The Good Doctor

By Psion

An Adipose City Story

Continuing from the events of Adipose City Stories II...

Tifa Stoutheart massaged her temples as she went over the chemical formulas on her computer screen again. It had been nearly a week since the attack on the SALAD research farm that had seen four agents of the PhysEd Consortium left to her tender mercies as test subjects. One cracked, a leopard aniwoman of one breed or another, and was currently promising to cooperate in exchange for mercy. The other three Dr. Stoutheart was going to have fun with...

Shortly before the attack on her facility, SALAD's agents had intercepted a Consortium team raiding a Taco King research lab that was apparently not as well hidden as the Meso-American Corporation would have liked to think. The status of the TK lab was unknown but considered abandoned and the stolen research information began a twisty journey that eventually ended at her desk. Apparently agents Rigger Blackmill and Zea Mayes recovered and successfully cracked the portable hard drive that contained the files to review what was on them... After that, details got hazy. But that was no matter, what mattered was that Tifa got the information in the end. And what a marvelous piece of information it turned out to be.

The instant the equine aniwoman began reviewing the chemical formulas, she knew it was the work of her rival Dr. Morin Crammitin. The two corporate Druggists had been competing against one another in developing new weight-gain compounds for as long as the big-bellied mare could remember and she had been working against the tubby mountain lioness long enough to recognize the other female's handiwork when she saw it.

"Well Morin my dear, I guess this answers the question of who is ahead in the weight gain race. Marvelous work my dear colleague... but you know what they say about good artists." She mused to herself as she mentally ran through the calculations. Yes, yes. It was as clear as crystal. If that reaction cascaded into that one... "Hmmm, I wonder if we could somehow correct the nutrient loss that occurs? Should be possible in the second or third iteration of the formula. Blegh, I can think it over while I make my rounds." The black-haired female wondered and groaned as she squeezed out of her desk chair and picked up her PDA before leaving her office.

The hallways of the SALAD complex were warm but professional as the big-bellied female waddled along. Wooden accents and potted plants lined the otherwise unadorned corridors of the administrative level of the research farm. Yet once she descended the elevator down to the laboratory, her surroundings dropped any pretense of civility for the cold and clinical. Here, Dr. Stoutheart along with several other corporate Druggists and biochemists worked on all manner of solutions to address three questions: how to make people physically capable of eating more, how to make people fatter in a particularly desirable way, and most importantly how to make their patron corporation more money then it already is. To that end, Tifa was in charge of studying Crammitin's compound while others were conducting research into drugs that encouraged the development of certain fat deposits over others. Pears, apples, thunder thighs, hourglasses, hyper-sized breasts or buttocks... there were dozens of chemical supplements on the market that allowed people to challenge their genetics and the corps were always busy trying to make a version that produced more pronounced results or worked with less side effects.

Of the four Consortium "volunteers," there were two males and two females. Leon, Jonathan, Deborah, and Clarissa were their names if she remembered right. Clarissa was the one who pleaded for mercy or at least to be slotted in the breast expansion study... apparently the leopardess secretly had a thing for big tits. Deborah on the other hand was a smug, blond bitch of an equine animan that Tifa immediately sent to the "Gluteus Maximum" clinical trial. Then there was the males... it turned out that Jonathan had some allergy issues that gave him a calculated 95% chance of having a fatal reaction to the Morin serum. While death was still valid data, it wasn't particularly useful data for her needs so he was to be shipped off to another SALAD complex. Where to, she didn't particularly care so long as he wasn't lying around posing a potential problem for her as she had his comrades experimented on.

Technically, Deborah wasn't her responsibility once she was put into the Gluteus Maximum trial. That didn't stop Tifa from checking in to see how the other mare was filling out. And oh how the draft mare was filling out... The tan-furred mare sat lazily on a reinforced couch built for a being much wider then someone at Deborah's current weight and girth. The blue-eyed female was still on the tall side of the bell curve, whether naturally or because she had abused growth hormones as a PEC agent Tifa couldn't remember offhand, but a thin layer of blubber was slowly covering her chiseled figure; rock-hard abs were hidden beneath a slight potbelly while her thighs softened and her rump rounded out, completely losing the sculpted definition she had when captured. The normally aggressive female was unusually placid dressed in her patient's gown, slothfully draping herself on the sofa as she watched an episode of Gut Gladiators, idly suckling on a feeding tube strapped to her mouth. Stoutheart turned her head at the other doctor observing the subject from behind a one-way mirror.

