Fat spy in dubai: the full story

chapter 1

BRIEFING

The fat girl stood in front of the board room, the men and women at the conference table looked at her stone faced. She was nervous, she knew what they were thinking, and she refused to let them see her sweat. She continued her presentation without stuttering.
“Using several intelligence assets in the region we have been able to pinpoint the culprits of the bombings in Yemen. Our initial belief was the usual suspect Al-Qaeda, but the organization has been weakened over the decades to the point that they are no longer capable of attacks this complex. We discovered that Al Simna, the new kid on the block of Islamic fundamentalism was responsible. Al Simna is super secretive, very well-funded, with strong leadership.”
The conference room filled with murmurs.
“The organization is led by Rashad Al Tariq.” She continued unfazed. “Not much is known about the new leader or his whereabouts. I suggest the agency is proactive and puts a team on the ground in Saudi Arabia to be ready to move throughout the region swiftly when information arises. I would be happy to lead the team being the current subject matter expert on Al Simna.”
The room filled with murmurs again.

Receive the mission
“Scott, I did the groundwork for the Al Simna mission” Samantha said, angrily. “I should be the one who leads the team or at least be a part of the mission. I don`t see why they handed my project over to some dumb jock who is more worried about how much hair grease he uses than what goes on in the middle east.”
“Samantha, we have been through this before” Scott, Samantha’s director said calmly. “The work you did was great and it spurred the CIA to act on Al Simna before they can become a threat to the United States. But we have to be realistic you are an analyst. You are too overweight to even be admitted to the field agent or case officer training course. Agent Green might not be as smart as you but he met the standards to be an agent and served honorably as an Army veteran.”
“Let me get this straight” Samantha continued, almost irate. “Just because Green can run 2 miles in under 18 minutes and wrote speeding tickets for 3 years at Fort Bragg it means that he’s more qualified than me?”
“Samantha” Scott said, removing his glasses. “You are obese, this country already has a reputation of being overweight without us sending overweight personnel overseas to fight terrorism. This isn’t just a matter of your ability to do the job, it’s about how our country is represented abroad. If you really want to be an agent. Lose the weight and go through the training if you can`t do that then we have nothing else to discuss. “

Samantha waited for the elevator fuming. 3 years working for the CIA in Langley, VA and she continued to feel she wasn’t taken seriously because of her weight. She had contributed more to the intelligence community in a couple of years than most people do in their whole career but they had yet to let her go into the field and do real intelligence work just because she was fat.
She wasn’t really fat. Maybe just a little chubby…. Ok a lot chubby. Her black blazer did a bad job hiding her belly that protruded out, and the skirts were no matter how long never seemed to disguise how large her legs were.
“Maybe I should file a discrimination report with HR.” she thought to herself, looking at her fat face, and blond hair done in a neat bun from the reflection on the elevator. “No, even if they found it was discriminatory then my career with the CIA would never go anywhere. I would be black balled in the intelligence community.”
Just then the reflective doors of the elevator parted, inside stood an older man with a stern face with a black suit and red necktie. Samantha almost gasped, it was Herbert Lowery, the CIA`s chief of middle eastern operations. He was a legend, very rarely seen at the headquarters. He stood in the elevator staring at Samantha, just as she stared at him, looking almost equally as dumbfounded.
Samantha snapped out of it, and boarded the elevator. She turned around and pressed the button for the fourth floor. She could still feel the directors gaze on her back. He was probably afraid that someone her size was over the elevators weight capacity. She heard him shift behind her, and watched as he removed his ID card, scanning it on the elevators control panel, and pressing a button. The elevator came to a stop.
“What is your name?” Herbert Lowery turned to her and asked.
“Samantha Dunham” she answered nervously, bewildered by the fact that he could use his ID card to stop the elevator.
“Don`t worry.” Herbert said, attempting to reassure her. “I am asking these questions for a reason. What do you do here Samantha?”
“I am an intel analyst for the middle east.” She answered, still nervous.
“Whose is your direct supervisor?” Herbert asked, still looking her up and down.
“Scott Brown” she replied, wondering if she was in trouble.
“You work for agent Brown,” Herbert said, a grin forming on his face.
Herbert pulled out his ID card again and swiped it. The elevator jolted into motion once more.
“Go back to your desk” Herbert said, watching the numbers on the elevator rise. “Print off a copy of your resume, and meet me in the SCIF on the 9th floor in 30 minutes. I may have an opportunity for you.”


