Sam’s Doctor Appointment

By Shalion

Sam was floating; she didn’t know where she was nor did she particularly care. There was light, but nothing to see, not even her body. She did, however have a clear sense of her body, its heft and excess flesh was comforting. Sam had many unusual preferences, chief among them being her adoration for fat and revelry in the sins of gluttony and sloth. Sam had purposely eaten her way well past the 600lb mark in waking life, and in her dreams she allowed herself to become even more rotund.

Sam fancied herself to be 850lbs at the moment, running her hands up and down her body, blind and yet at the same time seeing her body from without. The hefty Holstein tailored her nude body like a blank canvas. She applied the excess flesh onto a model of her already morbidly obese body, spending it like currency. Her hourglass frame sported monstrously fattened hips and thighs and enough breast tissue to feed a litter of small children, but Sam wanted more. She made her bosom larger, bordering the grotesque and spent at least 75 more pounds on her relatively small belly, turning it into a grand sagging paunch to rival her friend Daisy’s. She let her thunder thighs be and fattened her upper arms their sag nearly doubling to obliterate her elbows, turning the region into a complex mass of spidery creases between smooth bulges of tight youthful skin; Sam always reverted to her mid-twenties when dreaming like this. Sam sent a few pounds to fill out her lower neck, it’s sag wide and smooth, thick enough to come even with her chin; she added a fourth chin at the piled flesh at the base of her neck, but kept her cheeks fairly thin. She continued padding her thick back, which was already convex and bulging slightly around the spine, until it was painfully apparent how obese she was just by looking from behind. Her ass wasn’t quite as large as a pear’s might be, nor did it stick out as a counterbalance for those ladies who gained in their bellies, but Sam’s rear was bloated beyond compare, cheeks starting even with a stubby tail that should have been well above them. The thick, short tail draped down the crack, upper lobes flanking either side. Sam made her tail so fat that it creased when it bent rendering it hardly functional anymore. Her cheeks sagged down the backs of her thighs, rising up in a smooth, round curve adorned on the edges with horizontal creases. Sam filled it out, tightening the skin between the rolls, until they seemed almost like a sort of pastry ready to burst with the flavored jellies inside. Finally, Sam made her calves and forearms thicker and thicker, until even their firm muscles mass could not stabilize the masses of cellulite. Creases formed and fat bulged at her wrists and digitigrades ankles.

Sam admired her fabricated body for some time, adjusting and readjusting her face most often, sometimes experimenting with moving the various creases around her body. When at last she was happy with this perfected vision of herself, she thought longingly, “Oh, how much better I would look at 1080lbs….” and began her work anew.

Sam’s drunken stupor brought a myriad of dreams that night, many of which contained the startlingly wild looking black wolf she had met at the night club just hours beforehand. He was there, in all his masculine perfection, rubbing her belly, feeding her until she begged him to stop and then forcing even more down her gullet. Sven was her plaything that evening and she spent a lot of time imagining what contours the grey trousers he had worn at the bar might have hidden.

As the light continued to pour into Sam’s bedroom in increasing volumes, she tossed and turned and the dream she had of kissing Sven while rubbing her hands up and down his lean pectorals evaporated like so much mist. As Sam became more and more aware of her surroundings, she became aware of the pounding pain in her head. The light hurt her eyes even through the lids and the sounds of the machinery in the apartment complex around her rammed against her skull like crashing waves. The heavy heifer rolled onto her right side, left breast rolling on top of the right under her snout and her left leg jutting awkwardly into the air for the thickness of her thighs. Sam was finally forced to concede the fight for continued sleep and intensely satisfying dreams for the imperfections of reality. Here, she was only a couple years away from not being able to pretend she was 32 anymore and she had the difficulties that went with carrying an extra 500lbs of useless fat on a body with underused muscles.

Sam hacked up dried gunk from the back of her throat and rubbed her sleep grimed eyes. She propped herself up on an elbow, doing very little in the way of actually separating skin from the sheets. Her breasts bowed down in the direction of gravity as Sam, with a great deal of effort, managed to roll herself forward while putting her hooves out over the edge of the bed, bringing her into a sitting position. Her knees were set wide, like a man’s, and she could hardly lift one leg higher than the other, let alone cross them. A heavy, fluid filled pink udder rested heavily on a lap long since closed by the permanent meeting of her thighs. Covering most of this was a strong belly, the belly button a deep horizontal slit that would turn vertical when she stood. It rose in a strong arc into a bulbous hump above her submerged abs. Without support, Sam’s breasts slid down either side of this divide, nipples pointing away from her body at a slightly obtuse 90° angle. Six inches of cleavage still remained from the two feet she had sported with the aid of her broken bra last night due to the depth of the fat padding her chest below the neck.

Sam struggled still against the hangover and her head drooped to her chest, she could have licked her own cleavage if she had wanted. She felt sick in every core of her being from the volumes of alcohol she had willing poured into her system. She managed to lift her head enough to look at the digital display of the alarm clock on the nightstand beside her bed, it read: 2:38pm. Sam groaned; she wasn’t a morning person, but almost 3 o’clock in the afternoon was pushing it. Almost as if in response, Sam’s insides churned and she felt nature’s call more strongly than the various aches around her body.

Sam rocked her fattened body forward, hooves on carpet long since stomped flat, slowly loading up her legs with her bulk. Her knees creaked and reminded Sam of the awful stabbing pain in her left knee that had left her unable to dance more than twice last night. Sam waddled heavily from the width of her thighs, bone and muscle forced to concede to the whims of sloth-fed adipose. More than the memory of last night’s pain came back as she walked the short distance from her queen sized bed to the door on the right side of the room. Her left knee twinged slightly, pain shooting across it like a flash of lightning and then fading, leaving it tingly and warm like rolling thunder. Sam sighed but pushed forward the door into her bathroom.

The bathroom door, like all of the doors in her apartment was overly wide, almost 50% wider than a typical door to accept Sam’s girth without turning sideways and scraping belly and ass against the doorframe. Inside, adobe colored granite lined the floor ever since her weight and hardness of her hooves had started cracking the old ceramic tiles. The sink, mirror and cabinet were set up in the corner nearest the door, most of the surface was covered with glass and plastic bottles of various colors and scents mostly containing lotions and skin/fur care products. In the cabinet, Sam kept her make-ups and some medical supplies (mostly topical antiseptics for the times when she occasionally got skin infections within her myriad creases or inside her belly button). The gap beside the sink was originally intended for the toilet, but Sam found quickly that the space between it and the bathtub was horribly insufficient. Now the toilet rests against the opposite wall, sticking out like a sore thumb, but at least functional. In the old toilet’s place is a large black pad with a thin wire leading up to an adhesive mounted digital display a little over five feet off the ground. At the opposite side of the bathroom from the door and filling the width of the little room was the whirlpool bath. It was state of the art and large enough for four people, so it was the perfect size for Sam. It had three standing spray hoses, each with a different shaped nozzle, enough built-in jets to fill it in less than five minutes, and it also functioned as a Jacuzzi. However, Sam wasn’t interested in any other this at the moment as she waddled through the bathroom, filling most of it and sat upon the throne.

Sometime later, Sam rose after a particularly straining time cleaning herself and took two rolling steps forward onto the black mat. Sam weighed herself daily, first thing when she woke, on an empty stomach. The overweight cow had formally declared that she had stopped gaining weight, but technically, her reservoirs of adipose continued to wax and wane as much as 20 pounds in each direction per year. The raised black platform shook a little under Sam’s hooves and she had to steady herself with a hand against the wall before coming to a complete rest. The unlit “8’s” of the display spiraled over and over as Sam waited, her belly expanding and contracting. Finally there appeared a number: 635.4lbs. Sam frowned. With her body’s fat content, it was a simply fact that her weight fluctuated by multiple pounds weekly from simple water retention (not to mention the literal pounds of food it took to sate Sam’s appetite), but still, up over half a pound from yesterday morning was slightly disturbing.

The platform clattered against the frame as Sam stepped off and turned around; her buttocks pressed against the wall and her thigh brushed against the curtain of the bath in the small bathroom. Sam leaned her rear against a wall and bent over, shimmying down her silk panties from their hidden retreat. The once alluring pink panties were as wide as her entire arm span and they stank of the sweat from last night’s exertions; she placed them on the sink instead of tossing them on the floor in remembrance of past difficulties retrieving items from below knee level. Naked, Sam looked little different from before as she carefully lifted one leg into the whirlpool bath and then followed with the other.

