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BHM The Utopia

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Well-Known Member
Apr 6, 2014
~BHM, ~FFA, Feeding, Stuffing. Mild ~Sex, ~MWG, ~XWG​

A spy is prepared for an eventual mission to a closed, all-fat community with diet changes and a fat-suit disguise.

The Utopia

by gignv


I paused on my way through the doors toward my new assignment. My career had been solid without praise or fault. Mostly because my job and what I did for my job were not topics anyone was allowed to discuss. Was this a promotion or demotion? Only time would tell. Since I thought I had a good record I preferred to think it was a promotion. The secrecy level on this one was beyond anything I had experienced before, I was permanently assigned to this and this would be the end or the rest of my career. Maybe. One never knows about these things.

I had keys and pass-codes to many doors and went through many security checkpoints. Eventually the guards were gone and the checkpoints were electronic or even hardened steel locks. After the final door I entered a complex of well-lit rooms, bright after the long journey through little used, dimly lit passageways.

“Welcome to the project.” said a very controlled and emotionless voice to my left. I knew she was there, since this is definitely a skill I needed to survive my job. I trusted this assignment so I took no evasive or defensive action. I looked over at a tall, but thin woman dressed in what looked like a doctor’s white coat. Glasses, clipboard, hair neatly pulled back. I knew this type. These people were the backbone of our organization. They tweaked our bodies to fit each mission and often put us back together after many of our missions. I expected to see a cadre of other people as part of the rest of the project. This was my only surprise. She may have sensed this or at least predicted my reaction, “It is just us. I am Dr. Morgan.” No jewelry, just slacks and a button-up shirt.

“OK, you know who I am. When do we get started?”

“We are already started. Today is half gone but we can get much of the background data done.” Still calm, relaxed. I swear there was a slight quirk of a smile behind her mask of professionalism.

“Follow me.”

We went down a hall and entered a largish doctor’s office. It actually looked a little more like a mad scientist’s lab than your usual suburban family doctor’s office. Oh, well. I was much more familiar with this version.

“Please remove your clothes and we will get started with the baseline data.”

I was used to this, but usually there were 5 to 10 other people with me. I did what I was asked to do. The room was just the right temperature at least. Dr. Morgan directed me to an examination table that dominated the room. Dominated is the correct description; the table was enormous, near the size of a queen-sized bed. I followed her lead and sat on the table. The usual tests and blood work were done. I had to stand and she weighed me and measured my height. She kept madly scribbling notes and measurements. She got out a tape measure and began measuring everything. Ankle circumference, calf, knee, lower thigh, upper thigh. The other leg. My waist. Circumference across my butt, just below my butt where my legs start. Around my ribs, chest, shoulders. Arms: circumference at arm pit, above elbow at elbow, below elbow, wrist. Other arm. Neck. Around my head at my jaw, then nose, then forehead. Around my head up-down, below my chin to the top of my head. Then over my shoulder and around my torso up-down through my groin-to the side of my testicles, and back up. She put down the tape measure and picked a thinner, more graduated tape measure. She measured each of my fingers, diameters at three spots on each. I assumed all of this was necessary; I helped or shifted when I was asked. I watched her eyes as she did each task. She seemed robotic in her detachment and concentration, as if I was a machine to be tuned or changed to her specifications.

This took a long time. Then she led me over to an area with markings on the floor and a set of tracks and metal struts above. She told me where to stand on two ‘X’s, widely spaced apart, maybe about 2.5 feet between. She traced the outline of each of my feet with a marker. “Stand there with your hands in these rungs and your feet in the outlines and close your eyes. Keep them closed until I say it is clear.” She stepped back and I could hear her hit a few keys. I could hear a scanner circle around me on the track. I could see the intense light even through my closed eyes.

When I could open my eyes, she was across the room at a set of large monitors with a 3-D image of my body in sub-millimeter detail. Pretty cool. I was tired and bored of just standing there, but she only took a few keystrokes to store the data and then she turned around in her chair. “I need to crunch these numbers and run your blood work, but we have plenty of research for you to pour over. The case file is in your room, along with a terminal. I think you will be surprised at this project. Those boxer shorts are for you.” With that she smiled and turned back to her monitor.

