Ronald The Fat Ass

Chapter 1

I haven’t left my home in over 16 years. The last time I left it was February 14th 2002. I had a skype date with my webcam girl; it was our 3 year anniversary. Her skype name was sexybaby6969, she wouldn’t tell me her real name. As far as she was concerned, I was the fat piece of shit who paid her rent in exchange for a 55 minute long conversation 3 times a week. We used to do other things, she used to occasionally lift her shirt up for me, say sexy things. But that didn’t go on for too long.

I was wearing a nice blue button down with khakis. In my front pocket I had the $40 I needed for her bouquet. In my back pocket, I had a plastic bag full of anti-anxiety medication. My wheelchair had gotten stuck on the stupid thing they put in doorways. An older lady was walking down the hallway with a bag full of groceries. My heart was pounding, I had to say something.

“Excuse me… Miss?” I muttered. “I need a little help.” At this point I weighed about 450 lbs, I could hardly fit in my wheelchair, let alone the door, even sideways. She set down the bag of groceries in front of her door and walked toward me, confused.

“You want me to just pull you through?” She asked, her old eyes looking at me with wonder. How much does this guy eat? They subtly said.

“Yes that would be wonderful.” I said as she leaned over me. This was as close to another person I had been in months. The slight touch of her pointer finger against my arm brought me extreme comfort in a time of great anxiety. She grabbed hold of the arm rests on my wheelchair and used all of her strength in attempt to pull me through the threshold.

“MMMMMHHHMMMMMMM” She groaned, my chair rolled slightly forward, then back again.

“MMHMMMMMHHHH” There was a slight move forward, only to be followed by the falling back.

“Let me grab my husband real quick.” She approached her door and took a set of keys out of her back pocket. The door unlocked, she grabs her groceries off the floor and goes into the apartment. “Hun!” She called.

A few minutes later an old man wanders out of the doorway.

“Hi I’m Jeremy.” He stuck out his hand.

“I’m Ronald.” I said and shook it. My hand tingling with the gratification of skin to skin contact, he seemed uncomfortable. Them white skins always are when they see big black men like me.

“It’s so nice to meet you. Now let’s see if we can get you through this doorway.” He grabbed the armrests of the chair and groaned as he pulled. The smell of cheap drugstore cologne filled my nostrils as two beads of sweat raced down his neck. After a good 30 seconds I’m lunged into the hallway.

“There we go.” He said as he grabbed a comb out of the back of his pocket and began to run it through his grey hair. I try to reach for the doorknob to shut my door, but no such luck. Jeramy shut it for me.

I thanked him and began my treacherous journey down the hallway. My scooter was red and electric, it alternated between two modes. Turtle mode and rabbit mode. I always kept it on rabbit mode, but it only moved as though it was on turtle mode. I exceeded the weight limit by at least 100 lbs. It took around 5 minutes to get from my door to the elevator, even though they were about 50 feet apart. I pressed the down button, the elevator dinged to life as the door opened before me. I rolled in and adjusted myself to be facing forward. I pressed the first button and felt the elevator begin to sink toward the ground. Suddenly the machine releases a buzzing shriek and stops moving. I jab my plump finger at the button. The buzzing continues. Hyperventilation begins as I feel the steel walls begin to close in on me.

“NO NO NO!” I exclaimed as I repeatedly pressed the button. Sweat began to drip down my face. I reach for the pills in my back pocket, slight relief fills me as I pop two in my mouth and begin to chew them up. The foul tasting blue powder coats my tongue as I begin the process of swallowing. I press the fireman’s button and pull the phone out of the box.

“9-1-1 what is your emergency?”
“Yes hello I am stuck in the elevator.”

“How many people are in there with you?”

“It’s just me.”

“Huh… how peculiar. We’re on our way. I’m Sheral by the way… what’s your name hun?”

“Ronald.”

“Ronald that’s such a nice name. A good stable name. You know a guy named Ronald is gonna be a provider for his family.”

“Thank you so much.”

“You have a good one sweetie!”

