Doctor’s Orders


by TR


“So,” said Dr. Rilke, after Sandra had been telling him her troubles for half an hour or so “Are you ever happy?

            “Interesting question,” she said. “No one’s asked me that before.”

            She thought about it for a bit, then laughed, a bit bitterly.

            “Well, sometimes…when I blow my diet and really let myself eat what I want…then I’ll have an occasional flash of happiness, when I forget to feel guilty.”

            “Guilty? What do you feel guilty about?”

            “Blowing my diet, of course!”

            “And why are you on a diet in the first place?”

            “Because I don’t want to be fat.”

            “Why not?”

            “Why are you asking me such a ridiculous question?”

            “It’s part of the therapy. We will be challenging lots of your assumptions. It doesn’t mean they’re wrong, necessarily. We just need to examine them.”

            “All right. I don’t want to be fat, because…well, how would I ever get a boyfriend if I was fat?”

            “I thought you said you can’t get a boyfriend anyway.”

            “Yeah, but…are you saying I should just get fat, and then I’ll be happy? That’s crazy!”

            “Maybe…tell me, what would you eat if you weren’t on a diet?”

            “Oh, everything,” her eyes lit up, thinking about it. “Hot dogs, cheeseburgers. Fries, fried chicken, milkshakes, pizza, pastry, chocolates…”

            “Anything else?”

            “Lasagna, steak, prime rib, raviolis, waffles, pancakes…” she went on for quite awhile. The doctor wrote it all down.

            “All right,” he said “I’m putting you on a new diet.”

            “But you’re a psychiatrist…”

            “I’m also a physician. I can prescribe medication, and diets. Your new diet is to have at least one full portion of at least…seven things on this list every day. And I’m giving you a diary to write down everything you eat.”

            “What! But that stuff’s so fattening!”

            “Don’t worry about it. You can always go back on your regular diet later. Our first priority is good mental health.”

            “But I’ll gain weight!”

            “Of course you will. If you don’t, I’ll know you’ve been cheating. You don’t want to appear uncooperative, do you?”

            “But Dr. Rilke…you’re my last chance. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll be fired from my job for sure…”

            “You won’t be fired if you follow my prescription. I give you my word.”


            She went home and looked at the list, and sighed. She had two more months’ leave of absence from work while she worked on her problems. If she wasn’t better by then…maybe I should just get another job…

            But she wasn’t sure she could handle a new job any better than the old one. The despair and apathy that had made it impossible to get any work done were still there…would a new place be any better? Probably not.  And she couldn’t switch psychiatrists…she’d already done that twice. No, Dr. Rilke was crazy, and his diet even crazier, but she had no real alternative…she would have to follow it.

            With a sigh, she went down to Burger Barn and ordered a chocolate shake, a cheeseburger and an order of fries. When the food was served and she began eating, she found her spirits lifting a bit, in spite of herself. Well, this’ll be fun anyway...there’s no denying that. She felt her belly beginning to fill up, and waited for the typical onslaught of guilt that usually came when she overate…but it didn’t come.

She didn’t feel guilty at all.

            With an increasing sense of excitement, she continued eating. Of course she didn’t feel guilty…she had to eat like this! She wasn’t eating out of weakness, or greed, or self-loathing, or whatever, she was eating because the doctor required her to. There was nothing to feel guilty about!

            Soon she was completely stuffed. But kept eating anyway, and managed to eat every bite.

            That evening she had a large steak, with wine, salad, potatoes, and strawberry shortcake for dessert. She enjoyed it thoroughly. She hadn’t felt so good in a long time.


            When she saw Dr. Rilke again a week later she’d gained four pounds. He looked over her somewhat food-stained diary and smiled.

            “Excellent,” he said. “you’re doing very well.”

            “Well sure I am,” she said. “All I have to do is eat like a pig. But how is this going to cure me?”

            “It won’t cure you by itself. But it may put you into a state where you’re more receptive to psychoanalysis than you’ve been in the past.”

            “I see…but do I have to stay on the diet?”

