FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 714-840-1145 Dr. Fitz's Fabulous Flab Formula By Thad Wawro Dr. F.X. "Fitz" Fitzgerald looked down at the rat in the cage on the lab table. It was the biggest rat he'd ever seen. Actually, it was the fattest rat he'd ever seen. "It's 22 pounds, 8 ounces," said Dr. Philip Roth. "And, just 2 hours ago, it weighed only 8 pounds 4 ounces." "Then the new formula works?" "Almost perfectly." "Almost?" Roth sighed and jotted down some figures on a growth chart. "The increase in fat cells is significant, but the majority of it isn't retained. All the animals we've tested have returned to their normal weight within 12 hours. It appears that the newly generated fat cells burn more quickly than normal fat cells." Fitz sighed and turned to lab table. He picked up a glass beaker containing a phosphorescent liquid. "So close," he muttered, "so close." It was a familiar story to Fitz--to get so close only to fail. For over a year now he'd headed the biological team assigned to Project SuperCal. Their mission was to develop a food supplement that would increase the amount of calories in any food. By increasing the amount of calories, it would take less food to keep people fed, thereby solving the ever-growing problem of world hunger. But so far, the project had been a failure. Fitz's team had developed 22 different supplement formulas, the twenty- second of which, rather unimaginatively named SuperCal 22, Fitz now swirled around in the beaker. SuperCal 22 (which his colleagues had jokingly dubbed Dr. Fitz's Fabulous Flab Formula) was a failure, but not a total failure. At least it had put some weight on the rats. Now all they had to do was figure a way to keep that weight on. "What do you want me to do with it?" Dr. Roth asked, gesturing toward the beaker. "We'll run some more tests on it tomorrow," Fitz sighed. "Maybe we can find something." On the drive home through the wooded dales of suburbia, Fitz pondered the riddle of SuperCal 22. It had caused the rat to gain a sufficient amount of weight. A weight gain of 14 pounds from only one meal certainly was impressive. There just had to be a way to chemically bind the fat cells so the weight would be retained. As the good doctor pulled into the driveway of his mock Tudor home, his thoughts strayed from SuperCal to his neighbor, Fanny Anderson. It was a warm evening, a good 2 hours of sunlight left, would Fanny be lying out by her pool? Jayne, Fitz's wife, a thin slip of a woman who practically disappeared when she turned sideways, was waiting at the door. "Any luck today, honey?" she asked, her arms outstretched for a hug. "Not much," he said as he accepted her embrace. He could feel the hardness of her ribs against his arms. She was so frail, so fragile, so goddamn thin. He was afraid if he squeezed too tightly, she might break. "A little bit of Dr. Fitz's Fabulous Flab Formula wouldn't hurt you," he thought. "Dinner will be ready in an hour," Jayne said softly, noticing the distracted tone in her husband's voice. "I'll be in my study," the good doctor replied. "I have some notes I want to go over." "Okay, I'll call you when it's ready," she said and skipped off down the hall. Skipped--quite appropriate for a woman who weighed as much as a child. Fitz trudged up the stairs and into the oak-paneled study he affectionately called his Fortress of Solitude. He sat down at his desk and took a test tube filled with SuperCal 22 from his briefcase. He held the tube up to the window. The sun streamed through the glass and liquid, creating a small rainbow. "What is your secret?" he mused aloud, but before anyone could answer, Fitz saw a figure moving below the window--a large figure. He slipped the test tube into his pocket and moved closer to the window. The study was in the rear of the house, and from this vantage point he could see into the backyard of the house next door. Fanny Anderson was coming out to bask in the dying rays of the afternoon sun. Fitz watched as she slowly waddled to the chaise next to the pool. Her huge stomach, which gradually sloped from her neck to down below her knees, swayed with an erotic rhythm of flesh. Her large breasts, lifted up and out by her enormous paunch, rested on her paunch like feather pillows. The billowy rolls of fat that hung from her tree-trunk legs rippled and flowed like sacks of jello. Fitz felt his pants tighten as he watched. This was a woman, a real woman. As Fanny lie down on the chaise, her enormous bulk overflowing its sides, Fitz began to fantasize about what it would be like the disappear into those acres of flesh--to spend hours exploring and searching every inch of that expansive body. Jayne's voice dragged him from the fantasy. "Dinner's ready," he heard her whine. "Why couldn't Jayne be more like Fanny?" he thought as he walked down to the kitchen. When he had married Jayne, she'd was a cute, budding plumpette, not the full-fledged woman that Fanny was, but she had definite potential. Fitz had that potential in mind when he'd proposed to her. His head had reeled with dreams of her growing ever larger, more beautiful, after they were married. After all, every woman puts on weight after she gets married, right? Every woman