Managed Care
Mac, could I see you in my office? It was not really a question. It was a polite order. I heaved my 300 pounds up from my chair and lumbered into Mrs. Grays office. Close the door please. You may sit there. I had that chair brought in special. I am sure it will hold you.
Thank you, maam. I am not sure I need a special chair. But thank you just the same.
I am not as confident as you are. You are very obese and I have delicate furnishings. Never mind. I brought you in to discuss your size and just how fat you have become. The chair you are sitting on is weight sensitive and after reviewing your employee jacket I am shocked to inform you that you have doubled your hire weight.
I am wor....
Please Mac! The only thing you are doing about your weight is watching it skyrocket. You are a glutton. More of one than I have ever encountered. It is as if you are intentionally becoming a pig.
I am....
STOP she yelled. What you are is too fat to be covered under our government health insurance and the obesity clauses it sets forth. I only called you in to explain what is going to happen form here. I have reported you to the Federal Adipose Team and they are coming to take you into custody. You will be taken to a facility for treatment. All of this is laid out in your mandated employee handbook. You should have read more than you ate and this might have been avoided.
Maam, I appreciate your candor but I have no desire to diet and am in fact getting fatter. I smiled as her eyes bulged.
Your an Eater? She screamed I should have known! You and your kind should be kept away from normal people.
We just want to be accepted, for who we are.
Who you are, is a group of degenerates and a danger to proper society. I hope you can be reprogrammed and rejoin the population as a Thinny. Even then you will need to be monitored.
There was a knock at the door and the intervention officers took me away. The office erupted in cheers as I was led off. All kinds of size slurs were hollered out and chanted. As I was taken past cubicle after cubicle, my fat was poked and prodded and slapped. Any other chubby employees were hiding, hoping to blend in. I was the first fatty taken into custody since the new regime had taken control.
Federal anti-fat legislation was sweeping the land and the news was awash in reports of people being turned in by neighbors, friends, even family. Thin spouses were being targeted on their jobs for harassment and discrimination. My wife had received ominous warnings about her career prospects if my weight was not brought into compliance with the new adipose standards.
We had talked about it and Jan was adamant. I will not be intimidated. This is who you are and I love you. Let the agents come, I will go with you. Your a fatty and I knew that when I married you. Let them come.
I hoped that was not just bold posturing. As I was led into the federal facility, informally called the Hog Pen, I hoped she knew what she was getting into. I was taken into an interview room.
Here is a guide to the fat standards. Inside there is a list of all your options and the consequences of each one. Your wife has been picked up and should be here within the hour. Once she arrives you will have 24 hours to consider your decision. Since you are an admitted Eater, food will be provided during your allowed 24 hour period. Eat up piggy... With that and some laughter I was left to my thoughts and my reading.
The Manual was overwhelming. Page after page of legalese and double speak. I noshed on little cakes and cookies as I read. The plate never emptied and the manual never ended. After an eternity and a headache, I had it narrowed down to two options. In truth, there were only two options anyway, but the Thinnies like to act as if they were benevolent.
Option A consisted of a public apology for becoming so obese. I had seen these over and over on the government sponsored TV ads. Some poor fatty was dressed in a garish, orange, spandex jumper. Then they were brought out to the jeers of a canned audience. Up onto a platform, with a huge neon read out. The numbers would roll and bounce until coming to rest like slot machine cherries. The final number would flash wildly. The giant red, read out alerting audience members to check their wager slips to see if they had guessed the fatties correct weight.
What followed made me cringe. The audience would be hushed and the host would stick a microphone in the offenders face. Do you repent of your gluttony? Do you avow your desire to rid yourself of this hideous blubber? The person would be crying and humiliated by this point. If you truly want to change and rejoin the correct society all you have to do is ask.
Please allow me to be corrected. The answer was always the same. Read from teleprompter. On cue the officers from the Adipose Team would run out and strip the fatty naked and make them stand still while the winning audience members came forward and coated them in syrup and chocolate sauce and whipped cream. An apple would be put in their mouth and the audience would start oinking, loudly until commercial time. The commercials would show the before and after photos of corrected, fatties. Rail thin and smiling.
Option B consisted of rejecting society and being shipped to a fattening center. It was likened to the internment camps of WWII. All the fatties who refused to be thinned were sent to the camps with whatever family decided to join them and they were allowed to be gluttons. The pictures of the camps were not encouraging. Trailers all lined up, one after another. Hugely obese men and women eating and eating. They were usually depicted as dirty and slovenly and lazy. The food was all high fat, high carb, sugary junk food that was banned in polite society. The families were not allowed to leave the centers either and over time most became very obese as well. The government used these facts to bolster their claims that fatties infected normal people with their obscene food addictions.
I knew it would be hard on Jan, at first, but I could not imagine getting thin. My eating was picking up pace as my anxiety level rose. I was nearly inhaling food when Jan arrived. Baby stop. You will make yourself sick. She was beside me, calming me and stroking my huge fat tummy. I am here and everything is going to be just fine.
They want me to get thin.
I know baby, but I already booked us on the next transport to a center.
What about you?
I will probably end up an obese hog, like you. She mumbled over a cake filled mouth. I here the women end up fatter than the men. That will make me something of a blubber ball.
I could diet...
NO! Your an eater and I adore you fat.
We spent the rest of the afternoon noshing away and wondering what the center would really be like. Rumors were always spread by the thin regime to scare fatties but we had heard of people enjoying the centers and being happy they stuck to their guns or cakes as it were.
