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The result of a few too many extra doughnuts

Being big/muscular/fat and bulky it’s the best!

I ate that twink…

My new dormmate sat on the edge of his bed, his face buried in a textbook and a dozen donuts at his side.

He looked up when he saw me wheeling in all my luggage. I clearly needed help, but he didn't offer. Didn't get off his fat ass.

Not a great first impression.

"Welcome! You're Louis, right?"

I dropped my duffel bag onto the bed at the opposite side of the room. "Yup. And you're...?"

I was expecting a guy named Paul. The college sent me an email with an information packet about my future dormmate. Paul McNamara. The photo showed a muscular blond guy with a very cute smile. He filled out a questionnaire about himself, too: Liked sports. Ran on the track team at his high school. Youngest of five brothers. Gay.

Needless to say, I was excited to meet him.

And now that I saw my real roommate, a total fatty who never played a sport in his life, a guy who'd rather stuff himself with donuts than help me with my heavy-as-fuck suitcases, my heart understandably sank. The college must've switched out Perfect Paul without telling me.

So much for my expectations.

"I'm Paul!" he introduced himself. "Didn't the school email you my information?"

As a redhead, my face flushed in embarrassment at the drop of a hat. Right now, my cheeks were blotchy pink.

He noticed, but he assumed it was because I was struggling with my bags. "Sorry I'm not helping you move in. I promised someone I wouldn't get off this bed until I finish this."

Okay. Well, at least he was studious. Classes hadn't even started yet and he was already digging into his textbooks. If I couldn't have a hot roommate, at least I had one who wouldn't party all night.

"Of course. Priorities, right?" I unzipped my duffel and started unpacking.

He laughed, choking a little on the donut in his mouth. "Yeah. Priorities."

In January, you signed up for the Midnight Cakes program. You have to eat one cake a night for an entire year. By February, you were fat, and I was full on board. Now it's the end of March, and we've just hit our first hurdle.

***

“I can’t do this,” you say, staring at the strawberry chocolate cake in front of you. Your fingers nervously squeeze your moobs.

(I always play with your chest when you’re upset, so I guess I trained you to start doing it, too.)

“It’s your choice,” I say. I look down at my phone. 12:02. If you’re going to follow the rules and eat tonight’s cake, you have to get started ASAP.

“What do you think? I mean, if I stop now…”

I guess you wanna talk this out. Okay. Let’s do this quickly. “If you stop now, then you’ll be sacrificing a lot of money, including everything we’ve already spent for the last three months. We can make it work, but… it’ll be hard. And you’ll have to start working again.”

The Midnight Cake program pays you $2000 per cake, which is a life-changing deal. When you started this three months ago, you quit your job and I started taking fewer shifts at the supermarket.

But the contract had a ton of fine print, and if you don’t finish out the year, then we have to pay back everything. This is your decision to make, and I’ll support you even if we have to go into debt, but…

I really don’t want you to stop.

It’s not just about the money. It’s about… everything. Feeding you every night has become an addiction for me, something I spend my entire day waiting for. And your body… It’s blossomed into a beautiful mountain of fat.

You’re nearing 250 pounds now. You’re enormous. Your belly flows off you like a massive teardrop. Your skin is stretching into a thousand wonderful textures. Each day brings new surprises. New bulges and stretchmarks and dimples. And the fact that I’m feeding you, that I’m at least partly responsible for all your changes… Well, it’s an addiction.

I need you to keep going.

I need you bigger. And softer. And lazier. And slower.

But I understand your moment of doubt. You had a check-up today, and, well, the results weren’t pretty. Your sugar intake has made you pre-diabetic. Your kidneys are struggling. It took 90 days to cause real damage to your health, and we still have nine months to go.

I want you fatter, but I don’t want to lose you. That’s by far the most important part.

You grab a handful of icing and shove it into your mouth. Then you look down at your chocolatey fingers in surprise. “See? I can’t even stop myself anymore.”

I glance at my phone. 12:11. The clock is ticking.

“So what’s your decision?” I ask.

You sigh. “I don’t know.”

I heard im a good pillow

Whose that cutie 😼😼

The visits became a habit.

What had started as curiosity slowly turned into something Luke needed. Days felt longer when he didn’t go, nights emptier. So he kept returning, always careful, always unnoticed.

