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I made a world in Ai dungeon based on the game Starbound with the BigFatties Mod. I’ve added all of the base species from the game and the general lore from the game. You can choose to be a feedee or a feeder or both and basically story build with the Ai. Me and my gf have figured out how to collaborate on it effectively making it multiplayer. I haven’t figured out how to put more than two people on a single story to collaborate but there has to be a way! I just think it would be really fun to have a bunch of people all adding to the storyline and interacting with one another. Below is a link to the world. Let me know what you think.. I’ll also link some of my other scenarios below. Starbound Fatties https://play.aidungeon.io/main/adventureView?publicId=912d920f-a670-4c5c-bafa-5b88cb3ebcb2 Your Favorite Teacher is Secretly a Feedee https://play.aidungeon.io/main/scenarioView?publicId=232248a0-69b1-11ec-b853-d59cee52d35b Your Coworker Gets Plump After a Breakup https://play.aidungeon.io/main/scenarioView?publicId=3e3a28c0-7fe5-11ec-a1d4-1fc2a5a6b5c6

I’ve read the infamous Kim Story by conestonegoad numerous times and love the theme of the Hot Popular girl who is in denial and tries to hide her weight gain. Anyone know of stories that fit that mold?

Intro: I’ve always liked the stories where the gainis relatively realistic (no ‘one cookie equals 100 pounds’) and the character reaches a happy medium by the end. Stories like The ID’s Jenna Louise Coleman, which I highly recommend by the way. I’ve also always been more interested in the ‘curv’ than the ‘age’ at curvage. So with that in mind and without further ado, adapted from a story I started writing on Writing.com under the alias The Mighty Flynn and with some characters no one seems to done a story yet for… The Lotus Eater: An Annabeth Chase Story (from the Percy Jackson series of course!) The giants had been defeated. Teamwork, a whole lot of sacrifice, and a little intervention from the gods had seen the demigods of Camp Half-Blood (and Camp Jupiter I suppose) triumph over the forces of evil, whilst saving the gods immortal butts at the same time. All in a days work for a demigod right? Zeus had rewarded Percy and his friends when Kronos was defeated and this time was no different. Albeit he had certainly been more begrudging; after all, someone might get the idea that the demigods were actually useful! And that couldn’t be allowed. But for the moment, rewards it was. So it came to be that Percy and Annabeth, now 17 years old, were treated to an all expenses paid trip to the Lotus Hotel. Normally you couldn’t think of any place better; the rooms were 5 star, the food to die for, but there was the little problem of being stuck there for all eternity. You see, the Lotus Eaters who ran the hotel were actually monsters from the Greek world, and they used the luxury of the hotel to trap their victims. In fact Percy and Annabeth had already nearly fallen foul of the Lotus Eaters during their first quest together when they were twelve. Understandably they weren’t keen to repeat the experience. This time though would be different; the Gods had guarantee a visit free of weirdly fast time, attempts to trap the demigods or any other odd thing you could think of. Quite simply it was two months of 5 star service in the best hotel in the world. On that solemn promise Percy and Annabeth had accepted the offer. Annabeth had done most of the packing and arranged a bus across the country (Zeus hadn’t seen fit to allow Percy, his rival brother’s son fly as usual). To be fair Annabeth could be a bit of a control freak so even if Percy had wanted to help he probably would have just ended up getting in her way. The day had finally arrived. The hotel loomed large in front of them, gleaming in the hot sun. The two demigods stepped through the doors a little nervously, watching them swing shut behind them with a soft thump. Cool air conditioning sunk in, taking away the searing heat from the outside. Immediately a nicely dressed bellhop appeared, smiling. ‘Ah, yes you must be Mr Jackson and Ms Chase. Don’t worry,’ he said with a reassuring smile, ‘we are well aware of the deal. And we were handsomely compensated to leave you two alone.’ He said this as if it should make them feel better. Partly it did, but for her part Annabeth’s eyes raised a bit at the mention of ‘compensation’. Percy glanced at Annabeth. ‘Oh yeah, I feel very reassured. Is it too late to leave?’ Percy muttered in a low voice. Annabeth almost wanted to agree, but on the other hand two months without Chiron breathing down their necks was too good to pass up. ‘Hey, mom gave us her word. We’ll be alright. If not, you have Riptide right?’ ‘Sure,’ Percy nodded. ‘Thought I might write some postcards with it,’ he remarked dryly. ‘Right, so we’ll be okay. If not, just write a postcard and Chiron will rescue us.’ Percy nodded, a little reassured. The bellhop pretended to have heard none of this. He quickly sprung into action, colleagues coming to take their bags and walk them through the various entertainment and restaurants available at the hotel. He handed them two plastic credit cards, exclusive to the Lotus Hotel. ‘They entitle you to buy anything in our shops, use any game, eat whatever you want!’ he exclaimed. At this point even Percy seemed to forget his misgivings, and his eyes lit up at the sound of a free arcade. The bellhop raised his hand. ‘Oh, before you go and enjoy your stay, would you like any of our complimentary snacks before you leave?’ He proffered a plate of delicious looking cookies. ‘Isn’t everything complimentary?’ Annabeth asked, narrowing her eyes. ‘Just a turn of phrase,’ he said airily. Percy had ignored this, too excited to move on, and in any case there was a subtle movement towards Annabeth with the plate anyway. The cookies did look amazing. Golden brown, slightly shiny and perfectly shaped. What she didn’t know was that the Lotus Eaters were not planning to be entirely fair with their bargain with the gods. There were other ways to trap demigods after all… Annabeth took one of the cookies cautiously. It smelt delicious and her caution faded in an instant as she breathed it in. She small bite from the Locus cookie, and was stunned by the taste. It exploded with flavour in her mouth, and before she knew it, Annabeth had finished the cookie. The bellhop proffered her another cookie. Well, it did taste good. Really good. Annabeth took another one quickly and devoured it, before Percy grabbed her arm. ‘Alright, let’s get exploring!’ Percy dragged her away before she could take a third cookie, into the depths of the most amazing arcade they had ever seen. Classic machines like Pac-Man all the way to the latest tech like PS5s filled the large space. The constant stimulation was great for the demigods with ADHD after all, so two spent the rest of the day going wild. Percy watched his girlfriend happily. She did look stunning. He had always described her in her mind as a typical Californian girl. Blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders, a little curly, framing sharp features and slightly intimidating grey eyes. The grey eyes were the only thing that took away from the classic image and Percy had definitely been on the receiving end of their fierceness often enough. His girlfriend had an slender, athletic build with a slim waist, and toned arms and thighs. Annabeth was in fighting shape but that did mean B cup boobs and not much butt to speak of. Percy had always liked curvier girls - Kim Kardashian, Kelly Brook and Christina Hendricks were in his spank bank. But Annabeth’s fierce intelligence and protectiveness far outweighed a larger butt, so Percy wouldn’t change a thing. Though he’d be lying if he didn’t wonder whether Annabeth might relax a little whilst on holiday. As he thought this, Annabeth came over, a big smile on her face. She squeezed his muscular arm, taking in his lean build and the gorgeous black hair. ‘So I was thinking dinner, then maybe we check out our room?’ she suggested coquettishly. Percy put his hands around her waist. ‘But what would Chiron say? No girls in the Poseidon cabin remember?’ he teased. ‘Chiron isn’t here, Percy.’ ‘I wondered why I couldn’t smell wet horse anymore,’ Percy said mock thoughtfully. Annabeth giggled. ‘It’s a plan. But dinner first,’ she insisted. ‘I’m actually pretty hungry.’ ————————————————————— The two demigods wandered around the hotel, taking in the marble pillars and water fountains that lined the restaurant area. Annabeth was starving and had managed to pick up a few lotus cookies on the way from a friendly waiter. She munched them happily, figuring that it was a holiday and she wasn’t going to spoil her appetite with a few cookies. What she didn’t know was that the cookies were designed to do just that; calorific, but not very filling. Their wander led them to an elegant Italian place, located within the rest of the line of 5 star restaurants. They were seated almost immediately and menus brought over. They ordered with abandon, knowing everything was free on their cards. The waiter rushed off and Annabeth smiled a dazzling smile, licking her lips. The lotus cookies had disappeared by now. Before long, robots, demigod politics, not normally Percy's thing, and monster battles had been discussed and debated. By the time the food arrived, Percy was arguing for a poodle against a Minotaur, and losing badly. Percy watched as Annabeth's happily devoured her starter, main and a dessert. She had chosen the heaviest dishes, full of carbs, which made Percy secretly pleased. He wasn’t expecting much, but any step towards Kelly Brook was a win in his book. Annabeth scraped the last of the cream out of her trifle bowl and leaned back with a soft moan. ‘Phew, I’m stuffed!’ she exclaimed. Although Percy couldn’t see it from his position her full stomach pushed against the waistband of her jeans. All she wanted to do was unbutton them and flop into bed. Annabeth heaved herself up and the couple left the restaurant to make good on that promise in bed. The room itself was as incredible as the rest of the hotel but Percy only had eyes for his girlfriend. He savoured the sight of Annabeth’s stuffed stomach, a little round with all the food of the day. The next morning Percy woke happy, his hand stroking the curve of Annabeth’s waist. The stomach of yesterday had disappeared, leaving Annabeth’s tummy as toned as before, and he stroked that too, also fingering her blue bra. Annabeth let out a contented hum: she was was awake. 'Percy, can you phone room service?' 'Why?' 'Because we're staying in today.' She turned over, grinning. The couple enjoyed the comforts of the room for the day. And it was a comfortable room. A balcony let them overlook an artificial, but incredibly realistic, beach with white sand and a blue sea that seemed to reach on forever. Of course they ordered food during the day but Annabeth was feeling abnormally hungry and indulgent. She passed it off as holiday relaxation. In reality the lotus cookies did also make Annabeth a little more indulgent; a helpful way of furthering the Lotus Eater’s trap. The food she ordered was mostly chocolate, cakes and tarts, as well as a generous amount of lotus cookies. Annabeth spent the day prancing around in black underwear, eating off Percy’s muscular chest and trying out every surface for their activities. Percy, for his part, did his best to pleasure her, obeying her commands whilst Annabeth stuffed herself. The rounded stomach made another appearance, tight, full and rounded. Annabeth eventually collapsed into the bed, dazed, sleepy and happy. Percy rubbed her tummy gently as she fell asleep, feeling it gurgle as it digested a veritable mountain of food. Life was good.