Samantha approached the SCIF carrying her portfolio which held a few copies of her resume, which she had spent the last 20 minutes sprucing up. The SCIF or Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility was a room where classified briefings could be presented without a risk of a bad actor intercepting it. She approached the SCIF leaving all electronic devices in a basket, the guard searched her, and after he found she was clear, he opened the door for her to enter. Inside the SCIF at a wooden conference table sat Herbert and another seemingly uninterested guy in front of a laptop.
“Samantha” Herbert said, leaning back in his chair checking his watch. “I see you made it within the 30 minute time hack. 5 minutes to spare actually that gets you brownie points. I would give you a round of applause if I weren’t ready to get down to business.”
“Yes, thanks for having me” Samantha said opening her portfolio, removing a resume and handed a copy to Herbert. “I am sure you won`t have time to read through all of it but the gist is with 3 years working for the CIA and a plethora of experience outside of the agency in academia, and public service I can be an asset on any…”
“Samantha Dunham” Herbert interrupted, balling up her resume, and throwing it in the trash. The guy behind the computer began to type and her picture was projected onto the wall along with information about her. “Mother Heather Tuttle-Dunham, high school German teacher. Father retired Lieutenant Colonel Matthew Dunham a U.S. Army foreign area officer in Poland. While your father was stationed at Fort Benning you attended nearby Oglethorpe University where you threw shot put for the track and field team. You majored in sociology, graduating cum laude and inducted into Phi Beta Kappa. After graduation you joined the Peace Corps and served in Bahrain. Holly crap you make me feel like I haven’t done shit with my life.”
The guy behind the computer chuckled.
“After finishing your term in the Peace Corps” Herbert continued. You attended the Walsh School of Foreign Service at Georgetown and completed a masters in Arabic studies with a thesis paper that examined the possibility of America funding Madrassas to train a generation of non-radicalized pro-American Muslim clerics as a means of stopping Islamic fundamentalism.
You then took a job as an adjunct at the Clinton School of Public Service before applying for jobs at the state department and the CIA. Here we are at the present. I am curious, Miss Dunham why would a southern belle like you give up a promising career in academia in a fine city like Little Rock, Arkansas to work in the bureaucracy of the federal government?”
Samantha paused for a moment. How did they find all of this information about her so fast? Did she put all of this in the application when she applied for the job? Does that mean they know about that time she was charged with failure to appear when she missed court for that speeding ticket?
“The CIA pays more” Samantha answered calmly.
“That’s bull crap” Herbert responded. “You wish you believed that. Realistically you’re a daddy’s girl. Being the only child all you have ever wanted was to make your father proud. Not proud like marrying well and giving him grandkids. Proud like the son that he never had would make him. The son that would risk his life defending his country just like his old man. Something a father could brag about in the way he can`t brag about good grades in college or Peace Corps service. The kind of thing you couldn’t do because you are too big.”
“With all due respect sir” Samantha spoke calmly. “You know all about me, what is the purpose of this meeting?”
“Glad you asked.” Herbert answered with a smile. “I want to give you the opportunity to serve the way you joined the CIA to serve. You’ll be down there in the action, undercover. Protecting your country from unknown threats. The best part is your size qualifies you. Care to hear more?”
“Go on.” Samantha said, her interest peaked.
Herbert nodded, and the guy behind the computer changed the slide, showing an Arabic guy.
“This is Khalid Al Bashir.” Herbert continued smugly. “Owner of the Batn foods, a food aggregator, and processor that distributes food throughout the Middle East. Batn foods is the largest distributer of dairy, grain, and oil products in the United Arab Emirates. It goes without saying that Al Bashir is a very wealthy man. A man with that kind of money can buy anything he wants, and just like most of Dubai`s wealthiest men Al Bashir spends a great deal of money on women. Not the type of women you would expect. Al Bashir prefers fa…”
Herbert paused awkwardly considering his words carefully.
“He`s a chubby chaser.” Samantha said. “He likes fat girls.”
“Yes.” Herbert said relieved. “As others in the Dubai elite Al Bashir pays the fattest and most beautiful women from all over the world to come to Dubai. Here they are wined and dined and Al Bashir offers the best of the women an invitation to join his harem.”

