All aboard the Crack Train! Welcome back to the new, improved, unrestricted ammunition used to fuel your nightmares. Many thanks for joining us on the second leg of this journey to hell and may your travels be as horrid, vile, and scarring as you always wished they could be!

Warning: Chapters of this book will contain graphic language, graphic imagery, disturbing images and themes, explicit sexual and/or violent scenes, earworms you'll wish you never heard, and mishmashes of fandoms, kinks, and phobias you'll wish didn't exist. Only in select chapters will this disclaimer be repeated - after scrolling past this line, consider yourself warned.

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Season 5, Episode 1: Preston

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This program contains actual surgical procedures.

Viewer discretion is advised.

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Preston: It's like... I'm trapped. And it's not like it's somethin' I can just... get up and run away from.

(The camera pans from left to right, showing Preston sitting on the edge of a bed in his living room, snacking on popcorn while his eyes are locked on a three-monitor computer set-up on a mobile cart wheeled a few feet away from his bed. The shot moves to a close-up of his face: his cheeks are bright red with tiny spider veins creeping across his skin and his eyes are glassy and distant.)

Preston: I know this addiction is killing me. But I can't stop.

(The camera flashes back to him on the edge of his bed, now zoomed out enough that his bare stomach and legs are visible in the shot. A hand automatically reaches down to wipe the dust from the white cheddar popcorn off of the top two layers of his stomach.)

Each year, hundreds of weight loss operations are

performed on patients weighing 600 pounds.

Voice 1: My weight has given me a death sentence.

(A background track of strangled groaning overlays the audio.)

Voice 2: The thing I relied on all these years is what's killing me.

Their chances of long term success

are less than five percent.

Voice 3: It's broken!

Voice 4: Well, what am I supposed to do?

Voice 3: I don't know! I can't get off! Don't let me go! Please!!!

Voice 4: I'm not. I... (sigh)

This series explores a year in

the life of 600-pound individuals trying

to regain control of their lives.

Voice 5: It's hard... to be a father from a chair.

(Weak groan.)

Voice 5: Ahhhh... Thank you, honey.

(The camera cuts to a scene of a famous weight-loss surgeon trying to help a pre-operative patient face the reality of their poor health.)

Doctor: I see that unwillingness...

(Crying patient sniffles.)

Doctor: If you were serious, you would make changes.

The journey you are about

to see is Preston's.

Doctor: He doesn't seem to understand how close this is bringing him to death.

(Shot of Preston's red, livid face. He violently brings his fist down on the hospital bed next to him, causing the flesh of his arm to vibrate and a slight tug on his oxygen cannulas.)

Doctor: You have to see this is slowly killing him. You need to learn to say 'no'.

(Shot turns to doctor outside of the exam room where the family can't hear him.)

Doctor: He managed to gain another 120 pounds. He may now be above 1,000 pounds.

Intervention: YouTube Edition

Preston's Story

(Camera cuts to inspiring shot of a river, water glistening in the early morning sunlight while birds chirp cheerfully in the distance.)

Preston's voice: When you start to feel like all you can do is tear yourself down... sometimes you hafta reach out and ask someone to help you build yourself up again.

Preston Arsement

27 years old

Weight unknown

(Camera shows a light tan, two-storey house in an upper-end middle class neighborhood. The house itself seems unremarkable, albeit a bit unkempt. Looking closely at the screen shows droves of dandelions across the sprawling, patchy lawn and copious cobwebs hanging from every surface of the outside of the house. Paint is peeling in a few spots, slowly fading away in a few others. It shows the early signs of neglect.)

Fort Worth, TX

(The shot shows Preston laying back on the bed, his back pressed against a very flat cushion meant for the seat part of an outdoor sofa set. Only a faded bedsheet is wrapped around his midsection. A long oxygen tube connects a hidden tank to the cannulas in his nose. It appears to be a queen -sized bed, with thick, medical-grade metal frames on the left, right, and behind where he sits. A family-sized box of chips lays empty on the floor by the doorway to the next room, apparently tossed from his bed. He is tapping away on a large phone while his omnipresent computer set-up sits nearby, blocking the hallway.)

Preston: I wake up some mornings and I forget this is my life now. Some days... sometimes it's still pretty shocking. But I guess I'm starting to get used to it.

(As the camera moves across the side of the room, it stops on a large paint bucket with the words 'Preston's: Do Not Use' scrawled across it in thick black marker.)

