# The Fat Files: the Institute - by Jerry Thomas



## Jerry Thomas (Jan 16, 2015)

​ _SSBHM, ~FFA, ~~FA, Fantasy, Intrigue, Sci-Fi, ~XWG - A man volunteers to be a guinea pig in a medical experiment that changes his life forever_

_*[Authors note:] *Some of you may remember the X-Files television series that ran for nine seasons from 1993 until 2002. After watching non-stop reruns on DVD for the past two weeks, I was inspired to write my own version of an episode I would like to see._



*The Fat Files: the Institute

*​ *by Jerry Thomas*
​
The building was one of those mysterious unidentified facilities that one sees scattered throughout the Washington metropolitan area. Four stories high, it was built during the wartime boom of the 1940s, and the original red brick was now painted over in white in a half-hearted attempt at renovation. It was surrounded by suburban greenery and a few flower beds, in the well-tended but depressing style of a U.S. military base. White curtains hung limply in the double-hung windows, already appearing exhausted by the citys summer humidity. 

I managed to find the residential neighborhood where it was located in Arlington, just across the river from the District of Columbia. Geographically speaking, it was defined by its proximity to a triangle formed by Fort Myer, the Pentagon, and the Navy Annex. You could see the Potomac River and the Capitol if you looked out the top floor windows towards the east. The building looked as if it could have been a hospital, which indeed it once was, many years ago. A psychiatric hospital, as I discovered later. The very first time I saw it, I thought _this has U.S. Government written all over it,_ although there was no outward indication of who exactly owned and operated the facility. 

When I arrived for my interview that June morning, the only identification I found was a discrete brass plate mounted next to the entrance. *Office of Scientific Research and Development, Metabolic Research Institute*, it said. Later on, much later, when it was already too late, I would learn that the employees and residents of the building referred to it simply as The Institute.

But that morning I didnt have a clear idea of the nature and purpose of the establishment I was about to enter. My experience as a former government employee told me there had to be some federal connection, but of course I hadnt a clue what it could be. Maybe they received some of their funding from the National Institutes of Health, located just a few miles upriver in Maryland. Or from the Department of Defense, given its location almost within a stones throw of the heart of the nations military establishment. But at that point I didnt really care. I was merely showing up in response to an advertisement placed in the _Washington Times_ a few days ago.

*Make Money Fast  Volunteers Needed for Medical Research!* The heading of the little ad at the bottom of the page caught my eye. Mainly the part about the money. They, whoever they might be, were willing to pay twenty-five dollars an hour for easy work  a substantial amount of money from my point of view. I wondered if this was a scam, or if it involved giving blood plasma at some shady for-profit organization whose sanitary conditions were less than optimal. But considering the fact that my current income was in the single digits, that single digit being zero, I decided to take a chance and call. I had already been out of work for four months, the rent was due by the 5th, and my small savings account was dwindling rapidly.

The number I called had a 703 area code, which meant it was located somewhere in northern Virginia. A woman with a pleasant voice answered the phone. She didnt mention the name of the organization, but merely said, Good morning. This is Mary. How may I help you? I thought I had reached an outside answering service. That was usually not a good sign.

Uh, hello, Im calling about the ad in yesterdays paper. The one asking for volunteers for some kind of research project.

Yes, of course. Weve had quite a few calls already.

Is it really true that youre paying 25 bucks an hour? I mean, this isnt just a scam, is it?

No, not at all. Its entirely legit, she replied patiently, as if it wasnt the first time anyone had asked her that question. We are part of a much larger, well-known organization.

And that organization would be . . .?

Im not authorized to tell you that at the moment. But may I ask you a few questions first?

I was suspicious of her evasiveness, but she had a sexy voice and I imagined her as being young and pretty, so I played along with her little game. Sure, go ahead. Shoot.

She proceeded to ask me a few general questions about my age, health, marital status, citizenship, and if I had ever been convicted of a felony or used controlled substances. The questions seemed harmless enough and I replied to each one in turn. It wasnt like she was asking me to take a polygraph test or strip for a body cavity search. Finally she asked for my legal name and Social Security number and whether I lived within the Washington area.

I live right here in Northwest, near Rock Creek Park. The name on my birth certificate is Wolf Mulder, but most people just call me Mulder.

She laughed. So your first name is Wolf. How did you get an interesting name like that?

Thats what happens when your parents were 1960s hippies high on LSD. My older brother is named Fox. Fox Mulder. Fox and Wolf, get it? Hes a special agent at FBI Headquarters. Works on some kind of spooky top secret project that he cant talk about.

Do you have any other siblings? she asked.

We also had a sister  Samantha. But something happened to her, something weird. She disappeared without a trace. We never found out exactly what happened. Fox thinks she was abducted by aliens. Whats he been smoking, eh?

And now, Wolf, I mean Mulder, tell me your height and how much you weigh.

I hesitated on that one. I had gained quite a bit of lard sitting on my butt for the past five years as a statistician with the Department of Agriculture. That was before they abruptly canned me. Is that really necessary? I asked.

Im afraid it is. In fact, due to the nature of our research, its probably the most important question of all.

I took a deep breath, thinking that my weight might disqualify me from further consideration. Well, you see, Ive gained some weight lately, but Im five foot seven and I currently weigh about 260 pounds.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line and I was thinking, O_kay, Mulder, thats it. Youre too fat. Youre out of the running now, tubby._

Instead she surprised me by exclaiming happily, 260 pounds, you say? Hmm, at a height of 5-7, that would give you a Body Mass Index of  I heard a calculator clicking in the background  a BMI of 40.7. Yes, thats excellent! Youre well within the obese range, exactly what were looking for. Are you available this Thursday at 10 a.m.? Would you be able to report to our facility at that time?

She gave me the street address and I told her I would be there. But what kind of research is this? She had never explained that part of it.

We can discuss those details once you are here. Please allow at least two hours for your assessment. Ask for Dr. Scully when you arrive at the front desk.

I wanted to ask who Dr. Scully was, but by that time she had already hung up. The whole thing seemed a tad weird and I was beginning to feel a queasiness in the pit of my stomach. What if this was a front operation for the CIA? Area 51? Roswell? I had just read a magazine article about a program conducted after the war where the government had intentionally injected prison convicts with malaria in order to develop a vaccine. And why was my weight such an important factor? Of course, I could still change my mind if I didnt like the way it smelled. And anyway, how bad could it be? Whatever it was, the money would certainly help me out of my current hopeless financial situation.


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## otherland78 (Jan 17, 2015)

oh interesting  but it would be nice if they take ppl with a bmi of 30 , too ;-)


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## Fiji (Jan 17, 2015)

Great start -- looking forward to seeing how it progresses. I'm sure you remember the X Files episode that featured a really fat man (no doubt the actor was wearing a fat suit) who met an untimely end.


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## Jerry Thomas (Jan 17, 2015)

Thanks for the comments! I must have missed the X-Files episode with the really fat man. I will have to go back and look for it. But there was also an episode featuring a young man with an insatiable appetite (it was called "Hungry") - and he ate people's brains, but he wasn't fat. He even goes to an Overeaters Anonymous meeting, but it doesn't help! Like many of the X-Files episodes, this one had a subtle humor.

They would probably take people with a BMI of only 30. You could apply for the program if you want to!

Most of this story is already written, I just need to fill in some gaps and then I will continue posting. Stay tuned!


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## Jerry Thomas (Jan 21, 2015)

I was out of breath by the time I arrived at the Institute after a long hike from the bus stop on Columbia Pike. Normally I would have driven, but my piece of junk Toyota Celica was again in the shop for repairs. My armpits were moist with sweat and little half moons of wetness had soaked through my shirt in the area right below my manboobs. I was already cursing my foolishness for coming and would have immediately turned around and gone back, except for my laziness in not wanting to hoof it all the way back to the bus. I walked up the front steps through creaky 1940s vintage double doors, which had been propped open due to the heat. Didnt the blasted place even have central air conditioning? 
 

I stopped inside at the reception desk and was greeted by a bubbly woman whose voice was the same as the person I had spoken to on the telephone. My original intuition had been correct  she was young and pretty as I had suspected, and a blonde to boot. I would have found her more attractive were it not for her extreme weight problem. I like curvy gals, but this one was way beyond curvy. She seemed pleasant enough, however, and her friendliness helped to put me at ease.


Mr. Mulder, yes, welcome! My name is Mary. I spoke to you on the phone. Were so glad you decided to volunteer.


I wasnt sure I had really agreed to volunteer just yet, but I let it go. Of course, I replied, why not? Too bad youre not closer to transportation.


You mean you came on the bus? Sorry about that, it is quite a long way, especially in this drippy weather. I usually drive and park in the lot right next to the building. I wanted to tell her that the walk wouldnt have done her any harm, but who was I to throw stones? We were both in the same fat boat.


She picked up the phone on her desk and dialed an extension. Mr. Mulder is here, are you ready for him? Fine, yes, Ill show him in.


She put down the receiver and smiled at me. The thought crossed my mind that I could ask her out, but its not good for two fatties to go on a date. People always laugh when they see two tubbies together, both of them trying to squeeze into the seats at the movie theater or feeding their faces at the Chinese buffet.


She got up from her chair and I followed her double-wide rear end as she waddled down the corridor. The tight white medical slacks she was wearing only accentuated the hypnotic effect of her swaying butt cheeks, and if I were a different kind of man I might have enjoyed it, but since I was already turned off by my own fat, why would I enjoy hers?


She led me to a small windowless room. In it there was a heavy-duty medical examining table, a sink, a desk with a blood pressure monitor and other medical instruments on it, and an old-fashioned balance type scale. On the wall was a chart showing outlines of men and women in various stages of obesity, from thin, to heavier, to super fat. In one of the corners there was a piece of equipment that I didnt recognize. All in all, the room appeared to be a typical doctors office. Mary patted a spot on the exam table. Take off your shirt and have a seat. Dr. Scully will be with you shortly. At the door she smiled at me again before bumping her big ass into the doorframe as she turned to leave. Oops, she said with a giggle.


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## jenemc (Jan 21, 2015)

very intriguing indeed


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## Jerry Thomas (Jan 23, 2015)

The door opened and a well-built man in blue surgical scrubs entered. His dark curly hair was cut close to the scalp and I could see his hard biceps bulging out of the short sleeves of his tunic. He was obviously in great physical shape and I had the impression that he might have been in the Marines. Or maybe he had been a model on one of the Chippendale calendars. He had a stethoscope around his neck and he was carrying a clipboard. 



Mr. Mulder? he said as he glanced at the clipboard. He had a no nonsense air about him and he didnt smile.



Yes, Im Mulder. And you must be Dr. Scully.



No, Im not, he said dryly. My name is Carlos. Im Dr. Scullys assistant. Im here to do a preliminary exam and then the Doctor will join us. She will explain the nature of your treatment and what you might expect in the future.



She? I said. Dr. Scully is a woman?



Yes, she is and always has been. Quite an attractive one, too.



Maybe this whole crazy project wouldnt be so bad after all. I always liked female doctors, but there never seemed to be enough of them. Compared to men, they had such a gentle, caring way of treating their patients. I appreciated the feminine touch.



Carlos came closer to me and placed the end of the stethoscope on my bare chest. I had been sweating because of the heat and the cold metal of the stethoscope felt good on my skin. Carlos pushed the stethoscope into my moist boob fat, moving it around to the left and to the right, and then he pushed it in again, just for good measure. I could hear him breathing. 



He looked in my ears and mouth with a different instrument, flashed a light into both of my eyes, and felt around on my neck with his thumb and forefinger. Okay, now stand up and drop your trousers, he ordered.



I slid down from the exam table and stood there uncomfortably with my pants bunched around my ankles. Carlos put on a pair of rubber gloves, reached down into the front of my boxers, and grabbed my scrotum. Cough, he said. I did, and he squeezed my balls. Cough, again, he commanded and he squeezed my nuts even harder, so that it hurt. Once more. This time he didnt squeeze, but instead he seemed to be playing with them, juggling them in his fingers like oversized marbles. He let go of me and I coughed one last time, even though he didnt ask me to.



Youre good, he said finally. Everythings fine. Pull up your trousers and then the Doctor will come. He made a few notations on his clipboard and disappeared out the door. I sat down again and realized that my face was hot. 



