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The American Feast In 2017, 19-year-old Luca Moretti arrived in the United States from Florence, Italy, to study engineering at a smaller state university. At 5’9” and 150 pounds, Luca was a lean young man, used to the Mediterranean diet of his homeland—fresh pasta, olive oil, grilled fish, and small portions. He’d never been to the U.S. before, and the sprawling campus, lively student culture, and endless food options were a thrilling shock. Luca, with his dark curls and quick smile, was eager to dive into college life. The dining hall was a revelation. The all-you-can-eat setup offered burgers, fries, pizza, and towering stacks of pancakes—foods Luca had only seen in movies. In Italy, meals were modest and balanced, but here, he could pile his plate high and go back for more. His first semester, Luca indulged, eating 3,000 calories a day—double his usual intake. By spring, he was 190 pounds, his slim frame softening with a small belly. He loved the freedom, joining friends for

Belil The Great! was buzzing with excitement, her heart racing like the engine of the stolen car she sat in. "Oh, my gawd, Tabby! This is gonna be so sick!" she exclaimed, her voice lilting with a distinct Hispanic accent. "We're gonna blow these mierda-eating terrorists outta the water, no?" Her good friend, the equally feisty Tabby Yompu, gave her a toothy grin and nodded in agreement. "You betcha, chica!" she said, her own accent thick and full of sass. "Let's show 'em what a couple of badass chicas can do!" The Great Forest Race was in full swing, and the air was thick with the smell of burning rubber and gasoline. The sun painted the tops of the towering trees in gold, casting deep, mysterious shadows over the twisting dirt track. The stolen car they were in, a sleek and powerful beast, roared to life as they revved the engine. Vayla Ballyhoo, Belil's taller, more nonchalant cousin, leaned over from the backseat. "You guys remember the plan?" she asked, her New York City accent cutting through the noise. "Oh, please," scoffed Belil. "You know we got this. We're gonna win this race and save the world, all in a day's work." Vayla smirked. "Yeah, because we're totally professional drivers and not just a bunch of locas with a stolen car." But before they could even get into the swing of the race, chaos erupted. The sound of explosions and the screams of panicking racers filled the air as the first of the terrorists made their moves. Belil's eyes went wide as she saw a car flip over, the driver hanging out the window, desperately trying to hold on. "Por dios!" she shouted, flooring the gas pedal. The car shot forward, sending dust and dirt flying in their wake. They dodged and weaved through the chaos, each explosion getting closer and closer. And then, without warning, Vayla was snatched from the car by a burly, masked figure. "Vaya con dios, Vayla!" Belil yelled, as the car door slammed shut behind her. Vayla was thrown into a nearby bush, the figure pointing a gun at her. "You little shit!" he snarled. "You're not gonna be so smug when I blow your head off!" But Vayla had other ideas. With a smirk, she leaned back, spread her legs, and lifted her loincloth, exposing herself to the shocked terrorist. "You wanna look at this?" she purred. "You're gonna love it." The man's eyes widened, and before he knew what was happening, Vayla had grabbed the gun from his trembling hand and shot him point-blank between the eyes. "Thanks for the distraction, asshole," she quipped, before sashaying back to the car. Meanwhile, Belil and Tabby were busy turning the race into a demolition derby. They tore through the forest, using every car part they could get their hands on to disable their opponents. A bumper here, a side mirror there—nothing was off limits. But their victory was short-lived. Another racer, a wild-eyed man with no pants on, came barreling towards them. Belil had to swerve to avoid a collision, and the man lost his balance, his pants coming off in the process. "Oh my GAWD!" screeched Belil, her eyes glued to the flash of his bare penis and testicles. "Look, Tabby! He's got no pants!" "Ew!" said Tabby, turning away. "What the hell is wrong with that guy?" But the pantless terrorist had other ideas. He was now on foot, chasing them down the track, his manhood swinging freely as he tried to catch up. Belil's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, but she couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. They managed to lose him in the forest, but their car was now damaged and smoking. "Looks like we're gonna have to finish this on foot," said Belil, jumping out of the car. The two of them, armed with nothing but their wits and a couple of wrenches, set off into the forest to find Vayla. They stumbled upon a makeshift camp, where they saw their friend tied to a tree, surrounded by more terrorists. "Vayla!" screamed Belil, charging forward. The terrorists turned, their eyes wide with surprise. Before they could react, Belil and Tabby were on them, swinging their wrenches like they were in a brawl back in the barrio. The sound of metal on bone was music to their ears as they fought their way through the camp. In the end, they didn't win the race. But as they stood over the last defeated terrorist, their chests heaving and their clothes torn, they knew they had saved the day. The forest was quiet once more, except for the distant sound of sirens. "Well, shit," said Vayla, rubbing her bruised wrists. "Guess we're gonna have some 'splaining to do." "Yeah," said Belil, her eyes shining with triumph. "But at least we're not dead." "And we got rid of those cabrones," added Tabby, spitting on the ground. The three of them laughed, their friendship stronger than ever. They had faced danger, humiliation, and a whole lot of nakedness, but in the end, they had come out on top. "To the Great Forest Race!" Belil exclaimed, raising her wrench in the air. "And to not getting caught!" Vayla added with a grin. "And to always being ready for an adventure!" said Tabby, raising her own wrench. The three of them clinked their makeshift weapons together, a silent toast to the chaos they had just survived, and the many adventures that were surely to come.

