BBW Dr. Biggs: Faterinarian

Dimensions Magazine

Help Support Dimensions Magazine:


New Member
May 21, 2018
Dr. Biggs: Faterinarian
by pregbelltrim

In front of an unassuming suburban house on an unassuming suburban street, a large white van pulled up. Painted across the side were black letters that spelled "Dr. Biggs: Faterinarian" and below that, in slightly smaller font, "Treating Greedy Piggies, Land Whales, Hucows, and other Obeasts."

A man of not greater than average build in a white doctor’s coat got out and approached the front door of the house, knocked twice, and was greeted by a slender man in his early 30s. "Good morning, sir, which way to the patient?" the doctor asked, and the man led him into the living room, where he found a beautiful blonde taking up most of an oversized chair-and-a-half all by herself. Her cherubin face sat above a sturdy double chin, which gave way to plump upper arms and extremely full breasts, each one larger than a soccer ball, held up in a specialty cup sized sports bra. Beneath them, a globular belly spread out gloriously for all the world (or at least the good doctor) to see. Ample, creamy, white flesh with hardly a visible stretch mark and a deep belly button he could have easily hidden two fingers in. This took up most of what would have been her lap, covering thighs that were perhaps on the chubby side, but hardly remarkable. Her calves as well were, if anything, more shapely than fat, and he saw that she had an ice pack on each knee. "So, what seems to be the problem?" the doctor asked after performing a brief visual inspection.

"Well," the man replied, clearly speaking on the fat woman's behalf, "It's her poor knees. She can barely waddle to the fridge and back without them giving her trouble. I know that mobility eventually becomes an issue for almost all feedees, but she was only 375 lbs. at her last weigh-in." She looked a bit sheepish when he said the number but didn't say anything and instead just looked down into her own considerable cleavage. "Doesn't this seem a little premature?" her feeder asked.

"Hmm, it does," the doctor responded matter-of-factly. "It looks like you've done a fine job with this little piggie so far, but I'll be honest, she'll probably be one of my smallest patients today. It's a good thing you called me instead of a regular people doctor, who would just tell her to lose some of this beautiful weight, which obviously no one wants to hear." The man nodded. "You want her to be able to get around, at least for now, since all-you-can-eat buffets don't deliver..." he chuckled at his own professional humor. "I'm going to write you a prescription for a mobility scooter and some other equipment that will help you move this butterball around without her having to walk. Quite honestly, walking is just a waste of precious calories anyway. By minimizing that, she can still maintain some mobility, and as an added bonus, you'll likely notice the rate of her growth increase as well. However, I saw your car in the driveway, and at some point, you're going to need something larger, quite possibly with some modifications, but we can cross that fridge when we get to it." He smiled at his own joke again.

"Honey, maybe I could just go on a diet for a little while and see if that helps? Like Dr. Weinberg suggested?" the patient asked, finally speaking up for herself.

"Whoa there, easy girl," the doctor replied in a firm but caring tone, and he pulled a large wedge of grocery store cheesecake in a plastic container out of his black doctor's bag and offered it to her, placing it atop her shelf-like belly. At the sight of the high caloric confection, she instantly giggled, sending ripples across her expansive abdomen, clapped her meaty mitts together, and unconsciously wiggled her pudgy toes in delight. She immediately dug in, not even stopping to ask for a fork, and instead cramming the sweet treat right into her eager mouth.

The doctor gave bulbous belly a friendly pat. "There, there, that's a good girl," he said gently, then turned to the man, "She's a real beaut, you've got here, sir! Take good care of her, and we may have to talk about those vehicle modifications sooner than you'd think." He gave a wink and was out the door, off to his next appointment.

* * * * *

At the next house, Dr. Biggs was greeted at the door by a very full-figured pregnant woman. Clearly plus-sized before getting knocked up, her hips had spread out into a wonderfully maternal shape. Her thighs were nice and plump, and her whole body had a certain "softness" about it. Her tits, while not remarkably large, were incredibly perky. Her belly appeared firm on top but with some soft "mommy fat" toward the bottom and spreading out into generous love handles. She was wearing a tight white t-shirt, stretched across all of this glorious flesh, and a pair of black maternity yoga pants that looked like they were ready to split if she tried to bend over. Over all of this, she wore a pink polka-dot apron, which covered the front if not the sides of her belly. Her only adornment was a pair of earrings, which upon closer inspection, were shaped like tiny cowbells. Upon seeing the doctor, she removed the apron, revealing a crescent of bare flesh, about an inch at its widest, where her shirt and pants stubbornly refused to meet. As big as her belly was, it still had more than enough give that her belly button remained an ‘innie.’ "I'm so sorry, sir, I was just getting started on dinner," she said by way of greeting.

"Quite alright, my dear, is your feeder home?" He asked. She nodded and pivoted on her bare feet with surprising grace, given her size, and padded along into the house, the doctor following close behind.

"Oh good, you're here, please have a seat," a kindly gentleman said.

"What seems to be the problem?" Dr. Biggs inquired.

