Subject E

Chapter 1 - Journal of a Modern Prometheus: Volume I

Entry 1: The Genesis of a Theorem

The human body is a cathedral of exquisite, inefficient design. We are not engines of pure logic but rather a palimpsest of evolutionary compromises, each system layered over another in a precarious, beautiful mess. For all my years in the silent, humming sanctuaries of endocrinology and metabolic research, I have studied these flaws, these vulnerabilities. I have charted the secret pathways of hormones, those invisible conductors of the corporeal orchestra. I have mapped the silent, expansive geography of adipose tissue, our most maligned and misunderstood organ.

And in doing so, a question began to burn in me, a pure, theoretical fire that would not be quenched by the tepid waters of conventional science. Not “how” to reduce, to restrict, to carve away—the banal obsession of our age—but its absolute inverse. What are the upper limits of human storage? If the body is a vessel, what is its maximum capacity? Not through the slow accretion of years and indulgence, but through a deliberate, calculated, and violent acceleration of the very processes that define our material existence.

This is not a pursuit of health. It is a pursuit of knowledge. A theorem of mass.
The justification was deceptively simple: medicine has long mapped the pathologies of wasting, of starvation, of atrophy. But the inverse frontier remained untouched. How much mass can a human body acquire before its own infrastructure collapses? Could such data illuminate the true limits of organ perfusion, of skeletal load-bearing, of cardiopulmonary tolerance?
By deliberately accelerating adipose hypertrophy and hyperplasia, we could quantify thresholds that traditional medicine only guesses at—thresholds that pharmaceutical development, food science, and even military research quietly hunger to know. The rationale was clinical, mathematical. To chart the breaking point was to weaponize biology itself, a prize so valuable our benefactors would ignore the ethical wreckage required to obtain it.
I seek to design the perfect protocol for maximal adipose tissue hyperplasia and hypertrophy in the shortest possible time frame. To push past the body's shrieking homeostatic alarms, to silence its desperate pleas for equilibrium, and to force it to build, to store, to “become”.

The foundation must be tripartite, a trinity of physiological coercion:
1. The Fuel: A hypercaloric torrent of such magnitude and specificity that the body has no choice but to store it.
2. The Directive: A hormonal cocktail to command the body into a state of perpetual, ravenous acquisition—a lipogenic frenzy with all escape routes blocked.
3. The Will: The subversion of the subject's own neurology, ensuring not just compliance, but a positive, driven partnership in her own transformation.

The subject is ideal. A young woman, let us call her Subject E, for Expansion. Early twenties. A baseline BMI of approximately 18.5—a slender sapling, ripe for the application of immense pressure. Euthyroid. No metabolic disorders. A clean slate. But more importantly, her psychological profile indicates high motivation and a remarkable capacity for positive reinforcement. She does not see this as a trial, but as a vocation. A calling. This is paramount. The mind is the most powerful endocrine organ of all.

I have explained the purely hypothetical nature of this exercise. She understands the goal is to understand the limits of lipid storage capacity. She signed the waivers, her eyes alight not with fear, but with a thrilling, terrifying curiosity. We are co-conspirators in this act of creation.
The waivers were masterpieces of legal obfuscation, drafted not by scientists but by attorneys with long-standing ties to the contributors. Nowhere did the documents describe the scale of what was to come; instead, they spoke in softened terms of “nutritional interventions,” “controlled metabolic challenges,” and “theoretical models of adaptive physiology.”
Subject E was told that her participation might involve “mild discomfort,” carefully calibrated euphemisms that concealed the certainty of organ failure. She signed readily, never realizing that our funding—channeled discreetly through research arms of multinational food conglomerates and pharmaceutical subsidiaries—demanded absolute compliance.
When her curiosity wavered, we were instructed to redirect her with small lies, framed as scientific reassurances. The truth was immaterial; the only metric of success was adherence to protocol.
The protocol is drafted. It is a thing of terrible, precise beauty.