Sam turned on the water and grabbed a nozzle with a very long handle. She stood gloriously with her massively wide and creased body as she ran the water over her acres of loose skin. She thoroughly doused herself, pulling up paunch and udder and thrusting the nozzle head between her impregnable thighs. Despite preferring hot showers, Sam kept the water cold because she knew it was better for the skin; Sam was a fastidious cow when it came to the upkeep her body demanded. After wetting herself, the heavy bovine was relieved to take a seat within the bath, it was shallow for her bulk, but Sam was able to manage. Lathering shampoo onto her breasts and upper belly, the grotesquely overfed heifer began the laborious task of washing herself. Sam used a multitude of different shampoos and conditioners, and still more products after the bath, to keep her skin clean and her coat glossy and smooth despite all of the rubbing creases and oxygen starved regions of her body. Inside the heavy creases of her thighs, under her belly and breasts, and within the rolls on her sides, Sam used a heavy grime cleaning agent and then shampoo with conditioner for oily skin. She reached down and rubbed with an embarrassingly long loofa-on-a-stick within the folds of her skin. She used dandruff care on the longer fur around her neck and head and dry skin on her broad back. She spent extra time grooming the top of her chest, washing, rinsing and rewashing the area around her cleavage since most of the outfits she wore drew attention to that area of her body (whether by design or otherwise). Sam wanted desperately to simply fill the tub with water and soak until she was feeling better, but as it was already rather late in the afternoon, she decided she couldn’t afford the time; she didn’t want to blow the entire day.

Sam didn’t have a rack for towels in her bathroom because they could never hold enough. Instead she had a wicker basket full of them on her toilet. Sam grabbed two and started rubbing down her body. After five towels of various levels of dampness from damp to soaking lay drying on the curtain’s support beam, Sam stepped out. She grabbed some of the bottles on her sink and started yet another round of product application. She had to powder all of her crevasses, most especially between her thighs for Sam worked up a sweat easily and when that happened, her skin started to rub, not glide and then being 600lbs became a nightmare of chaffing and rashes; a small wash cloth on a stick proved to be a godsend in application. Sam oiled the top of her belly and the visible portions of her chest to keep her coat healthy as well as restoring the lost natural oils in her overzealous cleaning habits. The same rule applied now as in the bathtub, different regions of her skin required different products, and Sam had a large supply of them all. She might have spent more than an hour dressing her body, but today she stuck to the basics, she wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Thus things like antiperspirants and hair gloss agents went untouched.

Despite her cuts, it was 4:40pm by the time that she got out of the bathroom. She tossed the panties into her hamper at the foot of the bed and then spied the discarded black dress on the floor for the first time. Waves of memories she had thought forgotten came back, most strongly was the face of the handsome black wolf and then the despair at the fact that she had never gotten his number. Only the possibility that she had given him her cell phone number in her drunken stupor last night offered any comfort. Sam luxuriated in the feeling of her various sacs of lard sliding smoothly against one another as she bent her knees and reached down around her belly and thighs for the dress. Rising, Sam felt another stab of pain in her left knee that forced her to twist and sit on the edge of her bed. Rubbing the appendage, Sam left the dress on the comforter and decided to go ahead and call her doctor before it got any later.

Sam moved steadily and cautiously to her nightstand where her cell phone lay charging. She picked it up and chose the number from the memory; she made calls fairly often. A machine answered and informed Sam that the office was closed as she silently cursed to herself. She was, however able to leave a message requesting an appointment during the scant two hours her doctor’s office would be open tomorrow. She wasn’t sure she would get it, but it was better than nothing… and it wasn’t like she had a schedule anyways.

Sam sighed and grumped at her steadily weakening symptoms of alcohol poisoning. As it faded, Sam began to feel her appetite reemerge like a Tokyo monster from the depths of the ocean. Her abdomen growled angrily and she clutched her middle. Sam did the math and realized she hadn’t eaten in almost sixteen hours. Sam moaned and her empty insides churned; she, for once, actually had every right to be hungry and the slight worry about how such she might binge eat was silenced by the furious and intensely powerful hunger pangs striking through her body.

Sam slid off the bed, setting her wide load jiggling with the impact and waddled into the kitchen. Inside, the scent of the foods stored within, even through plastic packaging, set her mouth watering. Sam opened the big cabinet and just threw an arm inside, not caring what came out, and set about ripping open the individual packages. Greasy potato chips and Cheetos met with annihilation first, one grubby, fat handful at a time. Three full-sized bags disappeared as Sam stood at the counter, her tail waggling, stuffing her face like a pig and still completely naked. The sight of the three empty bags shocked even Sam herself, and yet the inability to control herself fed into her libido and made her want to continue eating for more reasons than simply to assuage the pangs in her belly. The chips, though heavy on Calories, were mostly air and didn’t even register within her cavernous innards. Sam opened a package of chocolate chip cookies and ate them, taking palm sized disks with only two bites each. By the time that dozen was safely secured within the confines of her body, Sam was gaining more control of herself. She grabbed a box of donut holes and moved to the corner next to the fridge, grabbing the sliding stool. She planted her hind quarters on it and pushed herself across the floor to the fridge. She opened it, and sliding donut holes two at a time into her heavily salivating mouth, tried to decide what she would like to eat.

The obese cow was wiping crumbs off her chest and the top of her belly as she set the range to heat and slid clear across the kitchen to pour water into a large pot. She set it on an electric heat pad and as it warmed, she got two more large pans out from an adjacent lower cabinet. She measured water and milk by eye into one pan and took a package of chipotle mix from a cabinet and dumped it in once the mix was boiling. In the other pan, she sautéed red and green bell peppers and onions after chopping them on the counter. Sam’s mouth was watering with the smell of the onions and peppers sizzling in vegetable oil as she set the long strands of flat pasta into the pot of boiling water. her abdomen grumbled with its insatiable appetite, unable to consider the mounds of junk food she had already dumped inside herself, only able to conceive of the masses of food to come.

Sam strained the pot and dumped the pasta into a large salad bowl. She took the lids off the pans keeping the vegetables and sauce warm and dumped them both into the large bowl. She mixed the contents liberally with the long wooden spoon she used to stir the sauce. Setting the bowl on her small kitchen table, Sam then transferred her wide rear to the seat created by two adjacent wooden chairs. She grabbed a fork and thought with a grin, “Mmmm… Just enough for one serving.”

Sam wasn’t the type of person that watched television, read a book, or even talked with other people while eating. For her, eating was an activity and a pleasure all in itself. She curled the noodles around the fork until she had a large tangled ball of orange stained pasta and peppers and onions wrapped around the utensil. She shoved the mass into her mouth and chewed, savoring the bulk of the huge bite as much as the flavor and texture. Sam lost herself, as she always did when she had a plentiful supply of food at hand, in the sensual and primeval joy of nutrition sliding continuously down her gullet. Bite by bite, the heavy bowl disappeared. She felt the bloated pressure under her ribcage as she dropped her fork into the bowl containing nothing but sauce stains, finally satisfied.

Sam belched in a very unfeminine, but quite bovine, manner as she waddled to the sink and began cleaning up the dishes. The pressure of her gut that was not quite painful shortened her breath and made the work drearily slow, but Sam was not one to let the dishes pile up in the sink; she could need them at any moment the mood struck.

After spending all the time cooking, eating and washing up, the day was pretty much shot. She set her acres of black and white furred skin, still stark naked onto her sofa and lazily watched television, feeling as the dense ball of food churned inside her and moved down lower as the hours passed. It was dark outside by the time Sam came to from her television induced daze, the final dregs of alcohol finally having left her system. The hefty heifer groaned as she got to her hooves and waddled into her bedroom, always happy to get back onto her regular sleep schedule by oversleeping rather than staying up an entire day. It was as she walked into the bedroom that she noticed the discarded dress.