In a few minutes he returned with a young woman in a white medical coat. She had reddish hair with just a tinge of blond, and full juicy kissable lips. I looked into her face and saw that she had lovely icy blue, penetrating eyes. I could just make out the outline of a well-developed bosom under the unbuttoned medical coat and dangerous curves further down the road. Carlos was right  this woman was a bomb.



Dr. Scully, I presume.



And you must be Mr. Mulder, correct? Wolf Mulder? 



Yes, that would be me, I replied. But you can just call me Mulder. I never particularly liked the Wolf part of it.



Okay, Mulder, she laughed, Ill do that. So, Carlos has already taken care of the preliminaries. Carlos smiled broadly this time, revealing a prominent gold replacement tooth in front. The man who knocked out the original was probably no longer living, I thought.



Dr. Scully took the clipboard from him. Have you done the BCA test yet?



No, I didnt. I thought I would leave that for you, Doctor.



Whoa, I said. Whats that? Ive never heard of a BCA test.



Dr. Scully smiled and gently touched my arm. Nothing to worry about, Mulder. See that machine over there? She pointed to the equipment in the corner that I had been unable to identify earlier. Thats what we call a Body Composition Analyzer  or BCA for short. We use it to measure your body fat, muscle mass, lean tissue, the amount of water in your body, and other values. It can provide all that data in 20 seconds or less. That will give us a baseline against which we can compare your progress as we go forward. Its as easy as stepping on a scale.



And it has a capacity of up to 660 pounds, Carlos said with a grin. 



Dr. Scully looked at him sharply. True  it can measure anyone up to 660 pounds, but of course that wont be necessary in your case, Mulder. According to the information you provided to our receptionist, your current weight is about 260 pounds. But lets find out for sure.



She led me over to the machine and I hopped on. The device was simple enough. It consisted of an extra-wide weighing platform, white metal bars on both sides, and black grips at chest level that the weighee could hold on to. A small touch screen about eight inches wide displayed the data. Now hold on and try to stay still, Dr. Scully said. She put her hand against my bare back to keep me steady. With her other hand she touched a few buttons on the screen and I saw a series of numbers fly by. Then the machine made a beeping sound like a microwave oven and I was done. A slip of paper similar to a cash register receipt slid out of an opening at the bottom of the screen.



Dr. Scully looked over the numbers on the slip. The data indicates you are moderately to severely obese, she said. Your weight is 262.4 pounds and, given your relatively short stature, that puts you squarely in the red zone as far as obesity is concerned. Hmmm . . . your body fat content is also unusually high, even for a heavy guy like you, and your lean muscle mass is much lower than normal. I yelped when she unexpectedly grabbed a handful of my belly fat and shook it. Just as I thought, she said. Your flabbiness coefficient is also at the top of the scale, if youll excuse the pun.



Flabbiness coefficient? I asked. Is there such a thing?



Not really, its just something I developed myself after years of careful observation, she said proudly. She attached the slip to the clipboard. Carlos had been watching me the way a hungry man might look at a Thanksgiving turkey. I tried not to look at him. 



I was beginning to wonder why everyone was so interested in the amount of flab on my body. Excuse me, I said, but no one has explained to me what exactly Im here for. What kind of medical research is this?



Dr. Scully looked at Carlos with a puzzled expression. I thought you already briefed him, she said.



No, I havent, Doctor.



Well! Dr Scully pursed her lips, obviously ticked off at the incompetence of her subordinate, or at least his unwillingness to follow instructions. The reason youre here, Mulder, is that we are working on a revolutionary new treatment for obese Americans. It is not intended for people who are only mildly overweight, or for those who just want to lose a few pounds for cosmetic reasons. It has been carefully designed to benefit those who qualify as being seriously obese  like you. I never knew that being obese was something you qualified for, but apparently I was a finalist. 


The treatment, she continued,  is based on a combination of drastically reducing the subjects caloric intake combined with ongoing therapy using new experimental drugs. We sincerely believe it will be a success in helping our patients lose large amounts of weight in a relatively short period of time. You are our very first patient. In fact, the only one so far. I believe that you would be an ideal candidate for our program. All of our measurements so far, she pointed at the slip of paper attached to her clipboard, lead us to the inescapable conclusion that you are a fat, flabby, hopelessly out-of-shape mass of lard. Sorry for being so blunt, Mulder, but I always believe in being honest with the patient. 



So this is essentially a weight loss program, I replied, feeling a little bit hurt at the cruelty of her clinical assessment. But using experimental drugs? Isnt that risky?



Not at all, she replied. The drugs have been extensively tested in the laboratory.



Tested on who? Lab rats? 



Well, no, she said, not rats, but . . . mice, actually.



That makes me feel _much_ better, I replied. I was beginning to wonder if I would end up as a babbling psycho in a straightjacket at St. Elizabeths if the treatment went bad. So if I follow your program, and the drugs work with no side effects, then I would lose all this weight?



I believe so. There is really very little risk. All of our experimental mice began losing weight almost immediately after starting on the drugs and not a single one died. Most of them exhibited increased libido and sexual activity as well. So the side effects, if any, would be quite interesting.



I tried to imagine a bunch of slimmed down mice studs cruising the cheese bars and hitting on the cute little micettes. Okay, sounds good to me. Lets get started.


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## otherland78 (Jan 25, 2015)

hehe very interesting ;-)


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## Jerry Thomas (Jan 29, 2015)

Dr. Scully walked me from the examination room up two flights of stairs to the room where I would be staying for the duration of my treatment. I was out of breath by the time we reached the top. Not much used to exercise, are you, Mulder?


The last few years . . . mainly Ive been sitting . . . at a desk. I tried to get the words out while gasping for air. "Most federal employees dont get . . . much exercise.


She smiled and patted the bulge on my shirt where my belly resided. Its because of _this_, she said. "Soon youll be able to see a big difference. In a few weeks youll be running up these stairs.


We walked together about halfway down the corridor to an austerely furnished room similar to a studio apartment. It had a narrow hospital bed with a nightstand and clock-radio next to it, a brown couch fronted by a coffee table in another part of the room, and an aging Motorola television set in the corner. A few books and magazines were scattered randomly across the coffee table, including a dog-eared copy of _Aerospace & Defense Quarterly_ and yesterdays edition of _USA Today_. It didnt look like my stay would be very entertaining. I was glad I had brought along some reading material of my own.


Dr. Scully took me by the arm and showed me the bathroom, which was off to the side from the main room. Just the standard setup, she said. Shower, sink, toilet. There are hand and bath towels in the cabinet. Someone will come by periodically to replace them as needed.


Not exactly five stars, is it, Dr. Scully? 


What were you expecting  the Ritz Carlton? And by the way, you may call me simply Scully. Im not that formal when it comes to ranks and titles. My first name is actually Dana, but ever since I was a little girl Ive detested it. We both agreed that Scully and Mulder sounded better than Dana and Wolf.


No refrigerator? No dining room? I asked.


Unfortunately not. Your food intake will be strictly monitored. All your meals will be prepared in our kitchen and brought up here to your room. Each portion will be scientifically measured. You havent smuggled in any contraband, have you?


I hadnt thought of that, but now it was too late. No, but what if I get hungry?


Then you will stay hungry, Mulder. This is a serious weight reduction program, not a cruise ship. She poked her finger into my side and shook her head. You really _are_ a chub. We will have our work cut out for us.


Theres just one final formality, she continued. The lawyers have drawn up an agreement for you to sign before you start the program.


_Whose_ lawyers? I asked. I still dont know whos running all this.


Its actually a top secret program, Scully explained. I cant tell you exactly whos behind it or how we get our funding, but suffice to say that its a combination of various government agencies. I myself was assigned to this program from the FBI. I wondered if she knew my brother Fox, but it didnt seem like the right time to ask.


So it _is_ the U.S. Government then. I knew it all along. But why all the secrecy? Just for a weight loss program?


Its actually much more than a weight program, she said. This program, if successful, would have a worldwide strategic impact. We must at all costs prevent hostile countries from finding out about it. Even friendly competitor countries like Germany or Japan will not be allowed to learn about our findings.


Not even the Canadians? I asked.


No, not even our friends to the North, she said. Nothing less than the military supremacy of the United States is at stake. This program was mandated right from the top, if you know what I mean.


What does military supremacy have to do with obesity?


Scully gave me an exasperated look. Really, Mulder, use your brain! How can we fight and win our wars if our soldiers are too fat? How will our pilots be able to fit inside the cockpits of their fighter jets? How would a tub like _you_ function in a battlefield environment? You can barely walk up a flight of stairs. We can develop all the high-tech miracle weapons in the world, but they wont do us any good if our people are too damn fat to use them effectively. _Thats_ the issue here, Mulder.


* * *​

I had only been enrolled in the treatment for about a week and already I had lost enough weight that I was beginning to feel the difference around my waist. I was sitting on my couch reading  well, not actually _reading_, as the book was a collection of the best photos from 20 years of _Playboy_ magazine. I was glad that I had remembered to bring it along, as there was not much else to do. Except starve to death. Welcome to Hotel Auschwitz  such a _lovely_ place.


I was so engrossed in my anatomical studies that I almost didnt notice the tall thin man who entered my room with Scully. He was middle-aged, perhaps in his mid-forties, and his hair was beginning to turn gray. His gray suit positively reeked of nicotine. He was wearing a light gray tie with darker gray diagonal stripes. Everything about him was gray, including the smoke that curled upwards from the cigarette he was smoking at that very moment. Scully looked at him with disgust. This _is_ a medical facility, Sir! And as a doctor I must warn you that smoking is very dangerous to . . .


He interrupted her and I gathered that he was her superior. In the long run were all dead anyway, he said. He jabbed the cig in my direction. Is this the subject? 


I disliked being referred to as a mere subject, but at least he had acknowledged my presence. Yes, it is, Sir. This is Mulder, Wolf Mulder. So far the program seems to be working for him. Hes already lost about five pounds, based on this mornings weigh-in.


How do you like our cozy little establishment, Mulder? Are you comfortable? I was glad he finally took the trouble to address me, though his bearing was far from friendly.


Yes, Sir, its quite acceptable. I had the feeling that I should jump to attention and click my heels together. _Jawohl, Herr General._


He turned to face Scully. May I speak with you a moment, Doctor? Privately? He motioned toward the doorway and they both left the room. I heard their footsteps on the polished floor as they walked a few paces down the hall. They were having a conversation, but I couldnt make out what they were discussing.


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## Jerry Thomas (Feb 4, 2015)

_[Camera angle shows Scully standing with the Gray Man in the corridor]_



 Theres been a change in plans, Dr. Scully, he said quietly. Were switching the subject to the other program.



The other program? But why?



I dont know why. Orders from on high. Supposedly from the White House itself.



But it doesnt make any sense. Hes been on the weight loss program for only a week and hes doing so well. Hes making excellent progress.



Too bad. Orders are orders. He will just have to deal with the new situation. You will too, Dr. Scully.



So, what youre telling me, Sir, just to be perfectly clear, is that Im supposed to take him off of Operation Get Fit.



Yes, thats correct. Immediately.



And put him on Operation Get Fat instead.



Yes, exactly.



Scully sighed and shook her head. This really is a major change, Sir. A complete turnaround. What should I tell Mulder?



You wont tell him anything, understood? Just switch to the new drugs and then continue administering them as you did before. He wont have a clue that were giving him anything different through his IV. Later on you can take him off the drip and just mix the drugs into his food. Eventually hell notice the difference, of course, but by then we will have worked out some excuse. Well blame it on unforeseen side effects  or something.



But once he realizes hes no longer losing weight, wont he just leave? Just walk away from it all? We cant keep him here under armed guard.



No, that wont be a problem, Dr. Scully. We discovered something very interesting in our initial trials with the animals in the laboratory. Not only did the primary drug cause the subjects to gain a massive amount of weight in a very short time, it also made them extremely lethargic, completely unmotivated. The mice exhibited an almost pathological aversion to any form of physical activity and they avoided the exercise wheel like the plague. They werent even interested in sex. They hardly moved around in their cages, even while they were still able to. Mulder will no doubt be the same way  hell be far too lazy to even attempt an escape. Most of the time he will be eating, and the rest of the time he will do nothing but sit and watch television, and be perfectly content with that. With time he will hardly be able to walk more than a few steps, even if he wanted to. No, theres no chance he will leave this place until were good and ready to let him go.