And Augustus was always there. Their connection grew naturally. At first, they spoke little, but soon words came easier, and silence became just as meaningful. Luke would sit close—sometimes beside him, sometimes near his chair—and little by little that distance disappeared. The first time Augustus leaned in, it was slow and certain at the same time, as if he already knew Luke wouldn’t move away. And he didn’t. After that, those quiet moments became part of their routine, brief but enough to stay with Luke long after he left. It wasn’t just that. It was the way Augustus looked at him. Not just noticing—but judging, measuring. Approving. And Luke was changing.

At first, he didn’t think much about the food. Augustus always offered him something, and refusing felt strange. So he accepted. A pastry, then bread, then meat, then sweets. Soon he was eating every time he visited—and taking food home as well.

Weeks turned into months.

His clothes grew tighter, his face a little fuller, his body softer. He moved a bit slower after eating, felt heavier in a way that was new to him. By the third month, the change was clear. He had gained weight—maybe 8 to 12 kilos. Not extreme, but noticeable.

Augustus saw it before anyone else. “You look better,” he said once, with a faint smile. “You’re starting to fit in.”

Luke also began to understand the family.

He rarely saw them directly, but he noticed enough. Elira, Augustus’s sister, was quiet and observant, already carrying some weight but still active, managing parts of the house with calm authority. Tomas, the oldest brother after Augustus, was clearly being shaped—heavier, slower, already removed from any real work. Iven followed, watched closely, and Soren, the youngest, was still small but already treated differently from the village children.

“They’ll all grow,” Augustus said once. “But I go first, maybe a bit further.” There was no doubt in his voice. Then he took, a couple of little pies, and devoured them instantly. It was not only hungry or gluttonry, Augustus also enjoyed showing his ability to pig out, that explained by itself the size and power of him and his house.

And Augustus himself made everything clear.

Luke began to notice the pattern. Food arrived constantly—small portions, but often. Rich, soft, easy to eat. He rarely moved, and when he did, it was deliberate, never rushed. Servants adjusted his clothes regularly, bringing slightly larger ones each time. Nothing was accidental. It was controlled. Intentional.

“They’re doing it right,” Augustus said one day, resting back in his chair, one hand on his stomach. “Slow, steady. No waste.”

He glanced at Luke. “I want it this way.”

There was no shame. No hesitation. Only satisfaction.

“In Lardia,” he continued, “this is what matters. And I’m good at it.”

Luke believed him. Augustus wasn’t passive. He wasn’t simply being fed. He was choosing it. Growing into it. Owning it.

One afternoon, Augustus seemed more focused than usual.

“They’re taking me to the city,” he said.

“For what?” Luke asked.

“A weighing.”

Luke understood immediately.

“I’m close,” Augustus added, a hint of pride in his voice.

“How much?”

Augustus looked at him directly. “Four hundred pounds.”

The number didn’t feel like a goal. It felt like a victory already decided.

“When I reach it,” Augustus said, “things change. Not just here. Everywhere.”

Luke nodded slowly. “Will you come back?”

Augustus smiled slightly. “Of course. This is mine.”

Luke gently took Augustus’s shirt off. He stared intently at his large torso and squeezed one of his pecs. “You can really tell—you’ve gotten quite fat,” Luke said.

“Thanks, little one,” Augustus replied. “Make me yours one last time before my trip. This big belly of mine is going to miss you.”

Luke and Augustus didn’t just have sex once that afternoon—Luke was far too turned on by Augustus’s size to stop, especially knowing he wouldn’t get another chance the next day. They spent about an hour in bed, one thing leading to another. In the end, they lay there talking, staring at the ceiling, covered in sweat but more relaxed than ever, holding hands.

Then, after a pause, his tone shifted—more direct, more personal. “And you should be here when I do.”

Luke felt something settle inside him. Augustus looked at him again, more critically this time.

“You’re better,” he said. “But not enough.”

Luke frowned.

“You’re still too thin,” Augustus continued. “If you want to stay here… if you want to stay with me… you need to grow.”

He leaned forward slightly, his presence filling the space between them. “I don’t want you visiting,” he said. “I want you here. With me. Part of this.”

Luke didn’t answer, but he didn’t look away either.

