Shaken

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.

Chapter 2

The sharp blare of Ken’s alarm startled him awake. His hand shot out, fumbling for the phone on his nightstand until the noise finally stopped. Propping himself on an elbow in bed, he rubbed his eyes groggily and squinted at the screen. 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled, flopping back into the pillows. Why in the world had he set an alarm for the weekend?

Then it hit him. The shakes. He’d wanted to get an early start on eating today.

Suddenly wide awake, Ken threw the covers off and jumped out of bed. He was going to kick his experiment into full gear, and if he was serious about making the most of it, he’d need every hour. He darted into the bathroom and slid the scale out from under the sink. He stepped on, the familiar digital beep sounding as the number flashed on the screen: 178 pounds.

Ken blinked at it, expression blank. Then he slapped his forehead in frustration—he’d forgotten to weigh himself yesterday! He had no idea if he was any heavier than before the shake, pizza, wings, and cinnamon twists he’d demolished last night. Adding it up, that meal alone had to be over 4500 calories, and with the shake, he was looking at more than 8000. By the rough math in his head, he should have gained at least two pounds. But without yesterday’s baseline, there was no way to tell if the shake had actually worked. 

He sighed, stepping off the scale and catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. No noticeable changes—at least, nothing he could see. Ken stared for a moment longer, flexing his stomach in and out, but there was no difference to speak of. "No matter," he thought. He’d give it another day. Tomorrow, he’d have a clearer picture of what these shakes could do.

Ken stripped out of his boxers and hopped into the shower, running through his plan for the day. He’d struggled to finish everything he ate last night, it was a massive lunch that had inevitably turned into dinner. But if he could start early, he could definitely eat more—and today, with the weekend wide open, there’d be nothing standing in his way.

After his shower, Ken brushed his teeth and quickly got dressed, already thinking ahead to breakfast. He grabbed his phone and opened a food delivery app, scrolling through the options. He wasn’t just looking for something tasty—he needed something caloric. Bacon was tempting, but he opted for sausage since it packed more calories. He added pancakes, eggs, and a bottle of fruit juice, then swapped out the mixed fruit for hash browns. In the order notes, he requested extra butter and syrup. By his rough estimate, that would put him somewhere around 1800 calories—a good start for the day.

But first, the shake.

Ken made his way downstairs to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grinning at the neatly lined-up bottles. They gleamed under the refrigerator lights, promising the weight gain he craved. Even if the shakes didn’t work as advertised, they were still loaded with calories. At the very least, he’d gain something from this little experiment.

It was the first time he had ever put real effort into gaining, aside from the occasional stuffing or water bloat. He felt somewhat elated at the idea of getting to pig out properly, even if it was only temporary. He chose a strawberry shake from the fridge and began to drink it. He wanted to down the whole thing at once, but it was cold and thick and he had to stop halfway through. He sipped the rest as he waited for his breakfast to arrive.

Thirty minutes later, a soft knock sounded at the door. He went over to open it, finding a white plastic bag waiting on his doorstep. The delivery driver was already pulling away as he carried the food inside, settling on the couch with his meal. TV on, he quickly buttered his pancakes and drenched everything in syrup.

Watching an adult animated series, he tucked into his breakfast, first covering it with multiple pads of butter and drowning it all in maple syrup. After the shake, he wasn’t really hungry, but the food was still appetizing enough to keep him going. Bite after bite disappeared as he absentmindedly watched his show, focusing more on the sensation of fullness growing in his stomach. Before long, the plate was clean.

Ken leaned back, feeling comfortably stuffed but not as bloated as last night. He took a sip of his juice, scrolling through the restaurant’s website on his phone to calculate the calorie count: 1810.

“Good enough,” he thought, his goal for the day set at 10,000 calories. With the shake, he was already halfway there, and it wasn’t even noon.

His eyelids grew heavy, the combination of the early wake-up and the warm, full feeling in his stomach lulling him into a comfortable haze. He smiled to himself, feeling the food coma set in. If every day was this easy, his goal weight would be within reach before he knew it. Gaining had never felt so simple.

Chapter 3

A few hours after Ken’s breakfast stuffing, he was sprawled out on the couch, lazily flipping through TV channels. His stomach still felt heavy from the pancakes and shake, and his eyelids drooped again. He knew he needed to get started on lunch, but he felt lethargic and didn’t want to move from the couch. Just as he was considering ordering in again, a sharp knock on the door snapped him out of his daze.