            “Let’s talk about it some more at the end of the session.”


            When the time was over she asked him again.

            “Well? Can I go off this crazy diet or not?”

            “It seems to be working really well, we’ve made a lot of progress today…I think you’d better stay on it for now.”

            “Damn…are you sure?”

            “Yes. In fact, I think we’d better adjust it a little bit…do you think you could eat eight items a day?”

            “Eight! Well, I suppose, but…”

            “Okay. We’re changing it to eight.”


            Eight was even better than seven. With eight fattening items a day, she didn’t have to worry about overshooting…she could just eat with abandon, something she enjoyed hugely. The week flew by, and soon she was weighing in at Dr. Rilke’s again. She weighed 146 pounds, nine more than when she started the crazy diet. A little bulge was forming at the center of her belly.

            He congratulated her once again. They had a very good session. At the end, he reached for his prescription pad.

            “I think we’ll go another week on this diet,” he said “it’s working really well.”

            “But doctor…I’ve gained nine pounds…this is getting ridiculous.”

            “I’m sorry,” he said “but I’m sure you’ll eventually agree that it’s well worth it, even if you don’t know. Oh, and I’m increasing you to nine items.

            She argued with him awhile, but he wouldn’t change his mind.


Secretly overjoyed that he’d kept her on the diet, she left his office and went straight to Burger Barn. She’d been having a terrific time eating this way. Nine items would be even better. She felt great…almost well enough to go back to work!

            Not that she wanted to just yet…she ordered a shake, fried chicken, French fries and a piece of pie a la mode and began eating. It was heavenly being able to eat like this and not have to work.

            When she finished, she ordered a cup of coffee and lingered over it for a bit, waiting for her stomach to settle before walking home.

            A man came up to her table.

            “Excuse me, I couldn’t help noticing…uh…do you mind if I join you for a second?”

            She hesitated. Before she could decide what to say, he sat down across from her and took a sip from his own cup of coffee.

            “What’s this about?” she asked.

            “Oh…” he suddenly seemed a bit shy “I just wanted someone to drink my coffee with, I guess. I hate drinking coffee alone.”

            “Ah,” she said. The guy was kind of cute, actually.

            “And…I don’t know. You seem like a nice person.”

            “Nice, eh? What makes you think that?”

            “I don’t know. And I noticed you have a really good appetite…I admire that in a woman.”

            “A good appetite!? Why?”

            “I can’t help thinking it means that you’re really sensual…”

            “Actually,” she said “I’m on a special diet…I have to…” but, thinking about it, she realized it might not be a good idea to tell him about the diet.

            “A diet?” he said, surprised.

            “Yes,” she said, trying to turn it into a joke “It’s called the eat-whatever-you-want diet.”

            “How’s it working?”

            “Well, I haven’t lost any weight, but it’s a lot of fun.”

            “I bet! Anyway, I’ve got to run right now, but could I take you out to dinner sometime?”

            “Uh…well, I don’t know…”

            “Here’s my card,” he said “Give me a call if you want.”


            After he left she looked at the card. Martin Archer, Attorney-at-Law. When she got home, she called a friend of hers who was a lawyer and asked her if she knew anything about him.

            “Oh yeah,” her friend said “He’s a partner at Pritchard-Anderson. I’ve met him, but don’t really know him. He seems nice. And I’m sure he’s very rich.”


            “Yes. That’s a very prestigious firm.”


            She went out with Martin a few evenings later to one of the fanciest restaurants in town.

            “I hope you’re still on that diet,” he said “the food here is really good.”

            “Yep. Still on it.”

            He offered to order for her. She accepted, and the dishes started arriving. The food was fantastic. She ate and ate, hardly even slowing down until dessert (Tera Misu) was served.

            “That was fantastic,” she said, as she finished it.

            “You really do have a good appetite,” he said.

            “I know,” she said, a bit wistfully. What was he going to say when he found out she couldn’t eat like this all the time? She really had to tell him.