"It's Bessie's tits, I'm afraid," he began rather bluntly. Before the doctor could guess whether that was just a pet name or a remarkable coincidence, the man went on, "My little heifer has never been particularly busty, but this is her 6th surrogacy - her 4th one with multiples - and we really thought they'd have grown more by now. Her OB and midwife both say that her milk production is fine - superior actually - but even when fully engorged, they're still just C-cups." At this, Bessie looked a bit embarrassed but seemed to acknowledge her mammary deficiency. "We both want them much, much bigger, but obviously implants are out of the question, as this is a working dairy farm. Is there anything you can do to help?"

"Hmm, well, this is actually quite common," the doctor began. "Breast size and milk production are not as closely related as you might think. Even with fairly modest udders like your little Bessie here, it's entirely possible to achieve above average production, and I’ve seen some women with absolutely massive tits who can barely squeeze out a drop! However, if it's size you're going for, you'll need to fatten her up. Many preggos think they're overeating, when in fact they're barely getting enough nutrition. Remember, she's eating for... three, is it?"

"Four," she replied proudly.

"Ah, you *are* a good girl," the doctor smiled, patted her tummy, and turned back to the man. "It's quite clear her little ones are getting enough to eat, but at the end of the day, we need a surplus of calories just for the momma. We need her growing faster than they are if she’s ever going to reach her full potential. Also, nearly constant nipple stimulation is key to keeping those milk bags full. Breast pumps are fine, but in my professional opinion, nothing beats the 'human touch.' Have you been giving her enough attention?"

"Well, I certainly work her udders as often as I can, but unfortunately, I spend long days at the office. I don't like being away from her for so long, but it's worth it to have the financial stability so Bessie can stay home and graze all day long." At this, he gave his pet a loving smile, which she returned.

"Understandable," the doctor nodded and thought for a moment. "Can I put you in touch with another patient of mine in your area? She's a gainer who's having trouble breaking the 500 lb. mark and needs all the fat and calories she can get. Milking your Bessie here during the day could help facilitate the growth that both of these girls so desperately need."

Bessie seemed a little hesitant but also intrigued by the thought. "We'd have to meet her first of course," the man replied, "and as the man of the house, I would expect to be able to take certain... liberties with our guest?"

"I'll check with her feeder, but I'm certain something can be arranged," the doctor said, gathering his things and preparing to leave. "I'll be in touch, and until then, stop starving this poor girl," he added with a wink.
Last edited by a moderator:


New Member
May 21, 2018
The last appointment of the day took Dr. Biggs to the rich part of town. When he arrived at the address, he had to be buzzed through the gate. After making his way up the long, winding drive, around an ornate marble fountain, he was greeted at the mansion's castle-like double doors by a tall, slender woman with jet black hair and snow white skin. She was wearing high heels and a tight little dress that matched the color of her hair. She extended a dainty yet firm hand to the doctor and said, "You're punctual. Good. My name is Elizabeth Stone Worthington, but you may call me Ms. Liz. Please, this way," and she turned and went into the house without even giving Dr. Biggs a chance to introduce himself. She led him past a grand staircase into what was probably once a ballroom or some kind of entertaining space, easily the largest room in the very large house.

Dr. Biggs had been specializing in body-positive care for obese patients ever since he left his old practice. He'd grown tired and frustrated watching the other doctors fat-shame their biggest and most beautiful patients, and his partners didn’t exactly approve of Biggs’s alternative approach to adipose. Since then, he had seen countless patients of all sizes who had intentionally made themselves (or been made) as large as possible, but what he saw in that room shocked even the experienced Dr. Biggs.

Sprawled out on a bed, much larger than king-size, and clearly a custom piece, was the fattest woman he'd ever seen in real life and well within the range of some of the largest he'd ever seen in pictures. Her face was still cute and chubby, almost girlish in a way, but her neck had totally ceased to exist, and her round head simply rested on her body like a snowman. Her tits, probably somewhere between D- and DD-cups, were completely and totally dwarfed by her immense expanse of belly flesh. It just seemed to go on forever! The woman was laying on her back, but her belly spilled over either side of her to rest on the bed. She was so fat, that she was laying on her back and her belly at the same time! Her upper arms were the size of an obese woman's thighs, and it wasn’t immediately clear whether she could still lift them off the mattress under her own power. Her fingers were like stuffed sausages, and her legs... good lord, her legs. Clearly swollen with lipedema, each one of her thighs was nearly as wide as the belly of the first woman Dr. Biggs had treated that morning. It was difficult to tell where her knees were, as the giant twin columns of cellulite simply tapered down into two feet that had ballooned out into a ridiculous parody of themselves. There were clearly no commercially-made shoes that could fit such a creature - not that she likely did much walking - and each swollen toe seemed to be fighting for space for itself. Perhaps most remarkably of all, her skin - acres and acres of it - seemed perfectly healthy with a vibrant pink glow! Her sandy blonde hair was lustrous and well maintained, and the room, far from having any hint of body odor, actually smelled sweet and clean, like the waiting room of a spa. The entire room had been meticulously outfitted with a mini-kitchen and other facilities to meet her dietary, hygiene, and even entertainment needs. This wasn’t just a feedee, this was an operation!