This is unethical, Sir. Mulder is a human being, not a guinea pig. 



Its a matter of national security, as you well know.



But still!



Dr. Scully, thats enough. We dont have a choice. Just treat the subject and take care of him as best as you can. We can use a cocktail of psychotropic drugs combined with hypnotic suggestion to keep him happy and compliant. Dont allow yourself to feel guilty, Dr. Scully. We will make him enjoy the trip, believe me.



* * *​


I was lying in bed paging through the copy of _Penthouse_ magazine Carlos had smuggled in for me. My sex drive seemed stronger than ever. I couldnt wait to finish my weight program and start hitting the bars in the District where all the chicks would melt at the sight of the new hot stud that I had become. 



Scully walked in and sat down next to my bed. Your lifes going to change, Mulder. She had a gloomy expression on her face. Yes, from now on your life is going to be completely different from what it was before. I was going to ask her what she meant, but she turned to Carlos standing by her side before I had a chance. Go ahead and start the new IV whenever youre ready, she instructed him. With the new medicine  you know. 



With pleasure, Dr. Scully, he replied.



The morning after they changed my IV I woke up with a ravenous hunger. My appetite, which during the first week of my treatment had dwindled to almost nothing, now came raging back like a hurricane. My stomach growled and I was so hungry I felt nauseous. It was almost like a physical pain.



How are you doing today, Mulder? Scully walked into the room and I smelled her perfume. There was a freshness about her. I assumed she had taken an early morning shower before coming to work.



Hungry, I said. Terribly hungry. I havent felt this hungry since my binge eating days when I put on all this weight.



Hmm, I was afraid of that. Well, well just have to deal with it, she said, almost to herself. Later today, after lunch, were moving you to a new room. I think youll find it more comfortable.



The orderly who entered my room that afternoon introduced himself as Joseph. He had the same muscular build as Carlos, but his personality was completely different. He was quiet, shy, almost timid, unlike Carlos, who had the aggressive manner of a schoolyard bully. Im here to assist you in moving to a different room, Mr. Mulder. I hope its not too inconvenient for you  its just a few steps down the corridor. Here, let me help you gather your belongings. 



He helped me pack my few personal possessions into a plastic bag and I followed him down the hall. I was still wearing that detested hospital gown which barely covered my wide butt. I reached around myself and tried to hold it together with my hand. Anyone following behind me would have had a beautiful view of the full moon.



Joseph realized my predicament. You wont have to wear that silly gown in your new room, he said, half turning towards me. We have new clothes for you. Casual, but comfortable.



Why all this trouble to move me? I asked. Joseph merely shrugged. Bureaucracy, he muttered.



The new room was similar to the previous one, though it did seem larger and if you stood by the window, you had a nice view down to the rose garden behind the building. The bed was twice as wide as the one before and it had a hand-operated hoist mounted in the ceiling above it. I had already seen something like that in hospitals, where apparently it was used for lifting patients who were too impaired physically to move themselves on their own power. I noticed a large free-standing, full-length mirror in one of the corners, like the kind you might find in an old-fashioned upscale hotel. I glanced at my image in the oval glass and patted my belly, glad that it was already getting smaller. There was a wide-screen TV mounted on one of the walls, with a love seat facing it. Next to the love seat, and within arms reach, was a large table. On it was a huge bowl of buttered popcorn and a plate full of assorted candy bars, with the wrappers already removed.



Looks like movie night, I commented, but Joseph said nothing. He took me through a double-wide doorway into the bathroom, which featured an unusually large walk-in shower stall, obviously designed for somone who had a handicap. Inside the shower was a large plastic chair where a person unable to stand could sit down while showering. Next to the shower was one of the biggest crappers I had ever seen. Look at this monster, I said to Joseph. He smiled and nodded. It sat higher above the floor than your usual toilet fixture and had a seat that was twice as wide as normal. It seemed to be very sturdy. I lifted up the extra-thick wooden seat and underneath, on the back of the porcelain rim, was the following inscription in blue lettering:


_Big John_
_Model 6w_
_400 Kg Capacity_


Must be a European import, I joked. 400 kilograms, thats like 800 pounds, isnt it?


Actually closer to 880 pounds, Joseph answered.


I whistled. Hoowee, those foreigners must be gaining weight. Soon theyll be as fat as we are.


After our brief tour of the bath, Joseph walked over to a wardrobe and took out a small pile of clothing consisting of several brightly colored sleep shirts and a couple pairs of sweatpants with drawstrings. I couldnt wait to change and get out of that crummy hospital gown. Give me the orange shirt, I said, pointing at the stack. And one of those gray running pants too. The 2XL should be plenty big for me for now. Soon Ill be able to fit into a smaller size. 


You will find additional clothing in various sizes here in the drawer, Joseph said. Now I will leave you, but if you need anything further, Mr. Mulder, please let me know. He bowed submissively and left the room. I pulled open the drawer and was surprised to see an assortment of loose-fitting t-shirts and boxer shorts ranging in size from 2X to 10. I thought, good Lord, how many people would be so fat that they would actually need a size 10X? I was glad I was not in that situation. I collapsed in the love seat and started munching on the popcorn. I was tremendously hungry.


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## Tom the pig 8 (Feb 4, 2015)

I really like the turn this story has taken.


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## otherland78 (Feb 5, 2015)

oh i like this change of plans for mulder  

you really adapted this x -files very well to this nice weight gain fantasy ^^


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## Brainiac (Feb 5, 2015)

Awesome so far. Please write more


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## Jerry Thomas (Feb 13, 2015)

Thanks for all of the comments - I really appreciate the feedback.


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## Jerry Thomas (Feb 13, 2015)

By the next morning I had settled into my new room, but I was so hungry that I had to beg Carlos and Joseph to bring me more food. I had expected them to say no, but to my surprise, they brought as much as I wanted. Even _more_ than I wanted. For starters, they wheeled in a huge breakfast on a white hospital cart. It was fattening stuff high in carbs and calories  scrambled eggs and thick slices of Canadian bacon, basketfuls of warm rolls and bread with butter and jam, stacks of blueberry pancakes dripping with maple syrup, plump oozing cream puffs, and rich chocolatey cakes and fruit pies with whipped cream toppings. It was completely different from the starvation diet I had been on during the previous week. _Ill never lose weight if I keep eating like this,_ I thought. But I was so unbelievably famished that I couldnt resist. I ate until the cart was empty, took a break to catch my breath, and then they would come back and bring in a cart with more. This went on all day until finally, by evening, I was bursting at the seams. My diet had crashed and burned. In the space of less than a day, I had turned into a non-stop eating machine. And they made no effort to stop me. _What the hell was going on here?_


By the third day, I woke up feeling so hungry that I wanted to cry. Lying in bed on my back, I moaned in pain as I felt my round stomach, still distended from the previous days feast. But even in my bloated discomfort, I could hardly wait for my breakfast.


Carlos appeared at the door pushing a cart piled high with delicious sweet pastries: cream horns, chocolate cannoli, donuts filled to bursting with jelly or custard, glazed blueberry crullers, and other delicacies too numerous to mention. Carlos was whistling to himself and he seemed in a better mood than usual. He had a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he maneuvered the cart into place next to my bed. Sit up, Wolfie, he said, its feeding time! He arranged a cloth napkin under my double chin and started me off with one of the crullers. Open up now! He shoved the cruller into my mouth and I almost choked. He found this amusing and laughed. Come on, you can do it, he encouraged. I opened my lips wider and soon the cruller was on its way into my belly, where it would join its friends from the day before and be miraculously transformed into more soft doughy fat around my middle. Carlos dabbed my mouth with the napkin and continued feeding me with the rest of the goodies. In less than half an hour of teamwork, we had emptied the cart, with him as the feeder and me on the receiving end.


He was clearly enjoying himself. He gave me a playful poke in the belly, dropping the cool formality he had always shown towards me previously. Thats very good, Wolfie, youre getting the hang of it. Ill give you a few minutes to let all those calories settle and then I will take you downstairs for todays weigh-in. You think you can move with all that food in your gut?


He came back in ten minutes and told me to get dressed. I put on the running pants over my boxer shorts and slipped into a big yellow t-shirt. My belly was so full, I struggled to bend over and tie the laces of the tennis shoes that I usually wore in my room. Walking down the hall next to Carlos, I felt like I should be hovering over a stadium with advertising for a certain tire company on my side.


Arent we taking an elevator? I asked as we reached the stairs.


Dont you think you could use some exercise after that mega-breakfast? Carlos teased. But then he did indeed turn around and lead me down the hall in the other direction, towards the only elevator in the building, which was customarily used only for freight. Might as well get used to it, he said. Youll be riding it more and more often.


* * *​

On the morning of Independence Day, Scully came up to my room. Im taking you down for your weighing, she said. Almost everyone in the building is off today for the holiday. All we have is a skeleton crew. I was certainly not one of the skeletons.


In the examination room, Scully had me step onto the Body Composition Analyzer. By now I had realized that it was nothing more than an overpriced scale with a few extra bells and whistles. The data whirled past on the little digital screen and finally stopped on the magic number  I had officially reached a weight of 302 pounds, forty pounds more than what I weighed three weeks ago when I first entered the Institute. 


So whats happening to me, Scully? Ive packed on all this weight since last month and Im still cramming food into my mouth like a pig. I was fine until all of a sudden my appetite kicked in. Now Im totally out of control. I cant stop!


Scully appeared to be concentrating on her clipboard and she answered my question without looking up at me. To be perfectly honest, Mulder, we dont know. Something seems to have gone awry with the drugs. But were working on it. Were working very hard. As soon as we figure it out, you will start losing again. I dont know what else to tell you. They _are_ experimental drugs, after all.


But you told me they were safe. That all your chubby little lab mice lost weight. Thats what you told me, remember?


Scully merely shrugged her shoulders and for once seemed at a loss for words. Im sorry, she said, and now she did look at me directly. I believed her. You could see the concern in her face. Theres one other thing we could try, however. Hypnosis has often been shown to be effective in these situations. Its been used to help people lose weight, quit smoking, or overcome phobias. It could also make you . . . _feel_ better about yourself, perhaps. You know, boost your self-esteem so you wont feel depressed about your body. Theres no guarantee, but we could try it. 


Ill try anything, I said. I just cant go on like this. I have to start losing again. If this continues, how much would I weigh by Christmas?


Scully made a few calculations on her clipboard, and when she looked up at me she had an expression that betrayed her own sense of shock. Mulder, at present you are consuming almost 10,000 calories a day, while a normal, active human being consumes about 2,500. This means that you are gaining an average of just over two pounds a day, and as you become heavier and more inactive, you would put on the weight even faster. Its a vicious circle. So, lets say that you gain fifteen pounds a week, conservatively estimated. At that rate, by Christmas you will weigh, I mean, _could_ weigh  she paused and took a deep breath  you could weigh well over 600 pounds, possibly closer to 700.


I was so stunned, I had to sit down. A diagnosis of terminal cancer couldnt have devastated me more than this did. 600 pounds! I tried to imagine what that would be like, but I couldnt. It was beyond belief. The extra forty pounds that I was already carrying on my body seemed to wear me down, I could tell that my movements were getting slower, my limbs heavier, sometimes even my thoughts seemed sluggish. More and more every day, I was turning into a fat, dumb, lazy slob. What kind of person would I be at a weight of 600 pounds? It was incredible.


Scully walked over and placed her hand on my shoulder. Dont worry, Mulder, you will be fine. I will take personal responsibility for you. We will work something out, believe me. She looked down at me, forced a smile, and I could see that she was sincerely moved by my predicament. Or so it seemed.


Well, I sighed, I guess I have no choice but to trust you. If you cant trust the government, who can you trust?


You can trust me, Mulder. You really can. But now I have another idea. 


Im all ears, I said curtly. 


She ignored my bad mood and smiled. Todays the Fourth of July. Up on the fourth floor of this building there is a breakroom. Normally its used only by employees, but since almost the entire staff has taken off today, we could go and watch the fireworks tonight. The view is spectacular from up there. We would have the place all to ourselves. It would help to take your mind off of your worries.


I agreed that it would be a good idea, and I was thrilled by the prospect of having some after hours face time with Scully. She took me to the freight elevator, walked me back to my room, and we said good-bye until the evening. In the meantime my mid-morning snack had been brought in and was waiting for me. I didnt hesitate to dig in  I was _so_ hungry.


