This story is meant to follow pictures 3 and 4 from the image pack.

Jumba settled back in his seat, the hover-chair creaking slightly as it re-adjusted to support him. He winced at the sound, making a mental note to build a new one soon. That was one of the problems with living on earth: any gadgets he wanted, he usually had to fabricate himself. Humans were NOT that tech-savvy, and the United Galactic Federation had sanctions against introducing them to too much new tech all at once. 

It was so stupid, Jumba thought. He, alone, could advance the primitive species of Earth by hundreds of years! But no, the Federation wanted the species to evolve and advance 'naturally'. It was preposterous, and it meant he had to constantly fix and adjust his own damn hoverchair, just because he was putting on some weight!

What WAS the human's obsession with weight anyways? He was a rotund, healthy, good looking  Kweltikwan. It was natural for his kind to be big, broad, and blubbery! Why did he ALWAYS get foul looks out in public? It's not HIS fault the human standard of beauty was so misguided. He ran a broad hand down his face, grumbling in annoyance. 

The former 'evil' scientist was in a bad mood. He didn't actually care about his chair, or the Federation, or human's beauty standards. He just was NOT looking forward to his next experiment, and that led him to procrastinate by complaining to himself. 
	
Jumba had been experimenting a lot recently, if only to fill time. His previous experiments had all been rounded up and given new, more constructive places in life thanks to his 626, and a very friendly little girl. Without that havoc to handle, he didn't have much to do, so he'd found himself back in his lab. 

Recently, Jumba had been re-visiting his old creations, taking another look at them. Now that they were docile and co-operative, he could easily get them to talk, or pose for photos, or even come into the lab now and again. Much of the data he had accrued on his creations had been lost when his old lab was raided, and while he didn't plan on making any NEW lifeforms, he did want to know how he'd created the old ones.  

His current endeavors related to Experiment number 062. He was currently known as 'Frenchfry', a name Lilo had given him after his rehabilitation. Jumba thought 062 was a fine enough name, but he didn't really mind. He was just glad 062 was under control!

Back when he had been first created, 062 served as Jumba's personal chef. He had been an AMAZING cook, able to take any ingredients and turn them into a massive, filling, delicious meal. Sadly, there had been a flaw in his creation, and the food he made was immensely fattening, while also providing no real nutritional value. That left Jumba hungry after every huge meal, while putting on literally TONS of weight.

Luckily, Jumba had been able to deactivate 062 before things got out of hand, and the weight had turned out to be temporary. 24 hours after ingesting the fattening foods, Jumba returned to his normal size. 

Currently, Jumba was trying to understand how 062 could take mundane food items, and make them so very fattening. It had eluded him for months, even after having 062 over to make some lard-inducing food for study. Of course, a bit of that food had been eaten, but again the effects were temporary. 

Just a week ago, Jumba had figured out the  means by which 062 made food so fatty. A special chemical added to foods could even replicate this effect! At least, that what Jumba suspected... He hadn't been able to test it, and that brought him to his current conundrum. No matter who he asked, no-one was willing to be made massively fat for him to study. Again, the human's distaste for weight. He had even explained it wasn't permanent!

So now, Jumba was left with a test all ready to go, and no one to test it on! No one, but himself. He sighed and looked at the thick green hose dangling a few inches from his face. He had prepared a batch of the fattening chemical, mixed in with a basic nutrient fluid. Not very tasty cooking, but it was easy to produce and control, ensuring no mistakes in his experiment. 

Now, all the alien had to do was turn on the pump and start drinking! He had floating monitors on hand to help him watch everything, along with a pair of 'helper hands' just in case something went wrong. Currently, the hovering gloves rested on his shoulders, kneading and massaging to help relax him. It was working too, his foul mood slowly dissipating. 

With a grunt, Jumba decided to just get started. He leaned forward and let the hose come to rest in his mouth, biting down on it a bit to keep it in place. Again, his hover-chair adjusted to keep him comfy and supported. A hover-screen floated to Jumba's hand with a quick gesture, and he activated the pump. A small tank nearby began to drain, and in seconds Jumba felt fluid gushing out of the hose. 

The nutrient fluid was mostly tasteless, so Jumba felt like was just drinking water. It went down easy, and was even a bit refreshing! He smiled at that, happy this experiment wouldn't be too bad, at least. 

A few gulps into it, he could feel the special chemical began to affect him. He watched as his rotund middle began to grow even wider, weight piling on at an impossible rate. Every mouthful of fluid led to another 10 pounds, at least! Jumba watched his weight, measured by the chair he sat on, climb on one of the monitors nearby. It really was astounding.

The feeling was quite odd too. He'd been victim of the fattening effects of 062's food before, but it had been long ago. He forgot the strange warmth that came with it, the building weight that sagged and wobbled across his whole frame. It was, well, it was kind of relaxing. 

Jumba sighed around the hose and leaned back, deciding that he might as well enjoy this odd experiment. It wasn't hard, his chair adjusting to keep him cozy while the hose did most of the work for him. He just closed his eyes and kept on gulping, letting his lab equipment keep track of the important numbers and figures. 

Steadily, Jumba's figure grew more and more bloated. His belly had been nice and large to begin with, of course, but it was rapidly pushing past his knees, bowing outward with weight. His chest was growing too, moobs bloating out and sagging across his broad gut. His arms and legs puffed up in unison, his already trunk-like limbs gaining extra wobble and weight. Even his face was fattening, fluid-bloated cheeks made to look even larger by a growing layer of lard. 