Augustus reached for a tray and handed him a piece of bread, thick and rich. “Eat.”

Luke took it.

“More.”

Another piece. Then another.

Augustus watched him closely, calm, assured. “You’ll get used to it,” he said. “And you’ll like it.”

Luke kept eating, slower at first, then without thinking. The food was heavy, filling, but something in Augustus’s gaze made it easy to continue.

When he finally stopped, Augustus pushed a wrapped bundle toward him—larger than usual.

“Take it,” he said. “Don’t waste time.”

Luke held it.

“If you want this,” Augustus added quietly, “you have to become part of it.”

This time, it didn’t sound like a suggestion. It sounded like a path.

Why you'll keep getting fatter

Disclaimer: this is simplified. Biology is incredibly complex, some of these topics haven't been fully researched yet. I'm no doctor.

What regulates your weight?

You might believe that you're in control of your weight, but you're. Your weight is mainly controlled by hormones. Think about how many times you decided not to overeat and lose weight and how many times you eventually gave in to the cravings. Those cravings are caused by hormones and how your body/brain interprets them. Two of those hormones are grehlin and leptin. To oversimplify this, grehlin tells your body that you're hungry, leptin tells your body that you're satiated. Grehlin is mainly produced by your gut, leptin by your adipocytes. Adipocytes form adipose tissue, or as I like to call it, that blubbery layer of lard that just keeps growing.

Your body is designed to stay around a normal, healthy weight, which lies between a BMI of 18 and 25 for most people. (I'm aware BMI isn't really a good measure, but we'll ignore that for now since it really doesn't matter for this post). Your body is designed in a way where when you gain some weight, your adipose tissue will signal your body to eat less, through release of leptin. So your body both regulates fat storage and appetite. You have an internal system that should technically prevent you from overeating and becoming obese.

So why do you keep eating?

When you're reading this, you're probably overweight. Your fat cells should be telling you to eat less. So why do you still keep eating so much? That's largely due to what you're eating. Our brains and digestive systems have evolved to deal with natural, whole foods. From meat over vegetables to dairy products. But how often to you prepare a meal from whole ingredients? Have you ever? You'll probably opt for store-bought foods, perhaps ready-to-eat. You might skip grocery shopping all together and just order takeout. But no matter whether you're buying a bag of bread or are ordering McDonald's again, the food you consume is likely to be ultra-processed. While the definition of ultra-processed food is extensive and partially vague, some key characteristics are to replace whole foods, be hyper palatable, highly profitable to the companies who make them, and designed to be over-consumed. It's an capitalistic abomination of what used to be food.

Ultra-processed food contains many ingredients that were never a part of the human diet. Those ingredients simply didn't exist. Modified starches, gums, or processed vegetable oils are just a few of the industry favorites. They allow for the creation of pretty much any texture, from fluffy over creamy to crunchy. Add some artificial flavors, sugar and salt, and you can have anything you want. What's best is that these added ingredients mess with your hormonal regulations. They bypass your body's feedback system of when you've had enough. You don't keep eating until you're satiated. You keep eating until you're full. The food industry makes more money, you gain more weight.

What happens if you keep eating?

As you eat more, your body will store excess energy as lipids (fat) in adipocytes (fat cells). At first, adipocytes just expand. When you're in your mid 20s or older, your adipocytes aren't meant to multiply anymore. After all, you're not designed to get obese anyways. But since you'll ignore satiation when eating ultra-processed food, you'll keep gaining more weight. Your body might try telling you to stop eating, but ultra-processed food silences those calls.

What makes this interesting is that the amount of adipocytes is meant to be stable. They'll only multiply when they can't grow any bigger, and they're really difficult to break down again. After all, why would your body have evolved in a way where it'll directly get rid of important energy storages the second you burn through some of the fuel?

If you keep eating while already having enough fat reserves, your adipocytes will release increasingly more leptin, trying to tell you that you've eaten enough. But you keep lifting that fork and shoveling more down your throat, thanks to those ultra-processed ingredients. You leave your adipocytes no option but to multiply. You're becoming obese.

What happens if you get obese?

