Chapter 5 - The high castes
The district council hall stood at the center of the city, a heavy stone building designed less for beauty and more for permanence. Its doors were wide, its corridors broad, its furniture reinforced—everything built with the same quiet understanding that power, in Lardia, had weight.
Augustus arrived carried in a padded transport chair, guided by two attendants who moved with practiced ease. In the political and government buildings it was forbidden for political and rulers to walk.
Inside, the hall was already full.
Men of different ranks gathered in clusters, their bodies telling their status before they even spoke. Some were large in the way Augustus was—broad, heavy, clearly rising. Others were bigger still, their size making movement slow and deliberate, their presence commanding space without effort.
And then there were those above.
At the far end of the chamber, seated on reinforced platforms rather than standard chairs, were the regidores.
Augustus noticed him immediately. The man was enormous.
Easily over 650 pounds, his body spread across a custom seat that seemed built entirely around him. His stomach rested heavily outward, his arms thick and still, his neck almost blending into his shoulders. He did not move unless necessary—and when he did, several attendants adjusted around him, ensuring he never had to strain.
He was not just large. He was extremely obese. His extremely huge amounts of fat defined all his body. Even it seemed it was tiring for him to pronounce a single word.
Augustus watched him longer than he intended to. He really liked him, his enormous chubby cheeks, double chin, the fat stored in his forearms, his fat fingers… Everything on him was obese to the maximum. Augustus could only think about how much that young man must eat to keep that body. He was so sexy.
The man spoke at one point, his voice calm, measured. Others listened without interruption. Decisions seemed to orbit around him.
Augustus adjusted slightly in his seat, aware of his own body, his own weight—substantial, respected… but still not at that level.
Not yet.
Around him, the council continued. There were other figures too: mid-ranking officials with controlled physiques, advisors who hovered between lean efficiency and strategic weight gain, younger heirs like himself, each at different stages of their progression. But any of them was less than 300 pounds, that was the minimum weight to enter those kinds of buildings.
Some looked at Augustus with interest. Others with calculation.
He belonged there now—and Augustus plans’ were not to keep his current size. He wanted more.
—
Meanwhile, in the kitchens of the residence, Luke moved very differently.
There were no observers here. No expectations—at least, not openly. Only opportunity. The kitchens were never empty of food. Even between meals, there were trays left aside, ingredients prepared, dishes half-finished or cooling. It was excess by design. And Luke had learned the patterns.
He knew when the staff changed shifts. When attention drifted. When he could slip in unnoticed.
At first, he had taken small amounts. Now… not anymore. He ate quickly, standing at the edge of preparation tables, barely pausing between bites. Bread, meat, sweets—whatever he could reach. There was a tension in it, a quiet urgency. He knew it was risky. If he was caught, there would be consequences. But that almost made it worse. Or better. He wasn’t just eating because Augustus told him to anymore. He wanted it.
His body, still adjusting, still changing, responded with a constant pull. Hunger that didn’t quite fade, even after eating. A heaviness that had become familiar instead of uncomfortable.
That afternoon, he had gone too far. He didn’t notice at first. Too focused, too absorbed in the act, in the rhythm of taking and eating, taking and eating. Burger after burger, cake after cake… the amounts he was secretly eating were approaching to Augustus ones. Even we could say Luke had already become bigger than his cousin Brian. A good belly had shaped and his face looked a lot chubbier.
Then, a voice behind him broke it.
“Careful.”
Luke froze. Slowly, he turned.
At the entrance of the kitchen stood a young man, leaning slightly against the doorframe as if he had been there for a while. He was not as large as Augustus—but he was far from small.
His weight was carried differently. Around 300 pounds, but distributed low, through wide hips and thick, heavy legs that gave him a grounded, almost immovable stance. His upper body was softer, less imposing, but his lower half anchored him in place. His posture was relaxed, but there was control in it. He had been watching. Luke said nothing.
The young man stepped forward, unhurried.
“You’re not very subtle,” he added, glancing briefly at the food, then back at Luke. There was no anger in his tone. Just observation.
“You must be the one he brought in.”
Luke’s expression shifted slightly.
The man smiled, faintly. “I’m Soren,” he said. “Augustus’s brother.”
And just like that, everything Luke had been doing in secret no longer felt hidden at all.
👉 Chapter 4