Howdy Curvage. I recently posted my first weight gain story (that I’m going to publish). Heres a link, I’ll post the first chapter after as well. Any feedback is welcome no matter how constructive: https://fantasyfeeder.com/stories/view?id=309297 Chapter 1 - introducing: ATTENTION: the following is a fetish piece including but not limited to: weight gain, slob, manipulation, BDSM. Courtney Sterner woke up to the sun on her face, the quiet buzz of her alarm hardly startled her. Her face lit up with a smile, today would be a good day. Her first day of her sophomore year at West university. Quickly getting up she ran to the bathroom to get ready for the day. After a quick shower she fashioned her caramel colored lush hair. Strait and organized, she looked sleek. Her lightly freckled cheeks fit with her smile. Her bright blue eyes lit with confidence. Today was her day. As she selected her cloths Courtney thought about her freshman year. Overall she was happy, she had done well academically and had at least one good friend. Sure, she had only so much as scored a one night stand. She wanted something more serious. She thought about her goals as she selected a beautiful yellow blouse, and stylish blue jeans. She slipped her AirPods in and vans on as she headed out the door. She was gorgeous and she knew it. Longbording to her first class was a great experience for her. Taking the excitement of a living campus. Boys looked on at her with lust, girls with envy. Courtney arrived in class and quickly sat down next to one of her best friends Jessica. The two chatted and looked around at their classmates. Courtney’s eyes caught his quickly. Big blue eyes attached to a very handsome face. She instinctively looked away, she didn’t want the beautiful new kid to think she was staring. She had always been shy around pretty boys, even though she knew she was intensely attractive. After class she was startled by the boy approaching her. “Hey I’m Elijah and I couldn’t help but be taken by your smile. Would you like to get coffee with me later this week. “ Courtney’s cheeks flushed with rosey blood as she looked down and to her right. She gradually she met his gaze. “I.. I’d like that. How about tomorrow for lunch?”. “Perfect! Storebucks at noon.” He said goodbye with a smile and Courtney looked at Jessica who was beaming at her. “Ohmygodyougotadate” Jess practically shouted. Courtney was incredibly excited, soon she went shopping for a perfect outfit for her date. Meeting Elijah at the coffee shop was going well. He had purchased her an iced latte and a black coffee for himself. “I’m a psychology major with a behavioral science minor. I want to help people” Elijah explained. “That’s awesome, I’m undecided but I’ll land on something sciencey” Courtney explained. “I’m currently in bio, psych, calc and Chinese.” “Hey I’m in calc and Chinese too, we could start studying together” Elijah said excitedly. Later after walking and talking for about an hour Elijah had a class to run to. “I got to go but today’s been great, Would you like to go to dinner with me on Friday night?” Elijah said making eye contact with his prey. She smiled again “absolutely!” “You like Italian?” “I love Italian” “it’s a date!”. After solidifying their plans Elijah ran off leaving Courtney to skate home, excited for Friday. Amanda immediately knew Courtney had good news. The young skater walked into their apartment absolutely beaming. “I have a date for Friday I’m so excited!” She said with joy to her best friend and roommate. “Awesome Court, hope he’s everything you’ve ever wanted” she said with only a hint of jealousy. “Want to hit the gym with me later, I’m sure this new guy would appreciate a sculpted body” “Alright” Courtney said Throwing on some gym cloths Courtney and Amanda left for the gym. Courtney eyed her fit roommate. Amanda had the body of a true athlete, slim and toned it was no surprise she ran marathons. Courtney was in good shape but nowhere near as fit as her roommate. As they walked into the gym Courtney glanced at the McDonald’s across the street. The greasy smells caused her to wrinkle her nose. An obese older woman hobbled to her car. “Gross isn’t it” Amanda “Absolutely” Courtney said, she wondered how people let themselves get so big. After a warmup mile Courtney and Amanda weighed themselves. Weighing 129 pounds Courtney’s 5’5 frame was well balanced. Looking in the mirror Courtney posed a couple times. Her butt was ** yet evenly round, not quite big enough to be a bubble butt it still got plenty of looks. Her modest breasts framed over her slim but untoned stomach. She knew she looked great now, but with Amanda coaching her she would only grow more attractive.

Hi y'all! I'm in the process of writing my first ever novel/story, and I'm curious what people think of my writing style and the story itself. This is a four chapter preview of a currently planned, 20-chapter story. This story (and other I may write in the future), will either be loosely based on real events I experienced combined with my own personal fantasy or be based on pure fantasy I have had inside my head while being particularly bored one day. Which parts of the stories are real life experiences or fantasy I’ll leave up to you. May it fuel your interest in my writings 😂. I am planning to, once I finished the novel, upload it as a premium story on fantasyfeeder, so let me know your feedback or likes and if you would be interested in supporting me! Furthermore, I am planning to write more novels. All consisting of around 20 chapters, but I could always decide to make them longer. As I have stated earlier, I am still in the process of writing the novel, so it will be a bit until the full novel will be uploaded. Thanks!

