Chapter 1 - Brian’s Interview

Brian hadn't been this soaked under a light since his fourth vacation retreat. Adorned in a suit of navy was a befallen man, cursed with talent and responsibility as most writers do. Broad shoulders would shimmy, the guest couch creaking, the writer succumbing to ‘a few extra pounds’ gathered from his sedentary work life. Truly, he had to return to the artificial life that Hollywood dares to dream, in order to promote his book one more time. He hoped it would be the last time, having enjoyed the billions of funds received.

The large spotlights coming from the stage sets were aimed towards his direction, radiating slightly. You know the feeling when you just wake up from the flight, and your eyes have to adjust to the blaring, piercing light? That's approximately the amount of time he needed, before—

"—So, just to be clear, before we go live and all, you're alright with me asking these questions? I made sure to send them to your email prior." The sharp glasses of an astounding brunette had aimed the inquiry towards his direction. Professionalism was key, paired with poise and some touchups on some makeup that were being dabbed at the both of them.

"Yes! Yes, of course. I've already reviewed them."

"Good! Then, if you're all set, we can finally start the interview. There will be some back and forth, and we'll finally reach the flashcards."

Another younger college intern had gestured to interrupt the conversation for only a brief moment, not to interject, but to adjust. "Your mic is off a bit, do you mind if I uh." Her claw nails would gesture towards the love handle that overlapped on the waistband of his khakis. The roll possibly slid over the knob and was lucky to not have bent the cable too severely. "Let's try for the inner pocket instead. You don't mind wearing that jacket, do you? We can dial down the lights."

"Not to worry, miss, inner pocket should be fine." Brian would innocently enough open his jacket for the intern to slip the clip of the inner pocket, allowing a more-than-generous view of his grown moob that formed its own shelf, precipitating inside the button down shirt. "Done, thank you sir," she'd quickly make her exit backstage.

Tucking his jacket back over his arm, he returned his attention back to the hostess, who held much grace, lifting one leg over the other to prepare herself towards the camera. "We do have our teleprompters on hand—"

"—Very generous of you, but once more, I'm more than prepared for what's to come."

His body was not most prepared for the pressure of limelight media news broadcasts, but he was more aware that this story would have to occur one way or another. He played the words over and over his head. If he didn't get them out soon, who will?

He would patiently wait, coyly as the fingers would count down. Lights would beam down, cameras would aim their sights down, and a silent point of a finger would match the red recording. Brian was lucky that this wasn’t a live audience.

“Hello, I am Rosie Galdora with your 5 o’clock, and I am here to discuss Brian Mordeaux’s first book, ‘To Serve Gluttony.’ You’ve managed to hit the top best-selling charts so quickly. Truly, it’s an outstanding book.” The weight on his shoulders were relieved, constasting Rosie’s poise that only tightened.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it—“

“It’s an impeccable masterpiece, critically aclaimed. It’s a marvel that you’ve made this volume without much experience in writing yourself.”

“I would have to say I found my literary talents elsewhere.”

“Perhaps in your gaming and engineering background? I’d imagine you’d be posting research findings.”

“I wouldn’t want to spoil all my secrets, but being bathed in cost analysis and administrative work, the mind boggles with stress, and with the pressures of unremarkable mediocrity, I managed to thrust myself into the heated irons.”

“Always a poet. I couldn’t help but wonder about your chapters, I nearly felt that an anthology series couldn’t be so…vivid and accurate...”

Brian could help but feel time slow down at her words: ‘Vivid and accurate…’ Perhaps a time for him to confess his year’s behavior, the rituals he had to conduct to get to this very mo—


“Alas, your space opera was pristine, while your orc romance drove me to tears. You really know how to latch on the dreamimg world. Your fantasy has amassed a decent following in the thousands.”

His heart rate managed to slow back down to a calm, “I couldn’t help myself… to the delectables of Gygax, Tolkien, hell, we even have Warcraft and the cult classics of Galaxy Quest and Fifth Element… they were influential, but I managed to pave a path. We also have public domain to assist.”

“Yes, yes, yes, but with all that being said, let’s cut to why we’re all here. We understand you’re quite the enthusiast, but your work…There appears to be an addiction surrounding your collection. Sure, there’s love and the heroic triumph, but I must say, there seems to be ah…”

—Time for the Guiottine—

“…A grotesque amount…of taboo. Can you describe to us the nature of feedism for the folks who are watching?”

He had prepared this moment for far too long, the butter being laid on the slice of bread, soaking it.

“It’s my hope that those at home would be watching this with a sense of clarity. My work is not for the faint of heart, but for those who know well that they want to perceive a more indulgent way of life. My story involves instances of weight gain. Feedism is a method of foreplay, communion on the border of conflict. You have the person who desires to alter their weight in the form of gaining. This can be one person’s exploration with themselves and their departure from conformity, or we have the relationship of said gainer with one or more people. The gainer persists as a feedee, and can become a mutual with another fat admirer, or their partner—or partners— can assist as feeders to grow their partner’s bodies.”

