was Mrs. Julia Pearson. She was over 600 pounds and debilitated; she could hardly stand on her own two feet unaided, let alone walk. And she seemed incapable of stopping herself from consuming at least 10,000 calories from junk food on a daily basis.

“The Lord giveth and taketh as he please,” Mr. Pearson was saying to Tim on the front porch, on their very first encounter. “And my wife, she’s as lovely as they come. It’s the skinny folk like you that make her feel so much insecure about herself.”

“I’m sure your wife is lovely,” said Tim, “but she herself had put the call through to us, requesting to be part of the initiative. I’m sorry, sir, but we cannot refuse help to those in need of it.”

Mr. Pearson eyed him up and down, and then said, “I guess not. Follow me, then. I’ll show you your room, and then hers.”

Inside, the house was just as unkempt as the front yard; there were empty soda cans littered here and there, half-eaten pizzas were collecting mold in their boxes, and everything else in the living room was in complete disarray. The house itself was a modest two-bedroom bungalow, only about a thousand square feet. Clearly meant to be a tiny office, Tim’s room was the last down the narrow hallway. A sleeping bag had been laid out along the north wall, below the window. Along the east wall, the only piece of furniture Tim could see—a small desk—perched directly under a shinning, broken mirror. Tim couldn’t care less about a TV, an AC, or curtains for the window, but it was the smell he almost couldn’t abide. It was like they were standing inside a room full of partially fermented beers, with rat droppings stinking about the place.

After setting his duffle bag, which held all his belongings, atop the desk, he turned to Pearson and said, “I’m ready to meet your wife now, sir.”

The man opened the door of the room opposite his. “Jules!” He called. “Your government stooge is here for ya, hun.”

“Go on and let him in, Josef,” Julia said just before Tim crossed the threshold.

She was truly a whale of a woman, nearly taking up the entire space on her queen-sized mattress. The bits of her pale skin above the covers—mostly her shoulders and neck—were covered with stretch marks. Her mousy brown hair was disheveled, with loose strands plastered against her clammy forehead. There was something of a childlike charm about her face that Tim somehow found endearing. And somehow that little quality only served to deepen his sympathy for her.

‘It’s all right Jules, I’m here. Everything will be all right,’ he heard the voice in his head say. ‘We’ll get you in good shape in no time at all.’

She sat up on her bed—at least she tried to—as both men entered the room. The covers rustled, revealing more of her fleshy body that Tim was more than prepared to look at. Her torso was covered—no, not covered, held tightly by a white tank top. Her breasts were larger than two fluffy pillows, enough that they draped extensively over her abdomen. The part of her that remained under the covers was most likely naked. Reflecting on her profile, Tim recalled that she was unable to put on pants or even shorts for that matter, as her buttocks had extended to such an enormous degree that it was impossible to put anything past her upper thighs.

Tim sat gingerly on the edge of the bed to speak to her. “Hello, ma’am,” he started, “my name is Timothy Lee, but you can call me Tim. I’m here with the Make America Healthy initiative in response to your request.”

“Oh, it’s been over a week, I didn’t think anyone would come yet here you are,” she said, her cheeks turning red even from the effort of speaking. And then she was crying as her entire body quickly began to tremble with tiny, broken sobs.

Tim understood that this was a big moment for her, and he dared not take anything away from it. She had made the huge decision to actively change her life for the better, and he was determined to help her in any way he knew how.

*

“Okay, stand up for me. Can you do that, Jules?” Tim said three days later, at the start of a two-year weight loss plan he’d set up for Julia.

She got to her feet, it was all she could do from just toppling over like some great big roly-poly doll. Her tank top, which she had been wearing since the day Tim arrived, had to be at least ten sizes too small as it did little to hide the obscene amount of cleavage she was showing off.

“Good. Now, put your hands together and try reaching for the ceiling. Good, good, that’s it.”

Tim took his own advice and started exercising with her. When she wobbled a bit, he rushed to her side and tried to adjust her posture, but she was just a hulking mass of flab. Prodding for a single bone, even finding one, Tim registered now, was a task in and of itself. Her ass cheeks stood out like a miniature sofa, enough for one to believe that her cheeks could easily hold a bowl of cereal.

“Are you all right, Jules?”

He could hear her tensing up, struggling with the effort of holding her own weight upright. “I’m okay. It’s difficult, but I bet I can keep at it for a while.”

“Excellent. We don’t have to push too hard today, let’s focus, instead, on getting you used to just standing up on your own while performing simple, everyday movements. Put your arms down for me.”

She obliged, sweat rolling down her temples.

“This one could be tricky, but I’ll need you to stretch your legs a bit. Move around if you can, and then raise your left leg up to your chest like so.” Tim demonstrated what he meant.

When she tried to pull her knee up to her chest, however, he immediately sensed that there was a balancing issue with her pose as she continued to jerk back and forth. He was standing before her, holding the weight of her arms on either side. Though, considering how huge her breasts were, the task proved to be a difficult one. Even reaching her biceps wasn’t as easy as he’d thought because that meant invading her personal space.

“I’m falling!” She announced suddenly.

Tim tried as much as he could to keep her steady, but her 600 pounds of flesh seemed adamant to follow any external force of pressure. And then her body crashed forward into his, bringing both of them to the ground with a heavy clamor, enough that the entire floor of her bedroom shook momentarily. When he came to, he realized that he’d somehow gotten himself stuck beneath her crotch.

‘She’s sitting on my face,’ he realized, horrified.

Somewhere in all this pound of flesh, he knew that there was a biological hole through which urine and other bodily fluids passed from. And he did not want to be anywhere near that hole. Not now, not ever. But it was difficult to tell. For all he knew, his nose could be pressed up against—

‘No. No. No. Think about something else. Anything, for Christ’s sake, and for the sake of your sanity.’

Down here, her private parts were as swampy as the Everglades. And a not-so-strange wetness was spreading across his face; his nose, his lips, even inside his mouth.

He heard a loud crash that sounded as if someone had just barged into the room. “Just what in the name of Jehovah is going on here?!”

Josef must have been angry at the sight. At least his tone of voice said he was.

“Jo,” Julia said, alarmed, “Jo, please help. Help me get up before I squash him.”

“How the hell did he get stuck under you like that! He some kind of pervert?!”

“No, I swear! He was only helping me stretch when I lost balance and fell on him! He will suffocate if I don’t get up, Jo. Help me.”

When she tried to move, her legs seized up on either side of his face, and a rush of musky, thick liquid poured out from her nether regions.

‘Jesus. Did she just cum on my face?’ Tim wondered. ‘Is she somehow getting off of this?’

“Nngh. . .” she moaned, “Jo, please, help me get up.”

“The two of you seemed to be enjoying the act!” Josef was yelling. “Damned if I put asunder.”

Tim could hardly tell if the man was really lashing out, or just being a dick, but his lack of concern might just be the death of Tim. And still, the wetness came on and on and on, gushing like a leaky refrigerator filled with dirty water. The smell was overwhelming, and soon he, too, was sweating. Though he dared not move, else risk cracking his skull open under all that weight. And so, he just laid there until he lost all consciousness.