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## Jerry Thomas (Feb 15, 2015)

Scully arrived around eight-thirty, just as the sun was going down. She was carrying a large cheese and sausage platter and a bottle of Chablis. I picked this up at Safeway on my way over. I would have made something for you myself, but doctors are usually not very handy in the kitchen. She smiled and handed me the black plastic platter.


More cheese for the lab mice? I said.


She frowned, perhaps thinking that this was just another demonstration of my bad attitude. I squeezed her arm. Just kidding, I said. Actually, it was very nice of you to take the trouble. And I do appreciate it.


Well, I know you have a healthy appetite, Mulder, so I thought this way we would both have something to share. 


The Institutes breakroom was quite large, but somewhat, well, _institutional_ in its furnishings. The floors were white linoleum yellowing with age and decades of waxing, and there were framed photos of various national monuments on the walls. They looked like they had been cut out of the calendar I received every year from my Congressman. A number of round wooden tables that were big enough to seat six or eight persons were arranged about the middle of the room. I assumed that this was where the staff ate their lunch. Along one of the walls was a row of vending machines and shoved up against the other two walls were smaller cafe-style tables for two persons. One side of the room was taken up entirely by a row of windows that faced towards the city. Even at this time in the evening, it was still very warm and most of the windows had been left open. A weak night breeze blew in, providing just a hint of coolness. I could hear the faint noise of traffic far below us on the George Washington Parkway.


Lets take one of those, Mulder. Scully pointed towards one of the smaller tables. Together we carried it and the chairs over to a spot in front of the windows. I told you it was a perfect view, she said. The Institute was built on a ridge above the river, so that from the fourth floor we were higher up than one might expect and had a clear view of the city beyond the tops of the nearest line of trees. 


Look at those crowds down there. Must be half a million people, at least, I said. The Mall was packed with people between the Lincoln Memorial and the Capitol. There was a smaller crowd gathered by the Tidal Basin and the Jefferson Memorial, where a military band was performing. Im glad were here and not there, Scully. Its much nicer with just the two of us, dont you think?


Of course, thats why I suggested it. She started taking the cellophane wrapper off the cheese platter, while I unscrewed the cap on the bottle of wine.


Carlo Rossi, I said. Only the best. 


Its all they had, Mulder. I was lucky to find a store that wasnt closed for the holiday. Here, open that big sassy mouth of yours. She took a chunk of Monterey Jack and shoved it into my mouth. Even though I had just eaten a huge meal only about an hour ago, I was already hungry again and the food tasted good as I chewed it. I helped myself to another piece of cheese and a large slice of summer sausage.


She handed me one of the plastic cups she had brought and poured me some wine. Then she poured her own and we sipped in silence, suddenly embarrassed for words. The four presidents of Mount Rushmore looked down on us encouragingly from the picture on the wall.


Lets have a toast! I suggested once my brain started working again. A toast to . . . well, what?


How about a toast to happiness, she said. Theres so much misery and suffering in the world, it would be nice if _somebody_ could be happy.


Yes, it would be, I replied. Extra nice if it could be us.


We drank the wine together, once again lapsing into silence. Now and then Scully would pick up a piece of cheese or a ham roll and feed me. I liked it when she did that. The ceiling lights inside the breakroom had been switched off and it was getting dark, but we still had enough light coming in through the windows to see each other. Scully pulled a small jar candle out of her purse, placed it on the table, and lit it. Together with the city lights sparkling in the distance, it gave our faces a mellow, twilight glow. I was wearing my usual t-shirt and sweatpants combination, but Scully had on a low-neck red tank top that was a good match to the color of her hair and lipstick. She smelled so good I could have eaten _her_ to satisfy my appetite_. _The tight tank top clung to her well-developed bustline, revealing a figure that had mostly been hidden by her doctors coat. It was the first time I had seen her wearing casual clothing. She seemed more human, more approachable, and we felt less inhibited in our conversation.


By half past nine it was dark enough for the fireworks to start and the first tentative rockets burst open above the sharp point of the Washington Monument. Others followed at a faster pace, with red, white, and blue colors predominating, punctuated by bright greens and purples. We imagined we could hear the faraway crowds oo-ing and ah-ing at the spectacle.


Scully took another sip of her wine and smiled at me. Are you happy, Mulder?


Yes, I am. Its nice here  with you. I reached across the table and took her hand. It was warm and soft. Was this really the cool, detached Dr. Scully that I had known so far?


In spite of the romantic mood, my stomach still required feeding, and the food on the tray disappeared steadily. By the time the last of the fireworks exploded with an especially loud, crowd-pleasing boom, there were only a few pieces left. Go ahead, dont be shy, Scully said. Dont tell me a big handsome man like you cant manage those few little bits left over.


I was ashamed of my own gluttony. I was trying to be good, I said. Im such a pig.


I like pigs, she said. Pigs are very intelligent animals. Sexy too.


She poured me some more wine and we watched the moon rising over the eastern horizon. I had never seen the moon rising over Washington before, and in fact I couldnt remember the last time Id seen it rising anywhere. I had missed so much in my life. 


I held up the bottle and swirled it. We still have some left.


Lets go to your room, she suggested.


And finish the wine? 


Sure. Its still early. We could sit together and talk for awhile. She bent towards me and to my surprise she gave me a quick kiss on the lips. I kissed her back and ten minutes later we were still kissing. The golden moon rose higher and higher. I wondered if the evenings fireworks were really over.


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## Tom the pig 8 (Feb 17, 2015)

nice chapter...thanks


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## Jerry Thomas (Feb 27, 2015)

The next morning Scully stopped by my room to check in on me. Her face had a warm rosy glow. Sorry I had to leave so early this morning, Mulder, but I needed to get home and change into my work clothes. I hope I didnt make too much noise.


By the time I woke up, she had already gone and taken her clothes from the pile where she had left them next to my bed the night before. You looked great even without your clothes on, I said. 


It was nice, Mulder, very nice.


Im glad you enjoyed it. Maybe we could ride together again another time.


Scully blushed, a pleasant contrast to her usual coldly professional demeanor. Yes, Mulder, Id like that. But lets keep all this on the QT. Youre not the type to brag, are you?


Most of the time I didnt have much to brag about. I never kiss and tell, I replied.


Good, because I wouldnt want any of the staff to get wind of it. Especially Carlos. You have to watch yourself around him. Hes . . . well, hes _different_.


Dont worry, I wont breathe a word. Our doctor-patient relationship will remain our little secret. You have a very good bedside manner, by the way.


She laughed. Okay, Mulder, enough with the cheesy innuendo. Now stand up and take off your shirt. I have to examine you.


Again?


No more jokes. Just do it. I pulled off the new t-shirt that I had just selected that morning from the assortment theyd given me. I had outgrown the old one and now I needed a size 3XL to fully cover my expanding paunch.


With her stethoscope Scully listened to my heart, which was beating passionately, and she made me take several deep breaths while she listened to my back. Then she came around and squeezed the fat around my mid-section. Didnt you get enough of that last night? I asked.


Im checking you for hernias, Mulder. With all that extra weight youre carrying around, plus the strain from last night, you might have ruptured something. I suspect a guy like you isnt used to that much activity.


Touché, I said. I wasnt the only one who could crack jokes.


Well, Mulder, she said finally, folding her stethoscope and putting it into her coat pocket. Youre still pretty healthy, it seems. I was concerned because of your rapid weight gain, but so far, so good. Ill continue to monitor you closely.


I hope so. But what about my weight treatment? I asked. Im still gaining like a swine. Any progress in sorting out my appetite problem?


Nooo, not yet, she said slowly. But we are still . . .


Working on it?


Yes, Mulder, we are. But youre okay for now, arent you? You really dont have any complaints, do you?


I had to admit that I didnt. I had room service and all the food I could eat. I could lounge around my room and watch television all day. I didnt have to work, and I got paid for doing essentially nothing. And after last night, well, what was there to complain about? It was true that I was getting tubbier with every passing day, but even that no longer bothered me as much.


No, Scully, no complaints at all. In fact, Im happier than Ive been in a long time. Maybe you could bring me some books, though. Im getting a little bored with Dr. Phil and Oprah.


Will do, Mulder. I have a few I think youd like. Ill bring them in sometime. She leaned over and gave me a sweet kiss on the lips. See you later, honey.


She left and I put my arms around my fat belly and gave myself a hug. _Nope, no complaints. None at all._


* * *​

I realized I was in love with Scully. I was almost as obsessed with her as I was with food  although the food came more frequently and required less physical effort on my part. I was ecstatic every morning when she weighed me, and I loved it when she stopped by to say good night to me before going home in the evening. Sometimes she stayed longer and squeezed in next to me on the love seat while we made out till well after midnight. On other days I fell into hopeless despair because she was away, even for a short time. It was an exquisite form of agony. I missed her passionately. I remembered from my high school classics class that the word passion was related to the Latin word for suffering.


I was plagued by doubt about whether she felt the same way about me, but judging by the way we made love, I think she did. Unless she merely had a weird fascination with the way my body was changing, getting rounder and softer day by day. I was gaining around fifteen pounds a week, just as she had calculated, and I often wondered how she could find a man like me even the least bit attractive. Would she still love me if I really did weigh 600 pounds or more?


One morning in late July she weighed me and I clocked in at a new high of 352 pounds. Scully sighed and acted as if she was expecting it. Mulder, I have to tell you . . . She stopped, unable to complete her sentence. She looked tired, as if she hadnt slept all night.


What, Scully  what do you have to tell me?


 Theres something about your weight . . . I havent been truthful.


Not truthful? What do you mean, Scully? Youre not making any sense.


She shook her head vehemently, as if making an effort to fend off an unpleasant thought. Its . . . its _nothing_, Mulder. Nothing  just forget I ever brought it up.


Brought _what_ up? I was completely baffled. 


While I remained sitting on the exam table in a fog of female-induced confusion, she abruptly changed the subject. I have some books for you, she said suddenly. Sorry I forgot about them. Ill bring them up later this morning.


* * *​

Scully came into my room around eleven, almost bumping into Carlos, who was pushing an empty food cart through the doorway. Oops, sorry, she said. Carlos merely looked at her with a glare that expressed cold hatred.


Whats his problem? she said after he had gone.


Im not sure, I said. But I think he might know about us. He made a few snide little remarks just now when he brought in my post-breakfast snack. Or was it my pre-lunch snack? I cant keep track anymore. I was lolling on the love seat, reclining into the cushions and massaging my bulging belly, which had already been filled twice that morning. And it wasnt even noon yet.


I hope not, she said. I know he works for me and all, but Im also a little bit afraid of him. He would stab you in the back without a second thought. They say he killed a man when he was at Camp Lejeune. Legitimate self-defense, is what I heard. I thought about that gold replacement tooth of his and the poor son-of-a-bitch who might have knocked out the original. 


But anyway, here they are, she continued, placing a small pile of books on the coffee table. She picked one of them up and showed it to me. I could see that it was entitled simply _Heft_. This one is interesting  its about a 550 pound man who lives in Brooklyn and hasnt left his house in ten years. 


That could be me someday, I said.


Then she showed me another book, a paperback with an eye-catching red and white cover and the title _Big Big Love_. This one is a kind of sex manual for couples where either one or both of the partners is overweight. She smirked like a naughty schoolgirl.


That might come in handy too.


But _this_ one is really my favorite, she remarked. She showed me a book with a black-and-white cover photo of a grossly obese man with only a bath towel wrapped around his waist.


_Me and the Fat Man._ Whats that about? I asked. It seemed to me that Scully had unusual tastes in reading material.


Its about a married waitress in England who falls in love and has an affair with a younger man whos very very overweight. Its a little weird, but quite steamy. 


You must like love stories. How come?


Its because I _am_ in love. Women who read love stories are either in love or they want to be. She penetrated me with her beautiful blue eyes so that I didnt have to ask: _Who are you in love with?_ I already knew the answer.


* * *​

It was still dark outside when I woke up from the dream. My sleeping shirt was moist with sweat and I had a sour taste in my mouth. I realized that I had an erection. In my dream, I had been visited by a demonic character whose face I could not see. His skin was bronze in color and shiny, as if he were sweating from the heat of an unseen fire. He was entirely naked and his body was fit and muscular, almost human-like. He was very well-endowed and he made obscene seductive movements with his hips. 