Preston: It's hard to even move. I can't get up. I can't do anything for myself anymore. My mom and my wife hafta do everything for me. It's embarrassin', you know? Being a big baby like this.

(The camera cuts to another scene of him eating a two-patty hamburger in a foil wrapper dripping mayonnaise onto his chest, a grease-stained bag next to him on the bed and another, empty foil wrapper laid across his stomach with a large pool of ketchup smeared across it.)

Preston: If they left... I dunno what I'd do. I'd prob'ly just lay here and die.

(The camera moves to the other side of the bed, showing the massive TV anchored to the wall directly across from the bed, along with two mini-fridges covered in bags of snack food directly under the screen. The bed is blocking access to a glass patio door leading into the sunny backyard, the white-yellow grass now so dried out and straw-like that it is disintegrating into nothingness. Cobwebs cover the outside of the window and the bare, cushionless patio furniture outside. Preston is shown eating a piece of triple-meat pizza, one final slice laying in the oversized cardboard box perched on the peak of his stomach.)

Preston: About all I do's haul myself up, walk maybe a couple feet... sit back down. I haven't been outta this room in over a year now. I used to make it to my fridges a couple times a day. I put 'em there to make sure I could keep myself walkin'. Everyday that gets a little bit harder. I hafta psyche myself up to do it. I can only make it once a day, maybe once every other day.

(The shot changes again, showing him typing something on a wireless keyboard with a built-in trackpad balanced on his stomach while he reclines back on his bed. The camera on the top of the middle monitor is blocked out with black electrical tape. He pauses and takes a deep drink from a chocolate shake wedged between his side and the back of the sofa cushion.)

Preston: It hurts so much to move, I only move when I hafta. The rest of the time... either someone else does it, or it doesn't get done.

(The camera blinks and shows another scene, with Preston's mother coming in the front door by the kitchen with three brown bags in her hands and a large plastic pop cup in the other. Two of the bags have tacos on them, the other shows part of a hamburger.)

Mom: Hey there, sweetie. How did you sleep?

Preston: Pretty good...

(He strains to inch his body forward to the edge of the bed to reach his food faster.)

Preston: ... Back hurts, though.

(The camera snaps to his fingers curling uncertainly around the tops of the group of bags.)

Mom: You got it?

Preston: Mmm-hmm.

(He slowly inches himself back until he is perched on the edge of the bed, the cup resting on the side of the computer cart while he quickly unwraps the first thing: a burger packaged in silver foil.)

Preston: The hardest thing is when I hafta get up for my bath. It hurts so much... but I dunno what I'm gonna do when I can't get up anymore.

Mom (sitting in a white-walled interview room): He has so much skin, if we don't bathe him at least every other day and put antibiotic cream on him a couple times a day, he'd be covered in open sores. And then we'd have to be worried about infections and the like and he's already in so much pain, he doesn't need anything else goin' wrong.

(A short scene plays of his mother and a younger woman pulling up parts of his skin to wash him. Their faces are set like stone, numb and resigned to the chore.)

Mom: When you get real big like that, your skin starts to split. It just can't stretch anymore. When you move, you go this way but your body goes that way, and it starts to bruise and tear up the skin.

Preston (from audio of clip): Wait. Wait! I said wait! Owww-owww-owww! Stop!

Mom (from clip): Sorry, honey. I hafta-

Preston (from clip): No! I told you to stop! (huffing and puffing) I can't do it that long.

Preston (voice overlaid): I worry what's gonna happen if I get too big for my skin. It can't stretch fast enough to keep up and I worry 'bout waking up one day and there's just gonna be blood all over...

Mom: Oh, sweetie. It doesn't work like that.

Preston (angrily, trying to hide emotional moment): How do you know?!? You don't know what this feels like!

(Camera shifts to another scene of the two women helping him bathe, one pushing to help him lean over while the other carefully uses a wet washcloth to clean along his folds. He is visibly uncomfortable and looks like he is panting with his eyes clenched shut.)

Preston: When I lean over, I can hardly breathe. When I get up, my knees lock and my legs start shakin' and I feel like I'm gonna fall. And I don't know what we're gonna do if I fall one-a these days. I guess I'd just hafta lay there. I wouldn't be able to get up. And they can't help me back up. And I wouldn't wanna call the fire department. I'd just get sent to the hospital. Only dying people go to the hospital.

Mom (wiping away trails of tears from her red eyes): I'm scared... that one day he's gonna go to sleep... and he won't wake back up. I don't know what I'd do then. Without my son...

