(This story contains male weight gain.)
Sweet Dreams always had an interesting assortment of candy. Limited-time and regional releases, oddities and obscurities, and comically giant candy that seemed to make a better conversation starter than treat. But in all of his time visited Sweet Dreams, Jake had never seen anything quite like the bar of chocolate he held in his hands that afternoon.
“Instant Dad Bod” the label read. Below the title was a cartoon close-up shot of a man with his shirt lifted to expose a rotund abdomen. Jake looked at the impressively-large chocolate bar with raised eyelids as he tried to make sense of the branding. He was used to candy companies trying to dissociate their product from the effect it might have on one’s midsection, not embracing or flaunting it.
Trying to learn more, Jake looked more closely at the small text on the bottom of the bar. It simply said “decadent milk chocolate.” He turned the package over, but only found a continuation of the artwork on the front. No nutritional information, no ingredients list, not even a mention of the company that made the bar. He thought such information might be on the box the bars came in, but they were instead stored in a generic cardboard container.
Still, Jake was curious enough to want to try it. Taking four bars from the box, he brought them up to the counter.
“Hello,” the clerk said as she saw him approaching. She had a sunny disposition about her, her cheeks glowing underneath the lights of the shop. However, as she looked down at Jake’s haul, the smile on her face faded a bit. “Just these?” she asked, still using her friendly customer service voice.
“Yep.”
“Alright,” she said, before ducking below the desk and audibly rummaging about. When she emerged once again, she had a clipboard in hand. “I’m just going to need you to print your name and sign this, acknowledging that you have been informed that you should not eat more than one of these Instant Dad Bod bars in a 24 hour period, and you waive all responsibility for what happens if you do.”
“Wha-- why?”
“It’s a directive from the manufacturer, sir. We can't sell this bar unless anyone who buys it signs this waiver.”
“No, I mean, what happens if I eat more than one bar?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, sir,” she said before pushing the form closer to Jake. Reluctantly, he printed his name on the form and signed it. “Thank you,” she said, before lifting the form to rip off the yellow copy below it. After scanning the bars and saying, “$5.60,” she stuck them and the copy of the form into a bag and rung Jake up. “Enjoy,” she said, regaining some of her enthusiasm. As Jake turned to leave, she said, “Oh, and if you do eat more than one bar in 24 hours, come back and let me know. I’m dying to know what happens.”
---
Jake unlocked the door to his apartment and kicked his shoes off at the entrance. After dropping the bag with his chocolate bars off in the kitchen, he went to his bedroom and took off his pants, tossing them in the hamper. His socks soon followed. Once he was down to a t-shirt and his underwear, he walked back into the kitchen, taking long steps with his lean legs as he pondered what to make for dinner.
Looking through his cabinets, Jake pulled the side of his lips inward in frustration as nothing stood out to him. With his regular food leaving him so cold, his mind turned to the chocolate, as did his gaze soon after. “Instant Dad Bod.” It was a humorous concept, but surely a mere bar of chocolate couldn't appreciably change the shape of his body, right?
No, that was silly. But Jake was curious to know how the chocolate tasted. Closing the cabinet, he walked over to the table and took a bar out of the bag. Upon opening it, he beheld the flat bottom of a bar of milk chocolate. Turning it over didn't reveal any perforations like he would have expected for a bar of chocolate than size. Then again, Jake thought, a company that was selling a bar called “Instant Dad Bod” probably wasn't expecting its customers to break a chocolate bar into pieces to share or save some.