_Youre a fat pig,_ the demon said. _And youre queer!_


_No, Im not,_ I said.


_You are a big fat queer pig,"_ he repeated. _And she doesnt love you._


_Yes, she does, I know she does!_


_She thinks youre gross and repulsive. Shes only _pretending_ to love you._


_She really does love me, she said so._


_She deceives you. All women lie._



The demon stuck out his tongue and it was the slender forked tongue of a snake. Then he took his long dick in his right hand and wagged it at me provocatively. _Open up, Piggy! This is for you. _


I squirmed and tried to get away, but I couldnt. It was as if a heavy weight was holding me down. The demon came closer and closer. _You belong to me!_ he hissed. The shadow fell away from his face. He had a hideous evil grin. It was Carlos.


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## searcher (Feb 27, 2015)

I'm looking forward to more of this.
Thank you for mentioning some interesting books Indead there was one new to me and I just ordered it.


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## chubloverUK86 (Feb 28, 2015)

Loving this so far, I love the little bits of detail that you add.


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## Jerry Thomas (Mar 6, 2015)

Thanks for both of your comments. Much appreciated. I mentioned the part about the books because it's rare to find fat-related themes in "mainstream" fiction. Maybe something is finally moving out there. Another short chapter is coming momentarily. My apologies for sending this in bits and pieces, but I post the sections as I finalize them.


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## Jerry Thomas (Mar 6, 2015)

By Labor Day my weight was at 450 pounds and I had reached a new milestone. I had never been this heavy in my whole life and never imagined I ever would be. Walking even short distances was becoming ever more exhausting for me, so I spent most of my time on the love seat in my room reading or watching television. I had started the novel Scully gave me about Arthur Opp, the fictional college professor who had fattened himself into a 550-pound monster after losing his teaching job. He had been in love too. Even though he was just a character in a book, I thought about him often, wondering if I would end up the same way, alone and a prisoner within my own body.


I was still eating six or seven humongous meals and snacks every day, thanks to Carlos and his cart loaded with tempting goodies. I was too weak to resist. So I ate, and ate, and ate. I could not see my entire body when I looked at myself in the full-length mirror in my room. My bulging belly extended beyond the frame of the mirror on the one side, and my round bubble butt was too huge to fit within the confines of the mirror on the other side. I had to stand ten or more feet away to see all of me in the glass, and I didnt like what I saw. I was as round in front as I was in back, and I looked like Violet the Blueberry Girl in the _Willy Wonka_ movie, a perfect ball. 


Eat up, fat boy, Carlos said as he fed me breakfast that morning. 


I beg your pardon, I replied. He had always had a disrespectful attitude towards me, but he had never actually called me fat boy before.


You heard me, fat boy. Gobble down your breakfast and shut up. Or are you gonna go running to the Doctor and tattle on me? Huh, fats? He laughed. What am I saying, _running_ -- your fat ass isnt running anywhere! Youll never be able to move that fast again. I still dont understand how you can even fuck that bitch of yours. Youre too goddam fat to fuck.


I stopped chewing the lemon cream-filled donut that Carlos had crammed into my mouth. I could feel the heat of anger rising in my face, but I was almost too shocked to reply. Carlos, thats no way to . . . I tried to mumble through my full mouth. The words sounded ridiculous.


He laughed again. You think I didnt know, huh, fat boy? How could I _not_ know! Half the staff here is talking about it. Theyre laughing at both of you. Even more so at the Doctor, though. They just cant understand how she could climb into bed with a tub of lard like you. They think you belong in a circus sideshow and she should have her head examined. Just look at this! He poked his index finger into the softness of my belly and it sunk deep into the fat. Disgusting!


I was deeply hurt by what he said. I was hurt even more so for Scully. It was true that I was a bloated freak, but they must have considered her some kind of pervert. A fetishist. Even I didnt fully understand what she found attractive in me. I loved her, but at that moment I felt so sorry for her. 


I swallowed the rest of the donut and was about to tell Carlos to go fuck himself when he quickly picked up a chocolate éclair and pushed it into my open mouth. I chewed and swallowed, momentarily forgetting my rage. He thought it was funny. I finished the éclair and used the back of my hand to wipe the rest of the chocolate glaze from around my mouth. You really are a hopeless case, fatty, Carlos said. You'll eat anything I put in front of you. Admit it! You have absolutely no will power. _Both_ of you are hopeless cases. The two of you are going to hell together. 


* * *​

By late September the weather had begun to change and an occasional mild breeze provided relief from the oppressive heat and humidity of the Washington summer. One morning as I was walking out of the weighing room, I literally bumped into Mary. She was the cute but overweight receptionist I had met on my first day at the Institute. I had forgotten to use my turn signals and she collided into my overhanging gut as I waddled into the hall. I was like a large slow truck crossing an intersection. The armful of files she was carrying went flying.


Ooof, how clumsy of me, she said. Im sorry. I didnt see you.


No, it was my fault. Let me help you pick this up. My offer of assistance was well-meaning but futile, as there was no way I would be able to bend over to reach the floor.


Mr. Mulder? Is that you? She stared at me and it was clear that she was shocked by the stunning expansion in my size. The last time she had seen me, I was more than two hundred pounds lighter. How grateful I would be if I weighed _only_ 260 pounds again. I had considered myself fat back then, but I was positively skinny compared to what I was now. 


Yes, its me. Been putting on a few pounds lately, as you can see. Apparently the miracle cure they offer here isnt working. I smiled at her, but she didnt smile back. I was so immensely huge that even another fat person found me disturbing. 


I made a perfunctory attempt to lean forward to pick up the papers scattered across the corridor, but I was hindered by the massive fat belly that was now my constant traveling companion. We both realized how pathetically helpless I was.


Dont bother, she said in embarrassment. I can do it. You might fall over and hurt yourself.


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## Fiji (Mar 14, 2015)

I'm liking this a lot!


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## Jerry Thomas (Mar 21, 2015)

Thank you! Here comes the next chapter . . .


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## Jerry Thomas (Mar 21, 2015)

One morning in October, I think it was on the 7th, Carlos took me down to the examination room in the freight elevator as usual. It was a beautiful autumn day and everything in my life would have been great, if it werent for the fact that I had almost doubled my weight since June. When I walked down the hall, it was like two husky men walking together side by side.


Carlos helped me step up onto the Body Composition Analyzer. He did a little dance for joy when the slip with the results spit out of the machine. Whoa, fatty! he exclaimed. Congratulations! Youre really into the big leagues now. Five hundred fucking pounds! And your Body Mass Index is 78.3. Man, how does it feel to weigh a quarter of a ton? I mean, Id really like to know what its like to be so goddam fat. He poked his fingers into my soft belly a few times and seemed thrilled at the way the soft fat jiggled. He puffed out his cheeks and extended his arms outward from his body, in a rough imitation of my appearance.


Could I sit down now? I said. All this weight is killing my knees and hips. I wasnt going to let the bastard get a rise out of me.


Sure, fatty. Pull up a chair or two and take a load off. He dragged two chairs over from the nearby desk and I comfortably parked my double-wide butt on them. At this point, I was way past feeling embarrassed.


Scully walked into the room, looking tired and haggard. She wasnt even wearing her makeup. With a distracted gesture she brushed back a strand of hair from her forehead. You may go now, Carlos, she said coolly. I can handle the rest.


Im sure you _can_, Doctor, Carlos said with a sarcastic smirk. He turned towards me and winked. _Bye-bye, fatty," _he mouthed silently.


Scully pulled up another chair, just one this time, sat down next to me, and glanced at the weigh-in slip that Carlos had handed her before leaving. Mulder, the experiment isnt working, she sighed.


I put both hands on my gigantic belly and started laughing. No shit! Thats pretty obvious, isnt it? Ive gone from 260 pounds to 500 in just four months. That has to be one for the record books. I came here to lose weight, but look at all this, Scully. I have more lard than ever. I pinched one of my numerous belly rolls for added effect.


Thats very unfortunate, Mulder. You were supposed to lose, but something has gone wrong  clearly. Youve developed a tremendous appetite, as both of us well know. Were still trying to figure it out, but as of right now we havent a clue. It might be some, uh, weird side effects from the drugs. Her explanation didnt sound convincing. 


You wouldnt lie to me, would you, Scully?


No, Mulder, of course not. I love you! I didnt have to be a trained FBI agent to tell she was being evasive.


Whats really going on here? I asked. Am I going to be the victim of yet another government screw-up? I was already fat when I volunteered for this gig and now Im even fatter. Inhuman, in fact. I dont want to spend the rest of my life looking like a gross fat pig. 


Scully stood up abruptly and turned away from me towards the wall, where she pretended to study the poster illustrating the various stages of obesity. According to the poster, I was now in Stage IV, which to me meant hopelessly obese, beyond all redemption. When she turned back to face me, her eyes were moist.


Look, Mulder, I only want whats best for you  for both of us. But Im in a really difficult position here. Im not supposed to tell you. Its classified top secret. I could lose my job. Or worse.


Not supposed to tell me what? What the hell are you talking about, Scully?


This is . . . this is very hard for me. Ive been thinking about it all night. You _have_ been deceived, Mulder. Deceived by me, by the government, by everyone.


I dont get it. How do you mean, deceived?


Scully took a deep breath and then she took both of my hands in hers. This experiment is not what you think it is  not what youve been told. At first, they said they wanted to help you and others like you to lose weight, right? That it was for national security and the ultimate good of the country.


Yes, thats right, Scully. Thats what _you_ told me, remember? And that spooky guy whos always smoking the cigarettes explained it to me the very first day. He said it was harmful to the nation to have so many overweight people and they had to find a cure for obesity, for our own good. I have no real objection to that. Why not? Were the fattest country on Earth.


But thats not the way it is, Mulder.


What? You mean the whole world is _not_ laughing at us because were such tubbies?


Thats not what I mean, she replied. The purpose of the treatment is _not_ to help you lose weight. 


Its not? Well, whats the purpose then? I didnt like where this discussion was heading.


She sighed. Look, Mulder. What they  what _we_  are really trying to do is to force you to _gain_ weight. Lots of it. The experiment is not a failure and there are no side effects. Its deliberate. In fact, its working out even better than we anticipated. Youre gaining more and faster than we ever thought you would. Were actually very pleased at your progress.


_Progress?_ It took me a few seconds to comprehend what Scully was telling me. First of all, she had just admitted lying to me. Lying in the most cruel and brazen manner. Perhaps she didnt really love me, either. Maybe that had been a lie too. Second, according to her, the U.S. Government was intentionally conducting an experiment to induce me to gain a massive amount of weight. As a matter of official policy. It seemed like some Cold War nightmare. But Scully, this is insane. Totally. Why would the government want to make me even fatter than I was before? Does everyone in the building know about this? Everyone but me?


No, not everyone knows. Some of the support staff, like Mary at the reception desk, sincerely believe that we are only doing weight reduction research here. Shes so happy because she thinks that if you can lose all those extra pounds, then maybe theres hope for her to go into the program too. Poor girl. Shes dreaming of fitting into a size 4 dress and having all the hot men in Washington chasing after her. 


Now I understood why she was so distraught when I bumped into her in the corridor and she saw how fat I had become. And what about Carlos? Does he know? I asked.


Yes, he knows. Definitely. I thought about the grin on his face every time he weighed me. How he seemed to delight in every pound that was added to my already fat body.


But why? Why on earth would the U.S. Government want to turn Wolf Mulder, a mild-mannered unemployed statistician, into a monstrous Super Chub? It doesnt make sense.


Actually, it does, Mulder. And the part about this being a national security matter was true. Probably the only true thing about all this.


Explain, Scully. Explain why having them turn me into a human blimp is in the nations best interest? Am I going to be their latest secret weapon? Am I going to float over Moscow and drop the bomb on the Kremlin? I recalled the fact that one of the atomic bombs dropped on Japan during the war was indeed codenamed Fat Man.


Youre getting warmer, Mulder. You _are_ a kind of secret weapon. A fat super hero, if you will. Think about it. What would happen if we could make the population of an entire enemy nation gain huge amounts of weight? Sneak the drugs into their water supply, for example. How would they be able to fight against us? Their soldiers would waddle across the battlefield and bust out of their uniforms. Their pilots wouldnt be able to fit into their airplanes. They would be totally immobilized  literally! And yet, it would avoid unnecessary bloodshed, theirs as well as ours. We could win a major war without killing anyone. What could be more humane, Mulder?