To be cont..
Mac, could I see you in my office? It was not really a question. It was a polite order. I heaved my 300 pounds up from my chair and lumbered into Mrs. Grays office. Close the door please. You may sit there. I had that chair brought in special. I am sure it will hold you.
Thank you, maam. I am not sure I need a special chair. But thank you just the same.
I am not as confident as you are. You are very obese and I have delicate furnishings. Never mind. I brought you in to discuss your size and just how fat you have become. The chair you are sitting on is weight sensitive and after reviewing your employee jacket I am shocked to inform you that you have doubled your hire weight.
I am wor....
Please Mac! The only thing you are doing about your weight is watching it skyrocket. You are a glutton. More of one than I have ever encountered. It is as if you are intentionally becoming a pig.
I am....
STOP she yelled. What you are is too fat to be covered under our government health insurance and the obesity clauses it sets forth. I only called you in to explain what is going to happen form here. I have reported you to the Federal Adipose Team and they are coming to take you into custody. You will be taken to a facility for treatment. All of this is laid out in your mandated employee handbook. You should have read more than you ate and this might have been avoided.
Maam, I appreciate your candor but I have no desire to diet and am in fact getting fatter. I smiled as her eyes bulged.
Your an Eater? She screamed I should have known! You and your kind should be kept away from normal people.
We just want to be accepted, for who we are.
Who you are, is a group of degenerates and a danger to proper society. I hope you can be reprogrammed and rejoin the population as a Thinny. Even then you will need to be monitored.
There was a knock at the door and the intervention officers took me away. The office erupted in cheers as I was led off. All kinds of size slurs were hollered out and chanted. As I was taken past cubicle after cubicle, my fat was poked and prodded and slapped. Any other chubby employees were hiding, hoping to blend in. I was the first fatty taken into custody since the new regime had taken control.
Federal anti-fat legislation was sweeping the land and the news was awash in reports of people being turned in by neighbors, friends, even family. Thin spouses were being targeted on their jobs for harassment and discrimination. My wife had received ominous warnings about her career prospects if my weight was not brought into compliance with the new adipose standards.
We had talked about it and Jan was adamant. I will not be intimidated. This is who you are and I love you. Let the agents come, I will go with you. Your a fatty and I knew that when I married you. Let them come.
I hoped that was not just bold posturing. As I was led into the federal facility, informally called the Hog Pen, I hoped she knew what she was getting into. I was taken into an interview room.
Here is a guide to the fat standards. Inside there is a list of all your options and the consequences of each one. Your wife has been picked up and should be here within the hour. Once she arrives you will have 24 hours to consider your decision. Since you are an admitted Eater, food will be provided during your allowed 24 hour period. Eat up piggy... With that and some laughter I was left to my thoughts and my reading.
The Manual was overwhelming. Page after page of legalese and double speak. I noshed on little cakes and cookies as I read. The plate never emptied and the manual never ended. After an eternity and a headache, I had it narrowed down to two options. In truth, there were only two options anyway, but the Thinnies like to act as if they were benevolent.
Option A consisted of a public apology for becoming so obese. I had seen these over and over on the government sponsored TV ads. Some poor fatty was dressed in a garish, orange, spandex jumper. Then they were brought out to the jeers of a canned audience. Up onto a platform, with a huge neon read out. The numbers would roll and bounce until coming to rest like slot machine cherries. The final number would flash wildly. The giant red, read out alerting audience members to check their wager slips to see if they had guessed the fatties correct weight.
What followed made me cringe. The audience would be hushed and the host would stick a microphone in the offenders face. Do you repent of your gluttony? Do you avow your desire to rid yourself of this hideous blubber? The person would be crying and humiliated by this point. If you truly want to change and rejoin the correct society all you have to do is ask.
Please allow me to be corrected. The answer was always the same. Read from teleprompter. On cue the officers from the Adipose Team would run out and strip the fatty naked and make them stand still while the winning audience members came forward and coated them in syrup and chocolate sauce and whipped cream. An apple would be put in their mouth and the audience would start oinking, loudly until commercial time. The commercials would show the before and after photos of corrected, fatties. Rail thin and smiling.
Option B consisted of rejecting society and being shipped to a fattening center. It was likened to the internment camps of WWII. All the fatties who refused to be thinned were sent to the camps with whatever family decided to join them and they were allowed to be gluttons. The pictures of the camps were not encouraging. Trailers all lined up, one after another. Hugely obese men and women eating and eating. They were usually depicted as dirty and slovenly and lazy. The food was all high fat, high carb, sugary junk food that was banned in polite society. The families were not allowed to leave the centers either and over time most became very obese as well. The government used these facts to bolster their claims that fatties infected normal people with their obscene food addictions.
I knew it would be hard on Jan, at first, but I could not imagine getting thin. My eating was picking up pace as my anxiety level rose. I was nearly inhaling food when Jan arrived. Baby stop. You will make yourself sick. She was beside me, calming me and stroking my huge fat tummy. I am here and everything is going to be just fine.
They want me to get thin.
I know baby, but I already booked us on the next transport to a center.
What about you?
I will probably end up an obese hog, like you. She mumbled over a cake filled mouth. I here the women end up fatter than the men. That will make me something of a blubber ball.
I could diet...
NO! Your an eater and I adore you fat.
We spent the rest of the afternoon noshing away and wondering what the center would really be like. Rumors were always spread by the thin regime to scare fatties but we had heard of people enjoying the centers and being happy they stuck to their guns or cakes as it were.
To be cont..