except Jayne. After the wedding, she'd decided she'd have to lose weight to keep her husband happy. So she dieted and exercised like a woman possessed. Now, that once pudgy beauty that had had so much potential, stood before Fitz, a borderline anorexic. He could see her bony elbows, sharp shoulders and small, pointy breasts jabbing through the soft fabric of the flannel shirt she wore. She had no curves, no sloping thighs, only bony chicken legs that looked lost in even the tightest jeans. Jayne placed a plate with a rare steak and enormous baked potato swimming in sour cream and butter in front of her husband. For herself there was only a meager salad with low-cal dressing. "I have to increase my exercise routine," she said between bites of salad. "I put on a pound last week. Got to work harder or eat less. We wouldn't want me putting on little weight, would we?" "Yes we would," Fitz thought. "We want you to put on lots of weight. Pounds and pounds of gorgeous, womanly flesh." But how could he tell her? How could he possibly ask her to put on weight after she'd worked so hard to take it off? Then, somewhere in the back of Fitz's mind, something clicked, a puzzle piece fell into place and the gate to his fantasy world suddenly unlocked. "Jayne, would you get me a beer from the fridge?" he asked. "Anything for you dear." As she got up and walked toward the refrigerator, Fitz took the test tube of SuperCal 22 from his pocket and emptied its contents onto his wife's salad. When she returned, he took the beer from her, thanked her, then returned to his dinner. Between bites, he glanced up at his wife, munching her salad. A slight grimace crossed her face. "This salad dressing must be going bad. It tastes a little sour," she complained It may not have tasted great, but Fitz knew SuperCal 22 wouldn't hurt his wife. The one thing they'd discovered in the endless hours of testing was that SuperCal had no harmful side effects. In fact, if his plan worked, it would only have the best effect on both her and him. Now all he could do was wait. The formula had taken two hours to work on the rats. The rapidity of its effects depended on the recipient's metabolism. He only had to wait an hour. After dinner he and Jayne had retired to living room. Fitz sat in a leather chair, reading the stock reports, while his wife lounged on the couch with a mystery novel. Fitz was about to move on to the sports page when he heard his wife groan softly. He looked up to see her unbuttoning the top of her jeans. "I must be retaining water," she moaned. "My jeans suddenly feel tight." It wasn't water, Fitz thought, it was SuperCal 22. Already he could see a fullness in her face that hadn't been there a few minutes before. Jayne pulled at her top, struggling to get at the minuscule bra below. "Geez, now my bra seems tight, too." That's because it was getting tighter, fighting to contain the girth that was slowly growing beneath it. Jayne's breasts swelled, straining at the shirt, pulling the fabric until the buttons popped, revealing the tiny A Cups that valiantly fought to restrain the rapidly expanding flesh. Her tits overflowed the bra, popping the snaps at the rear. The tiny bra fell away, revealing the soft milky mammaries beneath. They were huge pillows of flesh, with bright red, saucer- sized areola. Her nipples had grown too, and jutted out from her mammoth tits like thumbs. SuperCal 22 was working, and Fitz dropped his paper to watch in awe. Jayne's bony body began to enlarge and fill out. Her stomach swelled as if there were a growing child inside. It rose, gently pushing her jumbo tits off to the side. The enormous girth burst through the jeans, splitting both the front and back with primal force, inching itself outward until it flowed onto the couch. Her legs, once slender sticks, now strained at the fabric of her jeans. Her hips rippled and rolled as they grew toward each other, exploding the seams of her jeans. As the flesh broke free, Fitz licked his lips at the sight of the soft, pock-marked cellulite of his wife's now expansive inner thighs. The growth stopped and a new Jayne stood before Fitz. He gazed in awe at her corpulent beauty. Jayne, near hysteria, stood up and looked down at her immense body. Her shredded clothing lie in a pile on the floor. "What's happened to me?" she whimpered, pleadingly. She had put on 100 pounds in only a matter of minutes. Her face was full, triple-chinned and more beautiful than Dr. Fitz had ever imagined possible. Even her hair seemed fatter, thicker, fuller, shinier, more strikingly blonde and shiny. Rolls of fat dripped from her arms, jiggling as she moved them. Her stomach hung down from her neck, gently growing outward as it reached her 52 inch waist. An apron of flab, split in the middle like a man's scrotum, covered her pubic area. Perched on top were her enormous breasts, easily a 50 DDD Cup. Fitz gazed at the flabby roundness of her vast hips, which had grown to the size of tree trunks, the rolls of fat almost touching the floor. Fitz had done some growing himself. He could feel his raging hard-on fighting to get free of his pants. He looked at Jayne's face. Tears misted her eyes. "I've gotten fat," she whined, "just like I was before. You