A lot of things start to change on a hormonal level when you become obese. So much, that I won't even attempt to cover all of it in this post. One change I find quite interesting is that as your adipocytes release increasingly more leptin, your receptors start getting used to the concentration of them and become desensitized. You're generally losing the ability to sense satiation, no matter what you eat. From here on out, you won't stop eating when you've had enough. If that were the case, you'd barely be eating anything, given how fat you already are. Instead, you'll keep eating until you're physically full.

As you begin to eat until you're physically full, your stomach will expand and you'll have higher releases of grehlin, making you more hungry. You feel strong hunger and low satiation. You're always snacky. How could you not continue eating? The best part of this is that grehlin promotes fat storage. You'll be more hungry, have lost the ability to properly sense when you're full, are destined to overeat, and become more likely to gain even more weight. This is when things begin to spiral.

The inescapable cycle forms.

At this point, I want to introduce our favorite hormone, dopamine. Dopamine isn't just released for pleasure and reward, but for motivation as well. Without dopamine, you wouldn't be doing anything. Dopamine is what gets you moving and keeps you going. It plays a large role in your behavioral feedback system, which tells you which behaviors/actions are good for you, and which are not. When you're obese, you'll probably have associated ultra-processed food with dopamine already. Eating feels rewarding.

What makes this really interesting is that grehlin and dopamine are connected. Grehlin increases dopamine release, which means that you won't just feel hungry, but also a strong motivation or craving to eat. Sound familiar? As you overeat more and grow fatter, this effect only strengthens. If you think back to when you were a few (dozen/hundred) pounds lighter, you probably didn't feel as hungry and snacky as you do now. Although now, you really don't need any food at all anymore. Every pound of fat provides enough energy for about 1.5-2 days. You could probably go without food for months, yet you crave it more than ever before. The reason is simple: you've destroyed the system that regulated your appetite and weight.

The slippery slope of gluttony

Many people refer to what I've talked about so far as the "slippery slope of gluttony", including myself. It starts with just a few pounds, when you grow a bit of a belly and start dipping into the obese range. But it's not just addiction or dopamine that keep you going. It's your appetite and weight regulation that are being fucked by you over-consuming over-processed food. It's like breaking the thermostat on a radiator. You don't know when to stop anymore.

You don't even need to eat junk food for this, as almost anything you'll find in a store is ultra-processed. Even many of the "healthy" options. You can try going for low sugar, low fat, low sodium, and any other diet product as much as you want. You'll still over-consume it and gain more weight. Those foods are designed that way. The more you eat, the more you consume, the more money food corporations make by making you obese. They're pouring billions into researching new ingredients to make their foods more hyper palatable and more addictive. You don't stand a chance.

The best part

Either you got here because this is your fetish, or because gaining weight turned into your fetish. What I wrote so far should alarm you. Billion-dollar corporations making over-processed foods, designed to replace whole foods, be over-consumed, while fucking up your hormonal regulations. The more you consume, the fatter you get, the more they profit. All across the world, especially in western countries, obesity rates are going through the roof. Every year, people get fatter. Why buy a whole-grain handmade (not ultra-processed) loaf of bread from a bakery when you can buy ultra-processed industrial bread for ¼ of the price? Capitalism turned fattening you up into a very profitable business.

But does this alarm you? Or are you edging while reading this, loving how fucked up and dystopian this sounds? Now that you know how helpless you are in the first place, do you want to deliberately dive in deeper? Do you want to see just how bad it can get? It's not your fault anyways, it's the system.

One of the most successful ways of losing weight has been ozempic, which increases your leptin sensitivity, allowing you to properly sense satiation again. Yes, you'd have to take drugs for your hormonal regulations to work properly again. That's how fucked up you are. The second people stop using it, they blow back up.

Where do we go from here?

The ghrelin-dopamine + over-processed foods combination will always make you overeat again, just like you've done so many times already. It doesn't matter whether you try to lose weight or go on a strict diet. You might be able to lose some weight, but you'll blow up again eventually. Your hormonal regulations are fucked. You're destined to keep getting fatter and except from taking drugs, there is little you can do.

So why not accept this? Why not accept that you're fucked? You're not to blame, and it's certainly not your fault that everything is over-processed and designed to be over-consumed. And if you're being honest, doesn't the thought of a system that's designed to fatten people up for profit turn you on? Isn't that a pretty hot feederism fantasy come to life?