“Ken! It’s me!” Marie’s familiar voice called from outside.

Groaning, he forced himself up from the couch, still groggy. Marie, his next-door neighbor and long-time family friend, often dropped by unannounced, usually to borrow something or chat about her latest travel plans with her fiancé, Darren. She was a few years older than Ken, with a natural elegance that made her seem effortlessly put-together at all times. They both lived in brownstones on a quiet street in the Upper West Side—luxury that Ken could afford thanks to his parents' real estate fortune. Ken, on the other hand, dabbled in consulting for start-ups, following in his father’s entrepreneurial footsteps but with a bit less drive. Marie came from money too, managing a successful art gallery that catered to high-profile clients. Darren was some kind of big-shot in the tech world, although Ken often viewed him as a bit of an opportunist, clinging to Marie and the status of her family.

Ken dragged himself to the door and opened it, squinting against the afternoon light. There stood Marie, as stylish as ever in a silk blouse and jeans, her auburn hair swept up into a neat bun. She looked at him in surprise.

“Did I wake you up?” she asked, her brows raising in amusement. “It’s like…almost 2 p.m.”

Ken scratched his head sheepishly, feeling a little self-conscious. He wasn’t exactly looking his best—his T-shirt was rumpled, his hair a mess, and his eyes were still half-closed from sleep. “Uh, no, I was just uh, napping a bit,” he mumbled, trying not to sound like he’d just rolled out of bed. He could still feel the weight of the food sitting in his stomach, reminding him of his overindulgence from earlier.

Marie tilted her head slightly, looking amused but not pushing it. “Well, I was in the middle of making this lemon pasta dish, and I realized I’m out of garlic. Do you have any?”

Ken blinked, his mind flickering to his kitchen, which was currently more like a storage space for Phagia shakes than anything resembling ingredients. He never really cooked. “Garlic? Uh, let me check.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, rifling through his pantry as he wondered where garlic even went. There was a chance he might have some left over from a meal kit or something, though he already knew the answer. “No luck,” he called back, stepping into the living room again.

Marie sighed dramatically. “Figures. I’ll just have to make something else then.” She tapped her chin, thinking for a second. “Actually, you wanna grab lunch instead? There’s this new gourmet burger place a few blocks away, we could check it out.”

Ken hesitated for a moment, his belly still satiated from breakfast, but then his eyes lit up. A free lunch—courtesy of Marie—meant another opportunity to rack up the calories. He could already imagine the possibilities. A burger joint meant big, juicy patties loaded with toppings, and who knew what else?

“Sure, why not?” he said, trying to sound casual. “I could eat.”

Marie smiled brightly. “Perfect! Let me grab my bag and we’ll head out.”

Ten minutes later, they were walking down the sunlit streets toward the restaurant. When they arrived, Ken’s excitement peaked. The place had a modern, industrial vibe with black leather booths and sleek metal tables. The menu was even more promising than he’d hoped: burgers stacked high with everything from bacon to onion rings to avocado, thick-cut fries, loaded potato skins, and creamy milkshakes.

They were seated quickly, and Marie ordered a simple salad with grilled chicken. Ken, on the other hand, had no intention of holding back. When the server turned to him, he ordered with barely concealed excitement.

“I’ll have the double smash burger with extra cheese, bacon, and onion rings on top,” Ken said, scanning the menu further. “And can I add a side of loaded fries? Oh, and the mac and cheese too—extra creamy, right?” He looked up at the server expectantly. “And I’ll take a peanut butter milkshake. Large.”

Marie raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised at the large volume of food he’d ordered. “Ken, that’s a feast,” she said with a laugh.

Ken shrugged. “I’ve got a big appetite today.” He tried to play it off casually, but inside, he felt a thrill at the thought of stuffing himself again. The feeling of fullness from breakfast had since faded, and he was looking forward to pushing his limits again.

When the food arrived, Ken’s eyes widened in delight. The burger was massive, the two patties dripping with melted cheese, crispy bacon, and golden onion rings stacked high between a toasted brioche bun. The loaded fries were piled with gooey cheese, bacon bits, and sour cream, and the mac and cheese was a bubbling, golden mess.

Ken dug in, taking a huge bite of the burger. It was delicious—juicy and savory, with the onion rings adding a satisfying crunch. He barely paused between bites, devouring the burger as his stomach began to stretch, the familiar pressure building inside him. He alternated between bites of the burger and forkfuls of mac and cheese, the rich, creamy pasta going down effortlessly. The loaded fries were just as decadent, each mouthful packed with flavor.

