Dimensions Forums  
Home Register Premium Membership Stories Ye Olde Library Health Issues Market Place Big Fashion

Go Back   Dimensions Forums > Library > Fantasy/Science Fiction Archive



Reply
 
Thread Tools
Old 03-29-2010, 08:35 PM   #1
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default The Hormone Remote - by elroycohen (~BBW[Multiple], ~~WG, Pregnancy, Sci-Fi)

~BBW(Multiple), ~~WG, Pregnancy, Science Fiction - A self-described super-genius develops a tool that eventually gets him noticed by an unsavory character.

The Hormone Remote
by elroycohen


It is not easy growing up as a misunderstood genius. You laugh I am sure, but it is true, and infinite knowledge does not make you a popular child. For that matter it does not make you a popular young man or even adult, by any means. It is not something I can truly explain the reason for (which is unusual for me), because I have not been on the other side of the fence. It is hard for me to fathom what you weak minded people are thinking, or if you are. But I digress.

I have been a genius ever since I said my first words at 8 months of age. I cannot even begin to imagine how it must feel to not be able to comprehend something with ease inside of a few minutes of being introduced to it. Math, science, social studies, heck even art class came easy to me. By first grade I was bored in school and testing out of classes three years ahead of my age.

So as you can imagine other kids hated me growing up. I was the stereotypical loner wandering the halls talking to myself because no one else would. The difference between me and the twerps you yourself ostracized back in your day being it did not upset me in the least. I was pretty content in my supreme intelligence.

The little interaction I got with people my age was when they would rough me up in the parking lot after I got an award for my perfect grade point. Or when my sister would bring her friends over to the house and they would look at me like some science experiment as they walked by to Mindy’s room.

So I had a lot of free time growing up. For fun I invented things I could make in my room. I had an engine that ran on carbonated drinks. It could produce a horse power of 25, although it did not run well on diet drinks because that tends to lose carbonation quicker because of the lack of…Oh look I’m digressing again. But anyway, by the time I was getting into high school I had patent worthy inventions sitting in my closet. I was starting to focus more on what interested me. It was not enough to have a zit cream that really worked, instantly and a virtual reality headset I cobbled together from old computer and stereo parts. I wanted to work on things that related to me and what I was interested in. Believe it or not, being an outcast loner who never even got a second glance from ladies I was still very interested in the fairer sex.

But before you go thinking I was trying to create a Bride of Frankenstein, I was actually focusing in on hormones and glands. Which seems odd, but being the sole male in a house with women you tend to become aware of just how hormones affect women’s behavior and appearance. Take my sister for example; she was quite infamous for her drastic mood swings once a month. Not just the typical, mildly annoyed, overstressed type moods. Mindy could go into full on Hulk mode. I had seen grown men looked frightened when she did it in public. There of course were the other extremes too. She would sometimes lock herself in her room for a week or walk around so blissfully happy one might think she was inebriated.

Many doctor visits and tests came to the conclusion that this was simply how Mindy’s body was wired. Her hormones short circuited once a month and caused mood swings that could snap a person’s neck if they tried to keep up. Not much could be done about other then a few prescription drugs which ended up working as well as I would imagine voodoo would have. Or maybe voodoo would have been a little more successful, who knows. At any rate, knowing myself to be ridiculously smarter then the quack that diagnosed my sister I made it my goal to come up with something that actually worked.

Now I should mention that my sister no doubt gets her runaway hormones from our mother. Although mom is not quite as out of control with mood swings, she has had her issues with hormones. Mom was a little flat-chested twig before having Mindy, but as soon as she got pregnant she blossomed into a busty C cup. After giving birth her chest shrank back down a size, only in the left side. Her metabolism also did a 180 on her and soon she was 60 pounds overweight. Then she got pregnant with me and her chest swelled back out to a more noticeably lopsided D and an FF cup. When her hormones eventually evened out the woman who had been able to buy clothes from the young men’s section was a top heavy 250 pound single mother of two. Of course the same doctor who would later see my sister wrote my mother’s wild weight and chest fluxuation to hormones that could not be helped.

And so while other teenagers were reading…um, well teenagers don’t read anymore, but for the sake of comparison, while other teenagers were flipping through the instruction booklet for their latest video game or sneaking a peak at their dad’s Playboy, I was scouring used book stores for medical textbooks and looking up medical journals from all the top universities online. I would gather what I could from the information available and fill in the blanks the PHD’s left with my insurmountable IQ. Before too long I knew all the ins and outs of hormones and glands and just how much they dictate everything from behavior and thinking to the physical aspects of all humans. Of course I focused in more on female specific information. After countless nights of lying awake either with my head in a textbook or staring at my ceiling working through a theory, I not only understood how it all worked, but more importantly how to control it.

It took longer then I would have thought to come up with the solution specially trained doctors and educated researchers could not. There were a few formulas that caused me days of grief and since my own theory mixed biology with physics and electronic engineering there was some experimentation to work through, but before I knew I was headed in the right direction.

Three months and I had a prototype I was ready to test.

My prototype was not a drug at all mind you. My research proved pretty quickly that pharmaceuticals are the second or even third best option to alter a woman’s hormonal activity. Rubbish you say? I would expect that, and I won’t bore you with details that would give you a migraine. Suffice it to say there are class of sound waves that are for the most part immeasurable by just about all instrumentation, save a few the government has stashed away, that are capable of effecting human production of hormones and activity of glands. It was just a matter of deciphering what immeasurable frequency of sound waves does what and how to find a convenient way to deliver those waves. Now I know I said I would not go into details, but above and beyond cracking the code of sound waves I also developed a small tool that could not only produce these sound waves but also focus them in on an area the size of a postage stamp. The first model was a small little tube with a few buttons and knobs the size of a television remote. There were numerous things that could be affected with my little invention in theory and numerous methods, from instantaneous to timed to start days later. Not just toning down mood swings or evening out breasts that had increased unevenly due to pregnancy. In fact it would be easier to list off the things I could not have control over with my invention. But at this point all of this was theory. I would need to test it to prove any of it out.

The only test subject I had was my sister and mother. Perhaps it was my social awkwardness but I chose to go about the test discreetly. Since I could try my invention out quickly and quietly without them even feeling or being aware at all, it seemed for the best. Just in case an unexpected development occurred, however unlikely.

I did my sister first and at the risk of forgoing any dramatic build up it worked. She was home from college and I focused the sound waves on the back of her neck a couple minutes a day for a week. Four weeks went by without my sister going into a blind rage or sullen stupor. A first in almost ten years.

That was not all I tested in sis. Since I was ridding her of a nightmare she had been living with most of her life I decided it would be fair to test out a few of the other more physical changes I could make happen with my new instrument. Even though I had my mom around to test as well I was not sure how age would come into play, so for the three or so months Mindy was home I concentrated on her. I tried a few things. Some were relatively tame. Bloating for instance. After a few minutes of sound wave treatment one night in front of the TV Mindy work up the next morning so puffy and swollen she could not button her pants and her cheeks looked like she was playing trombone. A few more minutes of inconspicuous treatment and she was back to normal by the time she finished breakfast and had forgotten about the incident by lunch.

Some were not quite so tame. One weekend I had my modestly chested sister unable to even think about stuffing her cans into her B cups because they were so swollen with milk. I chose a time that she would not be concerned with the temporary change. One late night she teetered home drunk after a night out and staggered into the kitchen looking for munchies with her perky little mounds outlined by her shirt. She staggered out a few minutes later with a plate of cold pizza in one hand a two liter of soda in the other while breasts that looked like water balloons flopped around under a t-shirt that was damp with milk. She barely even noticed and certainly did not let her temporarily leaky udders slow down her post bar snacking. By morning she was back to her usual bust size and concerned more with her hangover then her damp shirt.

There were a few more tests in the name of science. I sparked Mindy’s appetite and slowed her metabolism to a crawl. With just a few short treatments while she was watching TV her hunger and lethargy lasted the entire summer. That alone would have been enough to send Mindy back to school with another 20 pounds on top of the freshmen 15 she had clearly picked up during her time away. But I also tried out my tool’s ability to make the body produce fat from nothing and store it exactly where I told it too with sound that even the most sensitive dog ears could not pick up. Within a few hours I was able to add an extra five pound to each hip. With even less time then that she had slightly thicker and much flabbier upper arms.

As Mindy lay around all summer giving in to her appetite while I experimented with my new toy she went from a little plump to down right fat by the time it came to start thinking about going back to college. She was a constantly snacking, lazy young woman with an ass that stretched even her biggest pairs of sweatpants.

Before you get mad you should realize I had more testing to do and by the time Mindy was pulling out of the driveway in her rusty Chevy to return to college she was close to the size she was when she arrived at the beginning of the summer. Mindy did not need my help to add excess flesh to her middle. She accomplished that quite nicely over the course of her young adult life. By the time college graduation came around my sister was looking for size 24 business suits to fit her cellulite covered ass, but that’s beside the point.

Now I am sure the whole story sounds downright unbelievable and I don’t blame you a bit. But for me as I watched in person what I described to you it was not even that amazing or spectacular, simply just the playing out of the theories and formulas I had figured in my head over and over.

So by the time I turned my remote control onto mom I was no longer testing, simply helping.

Time and my mother’s lifestyle had continued on what pregnancy and her out of whack hormones had started. By that time she was wearing a 52H cup that was tight on one breast and loose on the other. Very overweight had become obese as she tipped the scales at a whopping 370 pounds on her 5’4” frame. I knew all this not because mom shared, but because my little remote also could scan a person’s body with the same sound waves that could affect it so drastically and get a reading that was accurate to with a tiny percentage.

I evened mom out to an F cup, which was the largest size they carried in out local department store. I also brought her weight down to a still robust but more manageable 270. The doctor thought it was some miracle and wanted the info on how she had managed to turn her weight around, probably so he could go write a book and cash in. Of course my mom lied and said it was all due to her willpower and exercise regimen when in actuality she had no clue since she had been eating and not exercising the same as she always had.

You may wonder why I stopped at 270 when that is still considered very heavy nowadays. The truth is I had always known my mom to be fat. That is what I associated a loving mother with. And so to take that completely away did not seem right. She would not have been my mom had she been a slender size 6. I am sure that also somehow plays in my overall appreciation of overweight women, but we will get to that later.

In the meantime I had a miracle tool and I needed to find a way to make it profitable for me. Yes even as intelligent as I am I fell right in line with the popular thinking of “money is king”. Around that time I was mulling over various full scholarships from top ten universities. So the revelation that my invention was a phenomenal success played into where I went and what I majored in.

I went to medical school to all the while perfecting my hormone controlling gadget. By the time I was breezing through my residency I had a little remote that looked like a Star Trek prop. I could program in whatever I wanted to affect with one hand and even dictate when I wanted the changes to take effect. And that last part was the biggest breakthrough I had; no longer being constrained to time limits. I had always had the ability to instantly spark a woman’s appetite with an urgent need for excessive amounts of junk food or fire up a lady’s milk producing glands with an immediacy that could turn knockers into leaky milk jugs in minutes, but I had always been somewhat limited in terms of weight gain, which I admit was my favorite, albeit unnecessary, part of the tool. Somewhere between my bachelor’s and master’s degrees I figured out how to command the hormones to convert a person’s body heat into calories in the blink of an eye. Well maybe not a blink, ten pounds a minute is the max, which is something to see for sure. And you don’t have to be as good as me in math to figure if you program that in for five minutes…well, you get it I am sure.

That brings me to the fact that during this time I was testing my remote sparingly. I stayed away from the “instant” weight gain so as to not attract unwanted attention. I knew the time and place for me to make good use of my invention was coming so I figured it was not worth jeopardizing to turn every woman I saw into a waddling 300 pounder in a mater of minutes. That is not to say that women I dated did not go up a few sizes in a matter of a few weeks and get especially horny on dates, or that female professors I had class with did not develop cravings so intense they became easy to bribe with a few boxes of chocolates, but I mostly behaved myself.

I did have the need to do some practical testing for newer models of my remote. Again my family became my guinea pigs. I tested the instant weight altering feature on my sister in the form of weight loss. You see as I mentioned before my sister needed no help to fill out her figure and by the time I had a near perfect hormonal remote she was a compulsive eating mother of three who had not seen her feet since child number one.

That year when we got together for the holidays I melted a dozen or so pounds off her during the present opening. Just enough to give the seams of her stretchy pants a little breather and to prove to myself it could be done. She, and the rest of my family, remained completely unaware. The only evidence that anything had been done other then a couple inches off a 50 or so inch waist was a little sweating and a small red blotch on the back of her neck from her hormones working so hard. Of course once I accomplished the successful test I replaced the lost poundage exactly where it had been around sis’s waist. It seemed the courteous thing to do for Sis’ husband who suspiciously kept her supplied with Christmas cookies the whole time I was there. Maybe it was only something a fellow admirer of larger woman would notice.