Mia leaned her head on Sophie's shoulder, the soft skin of her upper arm pressing against the side of Sophie's breast. Neither spoke for a while. Their heavy breathing filled the silence. "Does Josh ever... scare you?" Mia asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. Sophie didn't answer right away. Her fingers were wading through the gap between her rolls. "Not in a bad way," Sophie said finally. "But yeah he does sometimes." "Like... Ethan loves how big I am, but it's not just that. It's like he doesn't want me to stop gaining. Like I'm only perfect if I'm struggling from carrying all of this. And he seems so fixated on this belly." Mia says while lifting a fat roll. Sophie nodded. "Josh told me once he I would look my best when I can't stand. Like... genuinely can't. He said it almost with tears in his eyes, Mia. Like it was romantic." Mia swallowed. "Ethan calls it devotion." "Josh calls it love." They were quiet again. Then Sophie added, softly, "But sometimes I don't know where I am in all of this. Like surely if I wanted to stop I would have said no. Walked away. But I never did, and now I have all this fat to show for it." "I know," Mia said. "God, I know." Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ethan had just pulled up a before-and-after photo of Mia on his phone—one of her from when they first met, smiling in a fitted dress, about 350 lbs. Next to it, a blurry candid from last week: Mia seated, bloated, her arms spilling over the armrests, a plate balanced on her belly. "Unreal," Josh muttered. "She looks like a different person. So much better now." "She doesn't fully realise it yet, but she's not going back. This is who she is now." Josh smirked. "And I bet she thinks she still has a choice." "Let her think it," Ethan said. "As long as she keeps eating and gaining." They shared another laugh. Then Ethan stood, stretching. "Alright. I'm going to Dominos. Thought I'd grab dinner for all of us—I've ordered pizzas and plenty of sides ." Josh grinned. "Good. Sophie hasn't eaten for an hour or two so will need plenty." Ethan shouted up to the living room. "Mia! Sophie! Get dressed—we're having a feast tonight." Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. Mia groaned and shifted in bed. The conversation had left her exhausted—emotionally and physically. She felt heavier than ever, like her entire body was swelling beneath the covers. Her belly rose high in front of her, her breasts spread wide, and her legs ached from being pressed together for too long. Sophie peeked in from the hallway. "Mind if I use your shower? I'm sweating so much under my folds." "Go ahead," Mia said. "Just... be careful getting in, it's not a big shower." Sophie snorted. "Please. I've got a whole technique." The bathroom door clicked shut, and the water started running. With a grunt, Mia tried to roll herself over to get up, her body resisting at every angle knowing the incredible amount of energy required to make any sort of movement beyond the jiggling of fat. Her feet finally hit the floor. She planted her hands on the nightstand, used the momentum of her wobbling gut to rock herself forward—and rose halfway. Then her knee buckled. The weight of her body tipped sideways. Her belly dragged her down, and with a huge bang, she collapsed onto the carpet—fat sprawled out, breath knocked from her lungs, arms trembling, flesh shifting and rippling around her like an avalanche of softness. She tried to push herself up. Nothing. She was stuck. Helpless. "Ethan?" she called out weakly. "Ethan ... I need help..." Footsteps. Then Josh appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed, holding a paper bag of cookies he'd been sneaking while they were talking. "Mia?" His eyes scanned her massive form on the floor, the way her belly had shifted sideways across her thighs, the way her ass and arms jiggled with every breath. "Ethan has gone to pick up a food order. Are you hurt?" "No," she said quickly. "Just... can't get up." He hesitated, then stepped inside. "Let me help." He crouched beside her, one arm under