(The camera moves to a side view of him playing a popular PVP video game, running around with a machete in an orange and red bodysuit using a digital body less than one-tenth of his physical body size. He could clearly never move like this offscreen.)

Preston: I worry about what they'd do if I did just sit here and die.

(He laughs at a moment of graphic violence on the screen, but this audio isn't played.)

Preston: And that's kinda what I'm doin'. What would they do? Would the fire department hafta come and help the coroner get my body out? Would they cut up my house to carry me out, or would they cut me up to make me fit through the door? I don't think they make coffins big enough for people like me. And even if they did, the hole they'd hafta bury me in'd cost more than my house's worth.

(The camera switches to show him eating out of a large container of ice cream while the light of a TV show flickers across his face in the dark, the kitchen light on in the background so that his mother and wife can check up on him without waking him up.)

Preston: I never thought my life'd be like this. I never imagined it'd hurt this much to just live. I call it prison food - I'm addicted to food and it's my prison. I'm stuck in my own personal hell.

(It shifts to a short slideshow of photos from Preston's childhood, teenage years, and early adulthood, leading up to his current state.)

Preston's voice: When I was really young, I had a lotta problems controlling my emotions. I'd lash out at people when I got angry - I'd punch people, kick people... I even bit someone once. I couldn't control myself that good 'cause life was real hard at home.

(A photo of his mother and biological father fades onto the screen.)

Preston's voice: My dad'd get real angry and break stuff and get up in my face and my brothers' faces and my mom's face and yell at us. He'd yell at me until I'd start cryin', then he'd yell at me for cryin'. Sometimes he'd even spank me for cryin'. Usually just his hand. Sometimes he'd use a belt.

(It fades to a photo of him eating a piece of cake with his hands at a young age, with a leaning tower of pizza set on the table next to his plate.)

Preston's voice: I didn't really know how to deal with it. So I'd just eat. It was the only thing that made me feel better. And food was how Mom showed us she loved us. I really needed her love. Especially after my dad left. My brothers and me came home one day after school and all his stuff and the furniture was just... gone. We were real scared about money then. But when I ate, nothing else mattered. We had enough money for food so it couldn't be so bad, right? Eating was my happy place. It meant I was safe. I was in control. And nobody could take that away from me.

Mom: He was always a little bit chubby, even when he was a baby. It wasn't until high school it really started to pile on.

Preston: I started gettin' kinda big and I'd diet on and off and on and off for a couple years. My weight'd go down, but it never really went away. As soon as I stopped dieting, it'd all come back. Plus some.

Mom: When he was living at his condo, he did pretty good. He lost a bunch of weight, went to the gym all the time, posted all over the internet about his weight training. He used to go hiking and jogging with his friends when they'd come down to stay with him. It wasn't until he met Taylor he started really gaining.

Taylor (up to this point, only introduced as Preston's wife): He was such a gentleman - generous, kind, hardworking, handsome. We got married in May 2018 and by September, it was like he wasn't even the same person anymore. It wasn't just the food. His whole mindset changed. He put on like 50 pounds in a couple of months and it's like he lost himself in the food. He was like a zombie, just getting up long enough to eat, take a nap, and eat while he worked on his videos. Then he would go out and get something else and sometimes he'd be gone for hours. I never knew where he went but he'd always bring back wrappers and cups from fast food joints. He'd come home and have something outta the kitchen before he went upstairs and just went to bed. He hasn't been upstairs in... wow, over two years now.

Preston: Yeah, by the end-a the year it was hard gettin' off the old couch. I went out and got another living room set with a smaller table so I could walk around it easier and I got a couch and loveseat with good arms I could use to get up.

(Footage of him using a metal reinforced walker to slowly stumble up on his feet to walk over to the sour cream and onion chips on one of his mini fridges plays over the audio.)

Preston: I started on the couch so I could lay down and watch TV and take naps after I got done workin'. A couple months in, the springs in the couch started pokin' up through the cushions and one-a the arms broke. Then I moved over to the loveseat and got a footstool to go with it, and Mom hated it 'cause it didn't match. Six months later, I was too big for my loveseat. That's when we got the bed.

Mom: We got him the hospital bed because nothing else seemed like it could hold him very long. We got one of the electric ones so he could prop himself up during the day and recline it back at night. About six months ago, the motor burned out and it stopped working. So we just unplugged it and got him a pillow to put behind his back. I know it hurts his back but I ran out of ideas to help him.

