The Hormone Remote - by elroycohen (~BBW[Multiple], ~~WG, Pregnancy, Sci-Fi)

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.

 

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.

 

this story keeps getting better and better!!

 

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.

 

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.

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!

 

Oh wow, a lot of good feedback here. Thanks. I will try to address every point I have a explanation for, but certainly there will be some I miss. And keep in mind the story isn’t finished, less then halfway right now as I have it outlined (yes I do have a general outline ), so if I don’t talk about something you brought up it might be because I don’t want to give anything away. And of course I’ll preface everything by saying that a story entitled The Hormone Remote begs a certain amount of suspension of disbelief right off the bat. But hey I’m up for discussion, and please don’t think I’m put off by this kind of commentary or its timing. I’ll take it when I can get it, for sure.

It took Phil the better part of his young life to perfect the remote. A indestructible suit might take longer then the two weeks (roughly) that has past since his first encounter with Mack. Plus I didn’t want to write Iron Man or Terminator (which would be fun, admittedly), I wanted the focus on the remote. Furthermore, although Phil is a genius, social skills and general street smarts are something he lacks. So a lot of his behavior is meant to illustrate that.

Leaving everything he has created for himself hasn’t come up yet. I didn’t go into it, but during the sleepless nights right after Jean I’m sure he might have tossed the idea around. I tried to infer that with his conceit about being smarter then everyone else he his frustrated that he is not the one in the position of power for the first time.

Going to the FBI is not something Phil would want to do because of course he’d have to reveal why the mob was threatening his life which would bring up things about his clinic that he definitely does not want the FBI privy to.

This kind of plays in more to Mack’s character, and some more information is forthcoming about that. Whether it satisfies you or not, we’ll have to see.

I don’t know if this will explain it for you or not, but I tend to approach long stories more like episodes of a TV series, which I can totally see how it could be viewed as choppy.

I also bring in lots of characters. It’s just what I do. Some are completely unnecessary filler, some help move the story along and then vanish, some come back later. Be prepared for more characters to be introduced right away in the next installment.

So far it has just been Amanda who has been made immobile, so maybe I’m missing some of your point here. As to the time frame: I guess that would be just a preference thing; more interesting for some, long and drawn out for others. I honestly did think I was providing enough variety with the likes of Amanda and Jean compared to Beth, but seems like I was wrong. I'll keep it in mind.

This is another one I’m not sure I understand because without the “male mafia” Phil would not be drawn in to the underworld. There would have been numerous other ways to get him there I’m sure, but I ended up going with this way. Phil was defintely evil before, you're right, but he did not realize it. The experience with the mob is getting him to that realization.

As to the female mafia, remember the story is only half over…

You’re right there. I’ve done things both ways, meaning I’ve flown by the seat of my pants and outlined everything from beginning to end. This time I do have an outline, but I also sit down and right in chunks which no doubt makes things read a bit more choppy, and like I mentioned that is kind of how I write anyway.

I think I covered everything and like I said it might not explain everything that you called me on, but at least it lets you know the thinking behind things.

Thanks so much for being interested enough to provide that kind of feedback and discussion. Like I said there a lot more story to come…:happy:

 

Wow, really interesting look into the behind the scenes story.

I tend to view WG stories in a skewed world where the person making the changes is always on the side of right, because that's what the reader wants to see. Whatever or whoever instigates changes in the stories end up being the protagonist/hero. So my opinion of the main character before he start doing things for the mob - all the changes to his family, girlfriends, assistances, and customers - he's making the world a better place. In our micro-world of WG, this is a very noble and righteous path, so he's like the "ultimate good guy" up until a certain point that he makes the decisions to help the bad guys (even against his will).

 

Hey, it was fun being able to discuss this and I'm glad to be able to. Talking with other authors leads to inspiration for all, or so I'm told.

 

Over the next few days as I waited for the inevitable visit from Mack I fell into the role of bad boy. I wondered if some of my behavior did not stem a bit from my current lack of any type of love life. I was going on eight months single, without so much as a second date to my credit. In actuality I reasoned it was meeting Mack that brought out in me what was always there. I never really got to try and prove the lack of love life theory as there were no opportunities or even hints of opportunities around, or so I thought. Just more woman to be relieved of their barren state and plenty of ways for me to continue my bad boy streak.