I put on the boxer shorts, they were a very large and loose, but fit just well enough not to fall off my slim waist. I walked out to the hall and walked farther down. This ended and there were doors on both sides of the hallway. One was labeled “Morgan” the other had my name, well my code name for this project at least. I opened it and entered.

A thick manila envelope sat on the desk, labeled “Top Secret: clearance level 5 required for opening”. I ripped it open and looked at the dossier for this project. Undercover. No surprise there, I had done well with these types of assignments before. The target was the surprise. I had expected terrorists or insurgents or even high-level banking or securities exchanges. I did not expect the Fats.

They don’t call themselves that of course. Everybody else does though. These were several growing enclaves whose stated mission was to support and be a haven for overweight or obese humans. The modern human society had finally become a tolerant and pluralistic society in all respects except for towards the overweight. These people were still picked on and harassed, with the end result being that they were driven to create these separate societies of safety. These enclaves were closed to everyone except the overweight. They called themselves the Utopia. They had been around for a long time, and they had evolved a whole separate set of mores and culture. No one outside really knew what went on in the enclaves. There were rumors that ranged from absurd to bad jokes, but no one knew. Few overweight people ever left, and those that did, did not talk about the Utopia.

My mission was to infiltrate the Fats … the Utopia. I was to learn their mores and their culture, lifestyle, taboos and trends. My mission depended on Dr. Morgan who was to build a disguise for me to wear. I would have to wear this for months if not longer. It would have to function in every situation. I could not take this disguise off while I infiltrated the Utopia. I was used to deep-cover, but I was to become what my society despised, fat. No weight for the disguise was noted, but I knew that the people in the Utopia were not just a little overweight.


I read the project summary and began to tackle the summaries of the Utopia. Everything we knew. It did not seem like the envelope was thick enough to summarize a culture. It didn’t. Much of it was conjecture. A strong food and eating culture was assumed. Some analysts went with a full-on hedonistic society where all pleasures were fulfilled: food, drugs, sex, … what else is there? In the end no one knew. I was to learn all we knew and then I was to think beyond it to get a working model. I would know enough to enter the Utopia and the rest would have to be adjusted on the fly. I didn’t like to operate like this, but I knew this was all there was.

After a few hours the doctor walked into the room. I had been absorbing the data in the reports and was deep in concentration. Her coat was open, I could see a little more of her figure. Definitely thin and somewhat athletic, but her clothes are loose-fitting. Small chest, obvious hips, but thin overall. Nice eyes. I had liked them during the seemingly endless exam. “Were you surprised?” Again the slight smile.

“Sure. I didn’t expect this but the mission is right up my alley as far as the skills needed. Except the weight.”

“We can fix that. That, and your absorption of the Utopia background data are to be our tasks for the next two months. Do you have an idea of the average weight of someone in the Utopia?”


“Neither do we. We do know the average weight of people who have joined the Utopia.”

“Am I supposed to guess? 300 pounds?”

“No, for males 400 pounds is the average. Actually that is the median weight, there were a few outliers.”

“So we will be making a costume that weighs 250 pounds that I will wear?”

“We will not be making it. I will. The ‘we’ comes into the picture in that your body will need to be prepared to bear that load and your body will have to be prepared for the expected much larger diet of the Utopians. To get to the point of designing your fat suit we will have to run a few longer-term tests with your body. I am ready to begin the next step if you are ready.”

She took me down the hall to a room across from the doctor’s lab. The open door revealed a mess hall with a large table and two chairs. A smaller door led to what looked like an automated kitchen. “Sit down and we shall begin. We need to get an idea of how your body distributes fat if you ingest extra calories. This is important so that the proportions of the fat suit will match your body if you were of that size. Each person puts fat on their body in different ways, you have probably heard of the terms apple and pear to describe fat distribution, but it is actually much more complicated and each individual has their own unique pattern. We need to determine your pattern to model the suit on. Additionally, you need to get your body adjusted to a larger intake of food than what you normally eat. If you were to go in there and just eat a small salad and a glass of water at every meal your cover would not last very long. The Fats are fat for a reason: consuming extra calories. Also as a person’s body becomes larger it takes more calories to sustain it. More to heat and move around, basically. We will go slow and gradually build you up to reasonable levels of food intake. I am sure that your stomach could not currently handle the amount of food the average Utopian eats at one time. Tonight just eat until you are full.”