Preston: After the bed broke, things just kept gettin' worse from there. My body got too big for the bed so we had Dad come over with his power tools and he cut off the railings on this side and we turned it sideways so it'd be wide enough for me to fit. Now my feet kinda dangle off but it's easier to get up so I guess that's better. But I don't know what we're gonna do if the bed gets too small like this. Last time I checked, they don't make 'em any bigger.

(Short video clip of an interaction between Preston and Taylor plays. Preston is sitting at the edge of the bed, clicking to exit a server as the round of the game ends. He looks over expectantly at Taylor, who is sitting at the dining room table in the adjacent room, watching something on her laptop with earbuds in.)

Preston: You think you could go get me a little snack? Tay?

Taylor (glancing over and seeing him looking at her, pulling out earbuds): Hmmm? What?

Preston: Snack?

(Taylor seems to hesitate. Whether this is because she knows it's being filmed or if this is a normal reaction is unclear.)

Taylor: Sure. What do you want?

Preston: Just a couple quesadillas. And one-a the beef combo boxes. And some Doritos Locos Tacos. And can I get two-a the Baja Freezes? It's happy hour.

Taylor (slowly closing her laptop screen, obviously not happy): Sure.

Preston: You want anything?

Taylor: No, I still have leftovers in the fridge. Do you have anything at the pharmacy?

Preston: Nah. Not yet. They didn't do the refills yet.

(Taylor nods and walks offscreen, coming back a few seconds later with her purse.)

Preston: And can I get those Cinnabon things?

Taylor: Sure. I'll be back in half an hour.

Preston: Okay. Love ya.

Taylor: Love you, too.

(She bends over awkwardly and they kiss each other chastely on the cheek. She leaves more quickly this time.)

(The camera moves back to the white-background interview room.)

Mom: I hate giving in. I hate it. And I don't like to use the word 'hate'.

(A clip plays of him using a grabby tool to cheat and reach across the room to snag a bag of barbeque chips from the mini fridge without walking.)

Mom: I know what it's doing to him. And I know since I'm giving in, I'm doing it to him. I'm helping him kill himself with food.

(The camera blinks away from her tearful face and Taylor is now sitting in the white interview room alone.)

Taylor: It's just easier to give him what he wants. He gets so mad... He would never hurt me or anything like that. He's just really hard to live with when he doesn't get his food.

(A clip of him yelling 'Mom!' with his head back against the wall and his keyboard clutched in one hand plays. He looks angry and stares up at the ceiling, waiting for a response.)

Taylor: I know it's probably not right, but it's what he wants. And the way I see it, it's his choice. I don't get to tell him how to live his life and this is how he wants to live. I'm his wife, not his probation officer. Only God gets to judge.

(The audio plays over a clip of his mother handing him a large iced coffee and a box of Dunkin Donuts.)

Mom: He has very little in life to really look forward to so me bringing him back a treat is a pretty big event to him. I just want him to be happy. That's all I want, as a mom.

(A clip of Preston eating his food that Taylor brought him from Taco Bell plays, with the sound from him crunching on nacho chips playing quietly in the background throughout this segment. This is not the ASMR anyone was looking for.)

Preston: Food has become like a hobby for me. It's what I do when I'm not doing anything else. Or even when I am doing something else. It's always there for me whenever I need it. It's easy and reliable and I always feel happy when I eat. I don't know what I'd do without food.

(The camera zooms in on his face while he eats, his eyes trained on a livestream playing on the center screen of his computer set-up.)

Preston: Unfortunately, the food's what's killing me. It's so easy to forget everything when I'm eating. But as soon as I stop eating... everything else is still messed up. And it's the food that's makin' it that way. But I just can't stop eating.

(He crumples up the first paper bag and tosses it down by the foot of his bed, still crunching on nacho chips while he digs through the second bag.)

Preston: I know losing weight's my only way outta this prison. But all I can do is gain more.

Mom: If Preston doesn't start losing weight... I can't see him living another six months. His body is breaking down. He can't move. He can't wash himself. He can't use a toilet. He can't live his life stuck in that bed. He's missing out on so many things... this is no way for a 27-year-old to live.

Preston: I just wanna have my old life back again. I wanna go outside and play paint ball and have fun. I wanna see my friends again. If I don't get the help I need soon, I'm gonna be dead. And no one'll even know what happened to me.