Day 1. Spooky season is upon us, we don't celebrate it much in Australia, but you'll find some neighbourhoods participating in trick or treating. Mine is one of those places. I must admit, I do enjoy handing out candy (or lollies for the fellow Australian's), but I especially enjoy eating all the leftovers. I have big plans to decorate the house, the spookier the better. Dressing the windows with cobwebs, illuminating the yard with glowing pumpkins and strategically placing frightful skeletons. I am also looking forward to dressing up. I was thinking a plump Powerpuff girl or something equally amusing. Can you imagine a super sized Bubbles 🤭 I must admit, there is something quite eery about tonight, I can hear the low moaning of the wind as it passes through my empty street. The occasional truck on the bypass or train down the line breaking up the silence. I left my window open to enjoy the cool air, but I must remember to close it before I drift off to sleep. Maybe I'm just a little more skittish this time if year, but something just doesn't feel right. I'm sure it is nothing, I had better fix myself a snack before bed, a peanut butter sandwich and glass of milk should help ease my mind.

This is an introduction to a longer project I'm launching later this spring. Enjoy! -------------------------------------- A century or so after the SARS-Cov-2 pandemic, research revealed that genetic predisposition to retain or shed adipose tissue was the primary determinant factor in treatment efficacy with regards to viral disease. In short: each body type had its own unique defenses against disease due to its fat content. Most people were far more healthy than modern medicine understood. The findings shook the world. Fat liberationists smugly crossed their arms as the public panicked. They’d known for centuries, of course, but bona fide confirmation from the American medical establishment underlined the validity of their claims. Some people were simply, for their own health, meant to be fat. Others were not. In the United States, the Department of Health and Human Services formed a coalition between the National Institutes of Health, the Food and Drug Administration, and the Centers for Disease Control. Together, they would process this information into actionable plans to get the nation back on the road to health. Regulations would be audited and revised. Outdated laws repealed and new ones introduced. A thorough overhaul of the agriculture and food logistics industry that nourished the population. Overnight, the body mass index was re-imagined and calibrated. Categories such as “underweight” or “morbidly obese” no longer existed. Health profiles were generated based on average bone density, overall skeletal shape, and documented medical history. Dietary guidelines multiplied and reconfigured not just for food type and caloric load but for macronutrient content within the framing of their body mass subtype. The racist, outdated, an unreliable BMI was replaced by the new BMS. Unlicensed “nutritionists” were outlawed. Possessing and distributing non-FDA approved supplements became a felony. Registered dietitians, MDs, DOs, and PhDs were all retrained and certified. Kinesiology, physical therapy, and personal training guidelines were rewritten. Private health insurance companies crumbled. The state and federal governments did what they should have centuries before: nationalized. At long last healthcare was no longer a for-profit prison lashing Americans to their soulless corporate desks or long back-breaking hours in warehouses and factories. The message was clear: if you were meant to be fat, thin, or somewhere between, your best chances of optimal health and lifespan were to retain that composition at all costs. The goal was to decenter the health standards that were based on Eurocentric white cisgender men. To accommodate for genetics, health history, preferences, blood panels, and the unique nutritional needs to each patient. It was true American individualism for once working toward its own best interests. That isn’t to say that the American people as a whole took well to it. Though the messaging was that “all body sizes are healthy,” some resisted. Centuries of internalized and externalized fatphobia could not convince some of the truth. While most breathed a sigh of relief and relished in getting long-overdue medical care they deserved, a fractional minority resisted. While the overhaul was overall for the betterment of society, and the purpose was to focus on individual health profiles, governments are governments and have to draw a line somewhere. How would one know they were meant for fatness or thinness? How would that be determined? What about those that hovered right in-between? The skinny fats, the thiccs, the beer-bellied types, the pear