"Did you sedate her?"

"Had to, 20 cc's of tranquilizer followed by a high-carbohydrate solution laced with a soporific. The woman was trying to lift the couch and throw it through the glass."

"Lift the couch?"

"Yes."

"The same couch that's bolted to the floor in six places?"

"Yes."

"The same couch that's built with a titanium alloy frame to withstand a theoretical weight of two tons?"

"Yes."

"And the rest of us weren't notified of this why?"

The other doctor smiled. "Because trying isn't the same as succeeding. She ended up pulling a muscle in her back in the attempt and flopped around in pain on the floor until we tranquilized her. The injury has been seen to and we've been giving her the minimum dosage until we were certain there weren't any allergic reactions. I was just about to up her to the maximum safe dosage when you walked in."

"Oh by all means don't let me stop you, I need to see how this works for myself." She nodded sadistically. Her coworker nodded and began dictating into a digital recorder.

"This is Dr. Albright with a clinical trial report regarding subject #64 of the GX-32 trials, subject has responded well to basic minimum dosages of compound GX-32, tentative brand name Gluteus Maximum. Initial week of research proving satisfactory, subject has demonstrated no allergic reactions and has shown some of the highest projected weight retention in the entire trial. The decision has been made to up the GX-32 concentration to its maximum safe dosage of twenty-five percent compound to seventy-five percent saline. The time is currently seven o'clock in the evening, by quarter past seven the subject will be on the new dosage. This is Dr. Albright ending dictation for now."

Tifa waited until Albright was done reporting his progress before speaking again. "How long until we start seeing results from the new dosage?"

"Given her constant rate of ingestion and digestion, we should start to see some improvement within an hour or two. Maybe sooner if you get that compound management has you studying cleared for clinical use." The portly stoat replied.

The mare nodded wordlessly and sauntered out before walking over to her own laboratory where her own subject lay. The lab itself was just as she left it, a decently sized workspace stocked with chemistry and pharmacology equipment neatly arranged along several lab benches. A refrigerator in the corner contained all the samples of the Taco King formula she managed to replicate so far. Off in a separate room, divided by a wall of reinforced glass, was the PEC prisoner Leon. The lion animan was significantly less comfortable in his quarters then his cohort Deborah, Tifa felt compelled to make sure of it. His cell was bare and made almost entirely of the armored glass, putting the restrained lunkhead's ballooning figure on display for everyone who walked into her lab to see.

The once muscular lion was a bloated and nude shadow of his former self. Dr. Stoutheart had spent the week subjecting him to a grueling regime of stomach stretching exercises and drugs to increase the elasticity of his gastrointestinal tract. Twenty-five liters worth of fluid wasn't the most exceptional capacity she had ever seen but it was certainly nothing to dismiss casually. Subsequently his chiseled, body builder physique was gone. In its place Leo had developed a fairly apple-shaped build, with most of his new weight concentrated in a large beer belly. His thighs and arms had puffed out in vain to catch up with his runaway abdomen but it was a losing battle. His neck was similarly gone, defeated by an alliance of several chins. His eyes had this long, forlorn look to them as he spotted and silently pleaded with his captor. But mercy was the last thing on the Druggist's mind.

"This is Dr. Tifa Stoutheart with a research report regarding subject #1 of the compound tentatively codenamed the 'Morin Formula,' recommend that the company consider changing that name at its earliest convenience. Subject has been subjected to an extended basic battery of stomach enhancement drugs and exercises in preparation for trial, stomach capacity presently hovering at around 25.2 liters. Body mass is still 310 pounds since last weigh-in though percentage of muscle appears to be down by about five percent since previous recording. Subject is as ready for testing of Morin Formula v.1 as he will probably ever be.

