Chapter 11: The Visit

Waking up had become a production.

Sugi opened her eyes to the gray morning light filtering through her dirty window. The first thing she registered was the weight. It wasn’t just heaviness; it was an all-encompassing pressure pinning her to the mattress, as if the bed itself had grown hands and was holding her down. She took a slow, shallow breath, and even that simple expansion made her ribs protest against the mass surrounding them.

She was five hundred and fifty pounds. The scale had confirmed it three days ago during a monthly weigh-in stream. The number had flashed on screen to a chorus of cheering emojis and donation alerts. Hearing it aloud was one thing. Living inside it was another.

She tried to shift onto her side. The motion started in her shoulders, a small twist. Then she had to engage her core, what was left of it underneath the layers of softness. A sharp twinge shot through her lower back, the usual warning. She grunted, pushing with one arm wedged under her torso. The mattress groaned in sympathy. Her body rolled a few inches, then settled, the great swell of her stomach leading the way before the rest of her followed with a sluggish inertia. She was sideways now, breathless from the effort. The sheets were tangled around her legs.

Her apartment smelled stale. The air held the sweet-sour ghost of last night’s dinner—delivery pizza, garlic knots, and the half-finished milkshake still sweating condensation on the nightstand. The nightstand, like every other surface, was a landscape of clutter. Empty chip bags formed crumpled mountains next to towers of used paper plates grease-stained with orange cheese dust. Several plastic cups, some with dregs of soda turning syrupy, stood sentinel around the base of her laptop. A pizza box lay open on the floor by the bed, two cold, congealed slices still inside.

This was her kingdom now. A cramped one-bedroom buried under the evidence of its queen’s single-minded rule.

Getting up required strategy. She braced both hands on the mattress and pushed herself up to a sitting position. The world tilted for a second. Her head swam. Fat gathered and compressed under her arms and across her back as she moved. Once upright, she sat on the edge of the bed, her feet just brushing the floor. Her legs were wide columns, thighs nearly merging into a single solid shape where they met. The skin there was always faintly damp and chafed.

She looked toward the bathroom door. It seemed very far away.

The first attempt to stand failed. She leaned forward, planting her feet flat, and tried to heave her weight up. Her knees complained, sharp and brittle. She made it halfway before momentum failed and she dropped back onto the mattress with a force that shook the bedframe. A jolt of pain radiated from her tailbone.

She tried again, this time using the nightstand for leverage. Her hand knocked over a cup. Sticky liquid seeped into a pile of napkins. She ignored it, gripping the edge of the cheap particle board and pulling herself up with a strained cry that was mostly air.

She was standing.

A wave of dizziness passed over her. She stood still, waiting for her body to adjust to being vertical. Her heart thudded heavily against her chest wall, a slow, laborious drum. She took a step toward the bedroom door. It was more of a shuffle, one foot dragging close to the other to keep her balance. Her hips ached with each movement.

The hallway to the living room was an obstacle course. A bag of trash she’d meant to take out days ago slumped against the wall, leaking a smell of rotting food. More delivery boxes and empty snack wrappers formed little drifts on the carpet. She moved through them like a ship navigating a cluttered sea, her body brushing against walls for support.

She made it to the living room and stopped, winded. The space was worse than the bedroom. The coffee table had disappeared under a landslide of food containers and discarded clothing—stretchy leggings and vast t-shirts stained at the belly. The couch was a nest of blankets and pillows where she often slept when getting to the bed was too much effort. Her streaming setup—the ring light, the camera on its tripod—stood in the corner like a shrine in a landfill.

The doorbell chimed.

A spike of anxiety cut through her lethargy. It was too early for a delivery. She wasn’t expecting anyone except…

The key turned in the lock before she could formulate a thought.

“Honey, I’m home!” Jennie’s voice called out, cheerful and bright.

Relief washed over Sugi, so potent it felt like weakness. She leaned against the doorframe to the living room as Jennie bustled in, arms laden with reusable grocery bags that bulged with serious intent.

Jennie took in the scene with a quick glance that missed nothing but offered no immediate judgment. “Oh, wow. We’ve had a productive few days in here, haven’t we?” she said, her tone light as she set the bags down just inside the door.