Marie watched him with a mix of amusement and disbelief, nibbling at her salad. “Ken, I think you’ve officially out-ordered Darren. And he can eat like a linebacker.”

Ken smiled, wiping his mouth with a napkin between bites. “What can I say? This place is good.”

By the time he finished, he was stuffed to the brim, his belly pressing against the waistband of his jeans. He leaned back in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust his belt. The peanut butter milkshake was topped with whipped cream, thick and rich enough to require a spoon. It served as the final push, its creamy sweetness making him feel almost drowsy with satisfaction.

Marie paid the bill, and they walked back to their brownstones, Ken moving slower than usual, his belly heavy and full. Each step felt deliberate, his body processing the sheer amount of food he’d just consumed. But it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was exactly what he wanted.

When they reached their building, Marie waved with a smile. “Thanks for joining me, Ken. I’ll see you around!”

Ken gave her a small nod, too full to say much. “Yeah, thanks. That was great.”

As he walked inside his apartment, he placed a hand on his stomach, feeling the tightness beneath his shirt. He was stuffed, completely and utterly full, but there was a sense of satisfaction in it. He’d managed to pack in thousands of calories in just a few hours, and the day wasn’t even over yet.

Chapter 4

Ken awoke the next morning with the dim light of dawn filtering through the blinds, casting soft streaks across his bedroom. He blinked a few times, still groggy, and shifted beneath the covers, feeling an unusual weight pressing down on his body. The memory of last night’s indulgence came rushing back—after lunch with Marie, he hadn’t stopped. For dinner, he’d ordered from a BBQ place that specialized in large portions. He’d had a pulled pork sandwich, a rack of ribs, cornbread slathered in butter, and baked beans with extra bacon. He remembered forcing the last few bites down, determined to blow past his 10,000-calorie goal before the day was done.

Now, as he lay in bed, the heaviness in his stomach from the previous night was still there, but it felt different, more than just a bloated fullness. Something was… off. He could feel it in the way his body settled into the mattress, as if there was more of him than before. With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, Ken pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He instinctively tugged at his T-shirt, feeling it pull a little tighter than he remembered.

Frowning, Ken stood up, feeling a slight heaviness in his steps, and made his way to the bathroom. He flipped on the light and immediately caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His eyes widened. His face looked fuller, subtly softer around the cheeks and jawline, and his belly… well, it wasn’t a massive change, but there was definitely something different about it. It curved out just slightly, pressing against the fabric of his shirt, a barely-there roundness that hadn’t been so pronounced yesterday.

Heart racing, Ken yanked his T-shirt up, exposing his midsection. His stomach wasn’t exactly bloated—it had a fullness to it, yes, but it was different from the usual post-stuffing puffiness. It felt solid, as if his body had started to shift the mass of food and shakes into something more permanent. He ran a hand over his stomach, feeling the new slight curve that hadn't been there yesterday.

“What the hell…” he muttered to himself.

Still half in disbelief, Ken turned to the scale tucked under the sink and pulled it out. He stepped on, holding his breath as the numbers flashed before settling on the final weight.

184 pounds.

Six pounds heavier than the day before.

His jaw dropped. That couldn’t be right. He did the math in his head, recalling the caloric intake from yesterday. Sure, he’d packed in over 10,000 calories, but by his calculations, he should’ve gained maybe three pounds, at most. But six? That didn’t add up.

Ken stepped off the scale, shaking his head. He had to be mistaken. He stepped back on, watching as the numbers flashed again, but they remained the same: 184.

A jolt of excitement shot through him, mingling with disbelief and arousal. The shakes… the shakes had worked! More than worked, actually—they had accelerated the process. Ken turned to the mirror again, looking at his body with fresh eyes. His stomach, though still modest in its growth, had a noticeable change in shape. His T-shirt, which had always fit him loosely, now clung to his sides, showing the beginnings of a small belly that wasn’t there yesterday.

He ran a hand over his middle again, fascinated. It felt like progress, like the fantasies he’d had for years were finally coming to life.

But it was subtle enough that no one would notice just yet. To the outside world, Ken still looked like himself, maybe just a little fuller around the middle. There was no dramatic change—he wasn’t suddenly sporting a massive gut or anything—but he could feel it. The weight. The shift. His body was responding to the calories he’d consumed, faster than he could have ever imagined.