The buzzing stopped once I set the phone down on the receiver. My muscles started to relax as the medication began to kick in. Around 45 minutes later the police arrived and freed me from the captivity of the elevator. One of the police officers was this beautiful blonde with dimples the size of chocolate chips. Her name was Carrie, and I was in love with her. I made a pact that night to lose weight and go up to that police station and ask her out to dinner. I threw out all my chips, soda, and candy. And ordered a bunch of celery and ranch from the grocery store. Ranch is healthy if you put it on celery. It’s a good source of protein, or so my mother told me. When my food arrived, I put it on my dinner tray and parked my scooter in front of the TV. I had a bottle of ranch and a container of celery. I filled the top of the container with ranch and ate all the celery. I tried to focus on jeopardy, I tried to focus on the beautiful lady who was revealing the letters on the board. I told myself that if I was good, and lost weight, I would get me a woman like that. I finished the celery, and my stomach was still growling.

A vision of me digging the junk food out of the trash entered my head. The ranch sat before me, and before I even knew what I was doing. The bottle was up against my mouth and I was sucking the entire thing back. I gulped the cool ranch down my fat throat, sighing in satisfaction as I finished off the bottle. It wasn’t enough. My stomach was still growling with hunger. I rolled into the kitchen and began fishing all the food out of the garbage. Doritos found themselves in my hands and shoveled themselves into my mouth. I completely lost control.

I’m the grandson of Darrel, Darrel of King Darrel’s Chicken. I worked there summers, and became the manager of the central location once I graduated college. It was a ma-and-pa operation until it was sold in the mid 90s… that’s when my life went downhill. When good times were happening, I was eating good. Thanksgiving with Aunt Jemima’s stuffing, mmhmmm. Christmas with Daddy’s duck, yum-yum-yum. Easter with Grandma-ma’s cherry pie, ahhh… Happy times with family were centered around the kitchen. Then the family business was sold, lawsuits arose, and I lost my source of true happiness. Now all that was left was the food.

I woke up a few hours later to the ring of a facetime on my computer. Sexygirl6969 wanted rent money. I had fallen out of my wheelchair and was surrounded by empty bags of chips and candy wrappers. The computer was at a wooden desk in the corner, an old mac with a webcam attached towards the top. I couldn’t pick myself up to get back into my wheelchair. There was only one thing I could do, roll. I began rolling across the floor toward the desk. There was no furniture to sit on in my apartment, I never felt the need to buy some. I had my wheelchair a Jazzy 614 and my bed, a California King. That was enough, I didn’t have many guests over anyways.

I rolled up to the desk and used all my strength to reach up and press the spacebar.

“Hello??” The blonde bimbo asked the empty frame. She had big titties that were always lunged up by bras two sizes too small. That day she had on a red lace get up that was shere in the stomach area.

“I’m down here!” I called out and rolled farther back in attempt to be in view of the camera.

“Oh there you are you disgusting fuck! Look at you! Plump as ever!” She laughed, her sparkly red acrylics covering her yellowed crooked teeth.

“It is true. I am plump as ever.”

“I need more money.”

“What happened to the $800 I gave you last month?”

“Spent it. I need the password to your bank account?”
“Why?”

“I think it’d be really hot if you gave me control of all of your money. I’m trying this new thing, it’s called Financial Dominatrix. I’m hoping to rake in $200k this year.”

“Well I don’t have that kind of money. My trust fund is running low as it is.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to drop you as a client.” A stab right through my heart. She was my only confident. I could not lose her. I began to sob.

“Please… Sexy Girl, don’t drop me. I’ll do anything.”

“You don’t get any extras if you don’t give me control of your bank account.”

“We could just talk. Talking is all I want. I’ll give you $1,000 every month just for friendship.”

“Good boy.” She said as she grabbed a black leather whip off her desk and cracked it on her hand. With that she hung up the phone. She did that sometimes, to prove that she was the one in control.

I began to hysterically sob, I’m so ugly. I can’t leave the house let alone function as a human being. I have no purpose. My only purpose is to pay Sexy Girl’s rent. There is no point to living, besides eating. Eating is the soul reason I choose to continue on. Food is my source of pleasure and happiness, without that my life would be nothing but suffering. Yet ironically, food is the reason I live a life of suffering.

My doctor, Ms. Thompson says it’s a mixture of a binge eating disorder and agoraphobia, but I just call it laziness. I simply do not feel the need to leave my home. I have food delivered five times a week from the grocery service. My mail is brought directly to my apartment door by the landlord. Anything else I could ever need I order on Amazon and it’s here within 24 hours. Why on earth would I ever leave? Social interaction? Please my social life died when I put on 170 lbs in the late 90’s. I haven’t had face to face interaction in over 12 years, besides Jones. Jones is my caretaker, he comes by twice a day to pick me up out of bed, with this board contraption, and to put me back in. He’s a graduate student studying mathematics, real sharp guy.