It is almost scary as much power I had and how easy it was. One just had to be light years ahead of modern science, which of course I don’t expect anyone to understand.

As I got closer to my doctorate I had come up with a lot of practical uses for my invention. Countless problems could be solved with my remote that people would pay tons of money to me for. The hard part was not revealing the secret to everyone else.

The obvious money making use for my invention was weight loss, I know. Millions, perhaps billions were waiting to be made that way. But I had no intention of using my powers for what I deemed evil. Well, maybe not evil but not desirable for sure. And so I came up with what I thought was an equally profitable use for my invention.

I decided to focus my medical schooling on becoming an obstetrician, although I never intended to deliver one baby. My plan was to open an all natural fertility clinic. I needed the degree to look legit, even though I knew it all before I even set foot in a class room.

After I had the degree in hand I let a few people whom I met through the university that had deep pockets and gullible minds in on my secret and got the necessary funding.

I then concocted this whole machine that looked something like what is used for MRI’s. I even got it patented. Thing is it was a joke. Something created just to get simpler minds to wrap around the fact I was fixing their infertility. If I were just to show them the remote control and tell them that I just needed to point it at exposed skin for a minute and they could go they would never believe it. Or if they did they would never pay me thousands of dollars to do so little. And so there was this whole show I created - not just for patients but for my staff and investors who would think me some lunatic if I tried to explain to their little minds the truth - that involved this whole procedure of donning hospital scrubs and going into a clean room and letting the machine slide them into place for an hour so. Of course by that time I was done palming the remote to point at them for a few minutes and was just doing math problems in my head to pass the time.

My success rate was off the charts. I would throw one here or there just to avoid unwanted attention. Women were lining up not just because of the success and non-invasive nature of the treatment, but because of the benefit of not having the side effect of women winding up pregnant with septuplets. No octo-moms in my clinic.

Women who could not get pregnant after years of trying got pregnant usually within weeks of seeing me. Just to keep thing interesting for me I did fabricate the side effect of weight gain, advertised it right up front. Women gained somewhere between 30 and 80 pounds depending on how I was feeling at the time. Usually I timed it out so just as they found out they were pregnant they could already make use of maternity clothes, or at least a few sizes larger then they had been. None seemed to care. They would stuff their fat rolls into their formerly fitting clothes just to come give me a hug and rave about how thankful they were after they got a positive test. It did my heart good to see the porkier women come in glowing. Then there was the actually pregnancy that added a fair amount of weight to my patients as well, naturally. Women often came back for their final follow-up before I handed them off to the local hospital looking like they could be rolled easier then they could waddle on their stout little legs.

Of course I also took the opportunity for a lesser known treatment that I did not charge for. My success rate for making infertile women fertile was only bested by my lesser known success rate for making sure new mom’s were more then ready to feed their baby. Perky little ta-tas had a way of ripening like prize-winning tomatoes into heavy udders during a pregnancy that I helped cause.

For a fraction what other treatments cost I was opening the door to the miracle of motherhood for women who would never had experienced it otherwise. They were privileged to the craving, swelling, weight gain, stretch marks, waddling, elastic pants and leaky, bloated milk jugs that all their more fertile friends complained about.

I did not spend my entire time turning baron little bean poles into roly-poly moms-to-be with filled to capacity milk sacks sloshing around on top of their ginormous bellies. I had a social life as well. I had grown from a little dork to what I would consider a better then average looking man. Even if I am exaggerating a tad the insane amount of money I made from my successful business helped me attract women better then I had in high school.

I know what you are probably thinking and you are absolutely right. I did use my little remote to enhance the women I dated. I know I probably will not be up for sainthood later in life because of it, but it was just too hard to resist. I mean there was Megan the lead anchor for the local news with whom I dated for a while. We met when she came out to interview me about my practice and I charmed her into our first date that led to many more.

Inexplicably (for her) Megan’s appetite turned into one that would rival a football linebacker’s, despite the strict diet her producers had her on. She wrote it off to being comfortable with me, which she was. Understandably she gained some weight while we dated. Not so understandably (again, for her) she just happened to gain all that weight below the waist. It worked out well since the producers became less concerned about her dieting, because on camera behind her desk she looked the same as she always had, but her ass blew up to the point it was almost unsafe to take her in my Mercedes with her saddle bags capable of knocking the shifter out of gear. It was always fun to visit her at the studio, especially if she had to hustle from the make-up chair out to the set. Anything more then a slow waddle cause so much jiggling her pencil skirt would ride up her plump thighs. The size 0 weather girl would giggle and the sports guy would ogle her large posterior shamelessly. I think he ended up asking her out and then proposing to her just a few months after we broke up.

Then there was Cammy, A big Amazon of a woman who was taller then me at 6’ and over 225 pounds. She was a fun, confident woman. She did not mind being taller and heavier, but did sometimes confided to me she wished she could store some of the calories from the cheeseburgers she scarfed down in her chest instead of it all going to her belly, which was a soft, very impressive one at that. Lucky for her she dated me. Within a few months the lovely Cammy had outgrown her 44B bras and was soon stuffing her rack into DD’s. With her height and weight they seemed a good proportion although if we had dated longer I’m sure I would have seen what F’s would have looked like hanging above that big gut.

But alas my story is not simply detailing my success and happiness with what I created. There is more then a little drama to be had as well.
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-29-2010, 08:57 PM   #2
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

I was in my office after a particularly long day when it all started. Sitting back putting off finishing up some paperwork in favor of watching my administrative assistant Beth get up to get ready to leave. Beth was a great employee, loyal and hardworking. She had been with me from the beginning, five years at that point. And…well…yup, you guessed it, I also used the remote on her.

Beth had started out a chubby little beauty school dropout looking to get a job in order to pay off her student loans. I did not need the interview to determine she had spent most her community college life partying; her noticeable beer-belly and 1.2 grade point told me that. She was, however, friendly and seemed sincere when I talked to her though so I was willing to give her a shot.

The interview, however, was only one step in the working at my clinic. Beth also had to pass the initiation. But before you scoff keep in mind that knowing I was going to be tweaking some of the remotes abilities on the college dropout I compensated by making her wage a ridiculously high amount. Even more ridiculous when you consider all she did was tell clients to wait, in between talking on the phone with her friends. All while sitting in her comfortable desk chair, snacking all day.

Beth was soon spending her huge paychecks on new clothes, because the initiation to working with me all day was to have her hormones thinking she was pregnant and reacting as such. It was something I had always wanted to try, not really because there would be a practical application, more so just to see if it were possible.

I surprised myself with how well it worked. Beth gained weight in her belly very fast, although at first it did not seem to concern her since as I mentioned, that seemed to be where she accumulated weight naturally. She would make offhand comments about getting to the gym as she gradually swelled up.

Within six months Beth was waddling around the office with a belly that looked like twins were well overdue and a rack that begged for release from the milk that it was holding back. By then she was moderately concerned. Not enough to consider quitting, mind you. Countless pregnancy tests told her there was no baby and it was just fat billowing out in front of her, even though every potential client that walked up to her desk congratulated her and told her she was glowing.

Upon her request I took her back into the examining room numerous times to poke and prod the wobbling beach ball of flesh jutting out in front of her only to give her my best confused look and tell her maybe it was in her mind from working at a fertility clinic all day. She bought into the physiological thing and went to see a therapist who pocketed her money, as I expected, while feeding her the same line and giving her a few mental exercises to do. By this time she resembled something of a human zeppelin. If I had ever made her type anything she would have had to sit sideways from the keyboard to have any hope of reaching the keys.

To let her think her money was spent on a worthwhile cause rather then just lining the therapist’s pockets I reprogrammed my remote, and just as suddenly as it blossomed Beth’s 70 inch belly shrank back down. Although never back down to the size where it would fit into the snug little size 12 jeans she wore on her first day.

I am digressing quite a bit from that fateful night, but to finish up my story on Beth I continued using her as a target for my remote if only because she was always right there when things got slow in the office. After five years she was no longer a beer-bellied college dropout, but as voluptuous an hourglass as one could ever think to imagine. Overweight for sure with a soft 36 inch waist that scrunched into rolls when she sat down. But the 44F cup rack and 54 inch set of hips made her a head turner without question.

I watched through the door to my office as her big round ass bounced over to the coat rack beneath a pair of slacks pulled so tight the panty line was clearly visible. She looked to be in a bit of a hurry. No doubt to stop by the drive-thru on the way home and pick up a bag of French fries and an extra large chocolate shake she suddenly had a craving for. Then after she sucked in her chest as best she could to button her coat over her melons she gave me a wave with a chubby, manicured hand and left me to my boring paperwork that I was determined to put off in favor of getting up and heading over to the wet bar.

I tucked my remote into my shirt pocket and got a bottle of red wine out of the cooler; A lonely night of drinking while going through the files of dozens of women who populated the waiting list for an appointment to see me lie ahead. Or so I thought.

I never saw it coming or heard anyone approaching. I simply turned around and felt a wickedly intense pain in my groin. Everything went blurry and it felt like either my testicles had been kicked up into my windpipe or I was about to vomit. Turned out to be both.

I became vaguely aware I was being dragged somewhere, but even if I was not paralyzed with the shooting pain below my waist there was little I could do about it.

I was actually face down in the back seat of a car when I slowly began to become aware of my surroundings again. Speech and movement were still not available to me, but I could taste the combination of leather and vomit as I bounced around the backseat.

An abrupt stop sent me flying into the backs of the front seats and then down to where upright passengers would put their feet. No matter, a strong hand grabbed me by the neck and yanked me upright. My eyes adjusted to the low light just before I was shoved into an office building. I could tell we were downtown, although the exact location escaped me.

I was shoved down a hall, and then shoved into an elevator where I was shoved a few times for no apparent reason. Not that I was about to object or defend myself. A couple of guys who looked like bodybuilders stuffed into some business casual wear made it clear without doing more then grunting that doing anything other then what they wanted would be ill advised.

When the elevator doors open I was looking out into unfinished construction. Plywood floors, a few metal studs set up and piles and piles of drywall were scattered about a very large open space. In the middle of it all was a folding table with five men dressed in outfits varying from three a piece suit to a ragged football jersey. They all stared at me as I staggered out to the middle of the floor, thanks to shoves from my chaperones. A handful of additional over-pumped thugs were scattered about the space, looking much less interested in me then the five at the table.

It was about then I realized I knew one of the men seated at the table. Slouching down one over from the middle was the elderly, eccentric Coulton Varrow who I had had convinced to dump hundreds of thousands of his own dollars into getting my fertility clinic off the ground back when it was unproven to all but myself.

Once Coulton saw I recognized him he avoided eye contact and looked toward the man seated next to him in the middle of the table. This one was a slender middle aged man who looked like he may just have gotten done playing 18 holes somewhere in his Polo shirt and Ralph Loren visor. He was the first one to speak.

“Doctor Phillip Tenor, thank you for joining us here tonight,” he paused to gesture toward Coulton. “I believe you know Mr. Varrow. The rest of us…well the rest of us you can just refer to as the people who won’t have you killed as long as you cooperate with all our demands.”

The way he said the threat was so calm, so matter of fact it took me a minute to realize he had just threatened my life. As petrified as I was I was thinking clear enough to decide this was a situation that it was best to remain silent until asked a direct question.

The apparent leader of my captors stood up. “No sense of humor I see. Well, I’ll get right to it then, doctor. We have a very troublesome problem, or problems I should say, and Mr. Varrow here has led us to believe you can help us with these problems.”

As the man paced back and forth behind Coulton and the others at the table I stood silent.

“Now I bet you’re wondering who we are. Except for Mr. Varrow whom you know is a very successful investor and businessman. The rest of us are very similar to Mr. Varrow in that we are very successful in what we do. The one difference between us and other businessmen that you may know, doctor, is that we are not bound by what some would call morals, but what we term unnecessary roadblocks on the path to success. Case in point: there was a need for us to meet with you and instead of wasting precious time calling and explaining just enough to get you to come meet with us just so I could re-explain everything in greater detail and allow you to have free will to make the decision about weather or not to help, thus wasting our time, I just had my men go get you and bring you to me and let you know failure to comply with my request will be a very unwise choice to make. Then we all save the aforementioned precious time and you know right up front what is expected.”

I stood motionless, hoping against hope that somehow just standing as still as a statue would bring an end to my terrifying situation sooner.

The other men at the table sat almost as motionless as me. The looked me up and down with expressions that seemed somehow skeptical.