To summarize previous recordings; preliminary analysis of recovered data reveals that Taco King biochemist Dr. Morin Crammitin was working on a new drug to increase the general efficiency of the digestive process. At some point over the last week or so, PEC agents raided her laboratory in Adipose City and much of her research was lost or stolen only to have it recovered by SALAD. Data is somewhat incomplete, likely due to sloppy copying procedures on the Consortium's part, but suggests two versions of the drug formula, P-MR08 and P-GPME-01. Files suggest that the latter version is more potent then the former but the exact chemical formula has either been accidentally or deliberately omitted from Morin's notes. So far only the P-MR08 formula has been replicated, attempts at producing the more advanced P-GPME-01 formula have been... unsuccessful at the present time.

At present time, approximately 15 cc's of the P-MR08 compound has been successfully synthesized and primed for injection at the standard clinical trial rates of 1 part compound to three parts saline solution. In theory, assuming my Taco King counterpart isn't clinically insane, this should significantly increase the digestion of consumed food at the expense of turning virtually all of it into fat. Nutrient intake appears to be minimal. The first injection has been loaded and timed to begin thirty seconds before the subject's evening feeding, both awaiting my mark at three... two... one... mark."

As the doctor recorded her observations, a robotic arm came to life and produced a glistening syringe. Leon flinched and tried to struggle but the restraints pinning his wrists to the wall made the effort moot. The mechanical waldo artfully jabbed the needle into his neck and injected the first dosage of the serum. Tifa continued narrating as she focused the camera on her patient.

"Injection has been delivered and the subject's feeding session is about to begin. In response to the drug's projected results, I have upped the subject's intake to fifty-five gallons of restorative lipotherapy fluid. In case the formula does not work as intended, the feeding tube has been fitted with an emergency stop. If successful, I will consider doubling the subject's intake again. This is Dr. Stoutheart ending dictation." She concluded, letting the video camera record stop recording just a few seconds after the drug began to take effect.

Even studying the compound as she had been, Tifa was taken aback when she saw for herself how effective it was. The lion animan swelled up like he was a living display of timelapse photography. His restraints popped and snapped as they failed to support the sudden increase in weight. Leon fell none too gracefully onto his ballooning bottom as his stomach swelled out in front of him like a gold-furred blimp and he continued to swell outward. The feline's face swelled and rounded out while his hips widened but his belly remained his most prominent feature, pushing his legs aside in a spread-eagle fashion as the gelatinous mound reached down to his ankles.

Smiling, the equine scientist brought up her dictation equipment. "This is Dr. Stoutheart with an addendum to the previous report. Formula P-MR08 works exactly as projected, subject has grown to an estimated six times his original body weight and successfully consumed a full fifty-five gallon drum worth of lipotherapy fluid. Will continue with the subject's current injection schedule and attempting to synthesize the P-GPME-01 formula. This is Dr. Stoutheart ending addendum report."

Grinning from ear to ear, the mare ended her dictation and turned her attention back to her prisoner. His restraints were destroyed but at nearly a ton of flabby lion his body was its own prison. Opening the door to his cell, she ran her hands along his massive middle, watching her hand sink into his gut as if it was made of soft dough. "Well at least I have a nice mattress if I ever have to sleep in the office." She smiled as she lovingly appraised her handiwork, squishing her hands into his enormous belly. The defeated male looked at her desperately, uttering muffled pleas for mercy from behind his feeding tube. Tifa snickered coldly as she returned his gaze.

"Oh like I don't know what a bad kitty you are. Especially during that time in Germany." She smiled, enjoying the fear in his eyes as she mentioned one of his previous postings. The PEC camp in Germany was particularly infamous, operating under the radar for years due to the border conflicts between Aristo and Italiana. Not much was known about the prison riot that crumbled the base from within but Leon was apparently the agent in charge of the facility at that time. And... well there were a number of reports about what went on inside. Evidence suggested that the facility was a reeducation camp for "fat admirers" where all manner of torture and abuses went on. A charming place, probably even more so under Leon's control.