Of course there was Beth, who began eating like a bear preparing for hibernation. It was really hard for her not to, what with her constant cravings and my stocking the break room up with all her favorites. Within days of the Amanda incident Beth looked like she about to be cut in half by her bra strap the way it dug into her back fat. In the front it was clear her F cup bras were feeling the pressure of more then an F cup worth of boobage fighting against it.

With as much as Beth was eating she was already starting to pocket a little extra in her pooching belly, even though I had programmed her return to bellylicious to be spread out over the next few months. Yes soon enough I would have my unofficial monument to fertility greeting patients with a mouth full of food as they walked in. And with bad boy in me in full force after the thrill of beaching an all important piece to a rival crime boss’ gang at a picnic table out in the ‘burbs I was not even feeling a pang of guilt.

As I walked up to her desk Beth mumbled through a mouthful of coffeecake that my first appointment was already in my office. I covered my crotch and headed in. No Mack or Ty to greet me this time. There was an actual appointment waiting in my office. Although the couple sitting in the chairs in front of my desk were familiar faces.

The man was Gus Grubaker, a local celebrity due to his job as sportscaster for one of the news stations in town. More importantly he was the man who romanced and won the heart of my ex, Megan Pollacker.

It had been nearly two years since I had seen my news anchoring, bodacious ex (I get my news from the internet) and a few things had changed about her. Most notably she was sporting a rock the since of chocolate chip on her ring finger. As I had mentioned the sportscaster who worked at the studio, Gus, had started lusting after Megan shortly after she began distributing a disproportionate amount of weight in her backside. After her and I parted ways Gus moved in like a squirrel who had finally found a way to get to an elusive birdfeeder. He put that ring (that he could barely afford) on her finger quick as could be.

Of course the other noticeable thing I noticed about Megan was that she had put on some weight since we broke up. Yes even as I had called off the remotes program during our let’s-still-be-friends lunch the eating habits Megan had picked up during our romance surely endured. Without the remote directing all the calories to her dumper Megan was looking much fuller in the face and had a little paunch pushing against her blouse as it tried to push its way into her lap.

Certainly Megan’s ass was still her biggest and best asset, curves wise. It hung out over the sides of the chair and hung down, appearing to almost be trying to engulf it, like an amoeba devouring some rival single celled organism.

Megan struggled to get up when I came in and waddled over to give me a hug, her dress skirt riding up as always with each jiggly step.

“How are things at the station?” I asked the couple after I watched Megan lower her bulk back into the chair.

“Great,” Megan beamed. “Things are going great. Busy but great.”

“Yes,” Gus echoed. “It’s an exciting time to be in news.”

Megan’s smile faded a tad. “But I’m sure you can guess from our setting up an appointment, we are here on other less cheerful matters.”

“I see that. To be honest I had been too swamped to realize you guys had set up a consultation or I would have bumped you up the list.”

“We wouldn’t have expected that,” Gus said. It was clear he was feeling very awkward about coming to his wife’s old flame for help, especially in a matter as delicate as this.

“No we wouldn’t want any preferential treatment. It is just that after we got married we both agreed on kids. Then after a year of trying, nothing. Then Gus had his sperm tested just to see.” Gus was a deep shade of red when I glanced over. “And he was fine. So we kept trying and six months later still nothing. So since the say you’re the best I’d thought we’d come to you…unless you don’t feel right having me as a patient.”

I waved her off. “Nonsense. Anyone who needs help with fertility is welcome here. I’ll be glad to help if I can.” And also be more then glad to add another 50 pounds of blubber to those cheeks, I thought while smiling at my extremely bottom heavy ex. “In fact we can forgo a lot for the preliminary nonsense since I know you and we can move on to some of the initial testing just to verify there is an issue that needs to be corrected.”

And with that I summoned Carol to lead Megan off to an exam room. Gus and I followed behind as four ginormous cheeks bounced and swayed in front of us. I could tell Gus was in ass lover’s heaven.