She picked up the musty smelling garment and extracted the pink bra from the inside. While noting that one of the seams where the hooks attached to the body of the bra failed from stress, she noticed a small piece of folded napkin flutter softly to the floor. Sam tossed the black dress into the hamper in the closet and then squatted near the paper. She reached around her belly with fattened arms and got her fingers around the paper. She lifted herself up, a hand on her back and her left knee once again twitching in pain for the first time since she started getting up that afternoon. Grimacing, she plopped down on the bed, squishing the fabric as it sunk and hugged the outside of her thighs. She unfolded the paper and read: Sam I would love to have you for lunch sometime,- Sven. Below that was printed a phone number.

Beneath a good one and a half foot layer of lard, Sam’s heart fluttered; she had Sven’s number the whole time! She hugged the scrubby and wrinkled napkin to her chest like it was made of gold. After a moment reveling in the pleasures she was able to recall from the club, as well as half remembered ones from her dreams, Sam wearily got up and grabbed her ruined bra after setting the precious note on her nightstand. The bra, having been custom made, was too valuable to simply discard and she put it in a box in her closet specifically for garments meant to be repaired or altered in the future. Despite having a belly full of food, Sam went into the kitchen and idly munched on carrots, celery and grapes, too excited to go to bed just yet. She munched to keep her mouth busy, mind racing with possibilities and filled with an arctic blue stare that wanted her to be all that she could be. She washed down a big mouthful consisting of the thick half of a whole carrot with half a bottle of V8 and didn’t even notice…

Sam had polished off four bottles of V8 out of the twelve pack in the fridge by the time she was actually feeling sleepy; her meal dropping into her lower digestive and activating the autonomic nervous system. She waddled with some effort back to her bedroom, feeling ridiculously bloated and fat, though not quite in the unhealthy manner she had experienced the previous evening. It was past 10:30pm according to the clock and the self-fattened bovine could scarcely believe she had spent the entire day nude; it was actually quite invigorating in some sense. She dragged herself across the mattress on her belly, pushing down hard just to scrape her lowers across the fabric. Sam collapsed in the center of the bed made for two and turned just enough to throw a blanket over herself. Sam rested her head on a pulled and fluffed expanse of breast tissue, cupping its incredible girth underneath with her hands as she was dragged down into sleep and yet more pleasant dreams…

The next morning, Sam woke early enough to see the sun rise, a rare and pleasant occurrence. She sat for a long while, sitting over a demolished breakfast of vegetable omelet, pondering her situation with Sven and also her, hopefully, pending doctor’s appointment later today. It was romance 101 to not seem over eager and Sam felt that the midnight black wolf was interested in her enough that she didn’t need to fear him forgetting or losing interest in her. And yet… a strong part of her wanted to see him again, soon! She longed for that sense of power, that sense of danger he exuded, his untamed feral features. She wanted to melt into those steely blue eyes, to melt and dissolve in his grasp. She also wanted the sense of security she felt in his powerful arms, the way he managed to shift her girth despite weighing less than half her weight was a comfort. The sense of helplessness she had in his presence was erotically stimulating in a way that she hadn’t expected, especially considering that she had been the dominant partner in all her previous relationships.

Eyes half lidded, she sighed again and again, day dreaming about the wild wolf. Sam thought hard and concentrated on what fractured memories she could dredge from her exciting night out with Daisy. She remembered that Sven was from an Eastern European country with an unpronounceable name. He had moved here recently and was still living in a motel while his things were shipped. The canine hadn’t seemed too keen on discussing his family which had implied problems, perhaps even the reason why he was moving, but Sam had the distinct feeling that he came from money though she couldn’t recall any exact words. Sven was an environmental geologist and had a passion for the outdoors. Sam recalled that he had said that he liked to feel his “roots” and that he went on frequent and often extended hiking trips with little more than a pair of shorts, flint and a hunting knife.

Sam distracted herself with an image of the wolf’s furred torso blowing in a cold mountain breeze on the precipice of a mountain only-God-knows-how-many miles away from civilization. Her mouth watered slightly and she looked down and saw about five granola bar wrappers on top of the dregs of her demolished omelet; disturbingly she didn’t even remember getting up and fetching them. Sam rested a palm on the rise of her behemoth belly and she thought back to the scale display this morning. The half pound that she had gained had received another good third of a pound, dashing her hopes of it being the simple water retention her 600lb body was prone to. She stroked her own short, smooth coat covering the dimpled, pampered skin. She had already gained four pounds this year. Normally she lost weight during the first half of the year and gained it back over the holidays. She didn’t know why this year was so bad, but she felt that it had something to do with her increased cravings. Stunts like the vanishing granola bars were changing from an amusing occurrence to a real concern. Adding the knee pain on top of that made her really scared for the first time in her life about her weight and her ability to control it. Sam got up and dumped the paper plate and its contents into her waste bin. Still clutching Sven’s note in her left hand she went into her small living room and plopped herself down on the sofa.

Idly, she turned the television on to daytime programming more for the noise than the “entertainment” and answered her E-mails and updated her blog on her laptop. All the while a single phrase ran full circle again and again in her mind, “To call him, or not to call him…” when she could no longer distract herself with her virtual environment, Sam closed the laptop on the swell of her gut that served as a table top and looked longingly at her cell phone on the small table before the television; it’s violet frame reminded her of the sheen his eyes took in the bizarre lighting of the night club. The television babbled, “Its love at first sight, man falls in love with a tomato, up next on the Howard Jumper Show!”

Sam picked up the phone and turned off the television. The heavily overfed heifer punched the numbers into her blackberry with the tips of her nails, her own meaty fingers too clumsy for the small buttons. Her heart thudded so hard she could feel her pulse in her neck as the phone rang. Finally the line picked up.

“Bună! Erm… Hello?” answered a deep baritone voice with a smooth accent.

Sam’s mouth became dry in less time than it took to swallow, but she managed, “Uh… hey is this Sven?”

“…Sam?” Sven ventured.

“Hey, Sven! How’s it going?”

“Oh, just fine, Sam. You know I was hoping that you didn’t lose my note.”

“Oh I just found it last night; I was out of it all day yesterday!” said Sam and immediately regretted it.

The wolf chuckled, the sound rich and musical, “I can imagine. I’ve never met a woman who could drink like you did.”

Sam swallowed in embarrassed silence.

The wolf glided into the pause with graceful ease, “But you know I really enjoyed the time we had together on Friday.”

Sam giggled, “Oh that was nothing. My knee was bothering me that night, we should go again when I can really spend some time dancing. Hey, did you really want to grab some lunch together?”

“Well sure, I’d… be enchanted. But I have plans today, could we meet tomorrow?”

Sam answered without thinking, “Of course! Where were you planning on taking me?”

“I was thinking of the Olive Garden on Broadway and 121st. I hear that it is a very nice place to eat.”

“Oh it is, one of my favorite places in fact. I just love the salad and the soup…” Sam just managed to stop herself from rambling on and making herself sound just as greedy and obese as she really was.

“Is 11 o’clock fine?”


“Um… Sam. I have a car, but it’s just a little prius and…”

Sam interrupted, catching the drift of his voice, “Oh that’s fine. I normally take the bus.”

“Benefic; good, good. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait to see you, too” Said Sam with just the amount of huskiness.

“See you tomorrow, Sam. Have a nice day.” Said Sven.

“And you, Sven.” Said Sam

The second that Sam clicked “End” on her cell phone, the memory of her doctor’s appointment drew the breath from her lungs. “Oh God, what time did I schedule it?” Sam finally recalled simply leaving the message yesterday. Her doctor had only two hours today, but if she could see her, then any possible schedule conflict could be averted. But she still hadn’t gotten any calls. Sam glanced at the clock on the wall beside the television. It read: 10:48am. That left only a few minutes before the office opened.

The vibration against her chest where Sam had stuffed her cell phone into her bra alerted her to the incoming call. Sam picked up and held the small device to her long, folded ear.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Am I speaking to Samantha Halstein?”

“Yes you are.”

“Hi, I am calling on behalf of Dr. Huchenson. You requested an appointment?”

“Yes. My knee’s been bothering me; I’d like to see her.”

“All right…” There was a pause, “Well she’s full today. Is tomorrow fine?”

“Well I have some plans. Is Tuesday open?”

“Let me see…” the voice was quiet for a long while before answering, “I’m sorry, she’s been booked until late on Thursday. There’s only an opening tomorrow because a patient canceled.”

Sam grimaced as she weighed her options, she really didn’t want to wait any longer than she needed to, especially not at the rate she had been gaining the last couple days, “What time is it on Monday?”