"I suppose someone somewhere would think I'm a good person for making sure you can't hurt anyone else. Meh, let them be naïve. Truth is, I don't care what they think of me. I just want to make people nice and fat..." She went on, teasingly rubbing his swollen abdomen. Then, once she had her fun, the equine biochemist turned away and waddled out of his cell, the door automatically shutting behind her. Later she would return to continue her experiments but now she wanted to go back to check on Deborah one more time before ending her rounds. Surely now she was starting to show some improvement on her increased dosage....

Returning to the observation room adjacent to other PEC captive's cell, she found that Dr. Albright didn't disappoint her. While the effects were not quite as expansive as her own experiment, there was definitely a pronounced change in Deborah's appearance in the hour since Dr. Stoutheart last checked in on her. Checking his notes and the display on his equipment, she found he had upped the other mare's caloric intake as well as her dosage of Gluteus Maximum. Deborah remained as relatively passive as before, seemingly more engrossed in the lengthy infomercial currently left on then the fact that she nearly doubled in girth in the space of an hour. Thighs had grown thick and thunderous while her blossoming bubble butt filled with soft jiggly fat. Tifa wondered if her growing bottom provided more padding then the couch she sat on. Reviewing her colleague's notes, she did some quick calculations based on Deborah's original weight increase and the difference in dosage... and the PEC lunk looked to be in for a horrific surprise once they stopped sedating her. If Tifa did her math right, Debby would take up the entire six-foot wide couch by the end of the month. The big-bellied woman chuckled and laughed as she imagined the sight, there was no ass quite like horse ass or so she was told.

Finished with her rounds, Stoutheart returned to her office to finish some paperwork. Perhaps it was true what they said about loving what you do, Tifa had spent several years working with SALAD between her internship, residency, and doctor-ship here and yet not a single day felt like work.

Reviewing her company email, skimming and deleting most of it, she stopped when a message concerning the status of Clarissa caught her eye. Opening it and reading the contents, she felt another smile cross her face. Yes, there were days when she positively loved this job...

Knocking on Stoutheart's door and stepping in the following done; Clarissa, former Sports Medic of the Consortium, blushed as she walked in to Tifa's office. The snow leopard had spent the week renouncing her old loyalties and applying to SALAD's medical division. And apparently she was willing to make a complete break with her old life; the sculpted gym goddess body was invisible beneath a thick hyper-hourglass figure. Thick, meaty hips swayed like a metronome as large breasts gently bounced in a loose bra. A few more weeks and she could be a dead-ringer for Burger World's Bazooka Betty.

"Hello doctor." Clarissa began, nodding her head at her new coworker.

"Hello indeed, someone appears to be enjoying herself. Shame we don't get more Consortium enforcers making such a positive conversion."

The feline smiled sheepishly and gave into the temptation to briefly fondle her breasts. "It's just... I don't know how to describe it."

The paunchy mare chuckled. "May I take a guess at it then?" She asked, continuing as the other female nodded. "Editing and airbrushing images is an old advertisement trick, one PEC probably uses a great deal with their pinups. And there are probably enough people there who forget that it's fat that gives breasts their size and definition. So you end up with a difference between reality and fantasy so... short version is you feel a fulfillment for 'living the dream' in a way. But enough of that, would I be correct to assume this is only the beginning of your growth?"

The leopardess merely smiled and pantomimed her dream measurements. Yes, Burger World was going to get a strong competitor for their next Bazooka Betty look-alike contest...

Three Months Later...

So much had happened over the last few months, Stoutheart found it hard to keep track of it all. A pair of freelancers had managed to win the Adipose-Munich run in spite of a mysterious actor disrupting the event at the final stretch, PEC had apparently withdrawn all of its forces to their fortresses in Iceland only to have some of their best openly go rogue, SALAD agent Rigger had been presumed lost only to be found again, and there was rumors of several corporations suffering strange mishaps and animal attacks on their North American properties. The equine Druggist continued with her experiments. After all, it wasn't like there wasn't enough going on in the lab to keep her busy.