As Carol disappeared with Megan into an exam room to take care of the tedious testing I gave Gus the nickel tour. He nodded and pretended to understand as I rambled on tediously about stuff so over his head he could barely see it. Then while he stared wide eyed at the massive chamber I let people believe was where fertility was sparked I caught Carol as she was taking Megan’s blood to the lab. “I’ll switch with you,” I offered. “You go get Mister Grubaker a glass of wine and show him to the waiting room and finish up with Megan.” Carol looked confused. “We used to date,” I explained. She nodded and I went into the exam room.

Now Megan and I had ended on good terms, but I won’t lie and say I didn’t get a kick out of seeing my ex in a hospital gown where her ass stuck out the back anxiously awaiting my help. It certainly was not above me to take advantage as best I could.

I made her follow me up and down the hallways in her bare feet with her big dimpled ass bouncing around while she tugged futilely at the fabric to cover her wobbly rear. I went from room to room when I could have done everything in one place. When I got her up on the scale and saw the numbers climb to 193 I smiled broadly. When we first started dating Megan was an almost waifish 118 (or so my remote told me). When we broke up she was a much heavier but by no means colossal 179. With all the weight settling into her ass she looked much bigger then she was. Since she never shared her weight she had no idea I knew, but I could not help but saying, “Packed on a few pounds since last I saw you in your thong, huh?” I poked a saddlebag for emphasis.

Having dated me for over a year Megan knew my humor and was ready. “Marriage agrees with me,” she said knocking my hand away. “Plus Gus’ sister is married to one of the producers. So I could eat a hot fudge sundae right on camera and not get fired nowadays.”

“You might get to test that if you end up being a patient. Pregnancy might agree with you even more then marriage,” I warned.

“Oh once I have the kids I’m done being if front of the camera for a while, whether it‘s because I‘m too fat to fit at the desk or not. I’m an old fashioned gal, Phil, you knew that. I’d like nothing more then to be the housewife and let Gus bring home the bacon.”

“He’ll need a lot of bacon,” I couldn’t resist adding as I gave one last playful slap to a bulging roll of thigh cheese. She shook her head and gave me the you still haven't changed look.

I let Megan get her clothes back on and told her I’d be in touch as soon as her test results came back in. I did not do anything with the remote this time. I figured I’d save something for when I brought her back in for the treatment. And it was going to be a big something. I wondered what an eight month pregnant Megan would look like with hips measuring in the 80’s. The thought had me needing a cold shower. But as I scurried through the front lobby into the break room where Beth was snacking on cupcakes I was halted from my much needed blast of cold water.

“Where are you going, doctor?” Beth called out. Before I could mumble a response she put down a half eaten pink fronted goodie and followed me into the hall. “Your next appointment came early. I sent them into your office while you were spending time with your ex.” The last part was said with a hint of both suspicion and jealousy.

“She’s married…and unable to get pregnant. I was just doing the same tests with her that every other potential patient gets,” I explained, unsure why I felt the need to explain.

“I haven’t seen you do any of the actual testing on someone for years,” she said accusingly.

“I just wanted to put her at ease. It must have been hard for her to make the first step and come to my clinic.”

That seemed to calm Beth. “I guess,” then with a smirk she added, “and it was good to see you big assed, flat chested stuck-up ex got even a little fatter since you guys broke up.”

“Jealous much?” I said without even thinking. I should have just let the statement go.

She shook it off. “Oh no, not that. I just remember how when you guys were going out how she would look down on me every time she came in to have lunch with you just because she is some big time news anchor.” She stopped, almost as if she was making sure I bought her not being jealous. I nodded. I did remember Megan being awfully snotty. Especially before her pant sizes started changing by the month. “Plus it’s good to see someone else having gained a little weight, since I’ve been packing it on a little myself lately.” It was an obvious play for sympathy complete with her squishing her boobs up under her chin while she lifted her blouse to show me her pale, doughy belly hanging over her waistband.

If I needed a cold shower before now I was at a point where I just needed to find a frozen lake to jump into. Instead I moved forward and gave her exposed paunch a gentle pat. “I think it’s cute,” then I moved my hand upward. “Plus you’re anything but flat chested.” I gave her left boob a playful squeeze. It was certainly over the line for a boss-employee relationship, but the way Beth looked at me, like a puppy dog I had just scratched behind the ear let me know I wasn’t about to be sued. So it was on to my next concern. “My next appointment?” I started with my hand still squeezing a bottom quarter of my assistant’s rack. “It’s not…?”