She hurried into the kitchen while I sat down. I heard dishes clattering, then she stepped out carrying a large tray of food. She smiled and said “This is for both of us”. I almost verbally let out a sigh of relief. The amount of food seemed enormous. It smelled good though. The food seemed like what you would find any reasonably good restaurant. She unloaded the tray in front of me and then grabbed the smallest plate, a small salad without dressing and put it on the table in front of another chair and then sat down.

I grimaced a little at the joke she had with me. I picked up a fork. She poured some wine into two glasses for us. She toasted to our project and we dug in. I dug in. She slowly picked through the salad while I tried to get through an entree and a half. When she was done she looked up at my progress and frowned a little. “This might be more difficult than I thought.”

“I am trying. It was really good and this is also, but I really am not used to this volume of food. If anything I am used to getting by on a minimum of food, especially on some of my more difficult missions.”
“I know. I read your complete dossier.” This surprised me. I thought I had no paper trail, or at least a very short one. She must have very high-level clearance.

She got up and came over to where I was sitting. She picked up fork, put a mouthful of food on it and brought it up to my mouth. I opened automatically and chewed and swallowed. “Let’s just finish this entree and then wait a little and then have you eat dessert.” She feed me the rest of the entree. She set a rigid pace and the entree was quickly inside me. I felt extremely full. I looked down and saw that my belly was very distended. She gestured for me to stand. She led me across the hall to the lab. She weighed me. “3 pounds. Of course this is not fat, but I wanted to see how much you could ingest. We will see tomorrow how efficient your body is. I will meet you in your room in one hour with dessert.” At that she walked over to her computer and got to work typing.

I went to my room and sat on my bed with my relatively distended belly softly aching. I propped the reports on my belly and started reading. I was really absorbed in the data when the doctor finally entered my room. I looked up and saw that she had a large container of ice cream in her hands. “Two pints. That should be in your range.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed facing me and spooned the ice cream and began feeding me the ice cream. Again she set a fast pace but it wasn’t enough give me a cold-headache. The two pints disappeared quickly. “Room for more?” I was feeling really stuffed now. I had never seen or felt my belly this distended. The skin was tight and it seemed as solid as a bowling ball. Before I answered she put her hand on my belly and gently prodded. “I don’t think it is dangerous yet. But it is up to you.”

I am not sure why I said “One more.” Maybe I wanted to please her by eating so much or maybe I felt like this was a challenge to overcome. My reading of the reports on the Utopia might have had an influence; maybe this was curiosity to feel what a person in the Utopia feels. I do need to assume my mission target’s personality.

She got up and ran out of the room and returned quickly. “OK, one more.” she said with a definite smile. It didn’t last, she replaced it with her bland detached doctor’s face. She again fed the ice cream to me. She seemed happy to be feeding this ice cream to me. Maybe it was her eyes or something, but somehow I felt this was somehow more than just a science experiment.


I woke up the next morning to an artificial sunrise of fluorescent lights. My belly was still slightly distended, but I also felt hungry. Strange. It almost seemed like some weird dream/nightmare. Maybe in the vein of Hansel and Gretel and the witch who fattened them up. As I woke up more this feeling went away and I got up to go to the bathroom. I noticed that everything in the bathroom was wider and that there were lots of extra handrails. The toilet seat was huge. I might be in danger of falling in if I were to sit down on it. It was definitely much wider than my hips.

When I walked out of the bathroom she was standing there. “We will have a normal routine everyday. I heard you accomplish the first step. Next we will go to the lab and do a simpler set of measurements, weigh you and do a scan.” We walked down the hall to the lab. She measured my waist and chest and my left upper arm and my left, upper thigh, and around my left ankle and wrist, finally my neck. She didn’t tell me any of the measurements or comment on changes in them.

“Now breakfast.” I thought I heard a slight slip of excitement in her voice. She was looking away from me when she said this so I could not read her eyes. I always have felt that the eyes don’t lie, that most people can’t control their emotions enough to damp the reactions from showing in their eyes.