It was good he'd decided to only wear shorts during this test. Jumba was already close to out-growing his labcoat, and he didn't need to tear it again! It was so annoying getting clothes in his size. Even now he could feel his shorts creaking and stretching, his wide behind taking up more and more space on his hoverchair. Or maybe that was the chair creaking, struggling to support his rapidly increasing weight...

As soon as the experiment had started, it was over. The small tank had been drained, and Jumba was left bloated. He opened his eyes and ran his fingers across his smooth belly, marveling at just how much he'd blimped up. Every rub sent a gentle wobble through his whole front side, and Jumba couldn't help but grin at the feeling. He looked like a  Kweltikwan politician, bloated and blubbery all over! It honestly made him feel very proud, and without a second thought he ordered his computer to prepare a second batch for 'further testing'. 

It took only a few moments for the second batch of fattening fluid to be prepared, the tank filling right back up, ready to be drained once more. Jumba smiled and gave his belly a few more rubs, rumbling happily at the feeling. The way his weight shifted and wobbled was so very satisfying. With a few swipes of  his hand, he ordered his hovering 'helper hands' to take over belly rubbing duty. They did so eagerly, giving his gut a wonderful massage while he prepared for the second test. 

With a soft smile. Jumba opened his mouth and let the hose come to him! It pushed right past his lips, exactly where he wanted it, and he closed his mouth. He suckled on it gently, like a straw, as he turned on the flow once more. 

His mouth was soon filled with that cool, refreshing fluid again, and he gulped it down with gusto. He slowly turned up the hose's flow, draining the tank much faster than he had on his first pass. That meant his weight piled on much more rapidly, body swelling out in all directions!

His gut showed the most gains, pushing past his knees and further still, soon spilling past his ankles even! It was a massive, wobbly wall of lard, round and soft and always getting softer. His chest kept up wonderfully, wobbly moobs sagging further over his gut and sides. Love handles formed and grew, a double chin became a quadruple one, and larger still! His poor shorts were forced to their very limits, his immense backside over-filling them and his chair before long! 

The hover-chair creaked and groaned, starting to float lower and lower. It took all its power to keep the blubbery scientist afloat by time he finished trial number two, and he went immediately into number three! The creaking and groaning grew louder as Jumba grew wider, the scale built into the chair unable to keep up with his heft!

The alien's shorts went first, splitting at the sides as the strain grew too high. His wide rear wobbled out of the holes it tore, tearing them ever wider. Soon there were only scraps left, that gigantic rump jiggling in triumph and sagging heavily over the sides of the chair. 

No matter how the poor hover-chair adjusted itself, Jumba was too heavy! With one final weak groan, the chair collapsed, dropping the last inch or so to the floor. It was instantly smashed beneath Jumba's immense body, little more than scrap now. Jumba didn't even notice, his rear so well padded that he didn't feel a thing. 

He finished session three with a satisfied belch, hose slipping from his maw and dribbling a tiny bit of the fluid onto his chest. He'd been in a bit of a daze while he drank, unable to really notice how big he was getting. Now though, he could clearly see his weight and mass listed to him by a small monitor floating by his head. 

According to the reading, he'd quadrupled in size, and it was easy to believe. His body wasn't just fat, it was a mountainous pile of lard. His rear was wide enough to fill an entire sofa, and his gut was more immense and soft than even the most luxurious California king mattress. He could still feel the 'helping hands' at work, rubbing and kneading that monstrous belly, but they seemed so small at his new size. 

His chest was just as over-bloated as the rest of him, filling his view and wobbling with every breath he took. He ran a hand along one moob with a bit of a grin, giving his broad nipple a bit of a pinch and chuckling to himself. His cheeks wobbled at that, face bloated and soft atop his fat donut of a neck. 

Jumba's hands continued to roam across his chest and belly, legs splayed uselessly beneath his immense gut. He was clearly too fat to walk now, but he wasn't really worried. In 24 hours, he'd be back to normal. For now, he was just going to enjoy all this new weight and softness. His dreaded test had turned out to be a good bit of fun!

His enjoyment was cut short as his belly gave out a deep, heavy rumble. He hadn't had lunch yet, and it seemed the chemical had kept 062's properties. The nutrient fluid hadn't been filling at all! It wasn't too surprising, he thought. He raised a hand, ready to order some take-out through his computer... but then he saw the hose hanging nearby. 

Maybe if he ate ENOUGH of the chemical mix, he could fill up a bit. He did need more data on it, after all, and why not get it all at once? He ordered his computer to make batch number four, and to make it a big one. 

A warning message suddenly popped up on the screen, and Jumba frowned. He quickly read through the computer's analysis, and decided the risks were minimal. Sure, he didn't know EXACTLY what would happen, if too much of the chemical would make him stay fat, or make him too fat... but he didn't care! Another rumble shook his titanic tummy, and he made up his mind. 

“Bah with your warnings! Start the pump again!” He barked, pulling the hose closer with a fatty hand. There was always risk involved with science, and Jumba was fine with that. He just wanted to see how big he could really get now, and fill his fat belly in turn. 

The computer relented and prepared the next batch, and Jumba licked his lips. He could hear the ruins of his chair creaking and sparking far beneath him, and he smirked. He'd needed a new one anyways, right? Might as well see how well he could flatten the old one.