“No. It’s some lesbian couple. No angry mob looking for their money.”

I looked at Beth’s still exposed tummy and then toward my office. “I suppose I better go.”

Beth let her blouse fall out of her hand and her soft bowl of jelly vanished. “Yeah, they have been waiting a while.”

And so I went into my next appointment late, wondering to myself how long it would be before my relationship with my assistant became inappropriate.

 

I see some foreshadowing,

 

Oh wow, i love your additions and this story keeps getting better!

 

Great addition!

The newswoman is one of my favorite characters and I hope to see more of her.

 

Yeah that ass description is the best.

 

I have to say this has been a great story so far, you must add more!

 

It would not have been my first lesbian couple had the bulky blonde and librarian looking, raven haired woman sitting in my office been actually looking to get treatment. There had been a very butch woman and her scrawny little girlfriend a few years back. They had a man in mind for a sperm donor, but shortly after the consultation the relationship fell apart and I never heard from them again.

So it was not unusual, and I certainly did not think much of it until I sat behind my desk and pulled open the file. I glanced again at the sturdy looking blonde. She was not fat, more just big boned, but that was not what I was checking out. She seemed very familiar. Like I should know who she was. But the name on the file, the Wilsons, did not ring a bell. They waited patiently as I settled in and picked up the folder.

Even in my horny haze the realization hit me before I opened the file. Why would a file for an unmarried couple (neither woman had a ring) have only one name. Then I opened to see a photo of a bespeckled black man and his redheaded wife.

I looked up at the “lesbian” couple who were both smiling knowingly. “We let the Wilsons know you were going to be busy with us today, doctor,” the blonde said in a gruff voice. Then it suddenly hit me where I knew her from. The woman who had went with Jean out to the parking garage and helped her take care of the lowly trafficker.

“I’m afraid I see people by appointment only. You’ll have to schedule something with my assistant in your way out,” I managed to say pretty calmly if with absolutely no authority.

“I’m afraid we need some emergency medical advice, doctor,” the dark haired one said sternly. As the blonde laid a stack of hundreds on my desk she added, “We’ll make sure your compensated for your time, whether you are able to help us or not.”

I reached instinctively for the remote in my shirt pocket. Looking like a pen I hoped I could punch a couple quick programs and be safe from harm before the pair even realized it was not a writing device I was clicking in their direction. Nothing was there. I remembered I left the remote in the exam room by the scale as I was mulling over adding more humps to Megan’s large lady lumps.

“Something wrong, doctor?” The brunette asked.

“This isn’t exactly standard procedure, ladies, but if you can be quick about it I can see what I can do to help,” I said picking up the stack of money.

“My name is Morganna Rouli,” The brunette said. My heart stopped and crawled up into my throat. “And this is my associate, Crimson Decker. We have recently had some colleagues of ours stricken by some very unusual biological occurrences and we thought you might know something about them.”

I tried to stay calm knowing I was looking across my desk at the very mob boss whose crew I had been systematically dismantling. “The colleagues or the occurrences? Because I can tell you the answer is no to both.”

Crimson looked at Rouli impatiently. Morganna put a hand on her forearm as if to calm her. “Well the thing is, Doctor Tenor, we know of a man who would be very interested in seeing bad things happen to us and those we work with.”

Crimson interrupted. “And we know Edwin has been here at least once. And that once just happened to be on the very same day-”

“Please, Crimson,” Rouli said to her bodyguard. Then to me, “So, Doctor Tenor, what can you tell us about the conversation you and Edwin Gorely had when he stopped by?”

It was not hard for me to play dumb to that. “I have not had a conversation with any Edwin…whatever you said his name was.”

“How about Mack, smartass?” Crimson shot.

I tried to conceal the recognition. “Mack? Mack who?”

Crimson started to say something, but Morganna cut her off. “Mack is the nickname for Edwin Gorely, a misguided man who fancies himself something of an organized criminal.”

I figured out and out denial was a lost cause since they clearly knew Mack had been here. “I did have a consultation with a man who called himself Mack who was concerned about the fertility of his daughter…but since his daughter was not along with him there was not much I could, despite his very demanding nature.” Sounded good in my head, less convincing as it came out of my mouth, but it did cause Morganna to think a few moments after again nodding at Crimson to be patient.