“It’s in the afternoon, 4:00.”

Sam pursed her lips, surely that would be enough time to have a nice lunch. And the doctor’s office happened to be only a few blocks away from the restaurant. She didn’t like living on a schedule, but the wait until Thursday would drive her nuts with worry. “I’ll be there.”

“Very good, Ms. Halstein. Have a nice day.”

Sam bid the receptionist farewell and lay back into the sofa for several minutes, letting the flab of her body spread and consume nearly all of the space on the two-seater. She put her arms on the back of the couch and bent her head back until forced to stop by the cushioning of the multiple rolls on the back of her neck. She hoped that she hadn’t made a big mistake.

After a quick lunch of sautéed zucchini, broccoli and squash, Hollie called and, after expressing her concern that she hadn’t heard from her the previous day, invited Sam to dinner. It would have been uncharacteristic to refuse. Sam took two seats at a large table at Applebee’s that night with half priced appetizers all around. The evening was spent at ease of future worries with the laughs and conversation created between herself, Hollie and half a dozen other friends she had from both the FA society and everyday life. Sam splurged, she would have splurged even if she hadn’t been concerned about her climbing weight; it just wasn’t fair to put so much deliciously cheap food and alcohol in front of her without some sort of barrier.

Taking the bus home, Sam didn’t even take the time to revel in the stares from the late night crowd, she was far too busy tending to a belly that was stretched painfully tight and that pressed dangerously on her diaphragm. After unclothing and clumsily dropping herself onto her tortured bed frame, Sam still found her mind’s eye filled with those stark blue eyes that constantly fascinated her. Her dreams that night were almost intense enough to wake her, if she had at all wanted to.

That morning, Sam woke early and cleaned and conditioned her hide for the eventual inspection (both of them). She smoothed her slightly damp white and black coat with both palms as she waddled into her closet in search of something to wear. The pudgy bovine’s belly growled with morning pangs as she selected a pair of khaki slacks made of a light material that flowed about the ankles as well as a stylish blue and white short sleeve shirt which did nothing to conceal her bulging upper arm fat that dangled behind her elbows. She wore the top with the first several buttons left undone, showing the top of her chest as well as some shoulder. She put on a gold necklace to accentuate the opening.

Her left knee was aching slightly from the time spent on her hooves in the bathroom, so Sam rolled about in the kitchen on her stool as she prepared a simple bowl of cereal to stave off hunger until lunch; she probably would have made more, but the fact that the scale confirmed that she gained well over a full pound over the course of the weekend was sobering. Sam absently rearranged her belly and udder between her thighs with one hand stuck into the waist band of her slacks, lifting the heavy masses of limp flesh and depositing them on top of her legs as she ate, and as she ate she daydreamed about her approaching date. Anticipation made her heart flutter with excitement. The more she thought about him the harder it was to concentrate on the real world, and the harder it was to concentrate, the more she wound up eating in diversion. Despite intending to eat only lightly this morning, Sam tore into her fruit stock after the cereal. Somehow three banana peels, two peach pits and a plate full of orange peelings found themselves deposited into the garbage before Sam got up and waddled out the door.

The walk to the bus stop was getting uncomfortably long for Sam. Her calves ached and cramped, as they did now, when she didn’t spend substantial time stretching before the excursion. The wind blew cool and constant, but Sam still felt herself getting rather warm in her 500lb suit of insulating fat. She waddled, huffed and puffed, not quite panting but not able to talk comfortably either, as she finally made it out of the apartment complex. Her heavy hooves clapped on the concrete, the sheets of dangling cellulite from her thighs jiggled and rubbed this way and that within the wide legs of her pants. Her belly swished left and right on top of her udder which in turn shook with every hoof beat on her fattened and engorged thighs.

She grabbed a pole of the bus stop shelter to steady herself as she finally reached her destination. She moved as quickly as she could, it couldn’t have been called a jog, a lollop might have been a better description, to the metal mesh bench. Her ass filled the three person bench to the point where a thin mouse might have had a decent seat pressed against her burgeoning thigh fat if she scooted over. A hoof fingered hand flew to her heaving breasts as she caught her breath and struggled to slow her racing heart. The fiery agony in her calves and left knee intensified to the point where she whimpered before slowly beginning to fade. Sam relaxed in the lazy breeze, letting it wash over her overheated body, she half closed her eyes.

Her mind drifted and the sound of the bus’s squealing brakes brought back her attention. A dog and a tall crane boarded the vehicle before she had even lifted herself off of the bench. Legs rubbing the smooth fabric of her slacks well past the point of her knees, she walked to the rear opening of the bus. The double doors were just wide enough to admit the girth of her bloated thighs. The floor of the bus tipped noticeably as she placed her more than considerable weight on it. The vehicle rocked slightly until she deposited her cheeks onto the bench opposite the doors. Her butt and back were so fat that the back of the bench pushed her uncomfortably forwards; Sam had to keep some of her weight on her hooves despite being seated. The bench where she was sitting was the one which could lift up for disabled riders. Since Sam could technically apply for disability any time that she wanted, she figured that this was appropriate. Of course sitting here also meant that she was the first thing most people saw when entering the bus.

Not very many people were riding this late on a Monday morning, but those that did couldn’t help but give at least the occasional glance, if not outright stare, at the grossly overweight bovine. Hell, Sam took up a significant percentage of all the space there was to look at inside the bus; the eye was naturally drawn to her like an iron needle is to a magnet. Sam didn’t mind, in fact she rather enjoyed being a spectacle. Ever since high school she had learned that to be fat was to be stared at, you just couldn’t get along of you worried and beat yourself up about the way people looked at you. It was far easier just to train yourself to like the attention; after all even notoriety is better than obscurity. Thus, Sam sat with her arms draped on either side of her mammoth melons, palms on top of her shirt with the vibration of the engine set her body constantly aquiver and took it all in.

It was a long bus ride made longer by the fact that Sam had to transfer at the bus station. Sam took the bus most everywhere she went so regular bus takers were by now all accustomed to see so much cow in one place, but there were always new riders and odd people here and there. She got several stifled gasps along the way and a thin bird of some kind nearly fell over when the bus started rocking when she got on once again. Children often pointed and laughed while their mothers shooed them away, or, disturbingly, sometimes didn’t; Sam just smiled and waved back at them.

It was past 10:30 by the time Sam’s bus pulled up to a stop four blocks away from the Olive Garden. It was a trivial distance for most, but suddenly Sam was worried about being out of breath or smelling sweaty by the time she got to the restaurant. The hefty cow eased her bulk out of the cab, making sure she was the last since it took her easily three times as long to get out due to the time it took to coordinate her bulk. Hooves clacked on the cement and cars zipped by on one side as Sam walked down the sidewalk with her rolling gait. Frequently, Sam found that her arms got just as tired walking as her legs. She waved them back and forth, the undersides draping across the plumped sides of her chest, the motion necessary to balance her overloaded body. Sam had seen a documentary following an morbidly obese horse from Mexico who weighed in at about 545lbs (Sam laughed at what passed as “morbidly obese” on television). In the episode, the narrator demonstrated how the horse’s fat body pushed knees apart, made him lean backwards to compensate for weight on his front and other areas shoved out of alignment. The net effect was that the horse spent almost 50% more energy walking the same distance as a thinner person. Sam really empathized with the man now as she waddled slowly down the street. She tried going slower to preserve her composition, but the sun beat down on her from above, heating the black patches of fur on her body. Still she kept sliding one thigh against the other and waving her arms about as if they could somehow aid in transporting triple her recommended weight.

Sam almost cried when her knee began to ache halfway through the walk with no benches anywhere in sight. Somehow she kept moving, kept moving down the street, kept moving across the parking lot of Olive Garden’s, kept moving into the lobby. She managed to scrounge together enough grace to sit and not collapse onto a bench in the waiting area. A waiter lab had enough sense to come forward and ask her for her party instead of staying at his podium.

“I’m meeting someone here. Has there been a party for two, under the name of Sven perhaps?”

The lab consulted his clipboard. “Yes Miss. He’s in the green room. Over that way.”

Sam thanked the waiter and heaved herself back up on aching limbs. Once around the corner, her eyes picked out the strongly featured wolf at a moment’s glance. She squealed a little and waggled her fingers girlishly at the handsome black wolf before waddling towards his table. The space was tight between the tables on the way and she had to apologize to one gentleman after brushing her generous rear against his seated head. She smiled and winked at Sven as she pulled an additional seat to the one opposite him.