“But back to whom we are. We are the men that operate behind the scenes to make this city what it is. Without us it would be a bunch of lying politicians with no broader focus then cheating on their wives and greedy businessmen looking over their shoulder to see who knows what unethical paths they took to get where they are.”

I’m standing in front of the honest to God mafia, I thought to myself.

As if he could read my thoughts the man in the Polo shirt continued. “We are not what we used to be, although I will caution you that whatever horribly stereotypical acts you can imagine in your naïve little head, I’ve done far worse within the last year…and might again tonight if things don’t go well for you.”

I looked at him and understood what he said, but I think I was at my limit for being petrified, so the threat said with a cocked eyebrow and a devious grin only caused me to gape wide eyed, like a deer in headlights.

Polo shirt gave a passing glance to his fellow white collar criminals, holding on Coulter for a few seconds longer then the rest. “You know for a fact this guy can do what you claim he can do? Because if not then it is in fact you who is wasting my time.”

The question to Coulter shocked me more then the death threat. What could Coulter have possibly ratted me out for? Of anyone on the planet he may have been the closest to knowing just how much I was capable of as far as natural hormonal alterations. He had been the one I had to “explain” things to with less “fudging” then I usually did in order for him to pony up the dough to get me started. But he was old and senile and free with his money. Or at least I thought he had been before I knew he was a part of some mafia syndicate. Even if he had put all the pieces together why would he care if I could enhance a woman’s bust-line or pile thigh cheese onto the backs of their legs and add rolls to their waists? What would a group of people who solved problems by dumping their competition in the woods under the cover of night care about what I did?

I soon found out.

“You don’t need me to tell you again, Mack. I already went over with you what I’ve seen. You got the pictures,” Coulter said in his weasely voice.

Polo shirt, or Mack, picked up a pile of 8x10’s off the table and strolled over to me while flipping through them. “Megan Strangleine of channel 8 news, you must be quite the stud to date a local celebrity like that,” he held up a shot of her before we started dating. It was a promotional shot of her long lean body in a powder blue pencil skirt with high heels making her legs look a mile long. “Looks here like she ate pretty well when you guys went out.” He dropped that photo and held up a shot of her and I all dressed up walking toward a building. Probably one of the many benefit dinners she dragged me to. Her ass was three times the size it had been in the previous photo with sturdy looking calves ending in ballet flats. Still a very eye catching woman just a very sharp contrast from the first photo.

“We ate out a lot,” I stuttered.

Mack grinned. “Oh you might have a sense of humor after all, doctor. How bout this one?” he held up a shot of a chubby brunette in a sun dress who I knew as Mary, a hairdresser I dated for about six months. I also recognized the photo that followed was her just before we broke up with a pale white belly that hung down to her knees while she was gobbling fried chicken at a local fast food joint. “Another woman who became a healthy eater after meeting you.”

Mack went though six more pictures, flinging each one at my feet as he asked louder and louder, “How about this one.” Each photo set was a before and after of a women I had either dated or treated at my clinic. Each before showed them either slender or moderately chubby and each after showed women who could be described as nothing less then overweight. Most were eating in the after shot.

When he tossed his last photo he turned and walked back to his chair. In a much lower voice he said. “I am not going to ask as I am sure you won’t come out and tell me and even if you would I would not believe it anyway.” He paused for what seemed like minutes then he looked me dead in the eye. “I need to see it.”

One of the men at the table, a younger one at the end in jeans and a sports jersey stood. “That’s it Mack. I’ve had all of this I can stomach. It’s bullshit and you know it. Old man Coulter would tell you he knew the Easter Bunny if he thought it would make you happy.” Coulter glared over at the young man while the others sitting at the table smirked and chuckled. “If it comes to the point that we get desperate enough to solicit help from the medical community then, well maybe I’m in the wrong business.”

“Lony please, don’t interrupt,” Mack said in a calm voice. “Unless of course it is with a better idea. Maybe one you’ve been hanging onto for the last month as Rouli and her minions have been moving in on our operations?”

Lony paused for just a minute and then sat back down. “Mack, buddy you know it’s not that I don’t respect you, but,” Lony gave a dismissive wave to me. “Plus I got Suni out in the car waiting. I’m wasting precious time I could be devoting to much more…enjoyable ways to spend an evening.”

Mack seemed to be contemplating something. He looked back and forth at me and then Lony. “How about we make it interesting? Lony, you call Suni up here.”

“Why?”

“Just do it,” then Mack turned to me. “Can you do what Coulter tells me you can do right here right now?”

It still seemed best to play dumb. “I don’t even know-“ of course I was wrong because before I could even finish the sentence Mack whipped out a pistol and pointed it at my head.

“Okay now you are just wasting my time. I’m going to lay this out so there is no question to what I want, so you can’t blame me if I have to blow your head off. Can you do what you did to those girls-” he waved the gun in the direction of the photos scattered at my feet, “to Lony’s chick right now?” He did not wait for an answer. “Because if you can’t I am going to blow your head all over the back of that wall behind you.”

Behind me I heard the two men who brought me to the meeting slide a few feet in either direction. I gulped hard and nodded yes. I did so more or less because there really was no other answer. Luckily when I looked down in my shirt pocket my remote was there so I had hope I could actually perform the task Mack wanted to see. Although I had no clue why.

Mack seemed to calm down a bit. “Good, if you can we’ll be in business. If you don’t I’ll let Lony here blow you away for taking away time he could be banging his girlfriend.”

Mack’s words were left hanging in the air for a good five minutes to echo in my head over and over before a short little Asian woman came skipping out of the elevator. She was dressed like she was going out trick-or-treating as a stripper. Her hair dyed blonde and purple. She wore what looked like a gold sports bra clinging to breasts that had to have cost a few grand and a strip of maroon fabric that was meant to act as a mini-skirt.

“Let’s go, L-train. If we don’t leave now we’ll be waiting in line forever at the club,” she whined in a voice that sounded either very tired or very drunk. I was guessing the later.

“You don’t wait in line with Lony,” Lony bellowed. “Lony gets in to any club he wants whenever he wants.”

While his cohort was confessing his ability to circumvent lines Mack was glaring at me and pointing to the face of his diamond encrusted watch. With what I fully believed to be a loaded weapon sitting on the table pointing at me the prompting was not needed. I already had the remote in my hand and was furiously tapping buttons to program Suni’s future figure into its tiny microchip. Luckily when I had it ready to go Lony and Suni were locked in what looked like a fierce tongue wrestling match, allowing me a great shot at the back of Suni’s neck.

Mack and all his colleagues save for Lony were watching intently as I pointed a small piece of plastic and metal at the petite Asian. Even the thugs were paying closer attention. But before they could bat an eye I was done with my part. The sound waves had taken over Suni’s hormones and were working hard. I could tell because of the small red patch just visible between locks of multicolored hair.

I had a small reason to worry. The whole rapid weight gain part of my hormone overrides was not a tactic I had perfected. Sure there was appeal there for me, definitely. But there was no imminent need that I had known of anyway. So there were some gray areas for me in that regard. Yes I had added five or so pounds to Beth’s thighs here or there and shed a few lbs from dear old sis for fun. But did I for sure know that I could add enough weight to Suni for a room full of angry mobsters to notice before they got impatient? Maybe.

I had thought of that when I had rapidly entered in the code for what I wanted to effect on Suni. Given her midriff bearing shirt I wanted as much muffin-top as I could get. Huge globs of cellulite on her short legs would show up nicely given her three inch long skirt. And just because I was scared of looking down the barrel of the pistol again I added a desperate line of code for Suni’s hormones to send enough fat cells to her face to make her look like a 500 pound woman from the neck up.

In case anyone cares for an explanation, fat cells were not simply being pulled from thin air. The body was actually producing them from the target’s body heat. Hence the red blotch when it was working. This took time. For the thirty pounds I programmed into the sound waves for Suni it would be a little more then three minutes. Not a long time, but when your life is on the line it seems like forever until the tummy starts to pooch out.

Finally it did just that. Suni’s tiny little waist developed love handles above her miniscule skirt. She backed away from Lony and looked down at her softening middle. In the time it took her to take two steps back her flat tummy bulged just a tad and then started to creep over the top of her waistband. The skirt never split, just squeezed Suni’s thickening waist into a downright delicious muffin-top.

Every set of eyes in the place, including Lony and Suni’s were the size of flying saucers.

Meanwhile Suni’s stick legs were growing closer together. Little divots formed in the back of her thighs on the expanding flesh.

Suni was looking down at all this as it happened with a look of utter disbelief. If only she could see the most dramatic change; her face. Her well defined jaw line was disappearing under a flurry of double chins. Her cheeks went from sunken to full to puffy to jowls in seconds. Her big brown eyes seemed to shrink but were really just being surrounded by fat.

Understandably it was all too much for the pretty young lady to take. She gave a high pitched little squeal and dashed for the elevator. She made a few desperate tugs at the skirt that was probably now very uncomfortable and then vanished behind the elevator doors.

I was paying more attention to the group of men who had threatened to kill me then Suni. At least after my remote had done its job. Everyone from Mack to Lony was staring at me as if I were a God as opposed to the piece of trash they took me for a few minutes prior..

“Gentleman I think we have our new consultant,” Mack announced.

There was a murmur of agreement and then Mack snapped himself out of his shock and bolted over to my side. “Okay so you can do the impossible, doctor. Here is what happens next: you see my colleagues and I have made a pretty good foundation for our business and lifestyle in this town and recently there has been another group with similar interests trying to work their way into successes that we have already done all the hard work for.” Mack had his arm around me now as if I were an old friend. “This is nothing new. People have bee trying to do that for years. We’ve handled it. This group that has come in recently, though, is something of a gimmicky organization, if you will. They are an all female organization. Now, doctor you don’t have to be in my business to understand women operate a little differently then you and me.”

I nodded because it seemed like the right thing to do.

“They operate less on pure rage and emotion and more on rationale thought. Plus these ladies are well organized and very intelligent. It makes them harder to dispose of through the traditional means. Especially when I got guys working for me like Lony over there.”

“I still don’t understand how I fit in,” I said meekly.

“Well like I said you can’t handle women the same as you handle men. Men you can intimidate and play mind games with. But ask anyone who has been married who wins if you try to play mind games with a woman. You however hold the key to a woman’s main weakness: their self confidence.”

“Okay,” I said still not completely sure how he thought I was going to help him fight off a hostile mob takeover.

“You just go home and pretend nothing happened. When I need you, you will find a folder with all the information you will need to know. Even the money will be in there. And believe me I don’t skimp.” That devious grin came back. “But fail me or double cross me and I’ll send your two new friends out to retrieve more then just that money. Get it?”

“Yes sir,” I lied. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. But it was too late to ask for more clarification. My new friends had me back in the parking lot of my clinic fast enough that the whole thing almost seemed like a dream as I watched the sun start to rise over the parking lot where only my lonely Mercedes sat.

I didn’t even bother going home. I opened the clinic and prepared to do the paperwork I had never got to the night before. Only instead of a pile of files with women hopeful they would one day have a baby, there was but one file sitting on my desk. It had the photo of a woman I had never seen before, some notes scribbled on the back and an envelope filled with fifty hundred dollar bills. Yes I had work to do that day, but none of it would be at the clinic.
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-29-2010, 09:06 PM   #3
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

The info inside the file gave a name of Jean Yelto. It said she was the short tempered, violent “head of security” for this all female crime syndicate that rivaled Mack’s. The accompanying photo showed a tall, broad young woman who while very attractive in the face, possessed the body of an overgrown gymnast.

Jean’s info listed her as 6’2” and 225 pounds. Looking at the photo it would appear about 1 tenth of a percent of that might be body fat. She was so ripped her striations had striations. She had wide shoulders with thickly muscled arms that jutted out away from her body due to her overdeveloped lats. Her torso tapered down to a narrow waist. There was a small taper back out to her vaguely feminine hips, but not much.

The info sheet went on to describe Jean as a woman that was in charge of mostly keeping the higher ups in the female crime syndicate (dubbed the Rouli syndicate after the last name of the supposed leader) safe. Jean did dabble in racketeering which was the reason she was first on Mack’s to do list. In the last few weeks Jean had been moving in on what Mack termed his territory and needed to be stopped. He felt turning her from a constantly working-out granite chiseled thug into an overeating tub of guts would lessen her ability to intimidate those that Mack wanted to intimidate himself and significantly hurt her ability to guard the upper echelon of female white color criminals. The generous Mack gave me a whopping 24 hours to make that happen.