I am 526 lbs and stand (which I haven’t in a very long time) around 5”10. I have no reason to live. I have no desire. I don’t see the point in anything. I wake up every single day at precisely 9:30 am to the quack of a duck alarm from my phone. Jones is at the front door, wiggling his key in the key hole.

“MORNING!!!” He calls as he walks toward my room.

“Morning.” I say and attempt to roll over to my side, only to be reminded I am far too obese to do so. Jones turns off my alarm and sits on the end of my bed.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Terribly.” I take my sleep apnea mask off my face, the machine continues its monotonous buzz.

“Any pleasant dreams?”

“I had one where Sexy Girl came to visit me.”

“Have you talked to her lately?”

“No, not for six months or so. I’ve been meaning to reach out, but she’s just so damn expensive.”

“You should man, don’t let money get in the away.” He gets up and begins to assist me getting out of bed. I grab the Versa Helper Trapeze Bar and begin to pull myself up, as Jones shoves me into the chair.

“Do you think I could ever find a woman who actually loves me?” I ask him as I’m plopped into the machine in which takes me through my entire life.

“Yes, Ronald. I believe that there’s a person out there for everyone.” I drive the wheelchair into my bathroom, and Jones lifts me up out of it onto the toilet. On the wall beside the toilet hangs my buddy wand, and my toilet paper. Jones sits on the bench I installed across from the toilet and holds the buddy wand, the tool that assists me with wiping, and loads it up with toilet paper. He flips through messages on his cellphone as he waits for me to do my business. I grunt and groan my way through the process, it’s my most strenuous activity of the day. After about 15 minutes my exercise for the day is complete. Jones hands me the wand and turns on the fan. I bend over forward and navigate the buddy wand across my booty. I drop the paper in the toilet bowl, and hand the wand back to Jones. We repeat the process another five times to make sure I’m nice and clean. Since sponge baths are only once in a blue moon, I finish off with a moistened wipe. Flush the toilet, get back in my chair, and roll towards the sink.

“What do you think about me paying Sexy Girl to come and visit me?” I ask as Jones squirts toothpaste on my tooth brush.

“Honestly, I think that’s not a terrible idea. Maybe you could get some action.” Jones hands me the toothbrush, I insert it into my mouth and begin to run the brissels over the yellow stubs that consist of my teeth.

Once I’m settled with my breakfast, a liter of coke, a sleeve of Mentos, and three McDonalds breakfast sandwiches, Jones heads off to his first class. Whistling a jolly tune as he locks the door behind him. The morning news is playing on the television,

“Sally Walker a crazed MDMA addict has been locked up once again.” A picture of Sexy Girl in a distraught state pops up on the screen, mascara running down her cheeks.

“She walked into the store with a water gun and demanded I give her all the money in the register. I began hysterically laughing and called the cops.” A middle aged Asian man tells the news reporter in front of a gas station.

“This is the fifth time in six months Sally has been arrested, and the feds are really hoping the charges will stick this time around. Bail is set at 15k…” I grab a lane line off the table that holds the TV, and dials 911.

“9-1-1 what is your emergency?”

“Hey Sheral, it’s Ronald…”

“Oh hey Ronald! How’ve you been?” Sheral has helped me out quite a bit over the years. Every Christmas she brings me tamales and comes by for a visit every once in a while.

“I’m doin ok. I’d like to set bail for Sally Walker.”

“HA, you and every other male who saw the morning news. They’re saying she’s some type of porn model?”

“Has someone already bailed her out?!”

“No…”

“Ok well I am…” I give her my bank account number, and think about what collateral I have if I end up broke and under a bridge. All I have is my Daddy’s 88’ Cadillac, it’s what he left me when he died. That and a bottle of expensive scotch that has probably turned to apple juice by now. I shudder along with the remembrance, his death was when the fighting began.

“Ok Ronald… love you hope to see you out and about soon.”

“Thanks Sheral, love you too.” The line goes dead, I sit and watch the rest of the morning news. Sheral calls me a few hours later and informs me that Sally will be released momentarily. Ronald calls Jones and tells him to pick up Sexy Girl from the prison in the next hour or so.

“She’s a real pretty blond. Fat ass, big tits, large thunder thighs. Dress up like one of those fancy limousine drivers with the hats and hold out a sign with her name.”