Breakfast was not surprisingly, very large. It really seemed like a lot of food. It was a lot of food. She once again contrasted her very small portion with mine. She had half a slice of toast and a few berries on her plate. “You know the drill, by the end of the week you need to be able to eat this whole breakfast. Today eat as much as you can. I will feed you if that helps or if you need it.” With that I did dive in, I almost started before she finished talking. I was a little suspicious that she must have slipped me an appetite stimulant at some point. I never felt this strong of a compulsion to eat. Not even when I was subsisting on starvation rations.

Breakfast was like last night’s dinner. I ate until I was stuffed, then Dr. Morgan feed me some more to make me even more stuffed. My belly was again very distended by the end of breakfast. I got up and went to my room to lie down and read my reports. Around 10 a.m. she walked in with a tray of food. I was still full from breakfast. My belly was still visibly very distended and I really didn’t think I had any room left. She predicted these thoughts “You have been digesting for 3 hours, of course you have room. You don’t want to spoil your appetite for lunch,” she said this with a smile, “but we need to eat something during mid-morning snack time. We think this is very typical of the way things are in the Utopia.”

I sighed and sat up and started eating. She stood by the bed staring at me for a few mouthfuls, nodded her head and left. The snack was really not that much food. Once I started it was easy to finish it. As soon as I finished she walked in and picked up the tray. She put a candy bar to replace it and left in swoosh of her lab coat.

I ate the candy bar and got back to work. On some level my situation was bizarre. I was nearly naked with a drum-tight distended belly, being stuffed by a slim female doctor/mad scientist with the socializing skills of a robot and I was reading highly classified documents.

Lunchtime rolled around with predictable consequences. Then afternoon snack. Then dinner. Then dessert. The rest of the week passed in a blur of days of a similar schedule of eating. I gradually ate more and more of the meals. I kept up with the snacks, but they kept growing. My belly seemed to be almost always distended, beginning at breakfast and staying that way until I went to bed. After breakfast I could not see my penis when I was standing because of my belly. Everyday it seemed bigger, I am not sure if it was because I was adding fat to my body or it was because I was eating more food at each meal. This must be how it feels, in part, to be pregnant. My belly was rock hard and moved as a solid coherent unit. It stuck out and led me around when I walked. It is very strange feeling.

One dinner she announced “Tonight marks our first week of the project and tomorrow we will do a full measurement. We are making good progress getting you ready but we are slightly behind schedule. It is my fault due to a few miscalculations. I am asking for you to push a little harder tonight. Let me know if I can assist in any way.” I ate everything on the table. I even ate her salad. It was amazing, I could not believe I did it. Dr. Morgan helped by feeding the last two entrees to me. When I was done I was still hungry but I did not think I could eat anything else, which was a strange feeling of two opposites. With her hand on my tight, bulging, pregnant-like belly she said “Very impressive, good work, we might be right on track now.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back in the chair. I could feel my distended belly lightly touching my thighs even when I leaned back. It touched just a little, but I had never had a belly before and it was definitely a new sensation having part of my body stick out so much. Her hand was still on my belly. She was pressing lightly and almost caressing it. She seemed to be measuring its size and shape with her hands.

She helped me sit up and walk me to my room. I lay down on the bed and tried to read the reports, but I nodded off to sleep. She woke me later for dessert. She was slightly smiling, not looking at my face but instead staring at my belly. “I waited an extra two hours for you do some digesting of dinner. Ready for dessert?” She stepped aside to reveal a one-gallon ice cream container. It looked huge. My stomach still felt tight and full.

I stammered “How can I possibly eat that?”

“Let’s see what you can do, I bet you will be surprised.” Without waiting for my reply see put a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. It was good. My body seemed to wake up to demand more. I thought for a second how unusual that was and that she must be using strong appetite inducer drugs on me. My thoughts shifted to the ice cream and my stomach took over my thought processes and opened my mouth for the next spoonful. The ice cream quickly disappeared. I let out a huge sigh afterward. The last few bites were the toughest. My abdomen seemed like it was not part of me. It was huge. I really looked pregnant now. I couldn’t see my feet or my legs for that matter. I laid back and closed my eyes. My belly was blissfully full and ached with pain/pleasure. Her hands lightly massaged my belly which eased the painful feelings considerably.

…To be continued…

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