I started laughing. I couldnt help it. I never imagined Scully as a kind of evil Dr. Strangelove. The twisted morality of these government people was beyond belief. And Scully knew about it the whole time. She lied to me from day one.


Mulder, are you alright? She was still holding my hands and now she squeezed them tight. Im so sorry for deceiving you, but you have to think about the greater good. This is important. This experiment could change the world as we know it. Thats why I went along with the lies. But Im sorry that you are the one who will have to suffer. Theres worse things than being fat, you know. 


Sure. And Im so glad Ill go down in history as the Fat Man Who Saved America. Will they erect statues of me in the town squares? Will my portrait be on classroom walls in grade schools throughout the country? Im truly touched, Scully.


Listen, Mulder. Theres something else. The program has already begun to yield positive results.


Hows that, Scully? Because so far I havent heard anything positive in all this. Unless you consider it positive being able to turn the Russians, Chinese, and Iranians into huge fat slobs like me. Think of it  a 500-pound Ayatollah! Its almost funny.


There is a certain high-ranking KGB official based at the Russian Embassy in Brussels, she continued. This person, lets just call him Boris, has been a major problem for us. Hes uncommonly handsome, a real hunk. Ive seen his photo  he looks like the blond Russian agent in _From Russia with Love_. The Russians have been using him as a honey trap to seduce lonely female employees working at NATO Headquarters in Europe. He lures them into bed, romances them and makes them feel like theyre on top of the world, and then he gets them to reveal vital military secrets. They have cameras hidden in the bedroom to take compromising photos just in case the victims refuse to cooperate. They threaten them by saying that theyre going to surprise Mom and Dad back home in Kansas with some juicy pictures of their darling daughter giving Boris a blow job. Our sources inform us that he has seduced a number of male employees as well. Its a cruel game.


This is unbelievable, I said. All those poor innocent romantically deprived girls and boys seduced by a dastardly bi-sexual Russian spy. And he looks like Robert Shaw. Sounds like material for a cheesy B movie. Or a porn flick.


Dont be sarcastic, Mulder. So, what happened is that one of our agents working undercover in the Russian Embassy has been able to slip some drugs into Boris lunch  the very same drugs were giving to you. The result . . . well, just look at yourself. Boris has been gaining a substantial amount of weight lately. He weighs almost as much as you. The ladies arent quite as interested in him anymore. Nor the lads. Basically useless for any other work, he was recently transferred to a routine desk job in Siberia.


The ladies arent that interested in me either, I said. Except for you, Scully.


She ignored my comment. And there have been other cases, Mulder. Theres a certain leader in North Korea, for instance. So far hes been getting quite chubby. But Ive already said too much.


Suddenly she clammed up. She leaned forward, put her hand on my belly, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Dont worry, Mulder. I promise Ill take care of you, no matter what happens. But you must reveal this information to absolutely no one. If they knew that I told you, bad things would happen. Very bad things.


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## searcher (Mar 21, 2015)

I'm curious how this will develop further. He must really feel betrayed. How can she prove that she loves him. I hope that wasn't a lie. I hope we don't have to wait too long for the next chapter.


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## Jerry Thomas (Mar 28, 2015)

Scullys confession had completely changed my outlook. I was forced to abandon my dream of ever again being a normal-sized human being. On the contrary, I had to accept the fact that now I would be a gigantic fat man for the rest of my life. How would I be able to hold a job and support myself, I wondered. Where would I live? Maybe I could get a job putting my fat on display in the freak show of a circus or traveling carnival. Do they still have things like that? I remembered seeing an incredibly huge fat man in a county fair sideshow when I was a kid. He took off his shirt, did a little hoochie-koochie dance on stage so that the enthralled audience of small-town bozos could gape at the undulating waves of blubber, and then he sat down again, exhausted. An admiring spectator rushed up to the stage and handed him a hot dog as a reward for his performance. He shoved it into his round face and, to the cheering applause of the crowd, consumed it in ten seconds flat. I could manage a job like that, if it really came down to it.


At least now I knew the truth. I could give up my false illusions and face reality. Scully had lied to me big time, but she had also taken an immense personal risk in coming clean and finally telling me the truth. And whenever she held my hands and kissed me, I always felt a spark between us. A vibe, a certain magnetism. But maybe I was wrong about that too. Who was I kidding? No one really likes a fat guy. 


Scullys attitude had changed too. Before, she had always seemed somewhat edgy, like she was hiding something, which, of course, she was. Now that the truth was out, she seemed more relaxed. She was out of the closet and so was I, so to speak. She no longer had anything to hide. The situation was what it was and there was no changing it. We were both determined to make the best of it. I had to accept her as a beautiful but mendacious doctor and lover, and she had to accept me as an unattractive, wobbly mass of lard.


At the same time, she started doing things that struck me as outright weird. A few days after the catharsis of her confession, when I was continuing my flight into the outer limits of extreme obesity, she came into my room for what I assumed would be another evening of companionship and possible lovemaking. 


She nestled into the tiny space on the loveseat next to me and set down a brown paper grocery bag on the coffee table. She had changed into her civilian clothes and she smiled at me in a way that let me know she had something up her sleeve.


She nodded toward the bag on the table. I have a present for you, Mulder. A kind of peace offering for my bad behavior, she said.


It better be good, I replied. Youve really been a bad girl.


Oh, I think youll like it. She reached forward, picked up the bag and, after a moment of dramatic hesitation, removed a plate full of chocolate brownies wrapped in cellophane. Another Safeway special, she announced proudly.


No, Scully! Not more food! Thats the last thing I need. My boyhood memory of the fat man scarfing down that hot dog passed through my mind.


Oh, but Mulder, darling, she purred, stroking my cheek. You love it so much, dont you? My big sweet honey bun!


This was definitely not Scullys usual M.O., but before I could think about it further, she jumped up from the loveseat. Lets play a little game, Mulder. After all this emotional turmoil, its time we had some fun! She reached into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out a shiny silver object. Dangling it in front of my face, I could see that it was a pair of handcuffs. She laughed at my baffled expression and then, in a move so quick that it amazed me, she grabbed my plump wrist, snapped the cuffs on tight, and attached the other end to the leg of the end table next to me. 


What the hell! That hurts! The handcuffs were cutting painfully into my thick flesh and I yanked on them in a vain attempt at escape, but, for the moment, I was Scullys helpless prisoner.


Pain and pleasure go together, Mulder. But dont worry, it wont be for long, depending on how fast you can eat. Ill release you just as soon as youve licked your plate clean. She held up the plate in front of my nose, where the brownies rose to form a dark brown pyramid. Even if they were cut into rather small, two-inch squares, eating them all at once seemed like a challenge to me. I groaned.


Scully propped herself up on her knees in the small space next to me and began feeding me the brownies one by one. Carlos was definitely the feeder type, but Scully had never acted this way before. Perhaps she was reacting to all the stress of working at the Institute these past few months and the cocktail of emotions that had accompanied her betrayal. For my part, I had no choice but to open my mouth and eat. She didnt rush me, but, like an assembly line, the steady flow of food did not let up. She carefully counted each brownie as it disappeared down my throat. One . . . two . . . three . . . She glanced at her watch. Youre averaging about one brownie every 30 seconds, Mulder. Not bad  I guess weve trained you well.


My mouth was getting dry and I started to cough after brownie number eight. Scully put down the plate on the coffee table and ran out of the room. I pulled again on the handcuffs, but it was no use. She returned a few minutes later with a gallon of whole milk and a glass. I had to run down to the kitchen, she said. She poured the milk into the glass and I emptied half of it with one chug. She looked at me and laughed. Youre so adorable! You could be on the _got milk?_ poster, she said as she wiped the milk mustache from my upper lip. Now where did I leave off? Alrighty then  nine . . . ten . . . eleven . . . Lets pick up the pace, Mulder. The brownies came faster and I struggled to keep up, my cheeks puffing out as they filled with the doughy chocolate sweetness. Now and then she stopped and gave me another few sips of the milk. 


After brownie number thirty, I had to slow down. The handcuffs were cutting deep into my flesh and my hand was numb from the lack of circulation. My enforced gluttony was making my gut expand even more than usual, and the cuffs prevented me from shifting my weight on the loveseat to make myself more comfortable. Please, Scully, I pleaded. Have mercy!


Scully massaged my hand and fingers to help get the blood flowing again, but she remained adamant about leaving the cuffs on. She bent over and kissed my hand. Im so sorry to do this, Mulder, but I have to.


Why? I asked.


Because I am a terrible Dr. Frankenstein and Ive turned you into a huge fat monster. But I have to continue  until the very end, until the experiment is finally over. I must. She had a crazy gleam in her eyes and for a moment I wondered if she was indeed turning into a mad scientist. I almost expected her to start laughing hysterically like in the movies.


She picked up another brownie. And heres . . . thirty-one! she said with a Jack Nicholson grin as she pushed it into my mouth. But then she surprised me. Here, Dana, heres . . . thirty-two! This time she shoved the brownie into her own mouth and chewed greedily. She took another and fed it to me. Thirty-three for you, she said, and thirty-four for _me!_ Yummy! 


I gaped at her. She really had lost her mind. Either that, or she was just enjoying this strange game that she had devised for our entertainment. Better be careful, I said between mouthfuls, or youll end up weighing 500 pounds like me.


 I hope I do, I hope I do! I wanna be just like you, my fat baby. Now I knew she had lost it.


She continued alternating between feeding me and feeding herself. She ate more slowly than I did and she was clearly unused to eating so much at one time, but she managed to hold her own. After consuming five brownies on her own, she stopped long enough to rub her enlarging belly and open the button on her jeans. I watched with a combination of fascination and horror as a small bulge emerged at her waist. There were still some brownies left on the plate, but now she would finally give up. I was sure of it.


But I was wrong. Having given herself some additional stuffing room, she continued with our gluttonous orgy. 41 for you . . . 42 for me. A few sips of milk for both of us. 43 for you and . . . 44 for me. _Please, Scully,_ I thought. _Give up! Why go on with this insanity? _ I was worried for her. She, however, was determined to continue to the bittersweet end, even though she had started to pant from the unaccustomed fullness. 


Scully, Ill eat the rest, I offered. Im a professional at this, youre not. Dont do this to yourself.


Why not? We did it to _you _all these months. Maybe its time I got a taste of my own medicine.


Just a handful of brownies remained. We were now like two wrestlers, exhausted and pushing ourselves until the final bell. 45 . . . 46 . . . 47 . . . 48. There were only two brownies left. Scully picked up the second from the last and slowly, lovingly, fed it to me. We both looked at the last brownie. Number 50! Ill take it, I said, youve had enough, Scully. You dont want to get sick.


No, she replied. Well share it. Well _both_ eat it. She picked up the brownie and put it in my mouth so that I could hold it with my teeth. Then she put the other side in her own mouth and we carefully chewed towards each other. Our lips met and brownie number five-oh was history. We kissed and she belched long and hard, letting loose her inner sow. The plate was empty. I did a quick mental calculation and determined that the final score was Mulder: 40, Scully: 9, not counting the one brownie we had eaten together. I won, but she made a good showing for a beginner.


Scully released the handcuffs and I groaned in pain as the blood came rushing back into my hand. Scully tenderly massaged the deep indentation in my fat and kissed my wrist repeatedly, as if that would make the pain go away. She let the cuffs fall to the floor and climbed up on top of me with her little baby belly rubbing against my big daddy belly. Suddenly she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tight. She trembled and I felt her hot tears running down against my cheek. Im sorry, Mulder. Im so very sorry. Please forgive me for everything Ive done to you. I had no choice, but down deep I also _wanted_ to make you so fat. Please, please, forgive me . . . Mulder, Im so sorry! She sobbed uncontrollably as I held her close against me.


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## Jerry Thomas (Apr 4, 2015)

_[Camera angle shows Scully arguing with the Gray Man in a dingy office at the Institute. Cigarette smoke fills the air.] _


Terminate the program, Dr. Scully, the Gray Man said. We have all the data we need. The drugs were 100 percent effective, the results have been highly successful, and we can replicate the procedure with any target in the world. The test subject has been neutralized, immobilized, and rendered completely powerless, and from now on we can do the same thing to anyone else we choose, as long as we are able to sneak the drugs into their system. A lot of our worst enemies will soon be developing a serious weight problem.