I was staring blankly at the woman who could easily rip me in half when I heard the front door to the office open. With my office door partially closed I could not see who was there, but since I had locked the front door behind me when I came in and it was at least an hour before the first nurse was to arrive and two hours before I was expecting Beth to come in I feared the worst. My crotch throbbed painfully as if reminding me what happened the last time I had unexpected visitors.

Before my heart could beat right out of my chest I saw the familiar overstuffed frame I recognized as Beth come into view as she headed to the coat rack. I watched her shed her coat and then teeter over to her desk in her heels with a latte in one hand and a bag that was either a meal for three or an early morning snack for Beth and it dawned on me I might have been overdoing it with the cravings I was giving my assistant. Not just because of the big greasy bag full of what I guessed were sausage and egg biscuits but Beth’s clothes were telling the tale as well. Her blouse was gaping at every button. Not just over her chest wear she had trouble finding shirts to fit over her mams, but blotches of pink belly were visible as well.

Beth’s pleats in her slacks were pulled to almost non existent and a glimmer of silver was visible were her forefront was bulging out and stretching the front of her pants.

Little more then a month ago I had sent a batch of sound waves telling Beth’s hormones to release a desperate craving for salt and grease early in the morning and fat and carbs later in the evening. I had let it ride until that day and as I discreetly pointed the remote at her to get a quick reading I saw that I had added twelve pounds to the nicely proportioned office assistant.

Beth was startled to see me when she set her stuff down and peaked into my office. “Awfully early for you to be in already, boss.”

“Tell me about it,” I sighed. “I got almost nothing done last night so I came in to catch up a bit. Unfortunately it looks like today will not be a good day to catch up. What’s your excuse? I didn’t expect to see you for a few hours yet.”

Beth looked a little embarrassed. “It’s a long story. It started out with me really wanting bacon, egg and cheese biscuits with hash browns so I left early thinking I would be able to get a few errands done while I indulge myself, but I was so focused on the breakfast I hurried out the door without the dry cleaning I wanted to drop off or the packages I wanted to mail.” Beth’s shirt was so tight each breath as she spoke threatened to pop a button. Or so it seemed as I tried to sneak glances out of my peripheral vision while keeping eye contact.

“Must have really wanted those biscuits,” I tried to sound natural.

Beth blushed. “Yeah well, I blame it on me being single. Every time I’m without dick for a long period of time I tend to fill that void with food that adds more blubber to my belly,” she said patting the slight bulge below the massive bulge of her bosom. Beth had a way of being open about her sex life, or lack thereof. It seemed almost like karma to an extent because she would drive me absolutely nuts with talk of getting rug burn on her nipples from a night of doggie style on a shag carpet or how one boyfriend could only climax when he straddled her stomach and sandwiched his rod between her flesh-pillows.

It was always hard to focus on our professional relationship during these candid stories, especially if I was standing, but it seemed especially difficult that morning. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but hearing Beth talk of how horny she was while jiggling in front of me in clothes so tight I could see what color bra she had on had me panting like a dog.

I averted my eyes down to the scowling photo of Jean and snapped myself out of it. “Hey listen, Beth. I have to take care of a few things today and I’m not sure I’ll be back. I’ll need you to for sure reschedule the nine and ten-thirty appointments.” I then gathered up the file and scurried for the door. I used the file to subtly try and hide my still sore crotch that had tented upward uncomfortably.

“Sure thing boss.” There was a silence as I hurriedly got on my coat before I heard her say, “Hey did you have someone over last night?”

I walked back over to my office door to see what she was talking about.

“Someone got a little excited and spilled a whole glass of wine and did not even bother to pick up the glass.”

When I got to the doorway Beth was bent over at the waist picking up the glass that had flown from my hand when I had been assaulted the night before. With her large backside to me her pants pulled so tight she might as well have been wearing nothing at all. Her blouse came un-tucked in the back revealing to me a thong that matched the color of her bra (a very appealing mint green) while little gobs of flesh squeezed over the top of her waistband.

I almost could not answer her back, but managed a horse. “Oh yeah I knocked that off the bar last night. That’s how I knew it was time to go home; too tired to keep track of my drink.”

She looked back at me, her chubby face gaining a couple more chins as she twisted to look past her wide right hip. Thankfully my overcoat hid my full on salute to her ass.

“Sure, you accidentally spilled it. I see,” she said mockingly, inferring that I really had someone over for a late night fling. “That’s okay if you are too shy to share.”

As much as I would have loved to stay and get on the floor and help Beth scrub the red wine out of the carpet I had an important job to do. Jean was not going to fatten herself in the next 24 hours.
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-29-2010, 09:12 PM   #4
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

Jean Yelto lived in a trendy condo development right in the middle of downtown. She got up right at 7am every morning and went right down to the condo’s very upscale fitness center, where she worked out until 10am.

I got all this information from the little cheat sheet in her file, and it all proved true. It was easy to check because from the second floor of the museum across the street from the complex I could look down through the glass front of the fitness center and see pretty much the whole area with the help of the zoom on my cell phone camera.

None of this helped me accomplish my mission in the least. The fitness center was private for condo owners only. I could get as close as the lobby but that was well out of range of the 50 yard limit on my remote. And that does not account for the fact that the sound waves don’t travel well through glass. So I decided to take my chances and wait until ten and then catch her in the lobby as she passed from the fitness center to the bank of elevators up to her condo. That assumed there was no alternate way up to her condo from the fitness center locker room. I tried to push all my pessimism to the back of my mind because I knew if I missed this opportunity I might very well be out of luck. After her morning workout Jean’s schedule got less predictable, as one would expect for a woman who makes her living threatening other people for money or protecting high ranking career criminals.

So if this window of opportunity closed on me I would be forced to wait on the uncomfortable bench in the museum hoping that when Jean left, if she left, I it would be through the front entrance.

I passed the time and tried to keep from becoming a nervous wreck by admiring Jean’s tenacity in the gym. She threw weights around like cotton balls on toothpicks. She kept a sprinters pace on the treadmill until I got winded just watching her.

Jean also displayed some tenacity outside the gym. Every once in a while she stalked through the lobby and accosted the poor doorman. She seemed to be waiting for something she wanted to make sure he alerted her to when it came. At one point she even grabbed him by his throat and pulled him right up to her face to get her message across and then flung him back into his chair like he was an empty pillowcase.

After a couple times of seeing this I thought maybe it would be better to head right to the lobby and try to catch her on one of her tirades. But on second thought it seemed too risky to take the chance she would not come out before ten and I would be suspiciously hanging around the lobby with a doorman, who was obviously hip to whatever Jean was into, watching my every move.

So I waited and waited. This woman worked out forever. Watching her strain herself endlessly on bench after inclined bench I began to think it ironic that in a matter of minutes (if things went as I had roughly planned, a fairly large if, I know) all Jean’s lifting and squatting will be for not and her wide shoulders will be replaced with wide hips and chiseled pecs will be heavy hanging knockers.

Now before you think me some extreme person who finds anything less then round and portly unsavory to look at, let it be known that I found Jean’s uber-ripped bod attractive. It was not my cup of tea and probably a little masculine for even more mainstream tastes. But Jean did have a very attractive, feminine face. Just as harshly angular as her carved-in-stone body, but it did balance out her wide receiver-like physique nicely.

Certainly Jean and I would never date or probably even cross paths had my odd moonlighting gig not come up, but if we had bumped on the street while going different directions I would certainly not have fumbled for my remote and thought to myself, “man this chick needs to be two hundred pounds heavier ASAP.” I never thought like that. I was never on a mission to turn everyone I saw into my ideal of beauty. Granted I have taken liberties with my power and left a trail of moms-to-be that were as overweight as they were overjoyed. Not to mention a handful of ex-girlfriends who keep a pair of size 20 jeans in their closet for what they consider skinny days. And oh sure, a few random acquaintances including my loyal assistant have been unknowingly transformed by my ahead-of-their-time sound waves. But until that day with Jean everything I had done prior looked downright harmless and innocent.

Jean never was able to finish her workout and my plan to hold out until ten and hope to catch her in the lobby never panned out. I got much luckier. Her flunkee of a doorman came running into the fitness center and told her something with a noticeable sense of urgency. He led her out to the lobby where a young lady was waiting. Jean thanked the doorman by shoving him back behind his desk and then followed the scowling blonde outside. They went along the side of the building and disappeared into the parking garage.

There was no gate or any type of security so I felt this was my opening. Although if they just hopped into a car and drove away before I made it down there it would be my failure. So I bolted out to the parking garage and went in the direction my target had taken. It was down to the lower level. Dark and cold and gloomy, which worked well because I was able to sneak in behind a red Mazda when I saw Jean standing over a fallen male figure. The blonde was there along with a handful of other women whom I guessed were some more low level thugs.

The scene was almost right from the movies. Jean flaunted her dominance over the cowering man. My assumption was he was one of Mack’s low level traffickers or dealers in something black market, because a few large duffel bags sat on the trunk of a Cadillac in one of the stalls. Jean left the guy she referred to as Bender to look over the contents of the bags that I could not see. She nodded to one of her ladies who zipped up the bags, tossed them into the trunk and then took off.

I was so into the drama playing out before me I almost forgot to point my remote. I only needed thirty seconds and got more then that as Jean stayed in relatively one place while kicking Bender. In fact Jean had to cut the beating short as the treatment kicked in and she began to get ravenously hungry for fried foods, maybe for the first time in her life.

Jean barked some orders to her flunkies and as she jogged back out of the garage Bender was put into a trunk with less care then the duffel bags.

As Jean moved past the Mazda I noticed the telltale red blotch of furiously conspiring hormones and relaxed just a tad. I made no hurry to give away my location until the garage settled back into complete silence as I had a pretty good idea where Jean was off to in such a hurry.
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-29-2010, 09:20 PM   #5
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

I asked for a table and a cup of coffee at the buffet down the block from the museum and got a confused look. The weary waitress was likely surprised to see someone not come in to belly up to the thirty foot island of high calorie, low quality brunch offerings.

Jean was already up at the buffet piling a plate so full high it resembled a multicolored, greasy volcano erupting syrup. There was a very confused look in Jean’s eyes as she was preparing to satiate an irresistible urge to binge eat she had never felt before. Drool dribbled down the corners of her mouth as she anticipated shoveling in food that I am sure before would have nauseated her. Or maybe not. Maybe she has always deep down desired the stuff and just had an unfailing willpower, who knows.

The big change in Jean was already starting to show. The unrelenting hunger for junk food was just programmed in to get her to stay in one place as I observed everything else I had told her body to accomplish. It was starting. Halfway down the buffet Jean’s body was pumping estrogen into her testosterone dominated system and she had lost the unreal muscle definition she had just a few moments prior. She was still a fit woman; she just looked a little bloated. No more veins pulsing in her biceps or deep creases outlining a six-pack set of abs. Still very out of place in a cheap buffet in her sports-bra and track pants.

After piling a plate high with deep fried goodness, drowning it in syrup and plopping down at a nearby booth Jean tore into her food like a ravenous wolf tearing into a fresh kill. It took her less then five minutes to plow through her first plate, record time, but that paled in comparison to how fast her fit body was turning softer and fuller. By the time she was mopping up syrup with a hunk of muffin Jean was plump. Her well defined, masculine pecs were replaced with small, but very feminine breasts. Her thick arms had softened to the point that one could not see the definition separating her once beefy biceps from her once chiseled triceps.

When Jean got up to go for plate number two she had a distinctive roll of belly fat creeping over the elastic of her track pants. Her face was no longer stern and angular, but puffy and cute.

As she walked by me I noticed the little belly just barely doming out under her sports-bra. I also noticed that Jean was so driven by her sudden hunger she did not even seem to notice. She was intent on getting more to eat as she stalked to the buffet and grabbed a fresh plate.

As well as things seemed to be going I did not get overconfident. There was still a ways to go. As Jean turned her back toward me to concentrated on all the buffet had to offer I could clearly see the red blotch on the back of her neck that signaled hormones working under my control was twice the size I was used to seeing. Making things happen so quickly was clearly putting her hormones to the test. If they quit on me before Jean made it to phase two of my programming I wondered if a slightly pudgy Jean would be enough to keep Mack’s goons from showing up at my door.

Just like Jean, however, her hormones seemed to be hard workers. By the time she had filled up plate number two and walked by my table it looked as though another ten pounds of fat had accumulated around her middle.

Thankfully no one in the place noticed Jean’s transformation. I had kind of counted on that. People in buffets tend to be pretty focused in on their food. As I looked around at some of the feeding folks it looked as though a train could thunder by their table and they would not notice.

Jean did start to become somewhat aware of what was happening to her. I think it was when she sat down and her rapidly ballooning paunch pushed out into her lap. It was a feeling someone like her was not accustomed to. She glanced down and poked at her pudge as if unsure of what it was.