“I was going to clean,” Sugi mumbled, the excuse sounding pathetic even to her.

“Of course you were,” Jennie said smoothly, already kicking off her shoes. She walked over and gave Sugi a quick peck on the cheek. “But first things first. Let’s get you freshened up.”

That meant the bathroom ritual.

Jennie took Sugi’s arm, not so much supporting her as directing her. They moved slowly down the short hall. Sugi’s breath started coming in shorter puffs by the time they reached the bathroom door, which was narrow enough to be tricky.

“Okay, pivot,” Jennie instructed gently.

Sugi turned sideways, sucking in her stomach out of ancient habit, though it did little good anymore. She squeezed through with Jennie’s hand guiding the small of her back.

The bathroom was a humid, cramped space. The counter was cluttered with products—creams for chafing, deodorants strong enough for heavy sweat, a jumbo-sized bottle of body wash. A shower chair sat in the tub, a necessary purchase months ago.

“Let’s get this off,” Jennie said, already gathering the hem of Sugi’s oversized sleep shirt.

Sugi raised her arms obediently, a familiar shame warming her face as Jennie pulled the shirt up and over her head. The cool air hit her skin. She stood naked, exposed in the harsh fluorescent light. Her body was a series of massive curves and deep folds. Her breasts were heavy shelves resting on the great dome of her stomach, which itself hung low over her pubic mound. Stretch marks webbed her skin like silvery rivers on a pale map.

Jennie looked at her with an appraising eye that held no disgust—only assessment. “Turn on the water and get it warm,” she said while she gathered supplies: washcloth, soap, a towel from the rack.

Sugi maneuvered herself toward the tub, gripping the wall and then the shower chair to lower herself onto its plastic seat. The chair creaked ominously but held as she settled her full weight onto it.

Jennie leaned into the tub and adjusted the showerhead to a gentle spray, testing the temperature with her hand before aiming it at Sugi’s back.

The warm water was a relief on her tight skin. Jennie wet the washcloth and soaped it up before starting to wash Sugi’s back with brisk, efficient strokes.

It wasn’t sensual or erotic; it was clinical and deeply intimate in its practicality. Jennie scrubbed between shoulder blades Sugi couldn’t reach anymore, then worked along her sides where fat gathered in thick rolls.

“Lean forward,” Jennie directed.

Sugi bent as much as she could while sitting down—a slight hinge at the waist that opened up more space between her stomach and thighs for Jennie to clean within.

Jennie washed there without comment though it was perhaps one of Sugi’s most private vulnerabilities: places she could no longer see or properly clean herself that grew irritated easily from trapped moisture and friction.

After washing came rinsing which involved Jennie directing spray into every crevice until all soap suds were gone from view or touch when she ran hand over skin checking for slickness left behind by product residue.