Research into Morin's serums was... complicated. On one hand the more potent P-GPME-01 formula continued to elude her but on the other she was making progress with refining the MR08 compound. Moving on to the next stage of testing was slow; Corporate was reluctant to continue for security reasons. The Worchester research farms had just finally recovered only in time for rumors of a strange new GMO roaming wild in the corporate farmland, the board was unwilling to commit to any significant projects that could turn costly until they knew more about this new threat. Subsequently most of her time was spent dealing with other developments in her lab complex of which there were plenty...

Deborah Falls scowled as she sat across from Stoutheart in the Druggist's office; the PEC mare had completed her clinical trial and now there was the question of what to do with her. Blue eyes stared daggers in the SALAD scientist's direction as she squeezed into the sturdy settee on the other side of Tifa's desk, the formerly Amazonian blond horse's attempt at looking intimidating slightly ruined by the faint blush on her cheeks. This only further amused Tifa as the new gaining supplement ensured that 75% of the blond brute's caloric intake went directly to her ass and thighs, clearly someone was having trouble adjusting to being a thunder queen...

"Alright fatty, you had your fun now change me back!" The fattened PEC grunt demanded.

"What are you talking about tank ass?" Tifa replied nonchalantly, making sure to keep the barb about the blond mare's huge butt as casual as possible. Revenge teasing tended to infuriate PECs if it bothered them at all; ambiguity in tone tended to confuse them, which was usually more fun.

"You can't just kick me out on the streets, can't you give me some liposuction or something?" Deborah shot back, her blush deepening as she paused to try and figure out if Tifa was insulting her or trying to subtly hint that she wanted to bury her face in the other mare's butt.

"Actually yes we can and we could but we won't." The Druggist answered without looking up from her computer screen.

"But what will I do? I was one of PEC's poster girls; I can't go back to them like this. It will take me months to work this off!" She whined, causing the other female to massage the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

"Well, I can always use more test subjects and I understand that there are several strip clubs in Adipose City that are hiring." Tifa snapped, causing the other woman to start crying. The doctor started to reply but a sudden warning klaxon and calls for a "Code Zero" echoed over the intercom, cutting off the conversation.

Groaning and shutting off her computer, Tifa pulled a Pruner heavy handgun and a Pocket Doc medkit out of her desk before shoving her paperwork in the drawer and locking it. Slipping the small polymer box of healing drugs into her pocket and checking to make sure the Pruner was loaded as the computer finished shutting down, she rose to her feet as a confused Deborah watched her expectantly for an explanation.

"Wait here and hold that thought. Someone will be with you once the lockdown has been lifted."

"Lockdown? Code Zero? What does that mean? Where are you going?"

"To do the part of my job that doesn't involve giving lunkheads a chance at being the most popular dancer at Club Derriere. And a Code Zero means that whoever kept your friend McQueen's prisoner status in limbo for the last three months despite my repeated protests has just volunteered themselves for my next clinical trial." Tifa said briefly before shutting the door and locking Deborah in her office. Time to see what the damage was...

Luck seemed to have favored Jonathan McQueen this day. A series of extremely stupid mistakes, beginning with an intern that didn't understand maintenance protocols, had lead to a brownout in the part of the laboratory where the PEC wolf had been finally sent to "participate" in tests for a new line of biotech stomach augmentations. By the time security realized he wasn't supposed to be walking around freely, Jon was halfway out the door. It was only thanks to Henry Lett, a SALAD Big Tool fresh from bringing in research samples from one of the vertical farms in the city, that McQueen was stalled long enough for someone to sound an alarm. Unfortunately for the slender human chubby-chaser, the wolf recognized him for what he was and wasted several minutes more then was necessary to beat the "sick traitor" black and blue. One employee seriously injured and a prisoner with proprietary technology implanted in his body on the loose in downtown Adipose City, looks like it was going to be one of those days...

As security did their best to discreetly canvas the city for their runaway PEC, Tifa and Clarissa watched Henry Lett get taken off his gurney and onto the table. It was hard seeing him like this, beaten to a near pulp and drugged on so many painkillers that he might have been on the moon for all he knew, the brown haired man was arguably the nicest guy in SALAD's Adipose City branch. Henry was the only person the relatively sadistic Tifa couldn't be cruel to and not feel bad about later. Even Clarissa, barely with the company long enough for her benefits to start kicking in, quickly ended up feeling like she knew him her whole life. Neither of them liked the idea of having to be the one to patch their friend back together but there probably wasn't anyone else he'd trust more...