She was definitely chubby by then. Muscles atrophied and shrunk down while thick layers of blubber took their place. No one could imagine just fifteen minutes prior she had been benching 200 pounds at a gym down the street, especially when she quickly gave up examining her developing rolls in favor of starting on her second giant plate of fried breakfast food.

During that second plate Jean graduated from chubby to fat. Her belly took on the majority of extra flesh and pushed into the edge of the table. Her puffy face gained a second chin, and her arms jiggled as she shoved food toward her grill.

It had taken less then half an hour to turn the ripped 200 pounder into a rotund 300 pounder. A rotund 300 pounder that was anxious to get back up to the buffet for plate number three.

Poor Jean was clearly confused by that point. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she instinctively moved toward the food. A fat, stretched belly struck out in front of her that she seemed quite scared of as she looked down at it. She went with the situation that her mind must have been telling her was a dream she would eventually wake up from.

Jean bumped her belly that she was not used to wielding into the front of the buffet as she grabbed another fresh plate.

I noticed her backside as she filled up. It had gotten big enough to stretch her track pants and show a panty line, but was still rather flat. Her legs had lost their muscle and looked almost spindly in comparison to her growing gut.

I was thankful Jean had finished piling plate number three and squeezed back into her booth when the next phase started. It was best she was sitting down for that part of things.

Just for good measure I had programmed the remote to take Jean from about 350 to 400 all in her formerly firm chest. At 350 she certainly was not flat any more, but her little softball-sized breasts barely stretched her sports bra and were dwarfed by the mound of belly fat that sprung up beneath. If Mack wanted all the threatening thug taken out of Jean I figured there was nothing like a pair of cannonball sized tits to keep her from throwing men into trunks. And to be honest Jean’s wide shoulders could probably support the massive rack her hormones were about to create for her.

Before Jean became much more well endowed there was a scare that my perfectly running plan might quickly derail. By the time Jean sat down with her third plate she was definitely becoming more aware of what was happening. Her hunger induced stupor was fading as the twenty-some thousand calories she had dumped into her gullet started to satiate the hunger I had sparked and the giant blob that covered what used to be her six-pack abs was becoming more concerning to her.

Jean’s greasy, syrup-y hands moved down to where her belly was taking up space in her lap and squished her new flab around again, as if to make sure it was real. She had kind of a deer in headlights look that I was finding mildly arousing. That was before she looked up right at me.

Jean’s eyes darted up quickly and I suddenly realized I was the lone man dressed in a suit sipping coffee by myself amongst a restaurant full of undershirt and sweat clad couples and families gorging on plates of comfort food.

While newly fat Jean was probably no longer a threatening presence in the underworld she could still take little old me apart should she suspect the out of place professionally dressed man was behind her predicament.

It seemed like forever that round-faced Jean stared at me. In actuality it was a mere second or two. Her stare quickly moved to the rest of the restaurant’s diners. In her confusion she must have been so overwhelmed that could not process all that was going on. And to be honest she did have a lot of time to try and figure out what was happening, much less contemplate what the slender man in the suit was doing watching her gorge herself to obesity, because right about then her sports bra suddenly became uncomfortably tight.

Jean’s softballs swelled into cantaloupes before the bra material stretched as tight as it would go and her mams squished into shapeless blobs. Pale pink flesh bulged out the neckline like rising bread dough as Jean suddenly became the proud owner of a very impressive line of cleavage. Then when Jean’s chest continued to blossom like she was experiencing a whopping dose of instant puberty, globs of breast tissue oozed out the sides of her sports bra by her armpit.

It was about then I checked my remote. Jean was clearly beyond the GG cups I had thought I programmed for her. Before I could try and jog my memory to see if I accidentally hit the nearby J or quite possibly V of the tiny keyboard there was a loud crash.

Jean had jumped up from her seat. It was clear she was quite uncomfortable as the back of her sports bra had all but disappeared into the folds of her back fat as her chest had swelled to jaw dropping proportions. Her giant belly caught on the edge of the table and tipped it over as she hopped to her feet.

Most all the diners turned from their food to look at what could very well have been a morbidly obese Dolly Parton stretching the seams of her track pants and all but popping out of her sports bra.

All Jean could manage was a tiny squeal. Big, mean Jean who had very recently thrown grown men around like rag dolls squealed like a little girl and headed as quick as she could for the door. It was at best a slow lumber as with my slight miscalculation Jean was now much closer to 450 then she was 400.

And although I should have felt a great sense of satisfaction or at least relief in accomplishing what I had thought might have been an impossibility, it was at best a hollow satisfaction. I thought about at my situation; at worst I was hours away from having a nasty and brutal visit from Mack’s thugs when he decided the result was not up to his standards of what he expected. At best I had just proven myself a viable option to an immoral career criminal who had been within a breath of shooting me in the head the last time I had seen him.

There was not much to do now but wait and see which one it was.

Oh what the hell, I thought and went up to grab a plate from the buffet.
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-30-2010, 07:59 AM   #6
FooMan
 
Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: western US
Posts: 35
FooMan has said some nice things
Default great start

Interesting verrry interesting (to quote Laff in), cannot wait to see where this goes. My two personal favorite things in the world are BBW's and pregnancy, so you have one confirmed eagerly awaiting fan here!
Foo
FooMan is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-30-2010, 06:06 PM   #7
morepushing13
 
morepushing13's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: Va
Posts: 259
morepushing13 can now change their title
Default

that was amazing...i cant wait to see where this goes!!
__________________
How do you win a war, when you're not sure who the enemy is?


I do what I do...
morepushing13 is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-30-2010, 11:24 PM   #8
ShammyBoy
 
Join Date: Jun 2006
Posts: 62
ShammyBoy has said some nice things
Default

Man, a wg story that not only has a magical remote control that change weight but also plot?

Normally you only get one or the other.
ShammyBoy is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-31-2010, 03:16 AM   #9
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

Thanks everyone. And you know I'll be honest I had given serious thought to the idea of this being it, just leaving a very open ended conclusion to this piece, with the idea that the good doctor may very well be an expendable asset to Mack.

But I think since I have so many ideas for where this one will go, I will carry on. It just may be a little bit before I get another part up.

No worries though. I have a pretty decent batting average when it comes to completing stories.
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-31-2010, 04:51 AM   #10
kandor5
 
Join Date: Jun 2007
Posts: 2
kandor5 has said some nice things
Default

Really, really good. Thanks, and I await more!
kandor5 is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-31-2010, 08:00 AM   #11
Sargas
 
Join Date: Jun 2009
Posts: 7
Sargas has said some nice things
Default

Quote:
Originally Posted by ShammyBoy View Post
Man, a wg story that not only has a magical remote control that change weight but also plot?

Normally you only get one or the other.
Completely true. This story takes an old hackneyed concept and weaves a great story to boot. Definitely a top notch piece of work.
Sargas is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 03-31-2010, 09:24 PM   #12
Leviathan25
 
Join Date: Sep 2007
Posts: 22
Leviathan25 has said some nice things
Default

I love this story. It is very fun to read and very entertaining. I have nothing but praise for your writing and ideas. I can't wait to read more.
Leviathan25 is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-02-2010, 06:06 AM   #13
captaincane99
 
Join Date: Jul 2007
Posts: 47
captaincane99 can now change their title
Default

bravo! well done
captaincane99 is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-03-2010, 10:32 PM   #14
doctorx
Spoon!
 
doctorx's Avatar
 
Join Date: Dec 2005
Location: WV, USA
Posts: 239
doctorx can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokesdoctorx can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

Great story!
doctorx is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-12-2010, 01:49 PM   #15
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

Quote:
Great story!
Quote:
bravo! well done
Quote:
I love this story. It is very fun to read and very entertaining. I have nothing but praise for your writing and ideas. I can't wait to read more.
Quote:
This story takes an old hackneyed concept and weaves a great story to boot. Definitely a top notch piece of work.
Quote:
Really, really good. Thanks, and I await more!
Thanks for the comments, all. I hope to have more up for this story before too much longer.
__________________
"The horrible screams mean it's working!"
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-13-2010, 07:04 AM   #16
Kenster102.5
 
Kenster102.5's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2007
Location: Leaside, Toronto, Ontario
Posts: 210
Kenster102.5 can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokesKenster102.5 can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

Damn that was funny, and great, bravo. I can`t wait to see the rest. This seems like some sort of series you could watch on TV. Excellent story.
Kenster102.5 is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-13-2010, 10:43 AM   #17
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

Quote:
Originally Posted by Kenster102.5 View Post
Damn that was funny, and great, bravo. I can`t wait to see the rest. This seems like some sort of series you could watch on TV. Excellent story.
if there is ever a tv adaption, I'd want Owen Wilson to play the doctor and Bruce Cambell as Mack. Not that I've given it any thought or anything
__________________
"The horrible screams mean it's working!"
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-17-2010, 05:22 PM   #18
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

When you sit around awake at night waiting for muscle-bound thugs to come and “off you” (is that the term? I haven’t seen a mob movie since Donnie Brasco), you tend to have a lot of time to reflect and feel sorry for yourself. Any confidence I had that Mack was going to be thrilled with what I had done to Jean washed completely away almost as soon as I walked out of the diner. And my paranoia increased just as fast. I thought of how, now that I had completed my usefulness to the power hungry mob boss it probably did not matter whether I had been successful or not. The end was coming regardless. It was hard for me to cope with. I mean, I was most likely hundreds of IQ points ahead of Mack, and yet he clearly had the upper hand.

Superior intellect or not I was not above wondering “why me”. I honestly wondered why something like this would happen to me. That I had done nothing to deserve this. That I had done nothing to draw the unwanted attention upon myself. Unfortunately for my denial the examples of why karma might have finally worked its course were all over the place. Sure maybe it was chance that the investor that had funded my operation had mob ties and was a little more observant then I had given him credit for, but with the way I had been abusing my power as of late, one did not need to be that observant to suspect I was capable of the extraordinary.

Three days after Jean went from Brutish thug to hungry butterball, and after three sleepless nights and hours of paranoid ramblings to myself in the center of my condo with all the blinds drawn and lights out, I finally gathered the courage to go into work. Once there I was hit with example after example right in fairly rapid succession.

Example number one was noshing away on a bag of donut holes and washing it down with iced coffee while sitting in her custom desk chair that had the arms removed to make room for her meaty hips to hang off the sides and special lumbar support to try and keep her even meatier mams from pulling her into a constant hunch.

It had been days since I had meant to rid Beth of the relentless craving that made her stomach growl every time someone mentioned food. As a result she was not even trying to put up pretenses that she was in early because she had tried to run a few errands. She just shoveled food in hand over fist. Her clothes certainly reflected her binging. Gaping buttons and stretched-to-the-max fabric that was not really meant to be stretched.

I never really intended to rid her of the cravings. In fact I had briefly tossed around the idea of returning her belly to the domed massiveness it had been during her first year working for me; as a symbol of fertility to potential patients that came in and a useful reference for maternity clothes for actual patients. As nice as it was to have a ridiculously overdeveloped assistant teetering around on heels, patients would more likely identify with a more matronly figure greeting them in loose fitting dresses and comfortable flats.

I had not (yet) adjusted Beth’s hormones, but with the recent happening it dawned on me that ideas like that may be the reason that Mack, or anyone else that took the time to do a little research, could deduct that something was up. Heck, if it had not been the mob asking me to do favors it might have been some angry husband with a shotgun who figured out I was the reason his former slender wife had acres of cellulite on the backs of her thighs. Who knows maybe Michelle Obama herself was gathering a mob of angry liberals to storm my clinic and blame me for the nation’s obesity epidemic.

Before my paranoia could ramp up completely out of control Beth handed me my schedule for the day, complete with a thumbprint smudge in white glaze. She gave a playful smile and a wink and even let her sticky fingers brush my hand. “Glad you’re back. I missed you,” she cooed.

It was perhaps a coincidence but as Beth’s weight had increased recently so had her level of flirtatiousness with me. Perhaps just a side effect of her being single for an extended period, which coincidentally coincided with when I had started to give her the appetite of someone on their way to inevitable obesity. Before I had time to give it much thought example number two of how I was being dangerously reckless with my power waddled out from the hallway that led out to the exam rooms, almost as if on cue.

It was Carol Meyer. She had been my head nurse for a few years now. Older, with a fair amount of experience, Carol was a keystone in my operation. And yes, also someone I had used my remote on.

I had steered clear of turning the remote on my nursing staff for a long time, reasoning that they worked too hard and spent too much time on their feet to be burdened with an artificially produced amount of excess baggage.