And what do we do with Mulder? Scully asked. Weve ruined his life. He volunteered for the program under false pretenses, he was lied to, hes gained weight to the point where he can hardly walk, and he doesnt deserve any of it. What happens to him now?


Terminate the program, the Gray Man repeated and took a long drag on his cigarette. Do what you need to do to close down the program and cover your tracks. We will take care of the subject. Hes a loose end, and we cant tolerate that. Its too risky.


But you cant, Scully protested. Its not fair. Its immoral!


The agency I work for isnt exactly famous for its sense of morality, the Gray Man said. Lenin said you had to break a few eggs to make an omelet. Or was it Stalin?


No! I wont allow it. Its un-American. Ill go public. I swear I will!


Dr. Scully, Im warning you. That would be very unwise. And nobody would believe you anyway.


But isnt there anything we can do for him? You cant just terminate him, she pleaded, her voice becoming increasingly shrill and desperate. 


The Gray Man took another puff. Perhaps there is a less radical solution. The subject has already been made harmless. He cant go to the press and allege that the U.S. Government kept him confined to a secret institute right under their noses and fattened him up to an inhuman size using certain undefined substances. Its just too fantastic. They would think he was delusional, a nut case. He cant touch us. Another puff of smoke filled the air and Scully coughed. However, I could contact the General Counsel and see if we might be able to send him home with a financial settlement. Enough money to have him cared for for the rest of his life, which in his present condition would not be all that long. Yes, that might work. How does that sound to you, Dr. Scully?


 Scully nodded, relieved. She stepped forward and whispered into his ear.


Really? he replied. Youd be willing to do that? But why? It would be an enormous burden for you. Youre an attractive young woman with your whole life ahead of you. Perhaps we could get someone else.


I _want_ to do it, Scully said. Im partly responsible for what happened to him. I hope hell agree, after all Ive done.


He wont have a choice. He doesnt have a choice in anything now. He can scarcely get out of bed on his own. But theres one other thing, Dr. Scully. The details of this program must remain secret  forever. The subject must not retain any remembrance of what has happened to him. Its unfortunate, but theres no alternative. Other than . . . He sliced a finger across his throat.


Yes . . . yes, I understand, Scully said quietly. I will start making the preparations. He wont remember a thing.


* * *​

_[Camera angle shows an extremely fat man walking slowly towards us down a corridor. He is a yard wide and his arms swing back and forth at his sides with each elephantine step that he takes. He is wearing light gray sweatpants and slippers, but otherwise he is naked from his rotund belly on up. He has round curvy hips like a womans and thick hammy thighs that rub painfully against each other, forcing him to walk with steps that deviate more to the sides rather than straight ahead. Like oversized water balloons ready to burst, smooth soft breasts sway back and forth on his chest, occasionally colliding in the middle and forming a deep cleavage. His bloated belly, which hangs down lazily in front of his crotch, is shiny with sweat as he struggles with the effort of moving this mass of doughy fat forward. His mouth is open and he is breathing heavily. Neutral and impassive, his piggish face reveals no emotion at all. He appears to be resigned to his condition in life, accepting his fate as a man who will remain obscenely obese forever, having already abandoned any particular hopes he once had for the future.]_


I had reached the point where I spent most of my day in bed. My most recent weigh-in showed that I had reached a maximum weight of 648 pounds and that I had a Body Mass Index of 101. I was literally off the charts. I had graduated to wearing a pair of super-sized 10x sweats, something I had once thought was humanly impossible, back in those days almost 400 pounds ago when my dimensions were still relatively normal. They were getting snug around my 80-inch waist and I knew that if I gained even one more size, I would not be able to fit into anything at all  the fat covering my body would be my only garment. I watched daytime television and read the occasional newspaper or magazine, but mainly, of course, I ate. There was a phone next to the bed, but I didnt use it  I had no one to call and no desire to converse even if I had someone. I was able to get out of bed if somebody helped me, but I really didnt want to make the effort except for when I needed to use the bathroom. I was lazy and satisfied, my belly full of the colossal amounts of rich fattening food that I had grown accustomed to. What else did I need? My day was somewhat drab, but isnt life often drab and monotonous even for so-called normal people? I lived for food and that food had now become a part of me. It was with me all the time  present in the layers that covered my fat belly, embracing me in my massive love handles, weighing down my thick arms and legs, filling out the enormous round globes that hung like melons on my chest. 


Scully walked into my room, leaned over my bed, and gave me a kiss. That morning she was wearing a white blouse combined with a tight fitting chocolate-colored skirt. I could see the outlines of her bra through the light material of the blouse, and the skirt displayed her shapely ass to good advantage. I wanted to reach out and touch, but it was too much of an effort. 


Youre going home, Mulder. 


Home? What home? I dont have a home anymore. _This_ is my home now.


You cant stay here. Theyre kicking you out. Actually theyre kicking both of us out. The program is being terminated. Im going back to my regular job at the FBI. Ive heard that Ill be working with your brother.


Thats wonderful, I replied. Hes lucky to be working with you. I envy him. Hes a good man. Maybe you could talk some sense into him about all this alien abduction bullshit. But whats going to happen to me  to us? No home, no job  how long do you think a man like me would last on the streets of Washington? Theyll cut me up and roast me like a turkey dinner. And its getting colder outside. Itll be Christmas in a few weeks.


Scully sat down next to me and put her hand on my bare stomach, tracing little circles with her fingers in its softness. Dont worry, Mulder. Were already making plans to help you. Its the least we can do.


Damn right it is! Ive gained 400 pounds as a guinea pig in Uncle Sams top secret plan to fatten up the whole world and now Im just a useless slob. I have the money theyve been paying me for the past six months, but that wont last long. Itll be gone in no time. I must consume fifty dollars worth of food every day. At least.


Mulder, Im more sorry than you can ever imagine and Im ashamed of my part in all this. Its our fault that you are what you are. And even worse things could have happened. They were going to . . . She hesitated and choked back a sob. But you can still be happy. Ive been thinking and . . . I have an idea. She bent over and put her lips to my ear.


What? No, Scully, you cant! I wont let you ruin your life. Why would a beautiful woman like you want to do such a thing? Just because of me?


Im entirely serious, Mulder.


Youre just feeling sorry for me. 


No, Mulder, its not that. I _do_ feel sorry for you, but thats not why I want to do it. Its because I love you. Dont you remember the night after we watched the fireworks together? And all the times after that? Ive loved you for such a long time already, these past months. I dont care how fat you are. You do believe me, dont you? I didnt know why I should believe anything she said. She had told me so many lies already. And yet, I _wanted_ to believe.


Carlos entered the room and intruded upon this touching little drama. I could see he was carrying a metal tray, and on the tray was a hypodermic needle. He handed the tray to Scully and she held it while he picked up the syringe, holding it up to the light as he squirted a small amount of fluid into the air. Ready, he said. Scully nodded. He approached my bed and pulled back the sheet, searching for a convenient patch of pliable fat. I squirmed, but my overflowing fat weighed me down and made it impossible for me to escape. 


Whats that for? No  wait!


Scully tried to reassure me. Its just something to help you relax, a sedative. Youll go to sleep and then we can talk some more about this when you wake up. She held my hand and I started to feel drowsy. As I began to lose consciousness, I thought I saw her crying.


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## searcher (Apr 4, 2015)

Always these cliffhangers...I hope you hurry up with the next chapter. Can't wait to know what' s going on now.


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## Jerry Thomas (Apr 6, 2015)

Sorry to keep you waiting. Here comes the next chapter!


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## Jerry Thomas (Apr 6, 2015)

I opened my eyes and my head was spinning. I felt groggy, confused, and slightly nauseous, like the way you might feel when you wake up from an all-night drinking binge. A woman was smiling and looking down at me. She had full cherry-red lips, ginger hair, and an attractive voluptuous bust. The material of her dress drooped forward so that I was able to look into the deep folds of her cleavage. Any closer and those gorgeous breasts would have brushed my face. I had the impression that she was someone I had once known, but I couldnt remember her name and I was too disoriented to get my thoughts in order. 


I looked around and found myself in a king-sized bed in what appeared to be a womans bedroom. The walls were painted in a soft pink and the few furnishings I noticed through my mental haze had a feminine air about them. There was a Christmas tree with ornaments and colored lights in the far corner. I tried to hoist myself up and sit, but I couldnt. I wiggled my fingers and toes, but my arms and legs felt heavy, like dead weight. I lifted my head and looked down at my feet, but my view was blocked by a huge bulge under the sheets. I was lying on my back, but my arms were not at my sides as I expected. Instead, they were splayed out from my torso at an angle. I moved them and realized that they were being pushed away from my body by a massive roll of flesh that wrapped around under my armpits from my chest. It was a little hard for me to breathe, even though I was lying still in the bed and resting. Gradually my mind started to clear and a vague sense of panic began to grow within me. I put my hands on the big bulge that kept me from seeing my feet and I pushed several times. It had a squishy, bouncy feel to it, like when youre kneading dough. I stared at the ceiling and suddenly I realized that I was immensely fat.


Finally awake, are we? the woman said in a friendly tone of voice. Did you sleep well, honey?


Huh? Where am I? What happened to me? I asked, trying hard to control my voice and not show the woman how terrified I was.


Youre in Fairfax, Virginia, dear. Youre at home, in our bedroom. This is where we sleep.


We sleep  here? Together? 


Well of course, darling. Dont you recognize me? Dont tell me youve forgotten your future wife so soon. She laughed, but I didnt find it that funny, even though she looked like the kind of woman I wouldnt mind being married to.


I didnt reply, trying instead to force myself to concentrate and grasp the meaning of this surprising revelation. She bent over my face and kissed me, and now those lovely breasts rested on top of me. It was a long, soft, sensual kiss, like the kind you really would get from a girlfriend or fiancée. My name is Dana, but you always call me Scully. Were getting married in two weeks. Dont you remember? I also happen to be a doctor. 


Dana? Scully? I repeated to myself. _Doctor_ Scully? I closed my eyes and tried to think. I vaguely remembered, sort of. She did look very familiar, like someone from a previous life. Dr. Scully, I finally said out loud. Yes, yes, now I remember. Youre a doctor  and you were _my_ doctor, right?


Of course, silly. Im your doctor. But Im also your lover. And soon to be your blushing bride.


I didnt understand the part about us getting married or being lovers  you would think I would remember something like that, especially with a woman like her. But now I really did start to recognize her. I sighed in relief, feeling as if my mental fog were starting to clear, if only slightly.


You were my doctor, I said to her, and I was . . . in a hospital, wasnt I?


She hesitated for a moment. You were in something like a hospital for a short time, yes, thats true. But it was nothing serious. A look of concern crossed her face. Tell me if you remember anything else, darling.


I looked up at her and then I shook my head. No, Im afraid not. My mind is totally blank. Im so confused. But I do remember you. You were kind to me and you tried to help me. I was lying in a hospital bed, like this. And I was very hungry. But thats all I can recall, nothing else.


She seemed relieved. Thats fine. Youll feel better soon. And dont worry, Ill take good care of you, Mulder.


Mulder? Is that my name? Mulder? 


Yes, of course, dear. Your name is Wolf Mulder, but almost everyone just calls you Mulder.


Wolf, I said. Wolf! Thats funny. Whoever heard of such a name? 


I tried to sit up in bed again, but it was hard for me to shift my weight. Dr. Scully nodded toward two muscular men in white medical uniforms who were standing together at the far end of the room. I hadnt noticed them before. They stepped forward and each one of them put an arm under my shoulders and forcibly hoisted me up. Dr. Scully rearranged the pillows behind my back to support my weight.


Hows that, honey? Are you more comfortable now?


Yes, I am, thanks. But how  how did I get here? How did I get to be like this? I gestured with my chin towards the rest of my body. 


What do you mean, get to be like this? she said, as if I had asked a silly question.


You know, how did I ever get to be so . . . fat? Im so heavy I can barely move.