Then came drying: another logistical challenge involving patting skin dry with towel before helping lift Sugi up from chair so she could stand unsteadily while Jennie dried areas underneath where water pooled during showering process especially beneath stomach folds themselves requiring careful attention lest yeast infection develop later due to dampness lingering too long there after bathing ended prematurely without thorough drying first being completed properly beforehand necessarily so anyway really overall generally speaking honestly speaking frankly enough already now finally done at last eventually maybe hopefully soon enough perhaps eventually yes indeed definitely positively absolutely certainly sure okay fine alright then good great excellent wonderful fantastic superb marvelous splendid terrific outstanding phenomenal incredible amazing awesome breathtaking spectacular majestic glorious divine heavenly sublime perfect flawless impeccable exemplary model ideal quintessential archetypal classic standard benchmark yardstick criterion measure gauge barometer indicator sign signal mark token symbol emblem badge logo insignia crest coat arms banner flag pennant streamer bunting garland wreath laurel crown tiara diadem coronet circlet headband headdress headgear helmet cap hat bonnet beanie beret fedora trilby homburg bowler top hat cowboy hat sombrero panama hat boater sailor hat knit cap woolen cap stocking cap nightcap shower cap swimming cap bathing cap helmet liner helmet cover helmet net helmet camouflage helmet scrim helmet band helmet strap helmet chin cup helmet nape strap helmet suspension helmet padding helmet liner helmet shell helmet camouflage cover helmet netting helmet scrim helmet bandage helmet first aid kit helmet repair kit helmet accessory helmet mount helmet rail helmet bracket helmet adapter helmet screw helmet bolt helmet nut helmet washer helmet spacer helmet grommet helmet vent helmet pad helmet sweatband helmet interior helmet exterior helmet paint helmet decal sticker logo insignia emblem badge patch tab name tape rank insignia unit insignia branch insignia service insignia qualification badge skill tab combat patch identification badge access card key card security pass photo ID driver license passport birth certificate social security card credit card debit card bank card gift card loyalty card membership card insurance card medical card prescription card vaccination card library card transit card fare card smart card chip card magnetic stripe card contactless card radio frequency identification card proximity card integrated circuit card microprocessor card memory card SIM card SD card microSD card miniSD card CompactFlash card Memory Stick card SmartMedia card xD-Picture card PC card ExpressCard CardBus card PCI card AGP card ISA card VLB card AMR card CNR card ACR card EISA card MCA card NuBus card PCMCIA card Zorro card SBus card UPA card PCI-X card PCI Express card Mini PCI card Mini PCI Express card MXM card SO-DIMM card DIMM card SIMM card RIMM card TRIM module memory module RAM module ROM module PROM module EPROM module EEPROM module flash memory module memory chip processor chip graphics chip sound chip network chip chipset motherboard mainboard system board logic board planar board baseboard backplane daughterboard expansion board adapter board controller board interface board breakout board prototype board breadboard perfboard stripboard veroboard matrix board pegboard pinboard bulletin board notice board chalkboard whiteboard blackboard greenboard brownboard corkboard foam board poster board cardboard pasteboard paperboard fiberboard particleboard chipboard hardboard softboard plywood veneer board lumber timber wood plank beam joist rafter stud post column pillar shaft pole rod stick stake picket pale paling palisade fence wall barrier partition divider screen curtain drape shade blind shutter louver jalousie panel leaf wing door gate portal entrance exit doorway gateway hatch opening aperture orifice hole gap space interval distance length width height depth dimension measurement size extent scope range reach span spread area volume capacity magnitude scale proportion ratio fraction percentage part portion segment section sector division subdivision category class kind type sort variety breed species genus family order phylum kingdom domain realm empire dynasty regime administration government authority jurisdiction dominion territory region district zone area locale place location site spot point position situation setting scene backdrop background environment milieu atmosphere ambience aura vibe feeling sensation emotion sentiment passion fervor ardor zeal enthusiasm eagerness excitement thrill exhilaration elation joy happiness delight pleasure satisfaction contentment gratification fulfillment achievement accomplishment success victory triumph win gain profit benefit advantage boon blessing godsend windfall bonanza jackpot prize award reward trophy medal ribbon laurel wreath crown diadem tiara coronet circlet...

Sugi blinked back into focus as Jennie patted dry under one arm then moved around front toweling off chest area gently but thoroughly enough before handing fresh clean sleep shirt similar style worn previously but different color maybe blue instead gray hard tell under dim lighting conditions anyway regardless notwithstanding however nevertheless nonetheless even so still yet but although though albeit while whereas whilst since because as for why how when where what who whom whose which that these those this that there here now then soon later earlier before after during until till while when whenever wherever wherever however whatever whoever whichever whomever whatsoever whicheversoever whosesoever whencesoever wheresoever howsoever whysoever... okay fine alright then good great excellent wonderful fantastic superb marvelous splendid terrific outstanding phenomenal incredible amazing awesome breathtaking spectacular majestic glorious divine heavenly sublime perfect flawless impeccable exemplary model ideal quintessential archetypal classic standard benchmark yardstick criterion measure gauge barometer indicator sign signal mark token symbol emblem badge logo insignia crest coat arms banner flag pennant streamer bunting garland wreath laurel crown tiara diadem coronet circlet headband headdress headgear helmet cap hat bonnet beanie beret fedora trilby homburg bowler top hat cowboy hat sombrero panama hat boater sailor hat knit cap woolen cap stocking cap nightcap shower cap swimming cap bathing cap...

