# Paralyzed with Fat - by Ichida (~BHM, ~~WG)



## Ichida (Apr 9, 2008)

_~BHM, ~~WG_ - A wheelchair-bound man goes from emaciated to BHM.

[*Author's Note:* I decided to finish this BHM WG story I had started years ago now. Hope you like it!]

*Paralyzed with Fat*
*by Ichida
(aka "Mink") *​
* Part One *

Jim wheeled his chair up the ramp to his apartment, feeling furious as people's stares fell upon him. Once, just once, he'd like to have a woman look on him as a normal man, instead of some freak. 

He hurried to tidy what he could of the house because his new health-care helper was coming today. He growled slightly, remembering the call. 


*** 
“Mr. Prop?” There was a dangerous note to Jim's voice. 

“Oh, Mr. Hanson! I suppose you are wondering where your health care provider is?” The head health care nurse sounded nervous. 

“Absolutely straight, you bastard!” was Jim's shouted response. “You know I need someone to help me! Every day of my entire life!” 

“Well…There seems to be a problem…” 

There was silence for a moment, then - “What sort of problem?” 

“Well, all the girls seem to find you - ah, how should I say this - surly, Sir. But, don't worry, we will find you a replace-” Prop was cut off by the click of the phone. He sighed and hung up. 


*** 

Jim growled deep in his throat, staring at his slightly emaciated hand. The past year he had totally lost his appetite, going from a beefy 220 down to a gaunt 150. His hand curled into an unconscious fist. Ever since he had been in the car accident which paralyzed both legs from the hips down, his personality had changed. He let his fist fall and let his head lay on the back of the chair with a stifled groan of despair. 

And that is when Debbie saw him. She felt an immediate need to rush in to comfort him, but waited until he raised his head before she knocked. 

“Come in,” the deep, growling voice said. 

She started - that voice sounded like it should be in someone a hundred pounds heavier! 

_"One, two, three pull your mind from the gutter," _she told herself firmly. She stepped into the room, a smile hovering around her lips. 

Jim gazed at her, eyes half-lidded in resentment. He knew he needed the help, but hated having his home invaded. He nodded to the couch curtly but she first shook his hand, her soft, husky voice pleasant. 

“Debbie Glad,” she said simply, smiling at him. 

“Jim Hanson,” he said guardedly, then gestured to the couch again. 

This time she sat, folding her lithe 5'1 form into the chair easily, yet somehow making it unoffensive to the over-sensitive Jim. She answered all his questions easily, with no pity, embarrassment or judgment over his condition. 

Before she got up to leave, he grunted, “You're hired. But, first tell me why you seem so comfortable around me.” 

“Perhaps it is because my father suffered a similar condition as yourself.” She smiled at him warmly. 

“Now, if I am hired is there anything you need?” Her smooth brown tresses made Jim doubly aware of his dirty, uncut and unshaven condition. 

He didn't know how to respond, so all he said was, “Just do whatever.” 

He growled, “I'll be in my study.” 

He wheeled away slowly and sat at his desk brooding. 

Undaunted, Debbie tidied the house, her humming filling the quiet pleasantly. After she had finished she felt her stomach rumble and so began to cook them a meal of steak, potatoes, and corn on the cob. She made sure there was extra, so if he got hungry later or tomorrow he could help himself. 

Jim finished his paperwork and sniffed appreciatively. The house hadn't smelled this good in a long, long time! He wheeled himself into the kitchen just in time to see Debbie placing a mouthwatering feast on the table. 

“You -” He cleared his throat. “You know I am supposed to be following a strict diet so I don't gain weight?” 

She turned to him and sat down. 

“Oh shod that! Men need real food, not crackers! Besides, you are seriously underweight!” she said indignantly. She pushed his food closer and began to help herself. He glanced up at her suspiciously but ate nonetheless. Surprise flitted over his face at the first bite, then he dug in with more gusto than he had in a long time. 

He began slowly, chewing methodically. Then, as the taste exploded upon his tongue he began eating faster. All too soon he was done and feeling rather full. He blinked when she put another, smaller, second helping on his plate. 

“I was raised in a family that believes men needs to eat right,” she said simply, then began washing dishes. Again, all too soon - in his opinion - he was done. He sat back, this time feeling decidedly bloated. Then she plopped a piece of homemade apple pie before him. He started to wave it away but sighed as he gave in, unbuckling his pants and digging in. 

“Man, woman!” he exclaimed after finishing. He breathed carefully around his gorged middle and shifted uncomfortably. “If you make every meal this good I'll be huge!” 

“And what's wrong with a little meat on a guy's bones?” she challenged. 

“Fat, not meat,” Jim grunted, brutally honest. 