Jonathan McQueen gasped for breath and did his best to avoid the snarling hunger pains in his stomach as he made his way through the towering metropolis of Adipose City. Doing his best to look inconspicuous threading through the crowd, the electronic glow of a digital advertisement for a triple-deluxe Burger World combo meal flashed by on a smart glass screen overhead. Once again his stomach groaned audibly, causing the wolf animan with yellow tattoos to grumble as he dodged concerned looks from other pedestrians. He needed to find a doctor, someone who could tell him what those lard asses did to him, and as far as he could tell, all the PEC safehouses in Adipose City had gone completely dark. Running out of options, he did his best to recall the list of freelance Druggists in the city. One was close by but was she listed because she could be trusted to do a decent job at off-the-books healthcare or because the company wanted her for one reason or another? No time to think about it, he needed to get out of sight and get some answers before it was too late.

The clinic was a little side place tucked away in the back of a small alley off a side street in one of the city's less traveled neighborhoods. The unlocked pair of double doors consisting entirely of ballistic glass provided no resistance as Jon pushed and stepped into the warm but sterile reception area on the other side. The room was empty but there was no one at the desk, no one alive at any rate. Not too big of a surprise, supposedly this lady couldn't afford an actual receptionist so she had to settle for a cheap mechanical one that was capable of taking calls, recording patient information, managing appointments, and not a whole lot else. The sentry turret with a pair of menacing-looking stun guns stood as a quiet reminder that he wasn't in a nice part of the city.

And then the good doctor stepped through the door leading into the back of the clinic... right then McQueen knew he made a mistake. Slim, blond, unaugmented human, this was the lady that had been with Burger World on that SALAD raid that had gone to shit. The one that had made Leon go ballistic. And one look told him she recognized him too. The Australian lunkhead reached for one of the waiting room end tables and tried to use it as a weapon but the bitter Cherry Pop only had to say one word and her stun turret blasted the fugitive PEC with an arcing bolt of electricity. The last thing Jonathan remembered hearing before blacking out was "I wonder how much SALAD will pay for the safe return of one of their little lab rats?" The druggist asked aloud with cruel mirth...

Club Derriere. Other then the obvious "what it says on the tin" theme, the club wasn't too different from similar places throughout the city. Overstuffed sofas surrounded smaller side stages or were arranged around the larger center stage while a full-service bar was set up on one side. The club's sound system blared with a selection of raunchy songs intermixed with instrumentals pounding the main floor with the beat of a heavy pair of drums. For the many mercenaries and company agents of Adipose City, this strip club was one of several places to celebrate the successful end of a particularly difficult job. For an embarrassed few, it was a secondary source of income or a place to cater to certain exhibitionist desires. For the club's newest dancer though, it was arguably her worst nightmare and possibly her only option until something changed...

"Alright big booty fans, we have a brand new treat for you. Introducing little Debbie Falls, she's a real workhorse of a girl." The announcer introduced with his usual cheesy flair as Deborah slowly lumbered onto the center stage. The club engineered the floor to have just enough strength to support her weight but not enough that it wouldn't creak ominously for the audience's pleasure.

Heads turned as the audience tried to get their first look at the new girl. Blue eyes looked back at them with barely contained anxiety as the lounging patrons admired the equine girl from the top down, taking in her shoulder-length blond hair, brownish-tan hide, obsidian hooves, and immensely bottom-heavy figure, a plush potbelly struggled in vain to balance out a monstrous pair of thighs and positively massive butt. Roughly four hundred pounds of luscious horsemeat was on full display, clad in nothing but a skimpy set of black leather lingerie.

Even just standing there, she felt her ears twitch and burn in embarrassment as a few patrons whistled lewdly at her. Doing her best to mentally shut out their lustful gaze, Deborah closed her eyes and lost herself in a slow, rhythmic dance. Clutching the pole and facing away from the audience, she dropped into a squat and began her routine, going through the motions without really thinking of them and hoping her fortunes changed sooner rather then later....