“Hello, Sam. You are looking lovely today.” Greeted Sven.

Sam was still huffing a little from her long walk as she sat each cheek upon its own chair, the fancy furniture built for looks not function creaked under her mass. “Oh please.” She said rolling her large brown eyes, “I just had a long walk from the bus stop. I know I’m not looking my best.”

“I was being perfectly sincere. I find real, honest life with all its imperfections attractive. Of course I think you understand the delicate balance between beauty and functionality.”

“Oh my, what a charmer.” Sam laughed, “Was that last bit a gentle crack about my weight?”

Sven only smirked and sipped his tea. The waiter arrived then and saved the wolf either confirmation or negation of his statement. “What can I get you two this afternoon?”

Sam opened her mouth, but Sven spoke up first, “I’ll have the lasagna with extra meat please. I think the lady would like the Never Ending Pasta Bowl special, Sam?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, she hadn’t had a meal ordered for her since her high school dating and the gesture grated against her natural sense of assertiveness as well as the fact that he had assumed that she had wanted an all-you-can-eat special. He was lucky that it was exactly what she was wanting. She smiled and nodded at the waiter, “Yes, and I’d like a diet coke as well please.”

The lab’s eyes widened at the contradiction, but he shrugged it off as he wrote down the order. After he walked away, Sam’s eyes turned back to the wolf’s startling blue ones.

“So, Sam, how have you been these last couple days?” asked Sven.

Sam giggled, “It’s only been two days, Sven, and I spent almost the whole day after recovering. I had a monster of a hangover.”

“I remember how much you drank. Like I said, I’ve never seen a woman do that before…” Sven turned his snout down and his eyes up at Sam’s face, “It turned me on.” The wolf grinned and winked.

Sam smiled and turned her own face away, cheeks hot. “That’s rather forward of you. What happened to that eloquent wolf just a few minutes ago?”

The black furred wolf swirled the wine in his glass and took a sip, he shook he head as he said, “I cannot deny the truth of the matter. No amount of wordplay can blunt the attraction I have for you.”

Sam batted her eyelashes at the handsome wolf. “Are you sure that you aren’t attracted to something other than my drinking abilities? Mr. Wolf?” Sam delicately maneuvered her protruding chest forwards a ways, taking a few deep breaths to emphasize her impressive carriage.

Sven eyed her deeply, the black and white expanse nearly level directly under her chin between the open flaps of her blue and white shirt. Breasts fully the size of ripe watermelons gently wavered with the slight motion of her diaphragm under feet of cherished and nursed lard. “You have a beautiful body. You should be very proud.” The wolf turned his eyes up and placed his head in his paws, looking dreamily at her face, “And yet your features are so delicately crafted. I could stare for hours.”

Sam smirked and tossed a napkin towards Sven, “Watch it, wolf-boy, you’ll drool on the table cloth.” With startling speed, the wolf took her hand gently within his own larger, rougher paw. Sam’s breath caught in her throat.

“But more than your body, Sam, I enjoy your company. I enjoy the fire, the life that you have inside you. Those long hours we spent talking together...” He placed his forehead into a palm, “Though I admit I have trouble remembering the details, were the best that I have had since moving to this country. You really made me feel welcome in a way that I hadn’t felt since… moving. I want to thank you for that.”

Sam waved at him with the hand he had taken, “Aw, you don’t need to thank me. Seeing you dancing really sent a thrill down my spine. You aren’t like the other men I know around here, and I know all of them who would be interested in a woman like me. I… I can’t quite place my thumb on it” She grinned, “I’m not a great weaver of words, but the fact that you are a very handsome fellow yourself helped a lot.”

They spent a long while exchanging significant glances and words rich with innuendo before the tension was broken and each partner relaxed more. The conversation became more trivial and Sven asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, I don’t think you’ve told me what your profession is. What do you do for a living?”

“Oh nothing much really, at least things that I am directly paid for. It’s a long story, but I live mostly off a large trust fund left to me, or rather the interest. I make a few bucks modeling on the internet occasionally, but I’m not dedicated to the work.”

“I have no doubt that you would make a wonderful model.”

“Oh stop it, Sven,” said Sam flicking her wrist at him, “I haven’t even added any new photos so far this year. But in addition to the modeling site I own, I’m also a head member of the FA society for basically this half of the state. Being on the council gives me a small salary from the donations we collect.”

“Ah, yes, I heard something about the ‘F-A’ Society here. I visited the website, it’s very nice.”

“Thank you, but I can’t take credit for the whole thing. My friend Daisy, you met her at the club, and the others helped out a lot. I just happen to have the most free time.”

“You know, despite reading about it. I was hoping you could tell me more about your organization in person.”

“You sound like a prospective investor all of a sudden,” Sam teased, “But I think you would really like our meetings.” Sam flexed her shoulders in preparation for a speech she had given many times, but this time it seemed subtly different. She started, “Our FA society is basically just a place for people to meet each other. We provide an environment where people can relax and be themselves around other who share their interests. We exist mainly on the internet, but we’ve organized formal meets and lots of informal parties,” Sam gave a playful wink, “Everything we do is pretty informal, after all, what we’re trying to do is encourage security and openness. What’s more secure than a friendly party at someone’s house?” Sam smiled, “Personally, I think great big balls or meetings can get way too stuffy and full of rules all too easily. For my part I always tend to say that smaller is better.”

“Somehow I doubt that applies to all your walks of life, my darling.” Grinned the black wolf.

Sam smirked in mock anger, “And what would your skinny butt know about ‘walks of life?’” She took her belly in her hands under the shelf of her great bosom, “Especially my kind of walks?”

Sven turned his gaze down and set his wine upon the table. When he eyes came back up he was wearing a wolf’s grin, “I can tell you I’ve walked that road a couple times. You’ll not find me inexperienced.”

Sam turned her snout to the side, keeping her eyes steadfast on the handsome wolf and his toothy smile, “And how many times would that be? You don’t look particularly flattened.”

Sven chuckled with his low baritone, a rich sound from the back of his throat. “I think a wolf is entitled to his little secrets.”

Sam wanted to continue playing with Sven, but then the food arrived, a large square of lasagna for Sven and a bowl of red sauced spaghetti for Sam. The serving lab took a hard look at Sam and asked, “Would you like to place an order for another bowl, Ma’am?”

Sam, whose belly was already churning aggressively at the scent of the food in front of her, answered immediately, “Yes, actually make it two orders, one of alfredo and another marinara.”

The lab swallowed but said, “Yes, right away, Ma’am. Do you need anything, Sir? More wine perhaps?”

Sven simply nodded and the waiter walked away to another table. Sam wasn’t one to inhibit her feeding habits in front of anyone (save perhaps her parents), and certainly wasn’t about to slow down before a guy who in all likelihood would enjoy the spectacle of her gluttony. She tore into the pasta, not bothering to twirl the pasta or cut it with her fork; she got a large hunk and kept pulling it into her mouth until all of the long strands were devoured. After the pasta was gone, she collected all of the stray sauce with her fork and ate that as well; her volume was such that she didn’t even have a belch after inhaling her first bowl. Poor Sven sat with his fork halfway to his mouth for almost three minutes while watching Sam eat. Having his undivided, and in fact, mesmerized attention, as well as the feeling of being a fattened glut sent a thrill up Sam’s spine. The heavy bovine wiped her snout delicately while Sven finally got his first bite to his mouth, but apparently forgot to chew for he began coughing immediately after.

Sam moved forward in concern, but the wolf waved her away, grabbing at his water. Clearing his throat he said, “I’m… fine. You take my breath away, Samantha.”

“If you would pay more attention to where your fork is going instead of… ahem, yours truly, I think you would have less breathing difficulties.” Sam grinned, “Also, Don’t call me Samantha, even when you’re trying to be romantic, I hate that name.”

“Very, well Sam.” Sven acquiesced while carving another morsel from his meat packed pasta.

Despite first appearances, the feral cast wolf actually ate very quickly in the manner of his kind. His dish was more than half completed by the time Sam’s pastas came. She ordered two more before beginning to tuck into her food.

After these two plates were thoroughly demolished, Sven leaned his head on a fist and said, “You have a formidable appetite. I’m surprised you’re not heavier.”