By chance most of the nurses that worked for me were fit and trim, maybe because I was subconsciously trying to prove to myself I did not discriminate.

Carol had been the fittest and trimmest. Working-out was like it was a religion to her. She would put in twelve hour days and then grab her gym bag and head to the fitness center. I paid it no mind for the longest time…until I talked to her husband at a Christmas get together a year or so back. Over a bottle of Jack in a quiet corner while the others partied and gossiped the gray haired Ron Meyer confessed he hoped that with the onset of menopause Carol was due for, she would slow down and ease up on the athletic lifestyle. Poor Ron was sick of scheduling his time with his wife around when she was able to get to the gym, and even sicker of being dragged along when he complained too loudly or showed signs of a thickening middle. He admitted he would gladly trade his wife’s firm ass for a more laid back attitude any day of the week.

Of course I sympathized with Ron and a few months later my gift to Carol for her fiftieth birthday was a set of hips that measured around the same circumference in inches as her age was in years, and a pair of thighs so flabby they slapped together quite violently when she tried move faster then a walk while wearing shorts. Well, that and a Coach purse, because she did not really know the other stuff was from me.

Of course the trade off was Carol was much slower and a bit lazier at work, and she required custom uniform pants to fit her shelved-out hips, but at the time I felt like I had done a good thing since Carol and Ron started taking cruises and planning trips together rather then him tagging along dutifully while she ran a marathon.

That was until I was standing in my lobby after a third night of no sleep and realized as Carol’s gooey saddlebags sloshed around under her white slacks that anyone who paid attention to the drastic change in Carol could probably have suspected something other then just a slower metabolism due to menopause was at work.

“Good morning, Doctor Phil,” Carol said and then giggled uncontrollably. Even after all this time working for me her Doctor Phil quip was still as funny to her as it had been the very first day she worked for me. I forced a smile as Carol gathered herself and continued. “Mrs. Hu is in exam room 202 ready for you to do her final follow-up before she’s due in two weeks. I pulled up all her info for you at the nurses’ station, but there really are no major issues. She’ll be fine to deliver at the hospital.”

Ah, Mrs. Hu: example number three.

“I mean, she has gained a substantial amount of weight throughout her pregnancy,” Carol added. “But she shows no signs of being high risk.”

Of course, I thought.

One of the more noble things I had ever done was make a point to monitor all the pregnancies I helped “cause”. Right up to the point where all the hospital had to do was have the lady get up in the stirrups and have the baby fall out into their hands. The women kept coming to me for a fraction of the price their insurance would have paid going to the inferior doctors at the hospital who were prone to overlooking key details and warning signs of problem pregnancies that need to be handled more delicately. I had no problem letting the hospitals do the dirty work of taking over the delivery. They could handle that at least after my work assured things would go smoothly. Plus I saved myself a workplace full of screaming newborns.

Mary Hu was at the clinic for her last exam by me before her due date. Her pregnancy had been uneventful and basically all I would do was to recommend a doctor, answer any last questions and wish her luck. And given my current state that was about all I was capable of.

Mary had been a petite Vietnamese woman who had been trying for years with her husband to get pregnant before coming to see me. At 108lbs she was tiny, but on her 4’-10” frame she was pretty curvy. With my remote and time to kill while the nurses handled all the routine stuff I programmed an extra 50 pounds onto her along with increasing her fertility. It was a small oversight on my part just how much 50 pounds was to someone as height challenged as Mary. When she came back three months later to verify what her pregnancy test had told her she was barely recognizable. Mary was already sporting a belly that hid the top quart of her thighs and could only be contained by an elastic waistband.

Mary spoke little English so when she rapidly spouted her native tongue to her husband in the exam room I thought at first she might be angry with the treatments small side effect. Turns out that is just how Vietnamese sounds. Mary was ecstatic and said nothing of adding half her original bodyweight to her frame, only about how excited she was to be a mom.

Over the course of her pregnancy Mary added another 50 pounds to her mass. Her husband admitted little Mary was putting away food like never before every time the couple came in and Mary hit new record highs for herself. That was all done on her own, since I let nature run its course when it came to her appetite. I did however jumpstart her milk production. I did not let my misjudging of how much 50 pounds weighed the diminutive lady down scare me off from making sure she was fully stocked with baby nurturing milk. She went from flat chested to sporting hugely swollen glands that resembled long, fat potatoes riding atop her round middle.

And so when I looked at the file bottom heavy Carol handed me for Mary and saw that the mom-to-be weighed in at a whopping 218 pounds and then compared that to her original 108 just months prior, I thought to myself it might have been more subtle to buy a neon sign that proclaimed I was capable of altering women’s weight.

I walked in to visit with Mary and her husband. Mary was seated on a chair because there was no way she was stepping up onto the exam table. She wore no gown because even with the extended sizes we had none that fit her comfortably without the danger of her tripping on the long fabric.

Mary had a bra on that I could see and probably a pair of panties I couldn’t. Her belly had pushed its way between her chubby knees and hung inches above the floor looking like a small planet. Only swollen feet stuffed in a pair of dirty Crocs could be seen. Yes Mary was obese for sure, but her belly had the giant roundness to it that made her look unmistakably pregnant. Of course without a shirt the kaleidoscope of dark stretch marks on her caramel colored skin gave it away beyond the shadow of a doubt.

The poor woman’s belly looked so heavy and cumbersome I felt like offering her a stool or perhaps another chair to rest it on rather then let it sag between her separated thighs.

Mary was not all belly though. Maybe 90 percent, but she did have an equally round and puffy face. Between her bulging cheeks and heavy breathing from walking in and getting undressed it seemed as if the task of talking would be a burden on the rotund Mary.

If all that were not enough Mary was sporting cannons that would look too large on a woman a foot taller then her. Stuffed unceremoniously into a nursing bra that was splitting a bit at the Velcro it was clear the stretch marks that covered her belly had brought friends.

“How are we doing today, Mary?” I asked despite the obvious signs.

Mary grunted something to her husband. She did not speak English but was learning to understand it fairly well. “Ready to be done,” The husband grinned sheepishly.

“I can imagine,” I felt around the preposterously huge orb, more or less just to appear as if I was working. Despite the obvious amount of fat that built up over the last few months Mary’s belly was very taut. She smelled of grease and potatoes, an oddly pleasant scent. “All the info the nurse gathered looks good. I put together some papers that the nurse will give you as you leave that will have all the specifics about the doctor who will be handling the delivery at St Mary’s West. But other then that everything is going so smoothly all I can really offer is to answer any questions you two have that the nurse was not able to answer for you?”

Mary barked something to her man that almost sounded more like a warning then a question she wanted. A sheepishly looking Mr. Hu said, “I do have one Mary and I have both been wondering about but she’s too embarrassed to ask.”

“I’ll try to answer anything you feel comfortable asking.” It was a true statement, but after three nights without sleep I would have been just as fine with them not asking anything. “But if it makes it any easier, Doctor Lewis, who will be you doctor at St Mary’s is a female. Sometimes that makes a difference in comfort level and I completely understand.”

I waited for them to take the bait so I could go back to my office and drink my throbbing headache away and have Carol help roll the spherical Mary on out to her car, but Mr. Hu suddenly got brave. Without warning he ripped open the left Velcro flap on Mary’s bra. Mary huffed but with her stubby arms out to her sides holding onto the backs of the chairs that flanked her to help keep her balance on the seat that did not quite fit a third of her ass, she made no move to try and stop her man.

It took both of Mary’s husband’s smaller then average hands to wrap around her milk sack and give it a squeeze, prompting a drizzling of an opaque liquid to drop from the large, bumpy brown nipple and down the slightly more pale then the rest of her breast, until it disappeared into the crease between her tits and her belly.

Mary was squealing and saying some very obviously unkind words to her husband while he coaxed a few more drops of thick liquid out of his wife’s engorged teat.

I tried to keep my professional face on, but I was wishing like hell that they would have asked this naïve, first time parents type question, that I knew was coming, to Carol before I came in.

“Is it normal for a woman to be leaking like that so far ahead of when the baby is coming? I mean we got a few weeks yet, doctor,” Mr. Hu finally asked when his wife’s yelling lessened.

“Well, no it is not unusual. Some see it more then others. And certainly at this point when for all practical purposes the baby could come today I would very much expect it.” I went on to tell Mr Hu what he could do to make his wife more comfortable if she continued leaking before I was interrupted by Carol, who stuck her head in the room.

“Sorry, Doctor Phil,” more giggling, “but Beth just told me your 8:30 is waiting in your office and getting a little impatient.

Oh great, I thought, just what I need; some barren little twig here to try to convince me to use my miracle treatment to turn her into another Mary Hu.

I did stick around long enough to see the spectacle of Mr. Hu helping his wife back into her clothes; a tattered pair of sweats that fit up under her bobbing boulder of a belly, and her well worn t-shirt that exposed the bottom sixty percent of that belly.

Panting from just the effort of getting dressed Mary wasn’t shy about nodding and smiling her appreciation as she had done on each of her visits. A stay-at-home housewife Mary was one of the many people whom would have had no option for fertility had my lower cost treatment not been available.

As Mary huffed and puffed her way a few inches at a time out into the hallway, Mr Hu leaned in to my ear and asked another question. “Will her boobs…um...you know…?”

“Stay that size?” I finished for him and he gave me a wink. “Usually not, but I’ve seen it happen, so I suppose you could get lucky.”

He started to go catch up with his plodding wife before thinking of something and running back. “And the weight…I mean…will that…you know…”

“Come off after the baby?” he flashed me a shy smile. “Well again I have seen it both ways. So again you could get lucky.” Of course this time I am sure I meant the opposite of what he was thinking, but I let him fill in the blanks as he went to go run by his wife’s side as she navigated the door at the end of the hallway that she was nearly wider then.

Oh boy, I thought, no wonder Coulter was able to figure me out, shaking my head as I headed back to my office for what I hoped was my last job related duty before I could safely reschedule all my appointments and get a head start on a night of drinking until I could maybe get a few winks of sleep without hearing imaginary mafia hit men creeping around my condo.

Then I opened the door, saw the familiar face of the brutish thug who had accosted me less then a week ago and felt the very familiar shooting pain to my groin that dropped me instantly to my knees.
__________________
"The horrible screams mean it's working!"
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-18-2010, 03:55 PM   #19
morepushing13
 
morepushing13's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: Va
Posts: 259
morepushing13 can now change their title
Default

brief but excellent addition to the story! I can't wait for the next piece!
__________________
How do you win a war, when you're not sure who the enemy is?


I do what I do...
morepushing13 is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-23-2010, 08:32 AM   #20
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

Mack was sitting in my desk chair when I could finally look up through teary eyes. He was holding a bottle of wine from my bar and looking it over as if he were at a store mulling over a purchase. “2003 that was good year,” he said. “What did you pay for this? $150, $200?”

I think I tried to say that I did not remember, but managed only a shake of the head since it felt like my testicles were residing right under my tongue.

“It’s good stuff whatever the price. I hope you don’t mind that I opened it.”

Another shake of the head.

Mack gestured to the thug that had taken me down. “Bring him over here, Ty. It’s hurting my neck looking down at him like that.”

Ty, a three foot thick gentleman with a blonde mullet, grabbed me by the back of the neck, as if I were some little kitten, and deposited me into one of the leather guest chairs.

Mack again was dressed like he had been pulled from another engagement. But instead of the links, this time he appeared to have come straight from some swanky ballroom. He was wearing a black tux. The bowtie undone and collar loosened a tad, but he still looked like a million bucks, which was probably a lot less then what he was actually worth.

“Sorry about Ty. I think he thinks that’s your secret handshake now.” Mack gestured to my crotch that I was covering with both hands.

I glanced over shoulder at the hulking brute grinning at me like I was his date for prom. “It is easy to remember, I guess,” I stammered. Ty’s grin vanished.

Mack was pouring two glasses of wine. “Oh there’s that sense of humor again. I don’t mind it really, but it can get you in trouble if your not careful…but we’ll get to that later I’m sure.” He set the bottle down after his cryptic warning and quickly downed half his glass, then nodded at me as if to say, go ahead.

It seemed like the right thing to do, so I took a swig. With the flood of alcohol hitting my system, the lack of sleep and the intense pain starting to leave my groin I suddenly felt bolder then I should have, and out of my mouth slipped, “As much as I love our chats, I take it this isn’t a social call?”

Mack’s brow wrinkled with surprise. “Wow, getting right into, huh, doc.” He stopped to finish his glass of wine and pour a refill as if to let me know I was on his schedule no matter what. He finally let out a little chuckle. “Oh ease up, doc. I’m not here to kill you or take your little gadget.”