            “How do you stay so slim with an appetite like that and a diet like that?” he said, as if reading her mind.

            “Actually, I can’t” she confessed “I’ve gained ten pounds. Probably more than that, after tonight! I’m going to have to go off it pretty soon, and go back to eating rabbit food.”

            “Too bad,” he said “I can tell you really like this diet.”

            “Yes. But all my clothes are getting tight. In fact, I had to buy this dress today…none of my other fancy outfits would fit!”

            “Hmm…too bad you’re not my girlfriend. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

            “Why is that?”

            “I’d buy you all the outfits you wanted. And if they got too tight, I’d buy you more.”

            “Oh really? You’d end up with an awfully fat girlfriend.”

            “I think you’d look great if you were fat.”

            “Are you kidding?”


            “So that’s why you like gals with big appetites.”

            “Well, that’s one of the reasons, I have to admit.”


            She kissed him goodnight that evening, but didn’t spend the night, though she kind of wanted to. She didn’t want to seem too “easy”. Plus all that stuff about wanting a fat girlfriend was awfully weird…


            When Dr. Rilke weighed her before the next session she was up to 150 pounds—fifteen more than when she’d started. She handed him the diary.

            “I had to add some items to the list,” she said “I’ve been eating a lot fancier food…but it’s just as fattening.”

            “I see,” he said, looking over the diary “I guess that’s all right. Why the change?”

            “I’ve met this rich guy,” she explained “And he loves to take me out to eat.”

            “He certainly does…how is it going with him?”

            “Great…except…well, he wants me to keep gaining weight. I’m afraid if I stay with him, I’ll get fat.”

            “He forces you to eat?”

            “No…but I can’t imagine how I’d ever lose weight around him. I like eating too much as it is…with a guy like that around, I’d certainly get fat…”

            “So what do you want to do?”

            “I don’t know…I’m having a lot of fun, and I don’t mind gaining a few pounds… but I don’t want to get fat…

            “Why not?”

            “Oh, not that question again.”

            “Remember the answer you gave me before?”

            “Yeah, I wouldn’t be able to get a boyfriend if I was fat. And now I won’t be able to keep a boyfriend unless I get fat!”

            “So what are you going to do?”

            “I don’t know…I guess I don’t have to worry about it just yet, do I? Not until you take me off the diet.”

            “That’s true. Well, I’m keeping you on for another week, anyway…do you think nine items a day is enough, or should I bump it up?”

            “Well…you’re the doctor…”

            “Ten, then.”



            Martin had to work late that evening and they didn’t plan on eating together, so Sandra headed off to Burger Barn. Another week of this crazy diet she thought. That’ll put me up around 155 or so…

She thought of how she had looked in the mirror that morning. The extra weight was really starting to show. She didn’t mind that her breasts were bigger, but she wasn’t sure about the increasingly obvious bulge at her belly, or her hips…what was up with them? And that beginning of double-chin that was starting to form. On the other hand, if gaining that weight was what was making her feel so good, perhaps it was a small price to pay…

 Halfway to Burger Barn she realized she’d forgotten to have the doctor sign her medical excuse form, and headed on back. To her surprise, Martin’s car was parked out in front of the office building. When she got to the office, she asked the receptionist if Dr. Rilke was busy.

            “Yes,” said the receptionist, “but he should be free pretty soon…was there something I could help you with?”

            “Is he seeing Martin Archer?”

            “I can’t tell you that,” said the receptionist. But Sandra could tell from her face that she’d guessed correctly. She barged into Rilke’s office and found him talking to Martin. Both men looked at her with guilty expressions.

            “What’s going on here?” she asked, angrily.

            “I’m seeing a patient,” Rilke blustered “You can’t come in here right now…”

            “I don’t think he’s a patient. I think he’s a…conspirator.”

            “Look Sandra, we can go over this another time,” said Rilke “Please be reasonable.”

            “I think we’d better tell her the truth, John,” said Martin. “She’s caught us.”

            Dr. Rilke sighed. He sat down.