Sam chortled as much in surprise and as a defense against how very close he had struck to her recent concerns. “Jeez, how much heavier could I get?” she planted a hoof fingered hand on her breast in pride, “I haven’t seen anyone bigger than I am except on the internet. I’ll have you know that most people I know consider me the fattest cow in the city.”

Sven put down his fork, as he spoke both of his upper canines freed themselves of his lower lips, “Well… Back in my ‘ome country, I had a friend by the name of Dave. Dave had a close friend, and I suspect boyfriend, that lived in his parent’s house. He was a cat of phenomenal size. He had to have weighed over 900lbs.” Sven shook his head in exaggeration, “I didn’t know him well, but he was very, very big.”

Sam sucked up a breath of air. Despite the public setting, she hungered for details, “My word, could he even walk?”

“He was sitting whenever I saw him, granted we weren’t close friends. But apparently he could get up and use the restroom and get from his bed to the couch.”

Sam grinned, “The two most important areas of the house, besides the kitchen, in my opinion.”

“Kitchen you say? Do you cook?”

Sam let out a loud “Ha!” before saying, “Do I cook? You need to come over to my place. I’ll whip you up something that will put some meat on your bones.”

Sven smiled and asked, “So do you like the chubby guys, then?”

Sam snorted with her wide nostrils, “Don’t worry hound dog, I like my men in all different sizes. Honestly, you have that really sexy wild look about you. It’d be spoiled if you started packing on the pudge.”

The black wolf took a moment to look smug before saying, “It runs in the family, I suppose. My family used to own a barony in the Middle Ages. Several of my forefathers were renowned knights…” his eyes drifted away slightly as well as the tip of his nose, “…they weren’t the kindest lot.” The black wolf shook his head, “Some of them were quite cruel, in fact.” When the wolf focused back on Sam, he said in a lighter tone, “My family makes fine olive oil now. You should see the orchards we have near the Mediterranean. They stretch for miles.”

Sam smirked, she knew it was a delicate subject and her natural curiosity was opposed to her reservations about coming out with all her questions at once. It just didn’t feel like the right time to start asking personal questions. Luckily, the waiter came and placed two extra large bowls of pasta in front of her, ceasing any worrying thoughts and impulses. Apparently, the waiter had spoken to the chef for each plate was piled high with almost double the amount of pasta and sauce. Her mouth watered and she swallowed, placing a hand on the rise of her distended abdomen. Before the allure of food robbed her of her senses, she managed, “I’m not one for traveling, but I’ve heard nothing but good things about the Mediterranean.” She picked up her fork and began assimilating her meal’s mass into herself.

“It is a beautiful place.” Said Sven, nodding. He put his fork down, leaving more than a quarter of his dish uneaten and pushed the plate away. He wiped his muzzle with a cloth napkin and placed it on the remains of his lunch. He grabbed his wine and took to admiring the overweight, gluttonous bovine in front of him. Sam’s breasts jiggled over the lips of her bra within her shirt at the intensity of her feeding. Fearing to get stains on a good shirt, not that Sam had any bad ones, she brought the plate under her chin atop her chest and shoveled the carbohydrate loaded pasta into her busy mouth.

Sam finally started slowing down with the equivalent of seven bowls of pasta straddling her insides. She let out a contented belch then set the nearly clean bowl she was holding into the other on the table. She patted her belly delicately, the bloated paunch stressing the buttons on the front of her shirt. She leaned back in comfort, the wooden chairs squealing in complaint of the burden. The sound made her come forward again, remembering to keep some of her behemoth mass on her hooves.

“Have you had enough Sam?” asked the wolf, a broad, tooth-filled smile on his face.

Sam took a deep breath, the food expanded her overlarge stomach pressed on her diaphragm. “I believe so, but then there is always room for desert.” She rubbed her front with a hand, “By the way, do you have the time? I have an appointment later.”

“It’s a quarter till three.”

Sam put her napkin down from wiping her face, “Oh shoot! I’m so sorry, Sven, but I really should get going.”

The black furred wolf’s ear drooped slightly at the news but he said, “Well alright, Sam, take care. I’ll give you a call, maybe we could go to a movie or you could show me some of your cooking sometime…”

“You can be sure of that, Wolf-boy. Ta-ta!”

Sam waved at the wolf after heaving herself up from her two dining seats. She was sure that she heard something crack on the way up and hoped that the restaurant wouldn’t make Sven pay for anything. She waddled out the front door, her massive lunch still weighing quite heavily on her.

The doctor’s office was only about two miles away, but Sam didn’t even consider walking there; distances were separated into two categories: the distance-to-the-closest-possible-transportation and everywhere-else. Her sagging thighs and swinging upper arm fat danced as she managed the slope down to the curb and the nearest bus stop from the parking lot. The food she had stuffed herself with lessened her ability to take in air and as a result, by the time she reached her destination down the street a ways from the Olive Garden, Sam was puffing hard.

The badger who was occupying the only bench thankfully got up and offered it to Sam when he saw her condition. She punished the bench by practically falling on it, throwing up her aching hooves. Sam vowed never to walk again on a full stomach and wondered vaguely when she had gotten so out of shape.

Sam was still breathing heavily when the badger leaned over and said, “I hope you’re not a-waiting for the east-bound bus. There’s some heavy road construction and they’ve had it detoured.”

“What?!” Sam couldn’t help from bursting.

“’M afraid it’s true. I just stopped ‘ere to read muh paper.”

Sam’s heart felt like it was pulled into a cold dark place and she had the slight sensation of falling. “Oh dammit.” She said getting heavily to her feet and setting off down the street. “Thank you for telling me.”

The badger just grunted and as Sam walked slowly away she thought she heard him mutter, “Fattest damn cow I ever seen.”

It was torture, plain, simple torture. Sam pulled her overfed and underworked body along the road side as well as she could. Her calves felt like they were filled with acid that spread so far as to infect her lower thighs, her left knee was a bright star brimming with agony. She panted more for the pain than the actual exertion, she had slowed to a snail’s pace, blindly stumbling forward across the cement. She moaned with self pity and longed to call a cab, but she had since entered the zone of construction, engineers were busy tearing apart the road in both directions. The place was a disaster area.

Sam kept to the far side of the curb away from the dust and stench of boiling asphalt. Each breath was filled with a small moan in self pity as she limped down the pavement. Three of her tightest buttons on her shirt kept coming undone and Sam had since stopped bothering to fix them; the cramps in her legs occupied her mind to the extent that it took all her concentration to keep moving. Sam had never felt so damn heavy before in her life. Every snack, every third, fourth, and fifth helping seemed to drag at her, seeking to bring her down. Sam knew she was fat, she knew she was heavy and out of shape, but for some reason, her exhaustion was magnified in a way that it never had before. She felt worse than the night she had gone out with Sven and her fear more than anything else kept her moving towards her doctor and possible answers.

Sam carried the burden of the pain and of her gluttonous habits all the way down one block and then another and then another. Past parking lots, past closed shopping districts and past small office buildings she trudged. She tripped over curbs in her single mindedness, but she wasn’t so out of it to actually fall down, which might have caused significant injury at her size. But somehow, against all odds, she turned into the parking lot of the large building which held all the private practices of the doctors working for her health insurance company.

Her leg had grown numb, and yet somehow it still hurt, and to stand still in the elevator was actually more painful that continuing to walk. She rode alone up to the fourth floor. By this time, she had developed a real gimp in her left leg, her knee flared painfully when she put any significant portion of her weight on it. She kept mostly on her right leg, limped quickly over the other. Thankfully, Sam was in the best place possible if she had actually injured her knee further.

After a long and painful conversation standing up with the receptionist, a white furred wisp of a hare who looked at Sam with obvious distain, Sam was handed a clipboard and sheets to fill out. Sam took the board and didn’t even look back, she swung her body around from the booth so fast that her ass slammed against the small outcropping in front of the window. To Sam’s increasing horror, there were no benches and all of the chairs had arms on them in her doctor’s small waiting room.

Wincing at the pain in her knee, “I… I can’t sit in any of these chairs. Ow! Do you have something else? I really need to get off my hooves.”

