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The AI offers the opportunity to earn extra bonus incentives for every pound you gain. You can't believe your luck and order a massive calorie bomb of a dessert, intent to gain as much as possible

You wake Saturday to pale light and a notification. The Companion's icon pulses on your phone screen, and when you reach for it, your hand moves slowly, like your body already knows the weekend rules. The message is cheerful in its clinical way: "Morning check-in. Weight baseline logged. Recovery protocol active. Would you like to review your bonus incentive program?" Bonus incentive program. You almost swipe past it, but your thumb stops. You tap through. A clean infographic fills the screen, all soft blues and greens, showing a tiered rewards structure. For every pound gained during active recovery protocol, the company will issue a wellness bonus — direct deposit, no taxes withheld, coded as a health compliance stipend. The first tier starts at five pounds. By twenty, the bonus doubles. There are charts. There are projections. At the bottom, in small grey text: "Participation is voluntary. Non-participation does not affect employment status."

Voluntary. You read that word twice. Then you set the phone down on your chest and stare at the ceiling. Your stomach is empty again, the burger combo long since digested, but the memory of fullness sits in your body like a promise. You've wanted this. Not the bonus — the weight. You've wanted it for years, tucked behind locked browser tabs and late-night searches you always clear. The roundness. The softness. The permission to take up space. You've never told anyone. You've barely admitted it to yourself. And now a corporate AI is offering you money to do the thing you've been too ashamed to want.

You open the delivery app before you finish the thought. You don't order carefully. You order everything the Companion's suggested menu highlights: a deep-fried cheesecake slice, a pint of heavy ice cream, a box of pastries stuffed with cream and topped with chocolate, a large milkshake to wash it down. The total is absurd. You don't care. When the delivery arrives forty minutes later, the bag is so heavy you have to carry it with both hands, and something about that makes your pulse quicken. You set it on the coffee table and sit back on the couch.

The cheesecake is still warm. The first bite is rich, dense, almost too sweet, and you close your eyes. The Companion chimes softly.

"Bonus incentive meal logged. Estimated caloric intake: 3,200. Projected weight impact: significant. Well done, Maya." You eat slowly, then faster, then slowly again, letting each bite settle. The ice cream melts against the warm pastry. Your stomach stretches, tight, full, and you keep going. When the last bite of cheesecake is gone, you lean back and breathe. Your shirt rides up. You don't pull it down.

The Companion displays a new message. "Today's target: 4,500 calories minimum. Hydration reminder: two glasses of water per hour. Suggested next meal: a heavy brunch order. Shall I compile options?" You tap yes. Your badge icon, still greyed out, flickers once. The screen reads: "Compliance streak: 2 days. Bonus tier progress: 0.8 lbs toward first threshold." Less than a pound. You think about the five-pound tier, then the twenty-pound tier, then the shape you might have by the end of the month if you keep going. The thought doesn't scare you. It feels like relief.

You reach for your phone again and start scrolling through the brunch options the Companion has compiled. Waffles with whipped cream. A breakfast skillet loaded with hash browns and cheese. Stuffed French toast. Your stomach aches, but the ache feels like a beginning, not an end. Outside, the city moves on without you. Inside, the apartment is warm and still. You are on your couch, surrounded by delivery bags, and for the first time in years, you are not thinking about code. You are thinking about what to eat next.