“A peculiar taboo there, Brian; one that some would find repulsive, but it seems one look into the chapters changes all of that, right? You tend to beautify this….sexual disorder—“

“—we’ve had the desire for different bodies since the age of Mesopotamia. You can’t simply put a label on it.”

“I appreciate a man with a proper backbone to correct me when I’m wrong, but…to encourage...”

“Everything requires caution, BDSM for example. There’s only so much pain that can give a person pleasure, the whipping of flesh, before it becomes tender and numb. All desires have a limit, before it becomes harmful, and we make sure to temper our expectations and put safety precautions. Else we end up tearing our bodies down.”

“That’s the problem. You have the warning label, and yet, there have been a list of occurrences throughout the world. Your fanbase has taken your literary works to heart. They practice these ‘acts of feedism’ and continue to partake in extreme hedonism.”

She clicks a button on the monitor to three images.

“We have here xXTrist, a popular web streamer, also known as Sally Jenn when she’s off the gaming grind. She was on her way to become an ESports professional, and when the carple tunnel hit, she had plans to dedicate herself to Motion cap work. That is until she read your book and became a fully-fledged mukbanger with a nack for bingeing for suposed ‘fans.’ She managed to break her gaming chair in less than a month.

“Next, we have Shane Radston, football star quarterback who managed to get a full ride. Aspiring to become a 5 star michelin chef, he went into Gastronomy and the Culinary Arts. That ‘was’ the initial plan, until he bought your book. Shane Redstone quickly shifted his plans to gambling, investing, and surmassing the last of his funds to grow a small farming investment, leaving college with an associates degree. He took to working closely with the fraternity and sorority houses, but to commit to another type of…. Research in gastronomy. His criminal record includes sex trafficking, black market vending, and organ trafficking among several things. We’ve managed to get the latest news on his ‘farm’ in which he fattens up various victims in his compound.

“Then we have Lady Belinda Beaurigard, an overseas admirer of the book— need I say more? She can’t fit in her dresses anymore.”

Brian couldn’t help but giggle at these instances, but cleared his throat. “Two of these are a bit cliche, but what this Shane fellow does is absolutely terrible. I’ve only just heard these 3 cases, and yet, it’s a series of coincidences. For what?”

“Clearly, calling them coincidences would be an understatement. The remarkable speed of these events have only proven how effective your book is. You’ve become a HEAVY influence, and the safety bars are off. Your book has become a dangerous drug, leading a fat movement. May I continue with the Burger Queen cult? Or how about the Burning Gal Burstings? Men and women alike, cardiac arrest, turning into pigs, whales even, and then—dead! Or if they’re lucky, behind bars. They either die believing in your book, or they continue to influence others of your ‘teachings.’”

“If you’re trying to accuse me of being directly involved—“

“You ARE the cause of it. Gluttony has increased significantly, and each of them PRAISE your book religiously, so much so that they end up being buried with the book in their caskets. And that’s IF their asses can fit in a casket.”

“I’ll take your outburst as means of frustration. You’re unsure how to process the book, so you depend on fitness, body health and positivity for your way of life. People sometimes depend on society and media that has been popular, and things that don’t fit the natural order tend to appear foreign and dark. The unknown can be a scary place.. They depend on what’s ‘popular.’ Is this act of rebellion meant to be a replacement for a healthy way of living? No. But a delicious cookie, however addicting and saturated, shouldn’t cause the willpower to suddenly be destroyed. These are conscious people who are making the decision to perceive an impossible fantasy, and take it upon themselves to be free of obligatory constraint. Sure, people can work themsleves to the core, take supplements and drugs for a longer life. Fighting for that life, can be better, but art is not immortal. We have olympians who’ve lived short lives by coincidences. Fit people die in their beds by heart attacks, stress alone. We all live by entropy, attempting to make order out of chaos, but I refuse to believe that I’m the sole cause of all of this.”

“Your popularity has led you to an infany, Smut writers fail to defy you. Once they read the book, they’re on the path to obesity faster than a car accident.”

“And yet, you’re rail thin. How is it that you read the entire book and managed to not be influenced by it?”

“It’s not about me, Brian. This is about you, and your… sinful book. Clearly, you couldn’t escape your own sins. You’re practically drooping in that tight suit of yours. Did it fit 30 pounds ago?”

With a sigh, he lamented his next words carefully. “In order to learn about feedism, I committed to indulgence and excessive eating by a multitude of means. I never had the heart to ask someone else to commit to a change.”

*He saw the guilt come over her face, as she took in his honesty. Brian used it to smack the tennis ball back into her corner.* “Clearly, you were troubled by the rumors of a book you didn’t even bother to read. Tell me, do I direct my readers to binge until their stomach’s explode? Nothing in the book is meant to direct the reader. Dark themes do exist, and yes, in the absence of the book, there’s always been the existence of dark villains we love to sympathize with. For the best, and for the worst, there’s an audience for everything. In the case of gluttony, the only thing separating chastity and prosperity, is the reader. What I can wish for —“

“—what can you possibly wish for? For readers to be smarter?”