I was thankful that death was not imminent, but the taking my remote was something I had not even thought of. Paranoia suddenly returned like a tidal wave splashing right in my face even with the apparent good news.

“No, it’s not worth it. I take it from you and then I’d just have to find some other doctor or scientist to try and reverse engineer it.” He stopped again as if maybe rethinking his statement and then shook his head. “Yeah, it works out best to keep you alive for now.”

There was no reply I could think of that would work in the current situation, so I took a sip of wine.

“Besides you did good with that Jean whatsherass,” Ty and the other thug that had accompanied Mack, who resembled what I imagine an offspring of Hulk Hogan and a pit bull dog would look like, chuckled. “Oh yeah, Rouli’s people found her holed up in some flea-bag motel with gym bags full of chocolate.” Mack was chuckling pretty hard now. “They busted in the door and Jean doesn’t even pay them any mind. She’s got her head stuck in ten pounds of chocolate and could care less. So they see Jean’s driver’s license lying on the table and they had seen her car in the parking lot, but they don’t even recognize that the half-naked hippo scarfing down candy right in front of them is the woman they spent the last two days looking for. So all of a sudden they get scared shitless. I mean here is this beast of a woman who didn’t even bat an eyelash when they bust in her room and has all of the possessions of one of the most dangerous and volatile women in town, so they assume the worst and figure if this sack of fat bested Jean there is no way they are even going to make a dent and all of a sudden you see, like, eight of Rouli’s top contract killers peeling out of the parking lot of this dirt-bag motel like they just uncovered a dragon or something.” Mack almost fell out of my chair he was laughing so hard by this point.

The hysterical laughter of the unhinged mob boss for some reason put me at ease, even though it should have done the exact opposite. I was relaxed enough to offer up another quip. “So you came over to reward my success by stealing a bottle of wine and sending my testicles up into my throat?”

Mack’s laughter stopped and his eyes burned through my skull. There was along awkward silence before Mack calmly stated. “I get the sense that you are starting to feel more at ease, doctor. That maybe all this humor you exude is revealing an underlying sense of confidence.”

“I did get you exactly what you wanted with Jean,” I offered cautiously.

Mack’s eyes closed and he shook his head in disgust. Before I could respond I felt what must have been Ty grab the back of my head as if he was trying to take the scalp off. My forehead was then directed quite abruptly to the desk. There was a sickening thump that echoed inside my eardrums.

“Oh doctor, the last thing you want to do in this business is get a sense of false confidence. Once you start to feel comfortable in a situation you know you have lost your edge. And when you lose your edge in this business you’re done, quite literally,” was what I heard from Mack once the ringing in my ears stopped. With my nose flattened out against my cherry stained desktop by Ty there was not much for me to say. I could feel his hand pressing down on my skull as if he were to trying to pop it like a tick. It felt safer to squint my eyes rather then risk them squirting right out on the desk. “I would hate for that to happen to you, especially since I have so much more planned for you.” A manila folder dropped down next to my head. “Your good work allowed me to move back into a good position in a lot of the operations Rouli’s thug had tried to run me out of. But we’re by no means out of the woods yet. But putting my rival’s main bodyguard out of commission has opened up a few more doors for us.” There was a pause and I imagine Mack signaled to Ty to let up on the 300 some pounds of pressure he was using to keep my head in place.

I slowly took my position back in the chair. Mack was looking across at me with the same calmness he had before the little lesson on false confidence. “Us?” I croaked.

“Yes, us, doctor. Like I said it is not worth my time to take your little gadget from you and try to learn how to use it myself, but its powers are still very useful to me. And so it is a very emphatic ‘us’ that I am using.”

I glance at Ty and then at the ugly Hulkster. Both seemed to be eagerly awaiting another word from Mack to administer some more punishment. “Please continue about the open doors,” I said.

Mack stood up and started to redo his tie. “Well with the lessened security, that allows us a shot at Rouli’s assistant, or more correctly, her right hand woman. This lady handles everything for Rouli. The bitch would be lost without her.” Mack looked down at me as if he saw something and then gestured to his nose. “You got a little something right there. I reached up and wiped a drizzling of blood from my right nostril. “Much better. Now where was I? Oh yes, it’s a thankless job this woman does for Rouli, and one that would be much harder to do should the little assistant find herself obese and out of shape, if you know what I mean.”

I nodded.

“And I’m thinking this time let’s use some of that magic you have to really push this one over the top. I want Rouli’s tireless assistant to look like she’s fifteen months pregnant with triplets and been eating buckets of cookie dough the whole time.” Mack stepped from behind my desk and headed to the door. Ty had his overcoat waiting for him to slip into. “The specifics are all in the folder. You got until tomorrow night.” He then turned to Ty. “We better get back to the show. My ex will never forgive me if I miss our daughter’s first runway show.”

I suddenly snapped up out of my chair. “But that’s even less time then you gave me for Jean, and there’s more to this one! You don’t understand how complicated it all is.”

Mack let out a long sigh. “Yes, but I’d hate for you to get too comfortable by me giving you the exact same time frame, because we all now what that means.”

I shrank back down into the chair as a smirking Mack left with his two enforcers in tow.
__________________
"The horrible screams mean it's working!"

Last edited by elroycohen; 04-23-2010 at 08:50 AM.
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-23-2010, 08:35 AM   #21
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

Luckily I had Beth to nurse my wounds. She scampered in after Mack and his thugs leered at her extra curvy figure on their way out, wondering what the loud bang was. When she saw my bloody nose and slight cut just above my eyebrow where Ty had ground with all his might, she ran and got some bandages and ice. I tried to yell after her that it was nothing. That I just slipped, but she went anyway.

As I leaned back in my desk chair and allowed Beth to tend to my wounds I was treated to a close up view of her mighty swinging cleavage. Like a narrow tunnel of pale, stretch marked flesh, they swayed ever so gently back and forth in the clearly overmatched bra as she reached for alcohol swabs and band-aids from the desk. That sight, inches from my face, combined with the flowery smell of her perfume wafting from between her mounds and sweet smell of pastry on her breath had me forced to keep my hands strategically placed in my lap. Even being able to keep my pitched tent from Beth I was helpless to cover up the drool forming at the corners of my mouth as my glands instinctively salivated at the sight of the abundant assets before me.

Hypnotized by the pendulous cleavage I was taken aback by Beth’s sudden question. “So what is it: gambling, or did you fool around with the wrong guy’s wife?”

“Excuse me?” I stammered.

“Well, I’m not stupid, doctor. I kind of wondered when those guys came in and paraded right into your office. Then when they left and I see you sitting there banged up I knew something was up. They certainly weren’t here because they are having problems conceiving.”

I knew the less people I involved in my own personal hell the better, but of course my lame slipping explanation was not going to fly, so using one of her reasons seemed to be a good enough, half truth. “Uh, I guess I do have a little gambling problem.” Beth’s chubby face became sympathetic. “I’m partial to the Raiders, which has been hard on my bank account.” I babbled on.

Beth moved even closer and rested a hand on my thigh. “You poor thing. Guys like that can be dangerous. My cousin got messed up with some bad characters when he moved out to Vegas and discovered blackjack. So if you ever need a place to stay feel free to use my place like a safe house. I got a spare room you can use until you’re able to get straight with them. You’d just have to be OK with me lounging on the couch in my sweats stuffing my face and watching TV, which has been my personal life as of late,” she said with a wink.

“Thanks,” I told her cleavage. “But I’d hate to drag you into all this. Besides I should be able to get squared up with them before it gets to that point.”

Beth smiled. “Well okay, but don’t be too proud to ask for help. You took a chance on hiring me when I needed help, so I’d be glad to return the favor.” Perhaps it was just me, but Beth said the last sentence with a hint of double meaning as she gave my thigh a playful slap causing luscious quivering through her cleavage.

Now I had mentioned Beth’s blatant flirting had increased as of late, but it had really always existed ever since she had started working for me. I think it started out as her being attracted to me simply because I was a slightly older doctor after her years of dating rowdy college boys. The comfort level grew, especially during her initiation where she blew up to resemble a five and a half foot high beach ball and I was a comforting voice amongst a sea of people who just told her she was getting fat.

After I had relented on her initiation Beth and I became like an old married couple. She was comfortable enough to where she would share personal details, no mater how sexual in nature they may have been. On long days when her and I were the only ones left in the clinic she thought nothing of peeling off her nylons or unfastening her bra beneath her blouse to be more comfortable. The flirting itself ebbed and flowed based on whether Beth had a boyfriend, and for my part I tried to keep things more boss-employee rather then horny man-overly friendly woman. Clearly though as Beth was sticking her cleavage in my face and offering her place as a safe house a line was being crossed and with everything else going on I felt helpless to do anything about it.

I watched Beth’s wide bubble butt sashay out of my office and was suddenly jerked back to reality by the folder sitting on my desk complete with a drop of my blood on it.

“Hey, Beth do I have anything lined up for the rest of the day that can’t be rescheduled?” I called out.

Beth thought for a second. “You do have that couple that has been waiting for six months to get a meeting with you. They came all the way from Rhode Island.”

Too bad for them. “You know what I’m going to need you to do, Beth, is set them up at whatever luxury hotel has an opening, get them one of my pamphlets on sexual positions that promote fertilization and tell them to practice tonight and reschedule their appointment for tomorrow. I have something to do today that won’t wait.”

As Beth scurried off to make the calls I grabbed the folder and looked at where I was going. Before leaving I took out my remote and programmed a little something for Beth. I increased her cravings for junk food and scheduled two cup size increase over the next few weeks complete with a growing false baby belly that would put the one she had when she first started with me to shame. Yes any regret I had had about how I had abused my power had melted away after Mack showed up. I was stuck with the fact that what was done was done and I might as well own my actions.

Beth was on hold with the hotel when I walked by. I grabbed a few donuts from the break room and set them on a corner of her desk. “Gosh those look good. Don’t they?”

Just the mere mention of them caused Beth to instinctively reach out and shove one in her mouth. She smiled up at me with Bavarian crème on her lips and I reasoned to myself, if you’re going to be a super villain, might as well go all out. I mean just a week prior I had been an intellectually gifted philanthropist who was just slightly morally challenged. Now I was something of a mad scientist being used as a lackey by the mob.
__________________
"The horrible screams mean it's working!"
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-23-2010, 08:37 AM   #22
elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
 
elroycohen's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Outside
Posts: 464
elroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokeselroycohen can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default

Amanda Breckwood lived up to everything Mack had said about her. She did everything for this Rouli woman. Although after following Amanda for a few hours I never once saw her infamous boss. No Amanda did everything before Rouli ever knew she was doing it. She bounced around all over town doing everything from meeting with associates that were not high enough on the white collar criminal food chain to meet with in person to picking up dry cleaning. By the time I had tracked her down based on the itinerary in the folder Mack had given me Amanda had already gotten a Chai tea from a special place and had it delivered to be ready by Rouli’s bedside when she woke and arranged a meeting place for some criminal gathering later on. I got lucky and caught up with Amanda at a flower shop Mack had listed as a frequent stopping place where she would purchase hundreds of dollars in seasonal bouquets for her boss’ girlfriend.

I mulled over the fact that this Rouli was becoming a very interesting character. A traditional Italian American mafia stereotype who had put fear into an established crime lord in the area. And she was also a lesbian to boot. If I was not so petrified of the woman based on her description I would have been anxious to meet her.

Amanda, on the other hand, was not a very commanding presence. As she scurried all over town in her Smart Car, talking hurriedly into any one of the three cell phones she carried around, she came across as very mousy. Not that she was tiny, short for sure, but Amanda was a solid young woman. No one would call her fat, but she was not really thin either. And based on how her clothes fit perhaps she had added a few pounds as of late. She looked like a gymnast in the off season, with her sturdy calves and wider then average shoulders, yet a cute round face. She dressed rather plain in practical flats and a tweed skirt with matching blazer. Her curly black hair pulled back in a bun that became increasingly loose as she progressed from task to task. During my following of her tendrils of tight curly loops kept having to be brushed away from her horn-rimmed glasses.

Amanda’s little bio that Mack had included said she was former Midwesterner who had excelled in college but became disenchanted with the system when men who had lower grade points then her were getting recruited for the better jobs after graduation. After settling for a job that paid a lot less then she felt she was worth and being treated by the men in her workplace like a lower life form, she went on to start a little blog called Everything but a Dick that was essentially an outlet for her growing hatred for men in the workplace. The blog got enough attention to get her on a couple talk shows which in turn caught the attention of a certain crime lord who shared Amanda’s hatred towards men who made her an offer more attune to what Amanda felt she was worth.