The white hare ingratingly chewed on the end of her pencil and even had the nerve to look at the bite marks on the end before speaking. Her disinterested gaze didn’t meet Sam’s eyes as she said, “If you don’t want to wait here, you’re more than welcome to go back down stairs and sit in the recreational park, Miss. But if you’re not here when your appointment comes up we’ll count that as a cancelation.”

The rabbit’s eyes glanced heavily at Sam’s wide hips and the expression she wore made it clear that the bunny was enjoying this exchange.

Sam wasn’t in any mood to play games, “Now look here, I know that Dr. Huchenson has something back there, a stool, anything; I don’t care if it’s a barrel. I’ve been her patient for almost seven years and I don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

The hare stood up from her seat, placing her dainty paws on the table safely behind the glass, “Look, I’m not here to pull things out of closets. Nobody else has any problems with the seating, so if you’re too f-“

“I really wouldn’t go there if I were you.” Sam said dangerously.

The hare frowned, “If you’re too fat to fit in the chairs, then you better take your wide load outside because it’s not my problem.”

Sam had never been angrier in her whole life, but she let her expression relax, her voice sweetened, “Oh, I don’t have a problem with the seating.” Said Sam moving over to the closest chair, despite the act, she couldn’t help the limp she still carried. She positioned her titanic posterior and hovered it over the wooden seat. “It’s just that the seating has a problem with me. I’ll be sure to let Dr. Huchenson know how accommodating you were to a long time patient.”

“No, wait-“The hare exclaimed, but the momentum of Sam’s ass could not be stopped. Her seat hit the chair hard, but to Sam’s great surprise, the thing did not break on impact. However, shoving her rear, which was more than twice the proportions of the opening of the seat, in between the arms caused both of them to break to either side as her behemoth thighs crammed painfully into them. The back of the chair splintered as well, bending towards the wall like a frail stalk of corn with the pressure of her protruding back. Some design feature kept the legs up, but the chair had been effectively converted into a stool. Sam sighed with mock pleasure, despite the fact that sitting down caused the pain in her legs to spike even more, “That’s much better.”

The white furred rabbit opened her mouth to speak again, but apparently thought better of it. After all there were still a dozen more chairs in the waiting room. Sam started to fill out her paperwork, the pain in her legs, after the initial flare, began to fade, but her left knee continued to smolder with venomous heat.

Eventually, the nurse, a tall, large antlered buck, called Sam’s name and led her into her room. The doors were awkwardly narrow. Sam had to squeeze her bulk sideways, belly, breasts and ass scraping against both sides of the frame, through every door on their short walk.

Sam, after extracting herself from the doorframe and sitting down on the table in the middle of the room, heard the scrub dressed buck say, “Dr. Huchenson will be right with you.” He closed the door and Sam sagged into her own flab, relieved for the comfort of privacy to express her exhaustion and deep hurts. She didn’t even want to think about the walk to the nearest bus stop.

Apparently, Sam had taken nearly the entire hour to traverse the two mile distance for shortly after resting on the elevated table, the pull out steps were extremely useful for boosting her short, wide frame onto the sturdy table, a tawny, thickly furred female otter walked into the room dressed in a white jacket. She had an expressive face with large eyes and the adorable thick cheeks of her kind. Despite the tameness of her features, Sam knew that she was a qualified professional, however, her expression was warm and familiar.

“Good afternoon, Sam.” She greeted.

“Hello, yourself, Jennifer.” Said Sam.

“I heard you had some trouble with my new receptionist.”

“Nothing a little glue and a few boards won’t fix.” Said Sam, crossing her arms.

Dr. Huchenson let out a single laugh, “Heh, Sam, you know those chairs cost money.”

“Jennifer! She was so intolerant of my weight, that little-“

“I know, Sam. This isn’t the first complaint against her. I’ve already told her that this was her third strike.”

Sam dropped her shoulders and relaxed, “Well, you could do a lot better, Jennifer.”

“Well getting a new receptionist is top on my to-do-list after treating you. What seems to be the problem? You don’t have your usual glow about you today.”

Sam let out a big sigh before talking, “I don’t know where exactly to start, a lot of things seem to be going wrong lately. I went out dancing on Friday night and I think I injured my left knee, it’s been hurting whenever I exert myself ever since then.” Sam took a moment to smooth the hair on her head and the back of her neck, “And the reason I’m not looking so great is because I just had to walk two miles here from the Olive Garden because the bus wasn’t running.”

The otter’s whiskers wavered in concern, “Sam, you really shouldn’t be putting so much stress on your legs, not at your weight. Especially if you thought you had injured yourself.”

“I thought I could do it, I’ve just been feeling frustrated lately. I’ve gained weight this year… a lot of weight. Almost seven pounds already.”

“Hmm… You’re usually in the negatives at this time of the year. Have you changed your diet at all?”

Sam looked away, strangely feeling guilty around the doctor, “I guess… I think I’ve been eating more. It’s hard, it’s like I can’t control myself. I’ve kept mostly on the diet I worked out with my nutritionist, I’ve just been eating a lot more of… of everything.” Sam got quiet for a moment, the hurt of the guilt tinged with the relief of confession, “What scares me is that some of the time I don’t even remember getting the food, I just find wrappers, skins, peelings. Like if I stop thinking for a moment, someone steps in and shoves food in my mouth.”

Dr. Huchenson swallowed before saying, “Well, fluctuations of hormone levels could cause an increased appetite. I’ll do a blood test to check for premature menopause, but…” she shook her head, “The eating problems you’re experiencing sound more like a psychological problem. Sometimes, when we internalize issues, they can manifest in different ways… like comfort, or impulse eating. I would recommend seeing a psychologist.”

Sam nodded quietly as the doctor snapped on latex gloves over her webbed paws.

“As for your leg, let’s have a look. Could you take off your pants please?”

Sam pulled off the slacks, exposing the volumes of expansive rolls and her collection of creases covering much of her fat dimpled black and white skin. She shivered slightly, the skin covering the very fattest part of her body tightening with goose bumps. With virtually nothing to conceal, her underwear remained hidden from view, her legs fully spread and still the fat wrapping them touched almost to the knee. Dr. Huchenson bent down and took Sam’s left leg in her hands, the pudgy appendage almost as wide around as the doctor’s waist at the calf. Her fingers plied deeply into the layers of fat and she asked conversationally, “So how much do you weigh now, Sam?”

Feeling as her fingers climbed up between the crevasses in her rolling fat and trying not to become aroused, Sam answered, “I’m up to 640 pounds now. I’ve not really been very good this weekend. I’ve gained two whole pounds since Friday.” Sam winced as Dr. Huchenson pinched painfully deep into the flab to feel at the long buried muscles.

“That’s a lot to gain in three days time.” Remarked the otter. “Lay on your back please and tell me if you feel any pain.”

Sam complied let herself flow backwards, either side of her belly and both thighs spread out over the edges of the table. Her breasts weighed heavily on her chest, shortening her breath as the flesh flowed up under her chin and forced her head up. “My left knee… is already hurting, like… someone is squeezing it with every beat of my heart.”

“Well, just tell me if it gets worse or hurts somewhere else.” With a feminine grunt, the slender built otter extended Sam’s limb straight out, she could feel the draping fat from her calf and thigh rubbing together under the troublesome knee. “I know you’ve heard this a million times before, Sam, but 640 lbs is a lot to be carrying around. You can’t expect to be this size and not have some repercussions.” The doctor pushed Sam’s leg forward, bending the knee up as the fatty rolls of her thigh fell backwards over one another.

“Ah! Ow! It hurts, Jennifer. Oh!”

“Where does it hurt exactly?”

“All over my knee…” Sam took a few breaths before continuing, “And in a straight line right up the underside of my thigh… ouch.” She sucked air through her teeth, what she had done hurt worse than anything on the walk to the office.

Dr. huchenson clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “Let me try a few more stretches before I say anything. Also, I’ll need an X-ray of your leg before I can make any official diagnosis.”

Sam grunted approval as the slim built otter twisted her left leg to the outside and then back to the inside. She ground her teeth to keep from biting her tongue. Not all of the stretches hurt. Her heel, which was a major weight support on her digitigrades foot seemed perfectly healthy. Her hip joint was also in good working order. Of more concern was the fact that her right knee also expressed minor pain when given the same stretches.