            “My practice hasn’t been doing too well,” he said to Sandra “Martin offered me a lot of money to find him a young woman like yourself…it’s highly unethical, and I rejected his offer. But then you came along. You were perfect for him. I knew he was a decent man, and felt that it would be in your best interest if the two of you got together.”

            “Not to mention your best interest.”

            “Yes, but you have to admit you are perfect for each other. I wasn’t sure at first, but when I saw how your eyes light up when I suggested putting you on the diet, and when you agreed to another week, even after you’d gained weight…”

            “But you manipulated me into going on that diet! I’d never have done it if I hadn’t been afraid of losing my job!”

            “True…but I wouldn’t have continued it beyond a week unless it had been working. I’ve never seen anyone improve so dramatically in one week.”     

            Sandra had to admit that it had worked…she felt better than she had in years.

            At least, she had felt better. Now she felt angry.

            “Sandra,” said Martin “I realize it must be hard to trust me at this point, but let me just say that I do love you. In fact, I came here to see John just to find out if I should propose or not. And to his credit, he refused to reveal anything more about you.”

            “I felt I’d been unethical enough already,” said Rilke, glumly.

            “What did you mean, exactly,” said Sandra “When you said you wanted to find him a woman like me?”

            “Someone into gaining weight,” said Rilke “That’s a sexual fantasy of his. And you seemed very open to the idea, after I got you started.”

            “So now what do we do?” asked Sandra.

            “Well,” said Dr. Rilke “You could make a lot of trouble for me…but it would be a lot of trouble for you, too…my preference would be that you’d accept my apology…and of course, I’d give you a clean bill of health for your company.”

            “Could you do that at the end of my leave period?”


            Though Sandra felt Dr. Rilke should lose his license for what he had done, she did not feel like going on a crusade that might not work anyway. Besides, he had cured her…hadn’t he?

            “I’ll have to think about this,” said Sandra “I’ll be getting in touch with both of you.”


            She was starving at this point…she couldn’t wait to get to Burger Barn. But she’d hardly tucked into to her cheeseburger, double milkshake and onion rings before guilt slammed into her. She had gained fifteen pounds on that crooked doctor’s bogus prescription! How could she even think of eating? She was going to get fat!

            Suddenly, she couldn’t eat.


            She went home and called up Martin.

            “Do you still want to propose?” she asked.

            “Absolutely,” he said.

            “And how fat do I have to get if I marry you?”

            “It’s totally up to you. No pressure at all.”

            “Wrong answer.” she said, hanging up.


            To her great relief, he called back a few minutes later.


            “I’m sorry,” he said “but I can only marry you if you promise to get as fat as I want.”

“Oh…how fat is that?”

            “Uh…at least…fifty pounds?”

            “Fifty! Oh that would be fun…but it might be more?”

            “Yes. We’ll have to see how it goes.”

“Anything else? What about before the wedding?”

“Uh…oh, you have to stay on Rilke’s diet until the wedding.”


            “Yes. Nine items a day. Otherwise I’m not going to marry you.”

            “He raised it up to ten items.”

            “Oh. Then you have to eat ten items a day.”   

“Well…you drive a hard bargain…”

            “What do you say?”

            “Yes, of course. Now I’ve got to get off the phone. I’m starving.”

            “Okay. I…I love you. I wish I didn’t have this trial tomorrow or I’d be over there.”

            “I love you too. And don’t worry about it. I’ve got some eating to do…I’ve only had three items so far today.”

            “Well get to it, girl! You’re way too skinny. You have to get nice and fat.”


            Sandra felt too embarrassed to go to the same Burger Barn where she’d just ordered a large meal and abandoned it. She had to drive to another one ten miles away. By the time she got there, she was hungrier than ever. With some trepidation, she started in on the cheeseburger, double shake, onion rings, spare ribs, and cherry pie. It all tasted wonderful.