shapes? There were years of congressional hearings about the matter. Where was the line drawn for someone’s benefit? The damage, terror, and trauma wrought by the outdated BMI charts had made permanent marks on the psyche of the nation. It was woven into every form of oppression: class, race, gender, ability, creed, and age. Finally, the Food and Drug Administration had enough. Used to the practical, hands-on matters of enforcement, they knew that simple binary based on each body mass subtype would suffice. Find the midpoint of each unique BMS, allow a deviance of five percent in each direction, and do everything possible to keep the patient over or under their midpoint as determined by their medical providers. It was that simple, they announced. You are either an Over, or an Under. Subclasses within those could exist. Those meant to remain around the midpoint were Near-Overs or Near-Unders. Those meant to remain in the extremes for their BMS were Far-Overs and Far-Unders. But for the most part, everything was based on being and Over or an Under. The fat liberationists seethed. “It’s still fatphobic!” they’d cry. They rejoiced in the exclusion of words like “obese” and “overweight” from medical lexicon and replacing them with the objective descriptors, still saw the framework of institutional fatphobia. “You’re still labeling and classifying people based on numbers!” More congressional hearings, state and federal. Didn’t matter. The plan was the plan. It would be up to individuals to work with their medical providers and health care team to mitigate and reduce any harm caused by the new system. The fringe groups, who had been happy to lie low and grumble about their own conspiracies to each other, raised their voices. “But I want to be fat!” some would cry. “I can’t stand this spare tire around my waist!” screamed others. “Stop infringing on my rights to my own body!” Even the fetishists came out of the woodwork in full force: “Fat is the goddamn hottest thing on the planet!” The nuanced, sex-positive, intersectional, feminist kinksters protested also. “Let people do with their body as they please!” To most Americans, it was odd to see these groups cooperate so well in ways they hadn’t before. Fatphobia was officially outlawed and regulated, and no one was being required to adhere to it, so what was the problem? Why were they raising such a stink? But the truth is that these groups all saw the writing on the wall. They knew what was coming: enforcement. Some who were used to mouth-breathing and drooling incoherently over soft apron bellies and the thickest thighs that ever rubbed together could articulate it, but the sex-positive folk and fat liberationists stated it perfectly: “The moment you start labeling and categorizing people, in the name of their own health, is the moment you have othered them and initiated a process that is almost impossible to impede: fascism.” They were scoffed at, mocked, and ridiculed by the public. “How would they ever do that?” Pundits would exclaim on CNN. “Do you really think they are just rounding people up who refuse to conform to medical guidelines literally catered to every individual thing about them and forcing them to slim down or fatten up? Come on. There’s no way. We’ve got better things to spend our time and money on.” But that is exactly what the FDA did. It started with pressure from the brass. The Secretaries weren’t pleased that the nation was struggling to meet benchmarks. The research supporting the Over/Under model was sound in every way. But after half a century, too many noisy stragglers clung to the old ways. If they didn’t smooth out the curve, and fast, mutiny would rise. The new medical system with all its complexities was too delicate to be overturned by angry citizens who had felt they were being duped and misled. If that happened and they switched back to the old ways, it would be disaster. Disease would run rampant, unchecked. Food logistics would disintegrate. Starvation would kill off millions. The economy would tank with no forseeable recovery. The problem wasn’t so much Unders meeting their benchmarks. They were eager to lose the weight as prescribed by their doctors and were mostly compliant to medical advice. It was the Overs that resisted. Even if they were a Near-Over. Too many were out of line and the budget for their long-term healthcare was at risk if they weren’t brought up to size sooner than later. In particular, the problem lied with the Far-Overs and those near the benchmark. Even though their bodies were genetically predisposed to not only carry but need many more pounds than average to survive and maintain optimal health, the centuries and generations of fatphobic messaging remained firmly in their mind. The FDA took up the mantle on this task as well. Told to bring up the