"Hey, sir. Do you remember me? That's right. I was here on your first visit two years ago. It was your first time at a bariatric clinic, wasn't it? Yeah, I guess I do have a good memory, but you're kinda hard to forget, sir. I shouldn't say this, but as we're waiting for the doctor . . . So, I was in the break room and my colleague Roberto comes in and he's like, oh my God, you have to see this guy who's just come in. And so I take a peek into the waiting room and there you are. What were you, 26? 24!? Wow. And you're just sitting there and you're . . . fuck, you were so fucking fat. You were in one of our extra-extra large armchairs and it could barely contain you. Your blubber was just cascading out in every direction. And your shirt! I swear it must've been like 9XL and you looking like a big juicy sausage about to burst it's skin. Me and Roberto like to guess just how obese some of the fatties who come in here are. Needless to say, I won with my guess of 550 lbs. And Jesus, you're only 5'2"! Such a fat, fucking pig sat there, lard quivering, nervous about seeing the doctor, ashamed of what you've done to your body, embarrassed that you're ten years younger and 200 lbs heavier that anyone else in the waiting room. Such a bloated, greedy fat fuck. It was the hottest thing I've ever seen. So I switched with Roberto just so I could be the nurse. I could watch you undress; getting naked in front of me. When the doctor asked if I could hold up your belly while he undid you belt, I thought I'd pass out. Lifting all that gorgeous, heavy, soft fat; feeling how disgustingly overweight you were, hearing your labored breathing as you struggled even to stand. So fucking hot, I nearly shot a load in my pants. And now here you are, fatty. Here you are. Bigger. Wider. Fatter. Nah, I don't even need to get you on the scales, piggy. I'm that good. 750 lbs easy. Wait for me in your car after your appointment. There's things I wanna do to your fat ass you won't believe."