“Fine, call it what you like. What's wrong with it?” she repeated, sitting beside him. 

“Its wrong, unattractive - it's disgusting!” he growled. 

She slid one finger up his thin thigh to his swollen middle and gave it a pat. 

“I disagree.” She quickly stood up to clean his plates. 

“So what? You're fattening me up?” he said sarcastically. He shivered when all she did was glance at him and smile. 

“Don't you dare, woman!” he shouted then coughed in surprise as a large piece of apple pie was shoved into his mouth. He briefly considered spitting it out, but then chewed it furiously, working to clear his mouth. It just tasted too good to waste. 

“No mouthing off now, Jim. I won't stand for it!” she said. “And now it's off to the bath.” 

When he refused to move, only glowered at her, she wheeled him herself and began stripping him for the shower. 

Afterwards, they both came out wet and very clean, Debbie with laugher bubbling out, and even Jim was smiling. 

Jim was in such a good mood after his feast and wash that he allowed Debbie to help him out of his chair and watch T.V. together. 


*** 
In the morning Jim rolled into his wheelchair and moved to the kitchen, addicted to the smell of her cooking. She placed the pancakes with syrup on his plate, even though he grumbled that he wasn't hungry. 

Jim drank his coffee and ate his pancakes, feeling contented. He grunted in response to a question, causing Debbie to laugh and comment on bears coming out of hibernation. He smiled a little and got to work on the novel he had been working on the last six months.

An hour later he was bellowing from his study that he was starving. Debbie made an a large submarine sandwich and brought it to him. It was large but in his emaciated state it was huge. It took him until lunch to finish, and when he was done he felt full but satisfied. 

He realized this was his body's natural reaction after being denied real food for so long, but he began to seriously worry as the weeks went on and he woke up feeling hungry and went to bed full. His middle slowly but unstoppably began to advance, marching forward to claim his lap inch by inch. 

A couple months into their arrangement, he really blew up - in several ways.


----------



## Risible (Apr 9, 2008)

Very nice, Ichida. You have such a pleasant, realistic writing style; I enjoy it very much.

Also, kudos for the diversity and including a disabled person!


----------



## Ichida (Apr 9, 2008)

*Part 2*

Debbie glanced over her shoulder at Jim, smiling at his look of concentration as he jotted down some notes for his novel. The physiotherapist/doctor or whatever that wackjob claimed to be was examining him. He wasnt helping in the least, and ignoring her to boot.

Dont be difficult, dear, Debbie chided, plopping a huge spoonful of mashed potatoes on his plate. He loved them, with some milk, chopped dill and a ton of butter. She heard him grumble something in return, then snap at the woman.

I said get away from me! he snapped, voice rising. 

Mr. Hansen you need to listen-

I dont need to do jack, you crazy old hag! Go tell someone who cares! He jerked his wheels back, trying to break her hold on his chair.

I am sure you will care when Ms. Glad is let go! 

Debbie and Jack stared at her, completely taken aback. Flustered, she stood and brushed her coat, dispelling invisible dirt. Mrs. Glad is in charge of your health, Mr. Hansen. She is doing a poor job, and it reflects badly on the company.

Shes doing a whole sight better job than any of those useless lumps you sent me before! 

When Debbie looked at him he half grinned. I know, I must be mellowing for me to give you a compliment!

Mr. Hansen! You. Are. Fat. Her hand reached out at poked a short finger into his bulging midrift. When his brows snapped down she merely glared back. 

You should be 165 pounds, maximum. Considering your chair is 170 pounds that should make you 335 lbs. When I weighed you do you know what it said? 350! That makes you fifteen pounds overweight! That is pure flab!

So what? Its not as if I have to maintain my figure to impress women!

No but you have put on 15 lbs in four months. Statistically that means that in the next eight months you will put on another 30 lbs! That will make you 210 lbs, and a 45 lb gain in a single year! If you continue to gorge yourself in this manner you will be 255 lbs next year, and over 300 lbs the year after!

Jack ripped his eyes from the woman to look at Debbie. Her eyes were glistening slightly, and her tongue flickered out to wet her lips. Looking at her closer he could see the tips of her nipples tenting her shirt below the new bulge of fat around her middle. Straightening as much as he was able he met the womans eyes. Fire her and I will no longer use your company, but I will not change any habits.

Then I am afraid this is your notice, Ms. Glad. 

Handing her the paper she snorted. Debbie, how could you let yourself go like this? Look at that flab! 

She insulted her further with her body language, staring at her distended middle like it was a viper. Grabbing the ever so slightly sagging mound of lard she shook it. 

Debbie merely flushed in humiliation at her former friends treatment but Jack snarled and threw a vase dangerously close. 