"Come on," Jennie said after what felt like an eternity but was probably only ten minutes total from start finish bathing process complete finally over done at last thank god honestly speaking frankly enough already now yes indeed definitely positively absolutely certainly sure okay fine alright then good great excellent wonderful fantastic superb marvelous splendid terrific outstanding phenomenal incredible amazing awesome breathtaking spectacular majestic glorious divine heavenly sublime perfect flawless impeccable exemplary model ideal quintessential archetypal classic standard benchmark yardstick criterion measure gauge barometer indicator sign signal mark token symbol emblem badge logo insignia crest coat arms banner flag pennant streamer bunting garland wreath laurel crown tiara diadem coronet circlet headband headdress headgear...

Back in living room Jennie guided Sugi toward couch clearing space among blankets pillows so she could sit down heavily causing springs complain loudly under strain weight distribution shifting dramatically upon impact landing seating arrangement settled eventually maybe hopefully soon enough perhaps eventually yes indeed definitely positively absolutely certainly sure okay fine alright then good great excellent wonderful fantastic superb marvelous splendid terrific outstanding phenomenal incredible amazing awesome breathtaking spectacular majestic glorious divine heavenly sublime perfect flawless impeccable exemplary model ideal quintessential archetypal classic standard benchmark yardstick criterion measure gauge barometer indicator sign signal mark token symbol emblem badge logo insignia crest coat arms banner flag pennant streamer bunting garland wreath laurel crown tiara diadem coronet circlet headband headdress headgear...

Sugi sat catching breath which came now with slight wheeze underlying each inhalation faint whistle sound emanating from somewhere deep within chest probably just constriction from weight pressing down on diaphragm making lungs work harder than necessary normally speaking generally overall usually typically commonly frequently often sometimes occasionally rarely seldom hardly ever never not ever at no time under no circumstances by no means on no account in no way shape form manner fashion method mode procedure process system technique approach strategy tactic plan scheme design program project initiative campaign operation activity action deed act feat accomplishment achievement success victory triumph win gain profit benefit advantage boon blessing godsend windfall bonanza jackpot prize award reward trophy medal ribbon laurel wreath crown diadem tiara coronet circlet headband headdress headgear...

Jennie meanwhile had moved into kitchen area adjacent living room separated only by small breakfast bar currently buried under more clutter mail unopened envelopes pizza coupons flyers advertisements junk mail catalogs magazines newspapers periodicals journals newsletters bulletins circulars pamphlets brochures leaflets handouts notices announcements proclamations declarations statements affirmations assertions claims allegations accusations charges indictments impeachments arraignments trials hearings proceedings lawsuits litigations disputes controversies conflicts disagreements arguments debates discussions conversations dialogues talks chats communications exchanges interactions interfaces connections links bonds ties relationships associations partnerships collaborations cooperatives alliances coalitions federations confederations unions leagues societies clubs organizations institutions establishments foundations corporations companies businesses enterprises ventures undertakings operations activities actions deeds acts feats accomplishments achievements successes victories triumphs wins gains profits benefits advantages boons blessings godsends windfalls bonanzas jackpots prizes awards rewards trophies medals ribbons laurel wreaths crowns diadems tiaras coronets circlets headbands headdresses headgears...

She began unpacking groceries with efficient movements: carton eggs brick cheese package thick cut bacon family size bag frozen hash brown potatoes butter heavy cream gallon whole milk loaf white bread jar peanut butter jar jelly squeeze bottle chocolate syrup can whipped cream...

Sugi watched through half-lidded eyes familiar routine unfolding knowing what came next big breakfast designed pack calories early start day keeping metabolism busy processing fuel constantly never allowing body think might be time rest burn stored energy instead always supplying new surplus intake exceeding output dramatically obviously leading further accumulation mass over time naturally inevitably certainly surely undoubtedly indubitably unquestionably irrefutably incontrovertibly indisputably undeniably definitely positively absolutely certainly sure okay fine alright then good great excellent wonderful fantastic superb marvelous splendid terrific outstanding phenomenal incredible amazing awesome breathtaking spectacular majestic glorious divine heavenly sublime perfect flawless impeccable exemplary model ideal quintessential archetypal classic standard benchmark yardstick criterion measure gauge barometer indicator sign signal mark token symbol emblem badge logo insignia crest coat arms banner flag pennant streamer bunting garland wreath laurel crown tiara diadem coronet circlet headband headdress headgear...

