Chapter 1

Ken stared at his phone, impatiently refreshing the tracking page every few seconds. The package was supposed to arrive today, and to say he was excited was an understatement. The shipping company's tracking system was useless—it showed the truck practically at his doorstep, but still listed the delivery as two stops away. He refreshed again, then glanced out the window for what felt like the hundredth time. No truck.

The TV in his living room droned on in the background, but Ken barely noticed. He tried to distract himself, sinking onto the couch, but his mind was already drifting. Was it even worth the cost? Over a thousand dollars, including tax and express shipping. The price was by no means an issue for him, but still—it was difficult to believe that the product would actually do as promised. The reviews were glowing, aside from the usual gripes about the price tag. But if it worked, Ken figured, there was no amount of money he wouldn't pay.

Knock knock knock. Ken shot up at the sound of someone at his door. He practically flew to it, flinging the door open with enough enthusiasm to startle the delivery guy.

“Whoa, dude!” the man yelped, steadying himself to avoid tripping on the front steps.

“Sorry!” Ken said, eyes locked on the box in the delivery man's hands. “I’m just... really excited.”

“All good,” the man replied, setting the large box down on the stoop and pulling out his scanner. “Just sign here, please.”

Ken scribbled something that barely resembled his signature, not bothering to correct it. Proof of receipt was all they needed.

“Thanks! Have a good one!” The delivery man bounded down the steps of Ken’s brownstone and headed back to his truck.

Ken snatched up the box and hurried inside, anxious to see what was in it. He practically sprinted to the kitchen, setting the box down on the counter with a thud. His hands rummaged through the junk drawer, finally finding a box cutter. He quickly went to work slicing the tape seams open. The box itself was plain and unmarked, ensuring privacy, and lined on the inside with shiny insulation foil. He pulled back the layers to reveal a styrofoam container surrounded by cold packs.

He lifted the lid of the styrofoam box and smiled. Six 20-ounce glass bottles lay side by side in a neat row, wedged into a custom molded styrofoam tray. Each was filled with a thick, creamy liquid with a rich brown color. Ken felt his heart jump from excitement. He’d been half-expecting the whole thing to be a scam, but here they were—Phagia’s infamous shakes, in the flesh. Or rather, in the bottle. He supposed there was still the opportunity for disappointment, only time would tell.

He carefully lifted the tray of bottles, revealing yet another layer underneath, this time filled with white liquid. Vanilla, no doubt. He repeated the process, tray by tray, until all the bottles—30 in total—were lined up neatly on his counter, arranged by flavor. Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, banana, and—he squinted at the last set—peanut butter. The variety pack had been a good choice after all.

Ken paused for a moment to admire the lineup, mentally patting himself on the back for getting his order in before the stock ran out. He rifled through the remaining contents of the box, pulling out a bright yellow piece of cardstock. It was a thank-you note, printed with a brief description of the variety pack and the usual warnings. He skimmed over the tiny print at the bottom: “Limit consumption to one bottle per day.” Based on the reviews, Ken knew this was only a liability statement, for Phagia to cover their asses in case anything went wrong. He tossed the card in the trash and broke down the cardboard box, tossing it in the corner for recycling later.

Ken picked up one of the chocolate shakes. The glass bottle felt heavy in his hand, the branding simple yet sleek. He turned it over to examine the nutrition label. 3600 calories per bottle. The number alone sent a thrill through him, but it was the possibility of packing on pounds so effortlessly that had him buzzing with excitement. The real allure of Phagia’s shakes was their ability to encourage the body to re-form a macronutrient’s chemical bonds after previously broken to release energy, using an artificial compound that would rebond to the nutrient’s blah blah blah. Ken had read over the science once but it wasn’t all that important to him.

From what he gathered, nearly 95% of his calorie intake could be converted to fat and stored, within or beyond his maintenance calories, without any negative effects on nutrient absorption or cellular energy production. There were still the risks involved in weight gain of course, but Ken didn’t plan on getting that big. Doing so was difficult anyway. The effects of their shakes weren’t permanent—the weight gain stopped when the shakes did, and rapid weight loss of all the pounds gained quickly ensued thereafter. Another common gripe among Phagia consumers.

Ken didn’t mind though, he rather preferred it. He’d fantasized for years about becoming super morbidly obese one day. But the shame and judgment that came along with it just wasn’t worth the life change to him. Now here was a company offering not just a faster way to gain, but temporary too? It just seemed too good to be true. It was nowhere near the ‘waking up a hundred pounds heavier overnight’ trope he loved to imagine, but it was good enough.

Ken gave the bottle a vigorous shake, as the instructions on the side recommended, then twisted off the cap. He took a cautious sip. It was okay, a pretty basic chocolate flavor if he was being honest, but perfectly fine tasting. He spent the next few minutes sipping the shake and putting the rest of them in the fridge. He had a month’s supply, if he limited himself to one a day. Besides the significant boost in calories there really wasn’t any benefit to having more than one, so he’d be sure they lasted as long as intended.