Ken couldn’t help but smile. If this was the result after just two days, what would happen after a week? A month? The thought thrilled him.

Still, he reminded himself to stay cautious. The changes were subtle for now, but if the shakes kept working this way, people might start to notice soon. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it was something he’d have to be careful about.

“Guess we’ll see where this goes,” he muttered with a smirk.

Chapter 5

Ken leaned back in his office chair, staring blankly at his computer screen. His “workday” had been more of an afterthought lately, and this slow Monday was no different. Officially, he was supposed to be preparing for a meeting that afternoon, but all he could think about was the familiar tightness in his stomach. The last bite of the snack cake he’d just forced down sat heavy in his gut, and he let out a quiet groan. Lunch had been only an hour ago, yet here he was, unwrapping his third candy bar of the afternoon, forcing himself to eat despite the lingering fullness from his midday indulgence.

He crumpled the wrapper and tossed it onto the desk, glancing around the spacious office as he took a bite. It was one of the perks of working out of one of the buildings his parents owned. He didn’t technically need to be here—his consultation business was more of a pet project, something to give him structure, not a necessity. Still, it provided the illusion of productivity, which he appreciated when he wasn’t slacking off or distracted by his growing obsession.

Ken shifted in his chair, feeling the snug waistband of his pants press into his stomach. His hand instinctively wandered to his belly, fingers tracing the subtle curve that had grown more pronounced over the past week. He couldn’t stop touching it, feeling the soft new layer that had accumulated, practically overnight. Every time he felt the gentle swell of his stomach, it sent a thrill through him. His once-flat midsection was soft now, heavier, a constant reminder of his success.

He smiled to himself as he took another bite of the candy bar, chewing slowly, savoring the sweetness. His stomach groaned in mild protest, but he ignored it. The past week had been a whirlwind of overindulgence—massive meals, late-night stuffings, heavy pastas, pizza, fried food. He’d stuffed himself constantly, never saying no to an extra side or dessert. And as always, the shakes. He couldn’t forget about those. The shakes had been the catalyst, the game-changer. He was certain that without them, he wouldn’t be growing at this rate. The rapid gain had started to feel almost addictive, this feeling of quasi-control and power over his body. The more he ate, the faster he grew, and the more he wanted to push himself further.

When he’d stepped on the scale that morning, the number staring back at him had made his eyes widen: 196 pounds. Eighteen pounds in a week. It was unbelievable. His mind had swirled with disbelief and exhilaration. The shakes were working better than anything he’d ever dreamed of.

But along with the excitement, there was the undeniable heaviness in his body. Every meal now left him feeling stuffed to the point of discomfort, his stomach pushing against the waistband of his pants, his belly visibly rounding out. He had already loosened his belt that morning, but by the time he finished lunch today, even that felt restrictive. The weight was piling on so fast, and he loved it. He’d always fantasized about growing, but now that it was happening, it was even better than he had imagined. And the best part? He wasn’t done. He knew he wasn’t done.

As he sat there, his hand idly fondling the soft roll of his belly, he found himself wondering just how far he could go. How much more could he gain? The idea of testing the limits excited him. Maybe he could hit 200 pounds by tomorrow. The day after? Ken pushed the thought away, smirking. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself—but then again, the idea of surpassing his goals had become thrilling. He was already growing faster than any of his previous fantasies could’ve prepared him for. Why stop now?

Ken groaned and leaned back, his hand pressing against the taut skin of his belly. It felt huge, even though the changes were still subtle. His shirts were tighter, his pants fit differently, and he found himself constantly aware of the extra weight hanging off him. It was thrilling, even if it made sitting at his desk uncomfortable. He adjusted himself again, feeling the waistband of his pants dig in, and let out a slow breath.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft buzz of his office phone. His secretary’s voice came through the intercom, breaking the trance.

“Mr. Carter, your next appointment is on their way up.”

Ken blinked, shaking off the fog of his food-induced daze. He glanced at the time. It was later than he thought. He straightened up in his chair, wincing as his full stomach shifted with him.

“Thanks, Julie,” he replied, trying to sound composed despite the tightness in his voice.

He tossed the various empty wrappers into the trash and stood, his belly pushing against his shirt as he adjusted his belt one more time. The fullness made it hard to move smoothly, but he couldn’t help but smile. He was close, closer than he’d ever been to hitting a major milestone. Just a few more pounds, and he’d cross the 200-pound mark. The thought sent a rush of excitement through him, and he patted his belly one last time before heading out to meet his next client.

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