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Maybe they'd keep me stuffed to near capacity for days (or even weeks) with heavy, fatty foods so they can watch me struggle around a massive bloated and gassy gut that's so full it's hard to breathe like I'm some animal to be studied, all while they watch my belly and hips and thighs keep swelling with fat. They'd laugh at how the high fat diet gives me gut cramps and rub my sore and overstuffed belly, even though it's their fault to begin with.

Just some mad doctor fattening me up until I'm almost too big to move on my own and then taking notes on how I struggle to do basic tasks. They make notes of how people react to me and how offensively fat I am, how I react to taking up so much space in public. They'd experiment with putting me in my old too small clothing, noting how easily flustered I get as they eventually shred trying to contain my new mass. Theyd rub lotion into my swelling gut and eagerly map my stretch marks, thrilled as they slowly shift from their aged silver back to an angry red. They'd time just how quickly they can force my body up a pant size or three. They'd record videos and take pictures of me and post them publicly, documenting my progress for the world to see as I'm ruthlessly fattened up and turned into their pet just to sate their curiosity.