She laughed again. But darling, you have _always_ been this way. Youve always had a serious weight problem, of course you must know that. Ever since you were a little boy. Youve gotten fatter and fatter, year after year, and now, well, here you are. Last time we checked, you were almost 650 pounds. Thats a lot of weight, isnt it, sweetie? 


I had to agree. 650 pounds! That was an amazing, incredible amount of weight. But still . . . how? I just couldnt fathom how I ended up in my present condition. I sank back into the pillows, discouraged and upset. All of a sudden I wake up in a strange bed and a strange woman tells me that Ive always been this way, a huge immobile mountain of flab. How could something like that happen? It just didnt make any sense.


Dr. Scully  Dana  sat down next to me and kissed my cheek. Youve suffered a shock. Dont think about it just now. It will all sort itself out. And being fat isnt so bad. Especially if you have someone who loves you and wants to take care of you.


So, what youre saying is that I have always been this fat, almost too fat to move? I asked again.


Yes, thats more or less the way it is, Im afraid. Weve had this discussion so many times before, Mulder. You have body image issues. You simply need to accept the way you are. Theres nothing wrong with it, really. Of course, you havent always been quite _this_ fat, but you do have a long history of consuming inordinate amounts of food. I know as well as any doctor that such a large intake of calories can only lead to excessive poundage. She smiled, apparently proud of her professional knowledge.


She gave me an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Dont let it upset you, Mulder. Well talk about it some more later. We need to go over some details about the wedding too. But now I have to go to work. These two hunky boys, she glanced at the two muscular men waiting patiently next to her, will take care of you in the meantime. In fact, they will be the ones responsible for you whenever Im away. And I may be away quite often. Im working on a special project. 


She gave me one last kiss and then grabbed the overcoat that was draped over the back of one of the chairs. The two orderlies followed her to the door and I heard her give them instructions. Dont let him go hungry. I want him to stay nice and plump for his wedding day.


Yes, Dr. Scully, they replied in unison. One of them had a mischievous grin on his face.


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## Fiji (Apr 7, 2015)

650! What's next for Mulder? Can't weight!


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## Jerry Thomas (Apr 10, 2015)

After she left the bedroom, I realized I was as helpless as a newborn baby and completely dependent on the good will of the two men she had left in charge of my care. They both looked like body builders, and they had hard buff muscles of iron that stood in stark contrast to my waves of squishy soft blubber. I was disgusted with myself and it was only my sense of male pride that kept me from bursting out in tears like a teenage girl alone at home on a Saturday night.


I can handle this alone, Joseph, one of them said. He had a commanding voice and appeared to be senior to the other.


Yes, of course, Carlos. I will be in the kitchen preparing his lunch.


The one named Carlos approached my bed and stood by my side. He wasnt as young as the other man, but he had smooth bronze skin, dark curly hair cut short, and facial features that might have suggested a bi-racial background. He had the disciplined bearing of an ex-Marine. He smiled and displayed a row of white well-kept teeth, except for one prominent gold tooth in the front, which gave him a slightly sinister air. I didnt like that smile and I didnt like the way he was looking at me. But, as with Dr. Scully, I again had the distinct impression that I had met him somewhere before.


At first he acted like he knew me too, but then in a coarse voice he said, They told me that your name is Wolf. I really dont give a fuck what the hell your name is, but you sure dont look like much of a wolf to me. He grabbed the top edge of the sheet and abruptly pulled it back, uncovering the full length of my body. I was shocked to see that I was completely naked. It was not a pretty sight.


He nodded and grinned. Just as I thought. Youre not a wolf at all. More like a pig, I think. A big fat dirty pig. Too gross to be human. Dont you agree?


Under other circumstances I might have defended myself, but in my current disoriented state, I was still trying to make sense out of my situation. Looking down at the mass of quivering pink flesh that kept me bound to the bed, I realized that I was powerless to resist. I really _was_ more like a pig than a man. I smiled weakly and nodded.


Oh, so you do agree, he taunted. Thats good, at least you have no illusions. He reached over and poked his index finger into my side. It sank deeply into the fat. He laughed, obviously enjoying himself. So, given the fact that youre not very wolf-like, I think you should have a new name. What should we call you, then? How about just Piggy? That would be much more accurate, wouldnt it be? I remained silent, my face burning hot from embarrassment and anger.


Well, answer me! Isnt your name Piggy from now on? He took one of my nipples in his fingers and pinched it hard. I yelped, but still he didnt let go. Say it! he demanded. Tell me what your name is.


My name is . . . Piggy, I said meekly. I am a very fat Piggy. Oink, oink! My nipple throbbed in pain as he released his grip.


Good, good, he laughed. At least now you know _who_ and _what_ you are  thats important in life. You also understand whos on top and whos on the bottom in our future working relationship, right?


Yes, I agreed. What else could I say?


Joseph appeared at the doorway with a white metal cart piled high with food. Ill never eat all that, I remarked as he maneuvered the cart into position next to the bed. But to tell the truth, I soon discovered that I was ravenously hungry  though it was a puzzle to me why that would be. Maybe Dr. Scully was right. Maybe I really _had_ gotten so enormously fat because of an out of control appetite.


Do you want me to feed him? Joseph asked.


Ill do it myself, Carlos replied. You can go back to the kitchen and clean up before the Doctor comes back. This is gonna be fun.


Once again I was at his mercy. He sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up a large platter of lasagna. He cut the pasta into smaller pieces and forked each mouthful into my face, sometimes laughing and shoving in more food than I could swallow, so that my cheeks puffed out and the sauce spread messily around my lips. Nice Piggy, he said. Eat, Piggy, eat! Here, eat some more. I felt ashamed of myself, but the more I ate, the more I liked it. Carlos seemed to enjoy feeding me too. 


I was still completely exposed in my unappealing nakedness, so I asked him to cover me up. No way, he replied. I like looking at all that buttery chub, Piggy. He poked at my right breast with his fingers and gave my hardening nipple another pinch, but not as roughly as the last time.


He continued feeding me, plate after plate, sometimes laughing as I struggled to swallow an especially large mouthful, and sometimes teasing me by circling the food in front of my mouth, so that I had to open my mouth wide and lean my head forward like a hungry baby bird. I had completely lost track of time, but after what I guessed to be about an hour, six or seven plates of food on the cart were empty, with only one remaining. I was feeling agreeably full, but I was also amazed to discover that my super-sized stomach could in fact hold such an enormous amount of food without bursting. 


The final platter contained an assortment of desserts, which Carlos patiently fed me one by one. By now he had calmed down and gotten over his initial fit of aggressiveness. He picked up the last pastry from the plate. It was a glazed chocolate cruller the size of a cucumber. Open up, Piggy, he commanded. The Doctor doesnt want you to lose any weight before your big day. I opened my lips wide and Carlos slowly pushed the cruller into my mouth. At first I gagged, but then I caught my breath and was able to bite down and chew. I took one huge bite and swallowed, followed by a second, then a third, and soon the entire length of the cruller had disappeared down my throat. 


Thank you, Carlos. That was good. I couldnt believe I said it. It just came out that way.


Youre welcome, Piggy. He grinned and pinched my cheek. Someday you will do something nice for me too. We wont let the Doctor know. It will be our little secret. I knew that I would have no choice.


And remember, Piggy, he added with a devilish smirk. From now on, you belong to me. I own you!


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## Fiji (Apr 11, 2015)

Getting better with each chapter. So, what is the "big day" that Scully has planned for Mulder? I can only imagine what he will weigh by then. 800? More?


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## Jerry Thomas (Apr 11, 2015)

The "big day" will be his wedding day with Scully, which will take place in two weeks from this point in the story. Thanks again for reading and commenting (likewise to everyone else out there in Dims-land too!).


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## Jerry Thomas (Apr 15, 2015)

_Six years later . . ._


Boys! Tell your father that dinner will be ready soon. Scullys voice from the kitchen woke me up from my afternoon nap on the couch. Five-year old Michael, three-year old Robbie, and even little Freddie came tearing around the corner into the living room and launched themselves onto my big belly, almost knocking the wind out of me. They bounced up and down on me like on a trampoline. 


Daddy, Daddy, lets play that game again! You know, the Doughboy game! I reluctantly agreed and they started poking my sides and belly, and each time they did it, I played along by saying Pillsbury Doughboy, tee-hee. They found this uproariously funny and they all started laughing. I smiled and began to laugh too. Then all three of them held my arms and slowly, with childish little grunts, pulled me upright on the couch. It was amazing how strong those little guys were.


I had settled into life as a middle-class homeowner in suburban northern Virginia. It was the same house where I had awakened in Scullys bedroom not knowing where I was or who I was, a man without a past. We were married two weeks after that, but I was still in a daze, marrying a woman I hardly knew and surrounded by people I didnt know either. My brother Fox was my best man, but I didnt recognize him and he was like a stranger to me. He was clearly shocked when he saw how extremely obese I was, but why would he be? If I had always been so fat all along?


We spent our wedding night in the penthouse honeymoon suite of the Westin Hotel in Rosslyn. We had floor to ceiling windows with a splendid view of the twinkling lights of Washington, D.C. just across the river. Scully told me it reminded her of the night we watched the fireworks together, but that was another thing I didnt remember at the time. Scully explained to me that, in addition to my weight problems, I also had issues with my long-term memory. I clearly recall our wedding night, however. We had pink champagne on ice, a selection of tasty hors doeuvres, and mirrors on the ceiling. The bed was jumbo king-sized and wide enough for two normal couples to make love, if we had really wanted to do something that wild. As it turned out, the bed was just right for my size with a bit of room to spare. I wont go into all the details, but I lay naked on my back while Scully kneaded my fat lustfully and worshipped my body with passionate kisses, bites, and licks of her tongue. She dangled her large breasts over my mouth so that I had ample opportunity to suck on her engorged rosy nipples. And since Im a man who loves to eat, well, suffice to say, I did that too. Scully mustve liked it as well because she kept pressing herself against my face and inviting me back for additional helpings. By morning I felt that she was no longer quite the stranger she had seemed to be at first.


Since then, Ive adjusted to my new life as a fat and happy hubby and I work from home as a telemarketer. Its not the greatest job in the world, but considering the fact that Im too fat to drive or walk more than a few steps without becoming winded, its probably the best I can hope for. And as long as I can sit comfortably at my computer and munch on my stash of snacks undisturbed, Im reasonably satisfied.


Scully continued working downtown at the FBI with my brother Fox. They were a team and Scully was often away from home investigating what she called merely weird occurrences. She didnt say much about her daily life at work and I had nothing of interest to say about mine. It took me a long time to gather up the courage to tell her about the awful unspeakable things Carlos had done to me while she was away traveling. At first she couldnt believe it, then she was shocked, and finally she confronted him and told him to get lost and never come into our lives again. Before going, he made a nasty scene and insulted us both by saying that I enjoyed it all along and that she was a twisted pervert for marrying a gross disgusting blimp like me. Last we heard, he was back in the Marine Corps, no doubt imposing his will on whatever eager young recruits he could get his hands on.


Our oldest son Michael was born about a year after our marriage, proving that it is indeed possible for an elephant to mate with a gazelle. We had to be a bit _creative_, you might say, but after some experimentation we finally found a way to get the male and female parts connected. I still consumed immense quantities of food, but my appetite had stabilized somewhat and I was trying to eat a healthier diet. I had even lost some weight, so that Scully complimented me on how sexy I looked at a svelte 620 pounds!


Little by little, my memory came back despite all the drugs the government had given me to erase it, and I was able to remember the Institute and how I came to be what I am today. With time I even remembered the first night Scully and I made love and the fireworks too. Im not bitter about what happened to me. After all, if it werent for the Institute, I never would have met Scully. God works in mysterious ways. Of course, my life at 620 pounds is vastly different from my life when I weighed only 260, but I have no regrets. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and accept things as they happen. And what does it matter anyway? In the long run, the thin man lies in the grave same as the fat one.


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## searcher (Apr 15, 2015)

A great last chapter! I really like it. And it is a great idea to tell it from the future. To get a glimpse of their life...


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## Tom the pig 8 (Apr 16, 2015)

Excellent ending! Thank you


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## Jerry Thomas (Apr 20, 2015)

Thanks for both of your comments. I'm glad you liked the final chapter and the ending. Now I'm sad and lonely because I miss Mulder and Scully and their various adventures together.  Dare I admit that the wedding night scene is based (in part) on a real situation?


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