Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first in an anthology series I have planned called "The Devil Made Me Do It." This installment was inspired by a some of the stories I read here on FF by a few different authors - primarily Feeder862, Growingsofter and MrFlabbyGainer. I hope you enjoy.

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There weren’t many porn theaters around anymore. Patrick certainly never frequented them. Like the rest of the world in the 21st century, he used the Internet to view his porn. It was just easier, more convenient, not to mention it was often free. But there was this theater on the outskirts of downtown that was still open, and he was curious.

The Heathen. It looked run down and grimy, exactly like you might imagine it. When Patrick was a kid there were more places like this around. A whole bunch of them lined this street, practically next door to each other.
Patrick wasn’t really sure what it was that day, but rather than just walk past the Heathen, as usual, he paused outside the marquee. He found himself wondering what it looked like inside? Without consciously deciding to, he found himself walking through the doors.

It was dark inside. Really dark. It took his eyes a moment to adjust. He could see there was a kiosk in the lobby, dimly lit from within. There were some more dim lights positioned in the ceiling that barely revealed a few chairs and small tables along one wall. Further inside were four doors, behind which Patrick assumed the films played. Patrick stepped carefully toward the ticket booth, mindful of his footing in the darkness. The man behind the counter was old, balding, and unshaven. He seemed to watch Patrick with mistrust.

“What do you want to see?” the man said, his voice gruff.

Patrick leaned in and spoke quietly. “Do you have anything with fat men in it?”

The ticketing man looked confused. Or annoyed. Patrick couldn’t really tell.
“What? What did you say?” he bellowed.

Patrick looked over each shoulder. The only other figure in the place appeared to be someone sitting in the shadows with a cup of coffee on the table in front of them. Patrick couldn’t make out their features, just that they wore a hat and trenchcoat.

“Are you showing anything with fat men? Really big, fat guys?” Patrick said, louder this time.

“Nah,” the gruff man said, “we don’t show any of that weird stuff here.”

Patrick offered a quick thank you and hurried out of the place.



Patrick huried out of the theater, wondering if anyone he knew might have caught a glimpse of him leaving the sleazy venue? He shook his head and told himself not to be so paranoid. He walked into one of his favorite restaurants for some lunch.

It was early and the lunch rush hadn’t started so the place was more or less empty.   Patrick took a table in the back room. The tiny space only held four tables and was quite private. The waiter took Patrick's order and swiftly returned with his usual; a bowl of soup and a pasta salad.

Patrick had barely started on his soup when someone else entered the room and sat at the next table. Peering over his bowl of soup, Patrick saw a man in a trench coat holding up a menu.

Patrick was mildly annoyed. The whole restaurant was empty, why sit next to me? His pulse began to race.

"Is the soup very good here?" the stranger asked, breaking the silence.

"Mmm?" Patrick muttered, surprised. "Are... are you talking to me?"

The stranger turned to face Patrick, locking his gaze. His face was kind, but his eyes seemed somehow cold. "Of course I am, Patrick. Who else is here?"

Patrick reflexively looked around the room, seeing if indeed anyone else had arrived. It was empty but for the two of them.

"How do you know my name?"

"Oh, Patrick," the stranger began, turning to face Patrick more comfortably. His voice had a warmth and depth that was almost hypnotic. "I know so much about you."

"What do you want?" Patrick asked, confused and unable to conceal his growing nerves.

The stranger smiled. "I think I can help you. I want you to be happy, Patrick. Will you let me help you? I want to help you fulfill your fantasies."

"I don't think I need your help, thank you very much."

"Come now, Patrick. Look at what you've limited yourself to, " the stranger motioned to the bowl of salad before Patrick. "I got a glimpse of your deepest desire. Back there," the stranger nodded to the street, "I saw it in your eyes. I saw your fantasy."

Patrick blushed. "W-what are you talking about?"

"At the theater. I heard you, Patrick. I can help you live your fantasy, Patrick."

"Who ARE you?"

"My name is unimportant, Patrick. But because you insist, you can call me Lucifer. I would like to offer a proposition."

Patrick's mouth hung open. He almost laughed. "Lucifer? As in... the Devil?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes, apparently bored by the line of questioning. "Yes, well, not exactly THE devil, perhaps just a devil." He smiled mischievously. "That's unimportant, Patrick. You need to hear about my proposition for you."

Patrick sat, arms crossed, sizing up Lucifer. Was he crazy? Was he some kind of stalker, a con man? Patrick couldn't figure out how he managed to figure out his name, but couldn’t remember if the waiter had addressed him by name or not.

"So what is this proposition, Lucifer?" Patrick asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You subsist on salads, denying yourself the pleasures you desire. You're embarrassed, always worried about what others think of you. Life is passing you by, but you're not living it, Patrick. You fantasize of being fat, just like the actors in the porn you like to watch, but even acknowledging your fantasy makes you ashamed. You yearn to be a glutton but cannot bring yourself to live with the consequences."

Patrick became flushed once more. His heart pounded. How did this person know this? It was all true! Was he the man in the theatre? Did he overhear Patrick there? Patrick shook his head. Even if he was there, it still didn’t make sense. How could he know his name?

Lucifer sniffed, his unblinking gaze held on Patrick, mouth held in a sly smile. "What would you say if I offered you the opportunity to live out your fantasy - to be fat - but only for one day?" He raised an eyebrow.

Patrick stared at Lucifer for a moment before laughing. "What, are you crazy? What kind of stunt is this? Even if I really wanted what you're suggesting, I don't believe in magic, or witchcraft, or whatever it is you're suggesting."

Lucifer leaned in toward Patrick, and when he spoke, his voice was just a whisper. "I know that your strongest desire is to be fat, to feel the flesh hanging off your limbs and the bulk of your body weighing you down. You're too weak to pursue your craving - I understand this. I'm offering you the chance to experience it without consequence. You can live your fantasy for twenty four hours, finally experience what you've always wanted to, but then return to your regular, boring existence the following day."

"How? It's impossible. How would you do this?" Patrick swallowed hard.

"So, you're interested, then?" Lucifer asked with a smile. His eye teeth looked very sharp, Patrick noticed.

"Why are you asking me this? What would you want in return?"

Lucifer shrugged. "I need nothing in return. I merely want to help you experience your fantasy, open your mind to another way of life." He paused, then grinned. "I only want to help you, Patrick."

"Fine, I'll give it a try," Patrick said. If nothing else, Patrick thought, maybe this kook will leave me alone if he just agreed with him.

Lucifer smiled widely and held out his hand. Patrick tentatively accepted it. They shook.

Patrick's vision blurred suddenly. It seemed as though Lucifer went out of focus for a moment. Patrick shook his head.   

"I'm sure this will be most enlightening," Lucifer announced. He rose from his chair, nodded to Patrick, then walked out of the room.

With a sigh, Patrick turned his attention back to his lunch. "That was bizarre," he muttered into his salad. At least agreeing with Lucifer had made him leave.

The more Patrick thought about their encounter, the more he chalked the whole affair up to the stranger's apparent madness. He must be a deranged pervert who stalks people at adult theaters. Patrick finished his lunch and left, heading home. Looking over his shoulder, he hoped he'd shaken Lucifer from his trail.