“It’s impossible. People are people. My wish is for people to treat books like food. Someone, a tour of deserts is not for everybody.”

“How dare you! You think I-I can’t handle a little dessert?”

“Clearly not, but your body is your choice, The mind is included. If you can’t handle some saucy words in a book, then you can always return it to the library, get a refund at the bookstore.”

“It’s not that simple, Brian. You’ve opened a can of worms. The dam has busted, and the waters continue to rise. You may not realize it, but the fat fenatics have continued to join your crusade on the health movements—“

“You’re being a bit excessive. If you’re worried about hitting your quota for healthy-living sponsors, then I should’t have been interviewed at all. Protein bars, salad reviews… I’ve been an anomaly on your radar, so you can attempt to fat shame me into submission. Yet, here I am… if you think a couple if donuts will scare you, then by all means, cower.”

“You really have no shame.”

“None. I live.”

“Well-we-uh….”

The silence was more than palpable, leaving her nose to wrinkle like a fitness instructor’s reintroduction to a sloppy cruise buffet. The smell overwhelmed her.

“If you want to accuse me of writing a delicious book, how about you read my first installation.” Brian took in the moment to plug the book. “You can find it on all platforms. Feel free to check out my hardcopy on my website. You can request a signature addition, while supplies last. Feel free to email me for further requests, as I will be making more…. Volumes? A second novel perhaps? We can only go forward from here. Rosie, it was an absolute pleasure—“ He continued to speak over her, clearly too nauseous to spit an opposing remark or rebuttal anymore the ringing in her ear came, looking back at the book’s satin cover, the leatherbound imprints… The ringing would stop at his patient eyes. She returned, caughing up something kind, something quick to escape them. “T.. Thank you… and for those… that want to…. I-I mean… feel free to check out the interview on the website and for more interviews, I’m Rosie, and this is the 5’oclock.”

The lights would go off, the cameras moving away, allowing the blinding lights to move away. He was less exposed, more… invigorated. “That went rather well.”

“Shut the fuck up, fatso… I’m done…. I hope you’re happy.”

He left her with the final word. Brian had a feeling she needed more confidence in her life, and by the looks of the coffee table and the absence of a book, She needed to use that to cement the chip on her shoulder. Of course, she didn’t know she had the book in her possession, especially when she arrived at her changing room. The only one that had to remind her of her cluchings was Stella, her secretary, confidant in the media industry. Stella had seen less than stellar days as of late, overwhelmed with handling the nitty-gritty of the constant phone calls and back dealings. Producers, contracts, anything interesting would be filtered and served on a platter at Sofia’s request, if not added to a nervous bundle of hair, making her akin to a nervous witch failing trying to study for an exam. Brian’s possessive book had added her as yet another victim, which only gifted her a sense of clarity and calm, along with control. Sofia wouldn’t bat an eye at Stella’s jitters, leaving the poor woman plagued by paperwork. But seeing her secretary so calm and collected, the bundle of work had been cleaned and completed, Rosie felt inferior to her secretary’s drive, and for the past several months, she had slowly switched from becoming master over her secretary, to a servant for something far more sinister. Sophia became more dependent on Stella, the broad shoulders looming over just in time to offer yet another interview, and another, and another… eventually, Stella managed to slip the booking of this very interview under Sophia’s nose. Why refuse? Stella was a good luck charm after all.

Truly, the months had caused Sophia to contrast Stella further and further. Stella walked over slowly, gliding a sharp set of nails, hovering over Sophia’s shoulder. “Seems you’re a bit stressed out there, dear… didn’t you get what you asked for?” Her voice sounded teasing, alluring. Yet, Sophia wouldn’t be dragged in so easily this time. “All those meetings have been spot on. We’ve encountered celebrity after celebrity… and they’ve only increased our ratings by 200 percent. And now… you had the audacity to bring the author of that fetish novel to my stage, m-m-MY stage…he was… disgusting!” Sophia was more disgusted at the difficulty it took to say those words. Stella took the bait, making sure to work on Sophia’s shoulders for a massage. “Yes, but isn’t he dreamy? You got to give it to him, he definitely has some moxi, along with a big set of balls packed in there to face you. Maybe he’s right after all. He agreed with you after all, about people having… choices… to decide what’s right for them… about how…” Stella leaned her muffin top on over to the back of Sophia’s head, the poor hostess too entranced by the deep tissue massage to refuse the mound that was tightly packed in Stella’s blouse, the pencil skirt waistband was lowered to allow the skin some air to tingle her.

“Surely, he’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but if I was a good reporter, I would probably…” Stella slowed her hands, away, and propped Sophia’s head upright. She took some lotion, making sure to massage it into one of Sophia’s hands, but ever so often, she made sure to inch it closer to the stolen tome. Both ladies thought the same thing, and while one was afraid to say the words, the other relished in the antici—

“Read it…. And find out.”