GET OUT! He bellowed, heaving a chair at her next. The woman took one frightened look at him and took off out the door.

Jack wheeled himself over and peered up at her. Debbie, I want you to stay. 

She seemed in shock, staring at the wall. 

Im serious. I want you to stay! 

Tugging her down to his level he looked into her eyes. 

She met his eyes and smiled so sadly it broke his heart. Dont, youll find someone else. Im sure of it.

Debbie I swear to god if you do not stay I wont live out the year.

A little dramatic, arent we? she teased.

He wasnt joking, and told her so. 

I was dying before you came. I couldnt eat, I couldnt sleep, all I could do was hate myself and the world. How long do you think it would be until my body just gave up or I gave up on life? I want you to stay and take care of me.

Attempting to smile she patted his cheek. I dont want to be just the one who takes care of you.

Who said that? He snapped irritably. Have you ever heard me stay I want to be taken care of? Ever? 

When she shook her head miserably he continued more gently. 

I want you to take care of me the way a wife looks after a husband. I know  he stopped, covering his face briefly. I know I cant give much back and that Im a selfish bastard but I love you and I want you to stay! I never wanted to say it before  what if I lost you? I couldnt take it! But I dont have anything to lose now.

Debbie glanced at him coyly, cheeks flushing becomingly. Theres other things a wife does for a husband

Jack grinned, flushing himself. She knew he could still get it up, she had seen it enough. I dont know if I can, I mean it goes up and I can feel it but I cant move my hips

Debbie smirked at him. Maybe you need some help with that?

Maybe I do, he agreed languidly. So are you going to be my wife?

No. 

When his eyes snapped to her she grinned. I cant go letting you think youll get what you want all the timeTry again in a few hours. Maybe if you beg enough

He ignored that and tickled her cheek with his finger tip. And just so you know, demon, I dont care about this. 

He patted his pooching middle. I always was a glutton  I used to eat until I couldnt move. The only thing that kept me from becoming obese was my exercise  I was a freak about it. I still am about my arms. Besides, I noticed you seemed to like it.

Biting her lip shyly she nodded. Makes you more snuggly. And sexy. And besides  at least with a full belly you stop griping!

Am I really that demanding? He asked wistfully. 

When she shook her head he grinned. Well Im about to be. To my room, woman!




~Fin~


----------



## Ichida (Apr 9, 2008)

Aww thanks so much risible!!!

Sometimes I feel like I have writers ADD - I'm wiriting a story and then its like - ooh, sparkles! and I walk off or forget about the story.

I've been working on a novel for myself (full novel sized) so whenever I get writers block I try and write something else. If you ever have any suggestions let me know!


----------



## Observer (Apr 23, 2008)

OK - part II edited, which merits a bump


----------



## JimBob (Apr 24, 2008)

Glad to see an ending to this one. I was always hoping for a hand-in-hand-walk-into-the-sunset ending for these characters. Muchas gracias.


----------



## FatLoverGainer (Apr 25, 2008)

As a paraplegic I have a couple comments on this. 

1) Towards the beginning you say that he is paralyzed from the knees down. And then later you say he cannot move his hips. Which is it? 

2) A doctor would not want a paraplegic to remain so skinny. They want the patient to gain weight to prevent skin sores around bones.

3) Also only arcane and special off-roading chairs weigh as much as his does, unless this is supposed to take place in the 70s or something.

Just some thoughts.


----------



## Ichida (May 1, 2008)

Thanks for the info!

When I said knees earlier I meant hips. This was a draft I had thrown together and I didn't review it properly before posting. Sorry! I hate those discrepancies too.

One of my old friends was paralyzed from the hips down (not sure what vertebrae or anything) due to a horseback riding incident. It was kind of a kudos to him. 

The weight of the chair was the one my friend had, but when I called a mutual friend he said he had had it custom made because he said the light ones were too fast (He had gone down a flight of stairs when he got his first one) and it doubled as exercise. 

They had put him on diet to follow because of the limited exercise he was getting (and he wasn't light to start with), and he ignored them and put on a lot of weight quickly. It wasn't so much that they wanted him skinny, but the doctors were alarmed at the trend of how fast he was packing the weight on.

He had said that he hated be on top during sex because it was too hard to try and hold up the lower half of his body up during sex for the thrusts and if he wasn't careful he would put more and more weight on her or loose his balance. He did breakdancing before his accident so his arms were pretty damn muscular, but he said it was too much effort, and there were so many positions that were easier (propped on the edge of the back or her ontop were his favs).

Thank you so much for your input. Would you like me to modify/change/make it more true to life?


----------



## Observer (May 1, 2008)

I changed the knee to hips - for any other changes please contact me via PM.

Glad to see Ichida, aka Mink, back actively with us!


----------