numbers no matter what, they weren’t averse to doing things efficiently. Despite all the changes to the healthcare system, however, there were few adjustments to the legal system. And one thing remained true: in the United States, legality and morality rarely overlapped. So the FDA took initiative and did what any results-oriented federal agency would do: they subcontracted. And they knew exactly who to scout for the job. Feedists, of course. The quiet minority of those in the back of the room eager to burgeoning bellies in front of their own eyes at any opportunity. But it couldn’t be just anyone. It had to be the one. Enter: Adrian Radford. If ever there was a feeder of all feedists, arguably, Adrian was the one. Renowned in the community for his talents of transforming the most lithe forms into mountains of supple indulgence and decadence, his reputation and methods were revered. In his career, he calculated several tons of pounds added to frames. He had streamlined his process over the years, how to determine the nutritional needs of each feedee, how they responded to food and other stimuli, and how to observe and utilize their appetite for maximum results. He couldn’t help it. It was a natural drive within him. Whether someone enthusiastically gobbled down his irresistible baking or jiggled and bulged over restraints, he lived to see waistlines expand all around him and indulged every opportunity to do so. Knowing there were medical benefits to some for doing just that only fueled his fire. Feedees were all the willing to fatten up for him, even beyond what they thought they wanted. Some sheepishly requesting assistance in putting on just thirty pounds fell to the charms of Adrian’s dazzling smile framed by a well-groomed goatee and warm brown eyes. His dark hair tied neatly behind him and his olive skin set on a medium frame left him neither intimidating nor weak. Thirty pounds would easily melt into fifty, into seventy, then a hundred… He was irresistible. Being approached by the federal government to employ his services was a dream come true. Government-funded fattening? Unbelievable. Eager to sign the line, though, the contracts were carefully reviewed by lawyers. As with anything, there were some catches. The FDA would identify and bring into custody delinquent Overs who had evaded medical and dietary care. They would then be processed at a facility built and equipped to re-nourish and rehabilitate for reintegration into society. Adrian consulted in the facility’s design, recommended nutritional programming, and selected his own team to manage. In exchange for his considerable freedom, results were required. BMS adjustment quotas were required every quarter. His team were subject to rigorous health examinations. While his expertise was taken into consideration, he would be required to use FDA-approved and formulated rations for the detainees. Two RENO—“re-nourishment”—facilities opened a year after the ink dried. One was for renourshing delinquent Unders. Adrian shuddered at the thought of such a place existing and he didn’t inquire much about their operations and methods beyond required planning meetings. Adrian’s complex, RENO 1, sparkled on its first day of operations. Softly lit halls adorned with government-speak posters: “All bodies are healthy!” and “Flesh is Fun.” Three wings branched off from the administration and intake offices. A-wing housed residential facilities. Some were comfortable suites with private baths and lush furniture for detainees to rest and recoup after a day of renourishment. A shared kitchen with a fully stocked pantry remained open 24/7 free for their use. There were smaller facilities; dormitories and holding cells, for those that required more supervision and had fewer facility privileges. The B-wing was exclusively for renourishment. Down one side of the hall were cozy dining rooms, fitted with size-inclusive furniture adapted for growing bodies. Along the other side were caloric reception rooms. Solid steel doors prevented detainees from peering inside but if they had been able to sneak past the vestibule, they would see devices created solely for supreme feeding. Soft cuffs, leather buckles, chairs cushioned for long hours with digital readouts anchored behind the headrest. Medical and maintenance facilities filled the C-wing. Every stage of the process required intense medical scrutiny and so fortnightly exams were conducted as the detainees progressed through their renourishment program. This would include physical therapy, bloodwork, prescribed exercise regimens, and nutrition counseling. Adrian and his team meet and often smashed the goals for the first few years. Quarter after quarter, Overs enter the facility malnourished and diseased then leave with robust frames, pink cheeks, and a healthy