Dr. Biggs was visibly stunned for a moment but then quickly regained his professional composure, though evidently not quickly enough for Ms. Liz. "Your astonishment is well placed. This," and with that, she grabbed a generous handful of overflowing flesh, which seemed to make its nominal owner giggle, "is Jenny. Not my first project, nor even my second, but by far my greatest achievement to date. When I took her in, this beautiful ball of blubber was on the lower end of the Lane Bryant range. With an ambitious but steady gaining regimen, we have made some quite fantastic progress in less than 4 years."

Dr. Biggs was taken aback. "That certainly is impressive. You could probably teach *me* a thing or two."

"I imagine I could," she snapped emotionlessly, "but we have unfortunately reached a bit of a plateau. Everyone in 'the game' says you're the best, which is why I've called you here today. You see, despite her 20,000 calorie-a-day diet, Jenny's weight has remained stubbornly between 900 and 910 lbs. at her last three quarterly weigh-ins. A remarkable achievement to be sure, but a frustrating lack of progress nonetheless," with that, she shot Jenny a quick glare, at which the bed-bound behemoth averted her eyes, "especially when one considers the not insignificant effort required to weigh her. She's an obedient little piggie... most of the time," another icy glare, "but I will not be satisfied until I have at least half a ton of flesh to do with as I please."

"Metric or standard?" Dr. Biggs asked with a smile.

"First one, then the other," Ms. Liz replied stone-faced.

"Well then," he thought for a moment, "you're obviously an expert at what you do, but you have to know that when you approach 1,000 lbs, you're really pushing the limits of human physiology. This girl already weighs as much as the starting line-up of a college basketball team," Jenny seemed to beam with some pride at the comparison, "and you're trying to add a cheerleader's weight in blubber to her already hyper-obese frame. You're in territory that's rarely been trod, so you really need to rethink the whole concept of calorie consumption." He thought for a moment and decided it was time to knock this feeder dominatrix off her pedestal a bit. "For instance, why is this girl not eating right now?"

"I assure you, doctor," Ms. Liz responded with confidence, "She is on a *strict* 8 meal-a-day plan to maximize fat and calorie intake."

"It's hard to maximize anything when she's just laying there, starving to death," he rounded on her. "And let me guess, you've still got her on solid foods? Lifting a fork and chewing are exercise she can hardly afford if you ever want to reach your goals. She needs to be tube-fed a steady stream of high calorie, high fat, and yes, high nutrient feed every waking minute. If you're doing your job right, she'll be afraid to wake up since sleep will be her only respite from the constant - and I do mean constant - gorging." At this, Jenny's face took on a look of simultaneous fear and arousal, while Ms. Liz's expression was one of admiration and academic interest.

"It seems you do know your business, doctor," Ms. Liz cracked half a smile for the first time during the session, "Thank you for your professional insight, and I would love to trade notes with you regarding the composition of her feed."

"Of course," Dr. Biggs smiled, "and while the temptation is always strong to lean into weight gain powders and heavy cream, it's important to work in a healthy dose of pureed fruits and vegetables, whether this young lady likes it or not," he smiled at the gluttonous gastropod and wagged a finger at her, "as we say, remember the acronym WHALES - We're Healthy At Literally Every Size."

Ms. Liz's respect for his advice was giving way to annoyance at his schtick. "Thank you again, doctor, I will see you out. And you," she shot a glance at Jenny, "don't move," and gave her a wicked smile.

* * * * *

After a long day of house calls, Dr. Biggs' van finally pulled up in front of his own home. He walked up the drive, opened the door, and was greeted by a beautiful blonde in a tight black athleisure suit that showed off her perky breasts, washboard abs, firm thighs, and tight little butt. "So, how'd she do today?" the doctor asked her.

"Oh, she was a very good girl," the woman replied, "finished her breakfast, brunch, elevensies, lunch, second lunch, supper, and I was just about to bring in dinner, unless you'd like to."

"Sounds good, you can go home now," he smiled and sent the woman on her way. Dr. Biggs pushed a cart loaded with a variety of sausages, buttery whipped potatoes, carrots, and deep-fried potato pancakes (the girl loved her potatoes) into the bedroom and parked it next to the bed where his 700 lbs. wife was sprawled out. Her eyes lit up in double delight at the arrival of her seventh meal of the day and her beloved husband (in that order).

"So, how was work today," she managed to get out before cramming the first of a dozen bratwursts into her greedy mouth.

He tossed his coat aside, climbed into bed, and snuggled up into her billowy belly, hugging it like a great big body pillow, "Oh, the usual."

"Uny wun bigguh vun me?" she casually asked through a mouth full of delicious, greasy sausage.

"Believe it or not, there was this one," he replied dreamily, glancing up at her face, which was lost in gluttonous ecstasy, "and I have to say, she gave me a few ideas..."

The End
Last edited by a moderator:

Latest posts