The man behind the laptop changed the slide to a picture of fat women in bikinis at a beach.
“The women in Bashir’s harem live a life of decadence,” Herbert continued. “This is a part of his interest in the larger ladies. You see his not your run of the mill chubby chaser. He is what they call a feeder.”
“O no.” Samantha sighed. “I know what feederism is. I get so many messages on social media from weirdos asking to send me money to buy food so they can watch me eat and gain weight.”
“So you are familiar.” Herbert said. “Well Bashir, is the king of all feeders. He has built an empire feeding the Middle East fattening foods through his company Batn. He uses the millions of dollars he makes a year to lead a life of extravagance, feed his hefty harem, and fund the terrorist organization Al Simna. That’s right when Bashir isn’t feeding fat ladies, hes feeding the fire of Islamic fundamentalism. Sadly we can`t touch him. His hold on the food system would mean that any trouble with him or his money would cause a disruption to the Middle Eastern food supply chain that would eventually raise food insecurity worldwide.”
“Great” Samantha said snidely. “A fat fetishist, terrorist, billionaire that’s holding the world’s food supply hostage.”
“You mentioned fat fetishism,” Hebert said with his eye brows raised. “You haven’t heard the best of it. Outside of feederism Bashir is also into squashing, vore, bellies, farting, immobility and other sick shit. I don`t know anything about that stuff but maybe James could fill us in using his experience.”
The guy behind the computer looked confused and shocked.
“James you didn’t think I would bring a science and technology officer in just to run the PowerPoint did you.” Herbert said staring at James. “You didn’t think someone would notice your google searches and the websites you were on. We hired you because we thought you were smart and you decide to search your fetishes on a government computer.”
James struggled to find words. Samantha’s jaw was on the floor.
“James Robinson” Herbert continued. “Completed your degree in electrical engineering at MIT in three years. Turning down the opportunity to enroll in a doctoral program you instead went Georgia Tech to get a masters in computer science. I assume there weren’t enough fat girls in Massachusetts for you so you went down south where you could find more big game to hunt. Am I right James? Anyway it took you 3 years to complete the program more than likely because you were too busy drooling over anything over 250 pounds, and doing programming work for any fat porn star with a website in exchange for nude pictures. Luckily we need your expertise in both fields, if not you would be fired. Can we count on you to support Samantha?”
James nodded his frightened approval.
“Supporting me.” Samantha interrupted. “I don`t know what it is you want me to do.”
“I got off track my apologies.” Herbert said changing his tone. “Next slide please James. From Al Bashir`s harem he recruits the most loyal, biggest, and cruelest women to be his personal body guards. We are not exactly sure what these body guards do but they are treated as above the other women in the harem, they are in his inner circle and know about his movements and what he does, who he talks to and what he talks about. We need you to earn Bashir’s trust infiltrate his personal body guard, and gather information regarding on Al Simna and his communication with Al Tariq. Figure out what they have planned.”
Samantha stared at the screen and looked overwhelmed.
“There’s a reason I want you to do this.” Herbert said. “You are the most knowledgeable person in the agency on Al Simna and you are the perfect person to get close to him without him even knowing he is being watched. Your country needs you Samantha?”
“I`ll do it.” Samantha said sternly.