appetite. The majority of the Overs did not require too much additional renourishment. Most were within a few points of their prime BMS range and quickly exited the program in 90 days. Adrian had trained his team well and they require little oversight for most cases. A routine fourth-quarter meeting becomes far less routine when the FDA Commissioner plods in with the agent. The Commissioner is a woman of average height and hair length but not build: her expertly tailored suits accentuate her naturally plump frame. She carries with her equally heavy news. An audit—the primary function of faceless federal paper-pushers—surfaces some miscalculations on the part of the Health Department. Those miscalculations revealed that some Overs and Unders had been incorrectly classified and would require renourishment as prescribed. This would present some challenges in as they were brought in. The Commissioner continued that some would be brought in willingly. Offered a place at the facility, extended time frames to bring them to their correct BMS rate and provided substantial stipends and support upon meeting their redetermined health metrics. This would not start for another quarter or two, as the FDA and NIH cooperated to identify, locate, and inform these folk of the error. But of course, some would not be so willing. Especially the ones that had been grossly miscalculated. Those who believed they were meant to be Unders but were, in fact, meant to be Far-Overs. This audit and its results happened to coincide with another project the coalition had been developing. A super-nutrient appetite stimulant. Effectively a growth hormone. To speed up the process. The Commissioner flipped her straight black hair. “It require rigorous testing, of course, which is well under way. But the testing requires also some qualitative experimentation.” Adrian’s ears perked up. A growth hormone? Appetite stimulant? Adipose generator? And they wanted him to use it? “Yes,” the Commissioner said. “But restrictively. Case study tests.” Two files were handed to Adrian. CLASSIFIED and GOVERNMENT USE ONLY stamps littered the battered folders. “We have two subjects we’d like for you to focus on,” the Commissioner said. “Cassandra Caro is a delinquent who has evaded us for months. Surveillance reveals that not only is she evading renourishment, but that she is both a feedist and a fat liberationist.” He opened the first. A picture of a pale, petite woman in her late twenties with dark hair and green eyes stared at him. A dossier of considerable thickness weighed down the folder. Adrian cocked an eyebrow. An unusual combination. Perhaps she was a feeder like he. He was unfamiliar with her name and face, but that didn't surprise him. Many operated anonymously within the community. “Intelligence indicates she’s working as a guerilla double-agent for these communities and may be anticipating her arrest as an expose to reveal the truth of how these facilities operate. One group says it’s a fetishists paradise and the other claims it’s an ‘inhumane factory farm’.” The Commissioner rolled her eyes and gestured with air quotes, bracelets jingling on her soft wrists. Adrian’s other eyebrow joined the first. Oh, she was going to be fun. “And what do you want me to do with her?” The Commissioner made it clear that anything within Adrian’s ability was fair game. The only catch was that every single action, step, dose, metric… must be documented in full. Including methodology. When he opened the second file, Adrian was surprised to see an all too familiar face. His second in command, Diana Sanders. She had always been a respectable Near-Under. “I’m sorry, Radford. Flags started to rise in her file over the past few quarters,” the Commissioner shook her head in regret. “It’s not her fault. We checked everything twice. The audit independently confirmed the truth: she’s an Over.” Adrian gulped. He glanced at her photo. Wavy auburn hair gently framed her high cheekbones and square chin. Softening cheeks and adding chins was his favorite activity, but the thought of doing it to Sanders unsettled him. “But what if she… goes too far?” “The good news is that we need less intense results with her. Her profile is not that far off. More… conventional methods may be most successful, but you are the expert.” The Commissioner placed a thick hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “But if that happens… she can be decommissioned. While she’s not formally a government employee, there are some workarounds.” Adrian nodded, pursing his lips. He gently closed the files and left them on the table. “So, what’s next?” The exchange for his cooperation was a significant budget increase. Funded training centers. Mobile units. Consulting fees and bonuses. Adrian Radford was many things, but a fool was not one of them.