“You know why Edwin got the nickname Mack, Doctor Tenor?” I shook my head. “Edwin does not have the bloodline for this business like myself. He was a poor Irish boy who knew nothing of the business when he dropped out of high school and made a career out of being a cross country truck driver.” Rouli was studying my every move as she told her story. Trying to read every twitch and squirm. “Of course the money he made was crap and and he was quickly lured into carrying a little extra for a few shady individuals who wanted their loads picked up and unloaded before sunrise. But of course when you deal with the likes of smugglers you are bond to be screwed, and screwed Edwin was many a time, but he wasn’t really bright enough to learn from his mistakes.” Rouli chose an odd place to pause and bit her lower lip. It wasn’t by any means an erotic story, but something about her had me very turned on even before the lip biting.

Rouli was average height and weight. Not very curvy. At least not under her sweater and slacks. She was very Italian looking, complete with eyebrows that were a few missed waxings away from being a unibrow. But yet with her big brown eyes and glossy lips she had me captivated.

“Instead of staying away from the likes of guys who would sooner use him and then run out without paying Edwin kept making underhanded deals and running goods for the underworld. He did develop a very nasty habit of hunting down those who crossed him and running them over with his truck. It became his thing and before long people knew not to mess with him. If you hired him, you paid him or you got splattered all over the pavement by his Mack truck. Hence the nickname. Then as he got a little more established Mack began setting the deals and screwing people over, but instead of just running out without paying he would run eighteen wheels over them and anyone associated with them.” Rouli stopped to pull out a cigarette and lit up without asking permission. “ He eventually worked his way up high enough that he moved out of the smuggling game and into a little less high profile line of work, but not before racking up enough vehicular homicides to have the FBI investigating the ‘highway hitman‘. It was dumb luck he didn’t get taken down. It sure as hell wasn’t intelligence.” Morganna let out a sigh, blowing smoke rings as she did. “I mean hell the rumor is he still has the truck. They say he keeps it somewhere as a trophy…well that and to scare the hell out of clients that he suspects are trying to double cross him.”

I waited to make sure Rouli was done with her little tale. I passed the time by imagining what her girlfriend must look like. Rouli was not exactly a lipstick lesbian, but she wasn’t exactly butch either. Unable to imagine what the dowdy but still alluring crime lord went home to every night I drolly said, “And how does this relate to the guy who came in worried his daughter was sterile?” I clung to that lie for dear life, knowing full well that simply knowing Mack had a daughter really wouldn’t help should Rouli, who obviously knew her adversary better then me, decide to press that story.

“I just wanted to let you know what kind of unorganized deranged sociopath you are aligning yourself with…should you have any second thoughts and care to come clean.”

Meanwhile Crimson was scowling at me like a hungry tiger behind a glass partition at the zoo.

“I’d help if I could. What kind of medical problems did your colleagues experience?”

Rouli chuckled, as if impressed by my determination. “A young woman who had been a lifelong athlete, dead lifting 400 pounds easily before breakfast suddenly became a woman who weighs over 400 pounds and can’t bend over at the waist much less dead lift anything. Not to mention that breakfast for her lasts roughly,” she glanced at her watch. “Oh days and days.”

“I don’t get it.” It seemed to be the right answer. What average person, even a doctor, would understand what she described.

“And then my assistant suddenly blossomed from a healthy young woman into a woman so grotesquely obese she appears to be somewhere around twelve and thirteen months pregnant.”

Fourteen months to be exact, I corrected in my head. “I have no idea why you think a licensed fertility expert could help you with what you described,” I stated.

Crimson looked like she was just waiting for the word from her boss to tear me apart. Crimson was not quite as intimidating as Jean used to be. The blonde actually had a good sized chest on her and a round face that would be cute if it wasn’t stuck in a pursed-lipped frown. Her arms, however, were as big around as my legs and looked capable of hurling me through the nearby window without much effort.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t help us, doctor,” Morganna said, getting up. “If for some reason we find out later that you are misleading us here…I go by the mantra, eye for an eye…”

Crimson even put her two cents in as she followed her boss to the door. “I hope you don’t seriously think that when the dust settles Edwin will be the one in power. It’ll just be a matter of time before he runs for the coast, or maybe Mexico, his type does well there, and your left with no one to save you.”