don't love me anymore." "On the contrary, darling," he cooed. "You've gotten beautiful and I've never loved you more." "You mean you like me fat?" "Darling, I've always wanted you to get fat, enormously fat. But I was too afraid to tell you." Jayne smiled. Dimples formed in her pudgy cheeks. Her eyes lit up and she slowly waddled toward her husband. She took his hand and gently cupped it to her massive breast. Still holding his hand, she lifted her breast his mouth. Greedily he sucked on the sausage-sized nipple. He tried to stuff the entire mammary into his mouth, but it was just too enormous. He licked every inch of her magnificent mam, tracing a pathway down into her gaping cleavage. He stayed between her tits, inhaling the musky, erotic scent of her skin. Her pendulous floppers engulfed his head and Fitz's entire world consisted of Jayne's wonderful whoppers. Fitz ventured out of the valley of flesh and attacked Jayne's right tit. Starting with her turgid nipple, he slurped sucked and chewed. Jayne's soft moans filled the air as she stroked the underside of Fitz's swollen shaft with her left hand. "You keep that up and I'm going to spray cum all over this nice clean rug," Fitz teased. "I have a much better place for that," Jayne said with a wicked smile. Fitz took the cue and carefully straddled Jayne's chest. She guided his cock between her bulging, sweat- soaked breasts and squeezed the tremendous tits together, surrounding Fitz's rod in a soft glove of flesh. Fitz's pumped his hips, his stiff shaft disappearing into the massive tit-flesh. His cock plunged repeatedly into the cavernous cleavage. He could feel spunk churning in his balls like molten lava. His cock erupted, splattering load after load of cum onto Jayne's chest, neck and face. Fitz caressed Jayne's flowing rolls of flesh, exploring every inch of her skin. He reached around and grabbed two big handfuls of her colossal behind. His fingers searched between her legs, seeking her already sopping twat. Even her pussy lips had grown. Jayne moaned and begged him to fuck her. He scooped away the apron of flab and gently eased his rod into her. She bucked with pleasure, sending ripples throughout her body. Fitz thrust harder, desperately riding the expansive ocean of flesh that tossed and rolled with each lunge. He could feel the force building in his scrotum, ready to explode. Jayne crushed him tighter to her fabulous body and screamed as they both rocked in a euphoric orgasm that seemed to last forever. Afterward, covered in perspiration, as they lie together in a long, loving embrace, Fitz told her about SuperCal 22. He hoped she wasn't mad. "Mad," Jayne said, "of course not. That was the best sex I've ever had. I've always felt I was a large woman at heart. I've often dreamed of just growing fatter and fatter until I was so fat I couldn't move. But I've never been able to do it. I've been too concerned about what other people thought of me." "But the weight gain is only temporary," Fitz said. "You mean, I don't get to keep all this beautiful flesh?" "Unfortunately, the formula wears off after twelve hours." "But I don't want to go back to being skinny. I want to please you. I want to grow as big as you like." She buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed. That settled it. He would have to find a way to make the formula permanent. Fitz found a way the next morning. Dr. Roth met him at the door of the lab, triumphantly thrusting a report into his hands. "We've done it, sort of," Roth beamed. "What do you mean?" "Last night, after you left, I ran some more tests. It seems that the amount of weight gained is directly proportional to the calorie content of the food it's ingested with. The higher the calorie count, the greater the effects of the formula. And that's not all, while most of the fat burns off after twelve hours, the rats have retained a small amount of weight: about three percent. So, each time the formula is ingested, the rats retain more weight. It works, Doctor, SuperCal 22 is a success." But Fitz no longer heard Roth. He was busy reveling in this new discovery. All Jayne had to do was keep taking the formula and eventually, she would become a beautiful mound of wonderful flesh. The day went by slowly. Fitz watched every tick of the clock, waiting for when he could tell Jayne the good news. Finally, he decided to leave early. Jayne was waiting for him in the kitchen. She wore a revealing string bikini and Fitz could see that she had indeed retained at least a little of her vast girth from the night before. There was a certain roundness to her now. She was by no means plump, still thin, but it was promising. He told her about the test results and she rewarded him with long, wet kiss. "Now all we have to do is keep stuffing you with most fattening food we can find," Fitz explained. "It's a challenge I gladly accept," she replied with a smile. That night they went to the store and stocked up on cakes, cookies, candy, pasta, bread and anything else guaranteed to put the pounds on Jayne. Night after night, Jayne dined on huge feasts spiked with SuperCal 22. Afterward, once the formula had taken effect, Fitz would spend hours exploring Jayne's ever-expanding body. Each night Fitz