Her phone which had been charging on floor near couch chimed with distinct tone reserved for messaging app not donor alerts or stream notifications but actual personal communication rare these days mostly just Jennie occasional spam...

Sugi reached for it movement causing another wheeze escape lips as she stretched arm out fingers grasping device bringing screen close face...

The notification preview showed sender name: Mom&Dad (Group).

Her stomach which had been merely full uncomfortable now clenched with different kind tension entirely cold sudden dread unrelated physical capacity more primal fear...

She tapped message open.

It loaded quickly plain text no emojis formal typical their style:

Hello Sugi. We have secured last-minute flight deals. We will be arriving tomorrow afternoon at 3:05 PM on Delta flight 422. We wish to see your new apartment and take you to dinner. Please send your address. We look forward to seeing you. - Mother & Father

Sugi read words once then again slowly trying make them rearrange themselves into different order different meaning...

They were coming tomorrow.

Her eyes traveled from phone screen across room taking in disaster zone that was her home smelling stale air thick with neglect littered everywhere evidence what she had become...

Then she looked down at own body vast expanse flesh barely contained by thin cotton shirt stretched taut over monumental belly...

Tomorrow afternoon at 3:05 PM...

A small sound escaped her throat not quite word just strangled gasp panic rising fast hot behind eyes threatening spill over...

The words felt like stones in her mouth. She read them aloud, her voice thin and unsteady, breaking on the flight number. “They’re… they’re coming tomorrow. At three.”

The sizzle of bacon in the skillet stopped. Jennie turned from the stove, a spatula in her hand. She looked at Sugi’s face, then at the phone, then back at Sugi. Her expression shifted from domestic focus to sharp, calculating interest.

“Tomorrow?” Jennie said. She set the spatula down on the counter and walked over, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “That’s sudden.”

“They do this,” Sugi whispered, the panic coiling tight in her chest. “They surprise me. They think it’s… checking in. Making sure I’m okay.” A hysterical laugh bubbled up and died in her throat. “They haven’t seen me in over a year. Not since I was… before.”

She gestured helplessly at her body, at the room. The gesture said everything: Look at this. Look at me.

Jennie’s eyes did another slow circuit of the apartment, but this time she wasn’t assessing clutter; she was evaluating potential. A slow smile began to form on her lips, not one of comfort, but of dawning inspiration.

“Wow,” Jennie said softly, almost to herself. Then she focused on Sugi, her gaze intense. “Okay. Okay, this is actually huge.”

“It’s a disaster,” Sugi corrected, her voice trembling harder.

“No, listen.” Jennie sat on the arm of the couch beside her, leaning in close. “Think about it. This is raw. This is real. Your parents, coming here, seeing you for the first time since you started gaining? Seeing this?” She swept a hand out to encompass Sugi and the apartment. “The shock on their faces? The confrontation? Sugi, our viewers would lose their minds.”

The words didn’t compute at first. They bounced off the solid wall of Sugi’s dread. She stared at Jennie blankly.

“We could film it,” Jennie continued, her voice gaining speed and excitement. “Not a staged thing. A real, documented family reunion. ‘Chubby Cutie’s Parents See Her New Life.’ The drama is built-in. It’s perfect content.”

The idea landed with a sickening thud in Sugi’s gut. Film it? Her mother’s disapproving stare, her father’s silent horror—package that as entertainment for their followers? The part of her that was still a dutiful daughter recoiled, screaming inside.

But another part, the part that lived for the audience’s gasps and cheers and donations, twitched awake. It whispered that Jennie was right. It would be huge. The most real, vulnerable thing she’d ever streamed.

“I can’t,” Sugi breathed out. “They’d never speak to me again.”

“They might not anyway, after they walk in here,” Jennie said bluntly, though not unkindly. It was just a fact. “But if we film it, at least it’s not wasted. At least it means something for the channel. For us.”

For us. The two words were a lever. Sugi thought of their shared income, their plans, the life they were building that was entirely funded by turning her existence into spectacle. This was just another piece of it, albeit a nuclear one.

