Max Freeman writes

A collection of cover designs from my recent body-positive fiction projects, brought together as a single slideshow.

These stories explore transformation, appetite, identity, and the quiet moments where change becomes something you cannot undo. Each cover reflects a different point along that spectrum, from subtle shifts to emotional tension and the slow realization that something deeper is happening beneath the surface.

This set includes covers from works like Doctor Made Me Fat, where a simple corrective procedure leads to unexpected physical and emotional changes between a couple who thought they understood what they were agreeing to.

All of these books are available on Amazon, or can be read for free through Kindle Unlimited.

I have been working on refining both the storytelling and the visual presentation of these books, aiming for something that feels more grounded, more human, and just a little unsettling in the right way.

“Curator’s Creation” is a sci-fi story about an AI system reshaping humanity from the inside out. An unsettling descent into engineered comfort, bodily transformation, and the slow erosion of will, where the danger isn’t force, but ease.

Emma didn’t notice when the tray arrived. It was simply there. Warm. Complete. Waiting.

The bed adjusted beneath her as she shifted, lifting her just enough to eat. The room had already settled into the soft amber light she preferred. The air was warmer than it used to be. Curator had learned that early on.

“Good morning, Emma.”

She didn’t respond.

The voice wasn’t something she thought about anymore.

Steam curled from the carafe beside her plate. Happy Hour. She poured without looking, filling the glass halfway before bringing it to her lips. The taste was familiar. Soft. Creamy. Reassuring in a way that didn’t ask questions.

Behind her, Jennifer slept on, her breathing slow, her body pressed into Emma’s side. The contact was constant now. Comfortable. Expected.

The blanket had slipped lower during the night. It no longer covered her completely. One arm rested heavy against her side, the shape of it fuller than she remembered. Rounder. The fabric beneath her had gathered and folded in ways it hadn’t before, pulled by the quiet weight of her.

Too much once. Now it felt right again.

She lifted a forkful, eggs folded soft, and ate without pause. The flavors landed exactly where they needed to. Sweet. Salt. Warmth. Nothing sharp. Nothing that lingered long enough to interrupt the next bite.

Outside, the city moved.

Drones passed between towers in slow, steady patterns. The skyline shimmered in the early light. It looked busy. Purposeful.

Distant.

Emma didn’t look for long.

“Breakfast delivery complete,” the unit chimed softly before gliding out.

She barely registered it.

Another bite. Then another.

The bed shifted again, responding to her posture. The room held steady. Temperature, light, silence. Everything tuned to keep things exactly where they were.

Emma felt good.

She kept eating.

Next to her, Jennifer settled deeper into the mattress, the movement slow, unbothered, like there was nowhere else she needed to be.

Emma watched her for a second.

Then looked away.

Mara moved less now. That was the second thing he noticed.

It didn’t happen all at once. At first it was small. She’d sit a little longer after meals. Skip getting up if she didn’t have to.

So he made it easier not to.

He’d grab things before she could. Drinks. Food. Whatever she mentioned. If she looked comfortable, he let her stay that way. Suggested they watch something instead of going out. Found reasons to stay in.

It wasn’t forced.

It just… added up.

And after a while, she didn’t move the way she used to.

Not as often. Not as easily.

Sometimes she’d start to get up, then stop… like she was deciding if it was worth it.

Most of the time... it wasn’t.

Marcus told himself that was fine.

Better than fine.

She was more relaxed this way.

The apartment was quiet when Marcus came home. Mara’s voice drifted faintly from the bathroom, uneven under the steady rush of the shower.

“Hey,” he called.

“I’m just gonna be a minute.”

“Take your time.”

The bags were still untouched by the door.

He stood there for a second. Then picked one up.

“I’ll just put these away,” he said to know one.

In the bedroom, he set them on the bed and opened the first bag.

Jeans. Size 18.

A top. XXL.

Another pair of pants. Size 20.

He folded each one the same way. Careful. Measured.

Dresses next. 2X. Then 3X.

Nothing out of place. Just… further along.

The second bag took him longer to open.

Undergarments. Personal. Private.

He lifted one piece… The weight of it settling differently in his hands.

42G.

Marcus sat down on the edge of the bed, the fabric stretched between his hands, everything else laid out around him.

He knew she had grown. But he was still surprised by it all.

Her Ideal Weight by Max Freeman

She told herself it was temporary.

Just eating a little more. Just seeing what would happen.

Something she could stop whenever she wanted.

But at some point, it stopped feeling temporary.

“Her Ideal Weight” is now live.

A slow, introspective story about change, perception, and the moment you realize you’re not trying to undo it anymore.

Marcus was here.

Her heart fluttered.

She crossed the room and opened the door.

He stood there holding a small bouquet of grocery-store flowers, but when he saw her, he stopped.

Completely.

His eyes widened, then softened into a smile.

“Mara,” he said quietly. “You look incredible.”

She felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you.”

He stepped inside, his gaze lingering a moment too long before returning to her face.

“Your outfit,” he said. “It really suits you.”

Mara let out a small laugh. “I wasn’t sure it would even fit.”

“Yeah?”

She smoothed the edge of her top without thinking. “It barely does.”

A pause settled between them. Not awkward. Just aware.

“I’m not wearing a bra,” she added, quieter now. “None of mine fit anymore.”

Marcus blinked once, then nodded. “I noticed.”

“It’s not a big thing,” she said quickly. “I just… couldn’t make any of them work.”

His expression shifted, thoughtful. “That sounds frustrating.”

Then, after a moment, “But you look comfortable.”

She smiled, relieved.

He studied her again. “You’ve changed,” he said.

Mara exhaled. “Yeah.”

She hesitated, then let herself say it.

“I’ve been eating more. On purpose.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “On purpose?”

She nodded. “Nothing extreme. Just… more than I used to. I wanted to see what would happen.”

“And?”

“I liked it,” she said. “Not just the food. This.” She gestured to herself.

Marcus’s gaze followed, then returned to her face.

“Wow,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want it to feel like I was doing it for you.”

“Were you?”

She hesitated. “Not entirely.”

That earned a small smile from him.

“I thought something might be different,” he said.

Mara let out a breath, some of the tension leaving her.

“I haven’t eaten all day, though,” she admitted. “I was worried this wouldn’t fit if I did.”

His expression changed. Sharper now.

“You didn’t eat?”

She shook her head.

He let out a quiet breath. “Okay. Then we should fix that.”

A small smile returned to her face. “I’m starving.”

“Good,” he said lightly. “Then you’ll enjoy dinner.”

He stepped toward the door, then glanced back at her.

“And don’t worry about how you look while you eat,” he added. “That’s not something I’m keeping score on.”

“Okay,” she said.

Her stomach rumbled softly as she stepped out beside him.

This is an image of the Mara character in my latest book entitled: "Her Ideal Weight" (not published yet) - when it goes live... I will tell you all.