would make love to a new, fatter Jayne. And Jayne was indeed keeping some of that weight on. Every morning she would awake, a few pounds heavier than the night before. After only three weeks, she had put on nearly 70 pounds. But it wasn't enough. Jayne wanted to grow larger, faster. She went for broke. She prepared the most fattening meal she could think of-- Fettucini Alfredo, swimming in a rich cheese sauce, garlic bread dripping with butter, a tossed salad with huge chunks of cheddar and pepperoni drowning in gobs of mayonnaise dressing. For good measure, she added four baked potatoes, drenched in sour cream. She washed it all down with a gallon of high-carbohydrate weight- on drink. For desert, there was an entire chocolate chip cheesecake. All the food had been liberally seasoned with SuperCal 22. Fitz watched as Jayne ate, shoveling mound after mound of fettucini into her mouth. It was hard to believe that only a few short weeks before, Jayne had subsisted mainly on salads. But that was the Jayne of old--the Jayne obsessed with weight loss. This was the new Jayne, whose only goal in life was to grow so huge that she couldn't even walk. Jayne was covered in food by the time she finished her feast, almost an hour later. She looked up at her husband and smiled. "Now the fun begins," she said with a triumphant smile. Fitz followed her into the living room. Jayne stood in the bare center of the floor. She had moved away all the furniture in preparation for what she hoped would be enormous growth. She undressed and sat down on the floor to wait. Fitz waited, too. He felt like a kid anxiously waiting to open his presents on Christmas morning. A low rumble filled the room. Fitz looked around, trying to discover where the sound had come from. His eyes settled on Jayne. The rumbling was coming from her stomach. Jayne began to grow. She filled up like a balloon, growing fatter and fatter. With each passing second she gained inches and pounds. Fitz watched as she filled the empty space on the floor, her flab growing outward. Her legs disappeared under the curtain of flesh formed by her stomach. Her breasts billowed as if they were being filled with air. Then something strange happened. Something none of Fitz's tests could ever have predicted. Jayne began to grow taller. Her body expanded both outward and upward, growing to accommodate the rapidly multiplying fat cells. Then Jayne stood. She had to duck to avoid hitting the ceiling. Fitz guessed she was about 10 foot tall and well near 1,000 pounds. Her immense stomach hung down from her neck like a circus tent, nearly touching the floor. He could see her tree-trunk thighs, each as nearly as big around as he was. Her arms, enveloped in mounds of fat, stood out from her sides like flippers. Then there were her tits--two pendulous floppers at least 50 inches in diameter a piece. They were nearly three feet long and dangled to her sides. The areola were as big as his face with banana-sized nipples that stuck out a good four inches. "Am I big enough for you now?" Jayne said with a smile the made her multi-chinned face glow with delight. She scooped him into her arms and gently lay him down on the floor. Instantly, Fitz's world became one of acres of warm sweet flesh. He took one of her gargantuan tits in his hands and could barely hold the expansive bosom. His tongue darted to her nipple, licking the door-knob sized protrusion. His jaw muscles strained as he took the huge nipple into his mouth. Jayne shuddered and it rippled through her flesh like a shock wave. Fitz was afloat in a sea of fat. Warm waves of skin pounding against his body. He felt Jayne's large, pudgy hand grasp his dick and guide it inside her. He had to slide down her belly to get his throbbing cock in all the way. For as big as she was, Jayne's pussy was amazingly tight. She milked his cock with her cunt, urging his distended member to expel its load. While Jayne worked on his rod, Fitz let himself be smothered in the musky flab of her stomach. It flowed around him, cutting off the light until he was in a dream world of fat. There he stayed until a screaming orgasm blazed through his body. Jayne hadn't come yet, so he thrust his still hard cock deep into her. Moments later, Jayne's body rocked in an earthquake orgasm, drenching Fitz's legs with pussy juice. They lie there for what seemed an eternity, Fitz gently cradled in Jayne's corpulent arms. By morning, Jayne had shrunk again, but not by much. The scale in the bathroom read 732 pounds and she was now over six feet tall. Fitz smiled at his wife as she waddled her immense bulk into the bedroom. His mind reeled with the thought of how big Jayne could possibly grow. She sat down next to him on the bed. It sagged under her weight. He tenderly fondled her rolls of fat. "Will you be home for dinner?" Jayne asked. "I hope so." "Good, I'm planning a special meal. I thought tonight we'd have Hungarian goulash, with extra cream sauce, fresh- baked bread with gobs of butter, mounds of French fries and ketchup and maybe a Black Forest Cherry pie for desert." "That sounds great. I'll make sure to bring home some extra SuperCal 22." The End FROM THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS 714-840-1145