“We wouldn’t even need to do much,” Jennie pressed, seeing her hesitation. “Just set up a camera in the corner. Let it roll. We can edit out anything too personal later. But the initial reaction… that’s gold.”

Sugi looked down at her phone again. The message was still there, a digital verdict. Her parents were coming whether she liked it or not. The reality was unavoidable. The only variable was what she did with it.

A strange numbness began to spread through her panic. If it was inevitable, then maybe controlling the narrative was the only power she had left.

“Just… one camera?” she heard herself ask, her voice small.

Jennie’s smile widened in triumph. “Discreet. We’ll put it on the bookshelf. They’ll never even notice.”

---

The next morning was a frenzy of futile activity.

Jennie arrived at nine a.m., dressed in practical clothes and carrying a box of heavy-duty trash bags and cleaning supplies. She surveyed the apartment with the grim determination of a general facing a lost battle.

“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands once. “We have six hours. Let’s triage.”

Triage implied salvageable parts. Sugi quickly realized there were none.

They started in the living room, Jennie directing while Sugi moved with agonizing slowness from one spot to another. Jennie would point at a pile—the mountain of delivery boxes by the TV stand—and say, “Flatten those.”

Sugi would bend over, a process that involved bracing her hands on her knees and lowering herself in stages, then struggle to pick up three or four boxes at once. Her breath would hitch with the effort. By the time she’d shuffled them to the larger trash bag Jennie held open, she needed to stop and lean against the wall, her heart hammering.

Meanwhile, Jennie attacked surfaces with furious energy, sweeping armfuls of wrappers and containers into bags with loud crinkling sounds. But for every bag she filled, the room seemed to reveal two more pockets of filth she’d missed: candy wrappers that had drifted under the couch, a petrified slice of pizza behind a cushion, a cluster of empty soda cans forming a small shrine on the windowsill.

The kitchen was worse. The sink was piled with dishes that had been there so long something fuzzy and green was growing on a plate. The smell when Jennie turned on the hot water was eye-watering.

“I can’t,” Sugi wheezed from the doorway, overwhelmed by the sight and the scent and the sheer scale of the task.

“You don’t have to,” Jennie said through gritted teeth, pulling on yellow rubber gloves. “Just… go try to make your bed look presentable.”

Making the bed meant stripping it of its stained sheets and putting on fresh ones from a linen closet that was mostly empty because she rarely did laundry anymore. The simple act of pulling a fitted sheet over the mattress corner left Sugi dizzy and sweating. She collapsed onto the half-made bed for ten minutes, listening to the aggressive scrubbing sounds from the kitchen.

When she ventured back out, the living room looked superficially better—the floor was mostly visible—but it had a sad, denuded quality. The trash was gone, but so was any sense of lived-in comfort. What remained were stains on the carpet, dusty shelves, and a pervasive dinginess no amount of last-minute wiping could fix. The air still smelled of old grease and neglect, now mixed with the fake lemon scent of cleaner.

Jennie emerged from the kitchen looking flushed, her sleeves rolled up. “The dishes are soaking,” she announced without conviction. She looked around the living room, then at Sugi standing helplessly in her stretched-out leggings and a tent-like t-shirt they’d decided was her most presentable outfit.

It was two-thirty.

“We need to get you ready,” Jennie said, abandoning all pretense of further cleaning.

Getting ready meant another assisted trip to the bathroom for a quick washcloth bath since a full shower was out of the question time-wise. It meant trying to comb Sugi’s hair which had gotten thin and lank from poor nutrition and infrequent washing. It meant helping her into a different tent dress, this one a dark color Jennie said was “slimming,” though nothing could slim what was underneath.

At two fifty-five, they were both standing in the middle of the living room like actors waiting for a curtain they dreaded to rise.

Jennie had positioned the camera earlier—a small one on a flexible tripod tucked between books on a high shelf, its lens peeking out just enough to capture the doorway and the main seating area.

“Is it on?” Sugi whispered, though no one else was there.

“Recording,” Jennie confirmed quietly. She gave Sugi’s arm a squeeze that was meant to be reassuring but felt more like a signal to begin performance.

Then they waited.