“Let’s go, Crimson. I’m sure the doctor has a busy schedule.”

As soon as the door closed I gasped for breath like I had been holding it in the entire time and slumped into my chair like I was melting wax. I thought briefly of giving Rouli a few minutes to drive away and then running out to my car and driving until I couldn’t even remember this town. It seemed to make sense. Rouli would not care I was gone as long as her crew stopped blowing up like parade blimps. But then where would I go and what was to say that Mack wouldn’t come looking for me. Morganna just explained to me how he tracked people down who he felt wronged him. Leaving suddenly might prompt the unstable mob boss to suspect something.

Then there was Rouli who seemed intelligent and calculating enough to find me wherever I went if she really wanted to. And if I bolted right after her showing up I might as well write out a confession to her and deliver it myself. No I had made my bed and now I was going to have to…

 

excellent!! so excited for this next piece!

 

…wait in it. And there was a lot of waiting. For weeks nothing happened. It was almost like it was BM, or Before Mack as I had begun referring to it in my head. I treated new patients and congratulated the ones who came in after a few weeks of trying, hoping to confirm what the plastic stick they peed on had told them while they nearly popped out of clothes they were quickly outgrowing.

I did a few interesting follow-up appointments. One was with frizzy haired school teacher who had been a chubby hourglass shape when I treated her, but when she came in six months along she had a great big gooey blob of a belly that hung down in front of her crotch when she let it flop out of her supportive maternity pants. A check of her starting weight at 180 versus her current 245 was promising considering she had a couple months to go.

I had given her an affinity for bacon cheeseburgers and apple fritters and the effects were quite attractive. Although her husband didn’t agree. “Billy calls me his big sow,” she confided after I prodded her soft tummy trying to find her future child. “He bought me a treadmill and made me promise to drop the baby weight by the one year birthday.”

“That might be kind of an unrealistic schedule,” I said, patting her tub of lard to signal I had finished. She struggled to a seated position. I figured by the time she was ready to deliver she’d be a stone’s throw from 300 and even with breastfeeding she’d be lucky to see 250. Billy did not realize what a lucky man he was to have the start of what was sure to be a very impressive belly apron developing. Well you can lead a horse to water…

Of course by this point Beth herself had a gut that rivaled any six moth pregnant client and breasts that would destroy any of the F cup bras she owned should she have tried to put them on. But she wasn’t. she letting her mounds flop free beneath baggy dresses.

She had already noticed what was happening. “I think I’m going to have to start doing my meditation exercises,” she had told me one morning while adjusting her knockers beneath the thin cotton dress.

“Huh?”

“You remember back when I first started and I went and saw that specialist because I had a sympathy belly from being around all the preggos.”

“Yeah I remember that.”

“Well I think it’s happening again.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well my tits have swollen up like sponges in a mop bucket and my stomach always looks it does after I eat a whole large pizza.” She lifted her shirt to show me a protruding dome of stretched skin. “Plus I had to dig all the old elastic-waisted pants I wore back then out of my closet.” She snapped the stretchy material against her paunch for emphasis.

“Looks good on you if that is what is happening. Of course if you wanted you could always blame me. I’m the one that pays you to sit behind a desk for ten hours a day surrounded by spherical, hungry women.” I wasn’t lying on either count, not that I needed my conscious to be clean by this point.

She just arched her back to stretch out her weary muscles and grabbed another donut.

And while my remote was making Beth hungrier and fatter My actions were making her jealous. Our flirting was becoming more blatant and I was also seeing more of the poor, pregnancy challenged Megan and every time that oversized ass wobbled in the door Beth’s crumb covered lips turned right into a scowl.

After I would send Megan back with the nursing staff to do another test to try and find the exact cause of her infertility (although my remote had already prescribed it to me on her first visit. Had to keep up appearances though) Beth would waddle into my office to quickly point out some flaw in my ex. “Some guys like a big ass, but hers is so big it’s lost all shape,” she would say even as her ample derriere stretched the fabric of her pants.