I followed Amanda for a few hours, unsure of how to proceed. Amanda’s tasks were very unpredictable. Sometimes she would be in and out of a place in seconds, other times she would be gone for the better part of an hour. Some places were public, others not so much, even others I did not care to even try and go.

The thing was I remembered Mack’s lesson on being comfortable and I knew the longer I tried to trail Amanda the longer I risked being spotted. I was not used to discreetly following someone around town. I had to find a spot to make my move. Preferably before the little assistant hooked up with her boss.

I thought maybe I had my shot when Amanda’s little red car stopped right outside a boutique. Right outside the door she got a phone call and stopped right out front of the shop to take the call. I hurried to find a parking spot within range of my remote, but saw none. I figured I had to make the best of what might be my only opportunity to get my job done. So I double parked beside some van that still allowed me a clean shot to the back of the chatting Amanda. I only needed twenty seconds. I slammed the car into park and whipped out the remote only to drop it in my lap when I got startled be a loud honk behind me. I glanced in my rear view and saw a cabbie flipping me the bird out his window while cursing in either Indian or Spanish, I was not sure. Worse then that the commotion got the attention of Amanda, who closed her phone and ducked into the boutique. I cursed back at the cabbie and circled the block.

Luckily the Smart Car was still there when I made it around again. I drove up a block and found a spot that I could keep an eye on it. Minutes later Amanda darted out to her car and took off again. I was able to get behind her and follow, but this time she was not staying in town. She left the downtown area and made it out to the suburbs.

The organized blandness and monotony of prefabricated cookie cutter houses all neatly lined up in rows was broken up by my being able to catch a glimpse of a few random overfed soccer moms, with their big soft asses plopped into lawn chairs while the kiddies played on the lawn.

But I was far from enjoying the view. With each passing minute I got more and more concerned. I was certain Amanda had spotted me and was driving out to some secluded spot that she had called Rouli’s hit squad to meet her at and have me taken care of. I actually thought of just bailing. But playing it safe now only meant a life prolonged by a few hours. If I stayed in my car there should be no reason I should not be able to escape if things went south. So I kept following.

Secluded did not begin to describe where Amanda ended up. A beautiful city park up in the hills looking out over a new housing development. The early afternoon weekday found the park with just a mom and two kids on one end at the playground and a smattering of joggers that followed a path along a tree line only to disappear when the path parted a wooded area and headed down the hill.

Amanda parked her ride next to a picnic table under a tree that looked out at the pleasant view of newly constructed rooftops.

I parked next to what I assumed was the mother’s SUV down on the other end of the parking lot. There I shut off the car and waited for what I was sure would be a swarm of mafia lowlifes.

None came. There was only the quiet breeze rustling the trees and the distant squeal of the mother’s young boy as he slid down a winding slide.

When Amanda emerged from her car with her heavy blazer removed and a small brown bag I realized why she had driven up hear for: peace and quiet. There was no sign of the multitude of cell phones or even her purse as she headed for the picnic table. Amanda stayed sane despite her grueling schedule and high pressure tasks by getting away up to this little park in suburbia, where they knew of the mafia only in the movies and on TV.

Amanda perched herself up on top of the table, so as to get a better look at the view and unpacked her bag. She kicked her shoes off and sighed deeply. It was then Amanda’s other means to cope with her daily stresses became apparent. Amanda took out three cookies, a brownie, a pudding cup, a crème puff and a can of soda. She had barely set then down before she started tearing into the goodies like they would fly away if she did not. Amanda was stout for a reason. I pictured an Amanda who continued on in her life of crime eating herself as wide as she was tall naturally. Of course I pictured all this as I programmed in a code that would speed up the inevitable considerably while adding a slight twist.

Amanda was a sitting duck as she binged away. She ate so fast she had finished before her overtaken hormones started to kick in. She was admiring the view when she suddenly put her hand to her chest. I knew this was her hormones kicking into the morning sickness phase of her fake pregnancy. I had sped things up so that it most likely just felt like indigestion, which was probably not out of the ordinary for the secretly power snacking mob lackey.

Then the good stuff started. Amanda’s previously almost not there chest swelled up under her silk top. Nothing major, just the usual first trimester enhancement that men never get to enjoy because of the sensitivity that comes along with. Then beneath her slightly enlarged sweater stretchers, Amanda’s belly pooched out into her lap ever so slightly. Amanda felt this and pulled up her shirt just in time to see her slight bulge pop out into the second trimester bump right before her eyes.

Amanda hopped down of the table and started to unzip her skirt to relieve the increasing pressure. But her belly, with its popped bellybutton, was expanding so fast that it finished the job for her.

By this time the rest of Amanda was feeling the effects of the remote as well. She went from her sturdy, but not yet fat self to a woman who was soft but well within the limits for what a doctor would call normal pregnancy weight gain.

The belly surged out to six month status and caused her shirt to roll up completely under her rack while Amanda felt it as if it were a bomb someone had shoved into her hands. Her eyes bugged and mouth gaped, but she seemed to in shock to even utter a squeak.

Meanwhile she graduated to chubby. Her ass widened and sagged, pushing her undone skirt down to her pudgy knees. The waistband of her exposed panties disappeared beneath filling love handles. Her cheeks puffed and upper arms thickened while her breasts swelled to more then a handful each.

A couple runners glanced over in Amanda’s direction as she staggered about by the picnic table with her skirt down around her ankles, but were not compelled to stop. They stared until the vanished down the trail. If they would have stayed just a few more seconds they would have seen Amanda’s stretched and shiny belly swell to full term status and her ankles become cankles beneath stocking that were starting to shred.

Amanda’s rapidly skyrocketing weight forced her to fall back onto the picnic table where her massive paunch pushed her knees out to almost 180 degrees apart. She could have delivered a twenty pound baby at this point. The skin was stretched so tight over her blimping stomach that blue veins were visible. Of course Amanda could not tell since her four chins kept her from looking down and her bloated milk sacks would have blocked most of the view anyway.

Amanda was clearly beached like a whale where she sat. The only real effort she could make was to flail her stubby arms around to try and push off unsuccessfully against the table. But Amanda was not quite at the end yet. Her belly ballooned until it blocked any site of her swollen feet and fat encased legs. Up above her cumbersome gut the remainder of Amanda’s shirt was squeezing her sagging udders into heavily creased ridges of blubber while her flabby chins hung down and covered the top of her cleavage.

When the program ran its course Amanda was quite a site. She took up all but a few scant inches of the picnic bench, her gargantuan midsection with its tightly stretched skin a sharp contrast to the dimples and ridged hips that barely peeked out as they spread out against the seat. There was no way the formerly hyper woman was getting up without a couple guys to help her help. With her phones all in her car twenty feet away the tremendously obese Amanda was in for a long afternoon. Although probably not as long as her boss Ms. Rouli who would soon find her day going nowhere near according to plan.

I drove off after watching Amanda wobble around a few moments more. I was not feeling the dread I had felt right after my first task for Mack, but I was not feeling good either. The sense that I might not live to see another day was replaced with the sense that I would live to see Mack quite a few more times.
__________________
"The horrible screams mean it's working!"
elroycohen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-23-2010, 10:36 AM   #23
morepushing13
 
morepushing13's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: Va
Posts: 259
morepushing13 can now change their title
Default

this story keeps getting better and better!!
__________________
How do you win a war, when you're not sure who the enemy is?


I do what I do...
morepushing13 is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-23-2010, 11:09 PM   #24
Toby115
 
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 25
Toby115 has said some nice things
Default

I have to say, this has been an enjoyable story. There is just the one thing: this guy is really smart and capable of understanding anything, right? So, why can't he build some death-robot or suit or something for protection? I'm sure, as the author, you have a reason, ie plot doesn't allow it, so I'm just saying this guy should be able to protect himself, right? I'm just asking, and let me say again that I like this story and you are good author. Keep it up.
Toby115 is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 04-23-2010, 11:55 PM   #25
Leviathan25
 
Join Date: Sep 2007
Posts: 22
Leviathan25 has said some nice things
Default

This is true, I mean if I were that guy I'd just get the hell out of the city as fast as I could. With his resources, he could easily dissapear or go to the FBI. I mean these Mafia guys aren't really all that bright to begin with, and coming at someone with "We'll kill you if the whim suits us" basically would just make someone insanely desperate rather than obedient. I mean at the point where you're thinking, "I'm dead no matter what I do," you start doing some pretty crazy things...

I don't really see the mob's approach of "do it or we shoot you" working in a real life situation. Even the mob would be a little smarter than that. It would be more believable if they threatened his family members, or to reveal his business as a fraud and basically ruin his entire life savings. There's a number of things they could've done that would've been much more intelligent and threatening and dangerous than death. This guy has a lot to lose, and surely they know that and would leverage it to their advantage.

Having said all of the above, I don't care too much about the plot holes or little details. I mean all of this can just be explained away by saying the guy is a "dumb" genius, or that whatever universe this story is told just simply works that way, and that's the way it is. I mean, at the point where you have a magical gadget that can convert heat into body mass, you're already throwing logic out the window anyway. :P

So really I accept the story as a vehicle for delivering some interesting body changes and subplots. I think it's doing a great job with that, and I'm really enjoying it and waiting to read more.

I do however wish that the story had a bit more depth to it. What I mean by that is that I wish the story had more cohesion, that the subplots and changes were inter-connected and helped to further the plot along. Right now, the story is kind of disjointed and just follows a series of unrelated events. Changing family members (sub plot), then changing his customers (sub plot), and then the thing with his secretary (another sub plot), then his ex-girlfriends (more random sub-plots). And then the main plot with the mob boss, but there's nothing to really tie all of these together and kind of bring it full circle. Even the parts where he changes the female mobsters feels too isolated and doesn't fit together cohesively with the main story.

Also I'm not a huge fan of making every single girl "immobile" and would've liked the changes to be more subtle and unique, but that's a minor personal preference. I mean the mob doesn't seem to have any creativity here. They just want all the girls to be immobile blobs and that's no fun.... I mean make some drastic changes, but at least make it so the girls can sort of try to fight back or get on with their lives. It would have been more interesting if the remote wasn't quite so god-like and maybe had some limitations. Transformations happen too quickly and too extreme, and sort of removes all of the tension from the story.

It would've been more interesting, for example, to have the muscle-bound mafia girl notice him after he made the change and them to enter a sort of fight, chase, or struggle where her physical strength is diminishing and making it more difficult for her to catch him and/or beat him up. Instead she kind of changes and then we never see her again and it sort of leaves the reader hanging like, "what happened next?" But then we find out she's just kind of been rendered a mindless eating machine which is kind of boring when there could've been more tension or something...

With the 2nd girl, again with the immobility and just.. totally taking her out of the picture.. I mean how cool would it've been if the kinds of changes the mob bosses asked for couldn't happen "overnight" and we followed the girl over the course of several days trying to keep up her busy schedule while slowly transforming into a pregnant tubby who couldn't fit into her car?

Another thought I had is that the male Mafia is really sort of unnecessary to the story and basically could've been taken completely out without changing the story. I mean it also makes the guy look pretty immoral and more of a villain than a hero. I mean what he's doing to his customers and girlfirends is already pretty vaguely evil. And now he's basically working for the mob and commiting horrible acts against people we know nothing about. Even if he's beeing forced to do so, his morals have already been called into question. For all we know the female mobsters may be a whole lot more good than the male mobsters, and our protagonist is basically opening up the city for a sort of dark reign of murderers... No matterh what happens, he's going to have a lot of blood on his hands...

I think perhaps a better way to do this would've been to take the male mobsters out completely, and just make the villains the female mobsters. Perhaps he comes to know about them through one of his customers, and decides to go on a sort of "super hero" crusade to rid the city of the female crime family that's terrorizing it. That would've made our protagonist a lot more noble and given him a much more just cause. Making the female mob more evil and more of the central villain would make it easier for us to enjoy what he's doing to them. Sort of get the reader behind the protagonist and rooting for him, instead of spending the story questioning his true motives and morals at every turn.

I think it might help to kind of sit down and work out a kind of plot outline working out all of the scenes and then spend some time linking them together, so that the end story reads more like a complete piece. Although I realize this may be going a bit too far for what is intended to be writing strictly for fun and enjoyment. I mean, I'm just thankful someone has the energy and creativeness to write some original stories here of the type I enjoy reading.

And hey! I am truly enjoying this story tremendously and I've only commented on it so much because I like it! So please continue!
Leviathan25 is offline   Reply With Quote
Reply

Thread Tools

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off

Forum Jump


All times are GMT -7. The time now is 09:06 PM.

Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.8
Copyright ©2000 - 2017, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.
Copyright Dimensions Magazine. All rights reserved worldwide.