“What’s her name?” Jones asks as he scribbles down notes on a pad of paper with a pen.

“Sally Walker.”

 

Chapter 2

I hear the jiggling of a key in my front door, and the click of the door unlocking.

“This is where you will be staying, Miss Walker, until your court date.” Jones announces as he lead Sally into my house. I turn around in my chair slowly, careful in the placement of my facial expression. Jones is not wearing a fancy outfit I asked him to, but he’s got a captains hat on. He paired the hat with a grey long sleeved shirt, a red flannel, and a pair of black skinny jeans.

“Hello Sally.” I say in a deep voice, attempting to be sexy. She’s got on a striped halter top that her erect nipples poke through, pink flip flops, and a pair of cut off white jean shorts. Very appropriate outfit for a nightly low of 36 degrees.

“Ronald the fat ass! I knew it was you!” She says with her eyes wide as she runs up to Ronald’s wheelchair and covers his pudgy face with kisses. Jones sets down her luggage, a ziplock bag full of her possessions. A cracked white iPhone 7 with a glittery case, a lighter, $5, and a cherry flavored condom. “Jesus christ, you’re even bigger in person!” She exclaims. “I know that since you’re black and all your dick is supposed to be big, but it must look so small under all these rolls of fat!” She grabs my man tit and begins to knead it like a baker kneads dough.

“Call me if you need anything.” Jones says as he heads out. Sally sits on my lap and kisses me on the cheek.

“What now?” She asks with the innocent eyes of a little girl.

“You give me a hummer?” I suggest.

“Ok.” Sally gets off my lap and drops to her knees, she unzips my pants, begins to look for my dick, and begins to scream laughter.

“What?!” I exclaim fearfully.

“Where is it? It’s like buried…” She says as she flicks it with her pointer finger. “Jesus christ… Have you seen it recently?”

“No.”

“It must be impossible to pee standing up.”

“Well I’m 600 lbs its already impossible for me to pee standing up.”

“Huh… Well… WOOOO! Mama’s gonna take a big shit!” She slaps her ass as she stands up.

“Can I watch?” I ask.

“I suppose… but it’s gonna cost you twenty.” I point Sally in the direction of my wallet that’s sitting on the counter top, she takes a couple bills out of it.

“Down that hallway.” I point to my right, “Please completely undress.” She strips down and walks down the hall. Her ass is dimpled with cellulite, as are the back of her thighs. It looks like a thick coat of cottage cheese lies just below her thin flesh. Rolls of fat line the sides of her abdomen, she’s rather beautiful to me, but I could see how others might view her differently. I originally found her in the “Thick Bitch” category of the webcam site. I suppose she is rather “thick” by the standards of those who are not morbidly obese. She throws her head over her shoulder and draws me closer with the wiggle of her pointer finger.

“Why are all the mirrors covered?” She asks me, noticing that my bathroom mirror has a black sheet taped over it.

“I don’t believe in vanity.” A very peculiar look displays itself on her face, she moves on. Her figure daunts me as it sits down on the porcelain throne. I roll up so that I am just outside the bathroom, getting a side angle of the excretion of the chocolate surprise. This is one of the most intimate things I have ever experienced. She grunts and groans, gripping the countertop as she pushes. I almost feel as though I am witnessing the birth of my own child. Machine gun farts fill my ears, she moans and bites her lip. I feel as though I should be sexually aroused, but now that I think about it, I haven’t been hard in a long long time.

The pleasant aroma of feces fill my airway.

“What did they feed you while you were locked up?” I ask as I settle into my chair, locking the brakes.

“Nothing but bean burritos and bacon.” She replies as she bunches up some toilet paper.

“Would you like me to assist you in wiping?”

“No that’s a little too weird for me.”

“Ok.” I roll away from the bathroom and give her some privacy. There’s a package of oreo cookies along with a jar of Jif peanut butter in the pantry that are calling my name. I grab a butter knife from the drawer and set everything down on my TV stand. Jeopardy is on, I spread the peanut butter on a cookie and stack another cookie on top of it. The game is just starting, they are introducing the competitors.

“Today’s contestants are a bakery owner from Atlanta Georgia, Lucy Lively. A journalist from Chicago Illinois, Hannah Franklin. And a pilates instructor from Salt Lake City Utah, Darrel George.” The name causes my grandfather’s face to pop up in my mind. He was a big man, only a wee bit smaller than me.