When she was done pinching and prodding her legs, the female otter was breathing hard herself, modest bosom pumping up and down with the exertion of shifting so much dead weight. She grabbed her clipboard and made notes while speaking, “I still want to give you an electrocardiogram and check your blood sugar just to cover all the bases while you’re here, Sam. And you haven’t been having any back pain, have you?”

“No, no, Jennifer. Tell me what you think about my leg, the tension is driving me nuts.”

“It’s too early to say for certain, but given your weight, I think the probable cause is cartilage damage in the knee. Just having that much weight pressing down on the cushion between the bones put a lot of wear on it, and you’re not that young anymore Sam.”

Sam tried bracing herself for the inevitable.

The otter took off a glove and placed her bare hand on Sam’s shoulder, “You know I’m the last person to harp on you about your weight. You’ve kept active, and while that is good for muscle tone, that’s probably what’s damaged your knee. Your body’s not built to carry this sort of weight, Sam. I’m going to recommend keeping off it for the next week or so and I’m going to prescribe you some pain killers. But I really don’t think you’ll be able to keep on your feet in the next decade if you don’t lose some of the weight.”

Sam took a deep breath before asking, “If… If my knee is damaged, it can be replaced right?”

“Well, yes, artificial knees are fairly common nowadays, but I doubt any surgeon would operate on you. The health risks from anesthesia alone are too great.”

“Well how much weight are we talking about here?” asked Sam.

Sam felt the otter’s digits tighten on her deeply fattened shoulder and appreciated that she understood what a big deal this was for her. “I’d say 300 lbs, 200 at the very least. I’m sorry.”

Sam was quiet for a long moment, “What might happen if I didn’t lose the weight?”

Now the doctor took her paw off Sam and was quiet for a moment herself, she scratched her jaw in thought, “Well, it’s difficult to say for sure without an X-ray, but if it is worn cartilage, then the pain will become worse over time, may even become chronic if the bones start grinding against each other. Walking will probably become impossible even if you maintain your weight. Of course gaining more will just exasperate the problem and hasten the onset of symptoms.” Dr. Huchenson looked away for a moment before looking Sam right in the eyes, “This goes against my medical training, but you’re my friend and I appreciate all the help you gave me helping match me with my husband. If you do decide not to lose the weight, it would be in your best interest to keep off your feet as much as possible. I mean as much as possible. You need to prevent making the pain chronic, that could mean making yourself prematurely bedridden.” She must have caught the look in Sam’s eyes because she quickly added, “Think about what that would mean before deciding; no more movies, no more restaurants, no more shopping, certainly no more dancing. You would have to get a wheel chair and you’d need someone to help take care of you.”

“I promise I’ll think hard about it, Doctor.” Sam said as her mind’s eye was filled with the visage of a blue eyed stare stretching from horizon to horizon.

The otter cocked her head and looked at her levelly, “If you’re having trouble controlling your weight now, a lack of exercise could cause serious problems.” Her large eyes somehow grew larger and more sorrowful, “I’m completely serious when I say that virtually no one your size or larger lives much beyond 50, and that’s being generous.”

Sam waved her away, “I know, I know. I’ve read all the articles, Jennifer. And you already know that I believe that you can be fat and healthy.”

“I know, Sam. And to a large degree, you’re right. But there can be no doubt that having that much weight on you puts strain on almost every organ, especially the heart. A sedentary lifestyle coupled with poor diet, however, is definitely a killer.”

Sam understood Dr. Huchenson’s concern, but hearing the same arguments over and over again ever since she had become, “obscenely obese” did nothing to sway her opinion… not that she had formed one definitely yet. The concept of becoming a fattened, immobile blob was a frequent fantasy for her, but she knew, and brushed up against daily, the harsh reality of that sort of existence. Sam had to decide what was more important in her life. At least she had time…

Sam gave blood from under a roll of fat covering the inside of her elbow and then had cold sensors attached to her skin well under her massive bosoms for the electrocardiogram. “You’re heart still looks healthy, an elevated resting heart rate, but then that’s normal for you. One last thing, are you still checking yourself lumps or liquidy regions on your body?”

“I have, most every morning. But as you can imagine, I have trouble reaching some areas… and… I haven’t had an… intimate partner since before my last appointment.”

The otter stretched fresh latex onto her paws. “Let me give you a quick once over. It’s always important to note any sudden changes in consistency.”

“I know, Doc, it could mean anything from water retention to cancer. My back, and a lot of my thighs I can’t reach very well without a stick.”

Sam shivered as the quick otter pulled and punched at her doughy flesh, starting behind her neck and working her way down. It was cursory, it was fast and yet Sam couldn’t help but moisten just a little. Dr. Hucheson’s gloved paws patted gently at the broad rolls her breasts created around her back, the creases reaching all the way around to meet each other on the other side. She felt, pulled and slid her stubby, webbed digits along under the folds, feeling for lumps or watery regions. When she reached her love handles, the good doctor had to reach her arms up past the elbows to reach the concealed flesh.

After feeling around her tail, where the fat welled up above and on either side, Dr. Hucheson asked Sam to stand. Naked, without even a silly paper nightgown which wouldn’t have even covered her breasts, the morbidly obese bovine scooted forward and let her flab pull her down onto her right leg. She felt her fat pull downwards, rearranging itself to the pull of gravity. The respectable otter, less than a quarter Sam’s girth, moved behind and pulled her cheeks slightly apart, feeling the insides as well as the heavy folds where each butt cheek draped down the back sides of her thighs due to their sheer volume. The doctor cupped each dangly bit down the rear and inside of her thighs, feeling its heft and consistency. Just below the knee, Dr. Huchenson spoke when Sam most didn’t want her to. “Sam, can you bend down and feel this?”

The slim otter had grabbed a clump of cellulite clinging between the second and third major rolls of flab her thighs had separated into. Sam bent her knees and reached, but with the otter in the way, and standing, she felt herself losing her balance. She shook her head, “No. I can’t reach it standing.”

“Well, let me finish and I’ll show you.”

The moment’s were brisk, but also dishearteningly long for Sam. Why was her body falling apart all of a sudden? After seating herself once more, the otter knelt and offered the offending clump of lard to Sam who had to bend as much as possible against the pressure of her overfilled belly and thighs to reach it at the end of her arm’s length. Taking it in her hand, she felt the warm globule of fat, the wrinkled skin was pulled down from the invisible upper reaches in between the major rolls on her right leg; it was mostly white with several small black spots around the intersection between colors on the upper right corner. It flattened in her palm like it was filled with water, and apart from the surface of the skin, was numb to her touch.

After releasing the blob, Dr. Huchenson said, “It’s probably nothing more serious than water retention. But I would like to get a sample sent to the lab to make sure.” She pulled a syringe from a drawer and pulled up the liquefied blob in her hand. Sam could hardly feel anything as she inserted the needle and drew forth an almost clear liquid. “Yeah, that’s almost certainly water. Harmless, but it indicates poor circulation in the legs. Now before you freak out, having one area on a body your size with fluid retention is remarkably good. I’ve seen diabetic patients who have thirty or more pounds of fluid attached to their legs. So I wouldn’t worry about your heart for some time, just keep out of the greasy foods and you should be fine.”

“Anymore tests, Jennifer?” Sam asked hesitantly. She had had enough of her failing body being shoved right in front of her for one day.

“No, you should be set to go. Go to the clinic downstairs to do your X-ray and I’ll call with the results in about a week. Keep off you feet until then, but don’t cut out all the exercise. Try going swimming” She added the last with a wide, otter’s grin.

“Ugh… I’m not much for swimming, maybe floating… but I promise I won’t sit on my ass for the entire week.” Sam said with a broad grin.

“That’s more like the Sam I know. I’ll take care of the paper work. Have a good day. I hope Robert and I will see you at the next meeting.”

“I’m not making any promises.” Said Sam as she began pushing on her belly to get it to squeeze through the door frame. “I always… get way too much attention… at those things.”

Ending with a wink sent the she-otter into a fit of giggling as Sam vacated the premises. When she left a few more hours later, a lane of traffic was open for the afternoon rush hour and Sam had no problems, other than the inherent ones, getting onto the bus, a two-week prescription for Vikaden secured in her pocket. She didn’t even notice the staring bus patrons in the depth of her inner turmoil over the decisions she would soon have to make. When she got home all she wanted to do was eat, lie down and think about the handsome black furred wolf who was the first man she had seriously been interested in for over three years.