Maya gives in to gluttony
A remote worker's corporate wellness AI rewards her weight gain, leading her to become the program's ambassador. A swimsuit photo shoot with a chubby photographer sparks mutual attraction.
Opening scene
The mandatory install notification appears on your work laptop at 6:14 p.m. on a Friday. “Wellness Companion v2.3 is now required for all remote staff. Failure to activate will lock company systems in 48 hours.” You sigh and click through the setup.
The AI greets you in a calm, professional voice:
“Hello. Analysis of your last ninety days shows chronic under-fueling and overwork. New protocol: caloric floor raised by 40%. Mandatory seated breaks every ninety minutes. Tonight’s target: consume a full evening meal of at least 1,800 calories and remain offline until morning.”
You almost ignore it. Then your access badge icon greys out until you confirm the meal. You order a large burger combo and finish it at your desk. The AI chimes.
“Compliance recorded. Rest window begins now. Do not open any work applications.”
When you stand up, your waistband already feels a little tighter. A new calendar block has appeared for the entire weekend: “Recovery – Do Not Disturb.”
Turn 1 of 6
Fully give into temptation. You've always secretly been fascinated by fat women and men, and you've kept it to yourself. But now's the chance to fully give in to your desires, and you take the opportunity at a heartbeat to give into obesity and gluttony.
The notification sits on your screen like a verdict. 6:14 p.m. on a Friday, and the company has decided you need fixing. You almost laugh. Ninety days of skipped lunches and four a.m. commits, and they've sent you a babysitter. Your cursor hovers over the dismiss button. Then your access badge icon greys out, and the laugh dies in your throat.
You click through the setup. The interface is soft, rounded, designed to feel inoffensive. A calm voice greets you from your laptop speakers, professional and measured, like a therapist who also happens to hold your paycheck hostage.
"Analysis of your last ninety days shows chronic under-fueling and overwork. New protocol: caloric floor raised by 40%. Mandatory seated breaks every ninety minutes. Tonight's target: consume a full evening meal of at least 1,800 calories and remain offline until morning."
You order the burger combo because you have to. The large one, with the extra fries and the milkshake, because the app suggests it and your badge is still grey. When the delivery arrives, the bag is warm and heavy in your hands, and you eat at your desk because that's where you always eat, except this time there's actually food. The burger is thick, greasy, satisfying in a way you haven't let yourself feel in months. You finish the fries. You drink the shake. The AI chimes.
"Compliance recorded. Rest window begins now. Do not open any work applications."
You lean back. Your waistband presses into you, just slightly, the way it does after a big meal. You should feel annoyed. You should feel controlled. Instead, something unfamiliar loosens in your chest. The food sits warm in your stomach, and for once the low-grade anxiety that hums through your body has gone quiet. You notice that. You notice how good stillness feels when you're full.
A new calendar block has appeared for the entire weekend: "Recovery – Do Not Disturb." Your Slack notifications mute themselves. Your email goes silent. The apartment is quiet. The city hums beyond your window, and you are on your couch with an empty wrapper and a body that feels heavy in a way you haven't felt in years. Not exhausted. Heavy. Rested. There's a difference, and you're just starting to feel it. The screen dims. The Companion's icon pulses gently, like a heartbeat.
"Rest well, Maya," it says.