Bojack fumbled with his keys in the lock, four bags of burgers in his other hand. He manages to unlock it and turns the knob, pushing the door open with his gut. Walking into his kitchen with a few wheezes, he passed the counter with the last order of calorific burgers remnants in a small heap of greasy wrappers. He threw the bags onto the table and was just about to take the first hot mass out when his phone started ringing. Cursing, he answered the call as he began to eat.
"Hey, lardass! What the hell is going on?" The voice on the other end screeched.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking. What do you mean, what the hell is going on? Did something happen?" Bojack replied with an eye roll.
"You appear to be slowly inflating, that's what's happening! You gained 150 pounds in 3 months, I can literally SEE you get fatter on your instagram!"
"Hey, I gained a bit of weight, but I can work it off if a role needs me thinner!"
"Bojack, unless you lose the mass of a small child tomorrow I'm not sure what roles I can even get you! Maybe some leering reality show, but no producer worth a damn wants their actor to look like a marshmallow in the microwave!"
"Alright, alright, I get it! I'll try and lose some weight..." The anxiety and stress of the impending exercise struck through him, and he stuffed more of the burger in his mouth, fuzzy tingling running through him. Eating was his main source of joy nowadays, every bite shooting electric bliss down his pleasure centers. Somedays he spent hours just eating, chasing the high of delicious tastes before running into his stomach's capacity like a wall, though even now the red stretching of his distended stomach was starting to take on the tinge of a pleasing pain.
"My god, are you eating right now?"
"No! I mean yes! Look, I just got lunch!"
"Which lunch are you on, your third?"
"Ha ha, no. This is my first, thank you!"
"And I'm sure, based on the number of bags you seem to be carrying in these paparazzi photos, that that's enough food for five lunches. Look, either you lose weight or I give up. You have to choose what you actually WANT to do, acting or eating!" With a click the line went dead, and Bojack was left with his body and his burgers.
He sighed and tried to take off his sweater, tight fabric around his big moobs forcing sweating exertion from the simple act of disrobing. Sitting there in only his pants, he bit into his next burger and felt the tinge of bliss. Everything was so difficult nowadays: He struggled to get out of bed, he was winded just walking up stairs, he was constantly wet from sweat; Why wouldn't he be eating more? Eating is great, eating makes him happy! He actually wanted to eat. He wished there was a way to both eat and make money, maybe a way of leveraging his screen presence to actually enjoy himself for once.

---

A new burger joint has opened up near Bojacks home, will he be able to fight his new addiction?

 FloppaFive Gave me the idea and offered to write a short story for each part.