“You got any tampons? I’m bleeding.” Sally says as she walks in from the bathroom, her white shorts lie on the floor. The crotch is red. I wish I was mobile enough to bend down and take a whiff. I have always been one for the natural musk of a woman.

“No.”

“Well can I go buy some?” I eye her ankle bracelet, blue with sea shells and panic arises within me.

“No it’s fine I’ll go do it. What kind do you want?” I ask nervously, my pits begin to sweat and my breathing speeds up.

“Just regular, the brand doesn’t matter.” She tells me as she takes an oreo out of the package in front of me. I start to go through the list of things one needs to do to their appearance before leaving the house.

  1. Look in the mirror, well I can’t bear to do that.
  2. Get your stuff together, what if I forget something?
  3. Leave, I CAN’T.

“I think I’ll call Jones and make him pick some up. He’s due to be here in an hour or so anyway. Do you need anything else from the store?”

“Buy some brownie mix. I love making me some brownies. Maybe get 6 or so boxes, I’m feeling crafty.” I call up Jones on the landline and inform him of what to buy.

 

CHAPTER 3

I feel as though I am out of place in my own house. Sexy Girl has made herself at home, she has no clothes, so she walks around in a red apron, but is other than that fully nude. She has logged into her skype account on my computer and has continued to see her regular clients. I hate it, most of them are white, and ugly. Their teeth rotting out, covered in tattoos so old their skin looks green. Sexy feeds me these special brownies after every meal.

“Here you go baby!” She says as she plops one onto my dinner tray.

“I don’t want it… I’m full.”

“But I made it special…” She pouts and sulks as she walks away with the brownie.

“Ok fine, maybe there’s room for a bite or two.”

“Yay!!!” She sets it in front of me, sitting down on the floor to watch me eat it. As I eat these strange tasting brownies, she touches herself. She runs her hand over her breasts, and crotch. They usually find themselves under the skirt of her apron, she moans and moans. What is so sexually appealing? I could not tell you. All I know is that she feeds me these strange tasting brownies with a strange grimace on her face, masterbating to me eating it. Nothing has happened to me, I don’t feel any different.

After the next meal, a large deep dish pizza with garlic breadstick crust and a liter of coke, she gives me two brownies.

“Baby, I’m really full. I don’t want any brownies right now.”

“But Daddy! I made them special…” She sulks and walks her sorry ass back into the kitchen.

“What have you been putting in those brownies?” I ask her as she sits back down on the floor in front of me.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said. What have you been putting in those brownies? They taste weird.”

“Just love Daddy,” she gets up and hugs me. “Nothing but love.”

I woke up three days later chained to my bed, Jones was in the corner. His hands zip tied and his feet bound. Silver duct tape was across both of our mouths. I try to talk, nothing but senseless vibrations expound from my mouth. Jones’ eyes shoot open, he’s fearful. Sally walks in through the doorway in her apron, completely nude beneath it, carrying a large tray of brownies.

“Oh Daddy! You’re finally awake!” She sets the brownies on the bedside table and sits on the end of my bed. “I’ve been waiting for you.” A demented smile stretches across her face. She takes a kitchen knife out of the front pocket of her apron, and holds it up to my throat. “You said if I was a good girl, I would get to go to Beckie’s birthday! I was good, and you wouldn’t let me! I hate you!” With that she slides the blade across my neck. I see donuts dancing through chocolate fountains, I see me riding my bike to school; there’s my mama smiling as I blow out my birthday candles, my father teaching me how to drive, my Grandma-ma’s cherry sweet pie, and my sister’s big brown eyes; as I escape into the dark oblivion of death.

 

Ronald and Jones are found a couple months later by the 9-1-1 operator Sheral. As she walks into the apartment (of which she had a key to), she was overwhelmed by the stench. Big juicy flies are flying around the stale air.

“Ronald?” She calls, closing her nostrils with one hand and swatting flies away with the other. Leaving the apartment door open, she set her keys on the tray (that should be in front of the TV) next to her Tupperware container of tamales.

“Ronald?!” The apartment was in complete disarray, the TV was missing, as was the computer, the microwave, and even the refrigerator. Sheral was never one to run, she always seeked out danger, thinking that it would add some flavor to her bland life. She slowly but surely makes her way down the hallway, calling Ronald’s name every alternating step. A mixture of brownies and human feces that have been stomped into the carpet, Sheral nearly throws up. The bedroom door was left ajar, she peers into the room, and lets out a blood curdling scream.

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