When she got to that part of the meal when she felt her belly start to fill up and push out against the confines of her clothes, the time when her guilt was usually the worst, she asked herself whether she felt guilty. She laughed when she realized the only thing she felt even remotely guilty about was being “way too skinny.” I’ll fix that, she thought. A delicious shiver went up her spine as she imagined herself continuing to expand, growing daily, becoming “nice and fat”...



            “Elena?” asked Sandra “could you get me another one of those ice cream bars?”

            It was three weeks later.  Sandra had been married for a week. Martin was too busy to take her on a honeymoon right then, but Sandra was quite content to laze around her new (quite fabulous) home, eating, reading, watching TV and occasionally going out shopping. Her friend had been right about Martin—he was very rich. He even had servants. She found it very nice having servants, and was already beginning to wonder what she’d ever done without them. Elena, an excellent cook, was one of her favorites.

            “Certainly,” Elena. “But you asked me to tell you if you’d gone over your diet…if you have an ice cream bar, it’ll be your eleventh item.”

            “Really? Are you sure?”

            “Yes, your appetite has been excellent today. So do you want an ice cream bar then?”

            “No, I guess not…”

            Elena left to go home (it was 10pm, and she was finished for the day), leaving Sandra alone. She went to the bathroom and weighed herself…162 pounds, which meant, even considering that some of the weight was food still in her stomach that wouldn’t stick, she’d gained over 25 pounds since she’d started on Dr. Rilke’s diet.            She phoned Martin.

            “About my diet,” she said.


            “Do you really think ten items a day is enough?”

            He laughed.

            “Yes. You’re gaining weight aren’t you?”

            “Yes, but…don’t you get it? I could eat more if you would just insist.”

            “You can eat more anyway. No, I insist on ten items, but if you have an eleventh—not to mention the twelfth or whatever—you’re doing it for yourself.”

            “But…I don’t want to get fat...I’m doing it for you.”

            “Fine. But you’re going to get fat either way, right? Why not have an eleventh item if you want one?”

            “…I don’t know…I’ll have to think about this…”


            She took a look at herself in the mirror. That morning, she’d noticed that the bulge at her belly had become even more pronounced and was growing wider, getting ready to merge with the plump little love handles forming at her hips. Now it was really swollen—her whole belly, not just the bulge in the middle. Curious as to what it would look like if she ate even more, she went to the kitchen and grabbed an ice cream bar. I’m doing this one for myself, she thought as she began eating and felt her stomach stretch.

I’m going to get really fat..why don’t I feel guilty? She finished the ice cream bar and thought about it. She didn’t feel a shred of guilt.

I guess I really want to get fat…she happily started on yet another ice cream bar and realized it was true. She couldn’t wait to see her belly grow big and round, her breasts even fuller, her hips even wider.

She realized this was what Martin wanted. Sure, he wanted her to eat, he wanted her to get fat and then fatter, he wanted to make love to her as she grew bigger and sexier; but he would love it that now she wanted to get fat herself.

Ignoring the protestations of her poor, overstretched stomach, she took a big bite of ice cream.


This is going to be so much fun…













            She finished her meal and phoned Martin again, from the pay phone.

            “About that diet,” she said.


            “Do you really think ten items a day is enough?”

            He laughed.


            “But…don’t you get it? I could eat more if you would just insist.”

            “You can eat more anyway. No, I insist on ten items, but if you have an eleventh—not to mention the twelfth or whatever—you’re doing for yourself.”

            “But…I don’t want to get fat...I’m doing it for you.”

            “Fine. But you’re going to get fat either way, right? Why not have an eleventh item if you want one?”

            “…I don’t know…I’ll have to think about this…”




            When she got home, she took a look at herself in the mirror. Her belly was really swollen—her whole belly, not just the bulge in the middle. Curious as to what it would look like if she ate even more, she went to the kitchen and grabbed an ice cream bar. I’m doing this one for myself, she thought as she began eating and felt her poor stomach stretch even more.


I’m going to get really fat..why don’t I feel guilty?


She finished the ice cream bar and thought about it.


I guess I really want to get fat…


She fetched yet another ice cream bar and took a big bite. 


This is going to be fun!