her shoulder, the other brushing her side. His hands sank into her fat, and she felt the way he stiffened—how he wasn't just concerned. He was fascinated. "Wow," he murmured before catching himself. "I mean—you're so fat. Heavy. It's incredible." "I know I'm huge," Mia mumbled, face burning. Together, they struggled. Her body resisted movement—he grunted under the weight, their effort turning intimate in its desperation. His fingers gripped deep handfuls of her softness as he shifted her, lifted her, steadied her. Eventually, she was up—sitting on the edge of the bed, panting, sweat rolling down her face. "You okay?" he asked again, not moving his hands. "Yeah," she said. "Just... embarrassed." He smiled, and it was oddly warm. "Don't be. It's just a sign that you are a good weight." Mia blinked. "Um... thanks?" The bathroom door opened, steam billowing out, and Sophie waddled back into the room, wrapped in a towel that barely reached her hips. Josh quickly stepped back, clearing his throat. The door opened with a groan, and Ethan stepped in. The unmistakable smell of pizza flooded the apartment. "Dinner's here!" he called, walking up to the bedroom to get everyone to come to the living room. Mia stiffened on the edge of the bed, where Josh had just helped her up minutes before. Her heart was still pounding—not just from the fall, but from the way Josh had looked at her. Touched her. She sat there, all of her fat on display as she hadn't managed to get her clothes on yet after her fall. Sophie shuffled into the bedroom just as Ethan appeared in the doorway, beaming. "You girls ready to eat?" he asked. "You two haven't eaten for a while, you look like you are wasting away." Sophie grinned and nodded. "Starving." Mia forced a smile, but Ethan's eyes lingered. His gaze flicked from her flushed face to Josh—who was stood just a bit too close. "Everything alright in here?" Ethan asked lightly. Josh stepped back. "Yeah. Mia took a little fall, but I helped her up." Ethan's smile faltered for just a second. Mia looked away. She didn't miss the way his eyes darkened with possession. "We'll meet you in the living room once I've found something that Mia can wear" Ethan said, dressing Mia for dinner once Josh and Sophie left the room. They ate in the living room, plates balanced on bellies, cushions groaning beneath the weight of four bodies, although it was two in particular that were most to blame. The table between them disappeared under it all. Josh fed Sophie without hesitation, slipping pizza slices between her lips, dabbing her chin with a napkin, encouraging her to finish every last bite. Ethan watched him closely while shoveling chicken into Mia's mouth one by one, whispering praise between bites. "You're doing so well," he murmured. "You're not too big, baby. Never too big for me. You're perfect." Mia's belly was visibly rising, stretching the fabric of her clothes to almost breaking point. She groaned quietly, eyelids heavy. Sophie was no better—sagging into the cushions, her t-shirt pulled up to her breasts, her bare belly jiggling with every movement. Josh reached for another slice and pressed it to her lips. "Last one," he said. She ate it with a moan. The room was heavy with heat and sugar and something unspoken. Ethan leaned back, watching Sophie chew. "She's impressive," he said quietly. Josh nodded. "So is Mia. She's... even bigger than she looks in pictures." Mia flushed. Ethan's hand moved over her belly, possessive. "She's still growing. She's got more room for extra fat yet." After dinner, the girls dozed while the men cleaned up in the cafe kitchen. "You ever think about mobility?" Josh asked. "Like... when they really can't walk." "All the time," Ethan said. "They need you for everything. You become their whole world. And we get access to all that fat to enjoy." Josh nodded. "Sophie talks about losing control. But she lights up when I feed her and help her shower. " Mia stirred from the couch, belly resting heavy on her lap, eyes half-lidded. She wasn't sure if she should be afraid. Or if it was too late for that.