I enjoyed Beth’s jealously as much I enjoyed programming the remote for Megan. By the time my staff pinpointed the cause of her sterility after three separate sessions Megan had crested the 200 pound mark. “I think my body is preparing for pregnancy,” she told me on the day of her actual treatment. “My appetite has just been ridiculous lately,” she said after ambling up to the scale and seeing 209lbs register on the display. “Well that or I’m eating to accommodate for the lack of sex. Gus said he’s saving his energy for after I have the procedure.” She shook her head. “He said he couldn’t come for this because he had to work, but I know damn well he’s at home preparing a romantic evening.”

I winked and leaned back to admire the seemingly endless amount of ass cleavage on display due to the gown that was about a foot from closing in the back. “Between your pre-pregnancy weight gain and the pounds you’re sure to pile on during, I might have to invest in a livestock scale.”

Megan huffed and swatted at me before stepping down of the scale. “Haven’t changed a bit, Phil. Sensitive as always.”

“Aww come on,” I called after her as she tried to hurry back to the exam room. I lost my train of thought for a moment watching the heaving of her blubbery thighs beneath the straining thin fabric of the gown. “Who could blame a guy for being a little smug after seeing the girl that broke up with him has porked up a bit?”

Megan rolled her eyes. “Oh please. You’re not any guy, Phil. We both know you loved every extra pound I gained. We’ll see how you like it after I have the baby and decide to start exercising and loose all this.” She slapped a hand on her shelved out hip and then started to shed her gown and dress back in her snug sweats.

As I watched her bend over and admired the view of her ass spreading out from two people wide to at three and a half people wide I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of a woman with that much meat packed onto her hips “deciding” to start exercising. Of course thanks to the remote I knew the only thing she was going to be deciding after her visit would be to stop on the way home for a double burger and malt. And probably not to wear those tight fitting sweat pants again. Heck, as fertile as I had just made her she could blame on first trimester bloating when those pants would not fit at all in a week.

But as much fun as I was having reconnecting with Megan I was falling hard for Beth. No more was my attraction to her evident then when I came in one morning and saw her reaching up above the refrigerator in the break room to dig into the bunt cake that one of the nurses brought in. With her hands up above her head her bulging belly stuck out in front of her preventing her from getting close enough to the fridge top get to her treat while her mammoth tits stretched the dress she was wearing tight enough I could see her nipples pointing slightly downward.

I came up behind her and placed my hand on a chunk of back fat with one hand and grabbed the Tupperware of baked goods with the other. Beth blushed as she tore off the lid and broke off a hunk of cake. “I have no willpower,” she shrugged.

I shrugged back and took a hunk for myself. It was way too early in the morning for something that sweet but I gulped it down just the same.

“I’m getting so fat. Know anyone who wouldn’t mind an overeating fatty who looks like she could deliver twins at any moment? Because if you do I should meet them now so I can hook up before I get even fatter,” she said sarcastically while sticking her belly out even further then it was. It bumped into my much flatter belly. Of course her belly couldn’t bump me with her pendulous breasts brushing me as well. I instinctively cushioned the blow of one of her cannon balls with my hand. My pants started to tent outward. Thankfully she was close enough she couldn’t see due to her rack and belly.

“I don’t know about all that, but I see a pretty young woman with some nice curves who needs to stop being so hard on herself.” With the hand that wasn’t on her tit I brought up a piece of cake to her mouth. She gobbled it up along with two of my fingers that she sucked slowly while she closed her eyes and moaned ever so slightly.

Red lights and sirens were going off in my head telling me to walk away and salvage the professional relationship that was left, but when I pulled my fingers away and Beth’s eyes opened, looking right at me with a look that demanded, take me, I was powerless to do anything but lean across the foot and a half of cleavage and-

“Ahhh! Who are you!?” Beth shrieked.

I opened my eyes and Beth was looking over my shoulder. I whipped my head around and standing in the door was Mack leaning against the wall in a three piece suit. Along with him was a more casual Ty coming right toward me.

Beth had somewhat recovered from the shock but was retreating to the corner.

“So that is how a fertility clinic works,” Mack quipped. “I always wondered.” By the time he finished his statement Ty had buried his boot into my crotch and I lost all awareness of what was going on.

 

excellent addition sir...this story continues to get better!

 

Ok, I do see how a suit of armor is out of the question, but atleast give the guy a cup. Great addition, ec.

 

That remote is gonna cme in handy when he eventually goes infertile...