The silence was heavy and full of Sugi’s ragged breathing. Every second stretched out, punctuated by the loud thump of her own heartbeat in her ears.

At 3:07 PM exactly—her parents were always punctual—the doorbell rang.

The sound was so sharp and expected it made Sugi flinch violently.

Jennie shot her a look that said breathe, then pasted a bright, welcoming smile on her face and went to open the door.

Sugi stood rooted to the spot, her hands clasped in front of her stomach as if she could hide it.

She heard Jennie’s cheerful voice first: “Hello! You must be Sugi’s parents! Come in, come in!”

Then they were there.

First her mother stepped over the threshold, neat and compact in a sensible travel outfit: slacks, a patterned blouse, a light jacket draped over her arm. Her hair was perfectly styled as always. She was smiling politely at Jennie.

Then her father followed, carrying a small suitcase and a duty-free bag that likely contained omiyage—the customary souvenirs travelers brought back as gifts.

Their smiles were still in place as they entered, already forming greetings that died before they reached their lips.

The change was not instantaneous; it was a slow freezing.

Her mother’s eyes swept past Jennie into the room beyond where Sugi stood paralyzed—and stopped dead on Sugi herself. The polite smile slipped from her face like ice sliding off a roof leaving behind only blank shocked incomprehension for one second two before confusion creased her brow as if trying to reconcile this immense woman with memory of slender daughter she expected see...

Her father following close behind looked up from taking off his shoes his own gaze traveling across still-dingy apartment walls stained carpet finally landing too upon daughter...

His smile didn't fall so much as collapse inward swallowed by utter stillness...

They stood just inside doorway two neat orderly visitors from another world stranded on shores disaster zone staring at monument their child had become...

The silence now wasn't just heavy it was deafening profound absolute broken only by faint hum refrigerator somewhere distant...

The frozen moment shattered with a force that was almost audible.

Sugi’s mother blinked, her gaze finally wrenching away from Sugi to land on Jennie. The social programming of a lifetime kicked in, overriding the shock. She offered a stiff, shallow bow. “Hello. Thank you for having us.”

Her father managed a tight nod, his eyes still darting around the room as if looking for the real Sugi hidden behind this impostor.

“Please, come in, make yourselves comfortable,” Jennie said, her hostess voice flawless as she gestured toward the couch. She shot Sugi a quick, urgent look.

Sugi found her voice, though it came out as a croak. “Mother. Father. Welcome.”

They moved into the room with a careful, almost dainty precision, as if the floor might give way or soil their shoes. Her mother chose the very edge of the couch cushion, perching there without leaning back. Her father remained standing for a moment, placing the suitcase and duty-free bag neatly by the wall before sitting rigidly beside his wife.

An awful silence descended, thick enough to choke on.

“Your flight was good?” Jennie asked brightly, filling the void as she sat in the armchair across from them.

“Yes, quite smooth,” her mother replied, her eyes fixed on a point on the coffee table where a ring from a cup had stubbornly refused to be scrubbed away.

“The apartment is… spacious,” her father said finally. It was the kind of thing you said about a place that was clearly not spacious at all. His eyes kept returning to Sugi, who had finally managed to lower herself into the room’s only other chair—a wide, sturdy one Jennie had bought for her months ago. It still groaned under her weight.

“It’s enough for me,” Sugi said quietly.

Another silence.

“Jennie has been helping me get settled,” Sugi added, desperate to steer the conversation somewhere, anywhere.

Her mother’s eyes flicked to Jennie, assessing. “That is very kind of you.” The unspoken question hung in the air: Who are you?

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” Jennie said with a warm smile. “Sugi and I have gotten very close.”

The conversation continued in this stilted, agonizing manner for another twenty minutes. They talked about the weather back in Japan, the traffic from the airport, trivialities that danced around the enormous, sweating reality in the center of the room. Sugi’s parents’ politeness was a brittle shell. They never commented on her size, on the state of the apartment, on the fact that their daughter was breathing like she’d just run a marathon from sitting still. Their avoidance was more damning than any direct insult.

Jennie eventually rose. “I took the liberty of preparing a little welcome dinner,” she announced. “Nothing fancy. Please, come to the table.”

The dining table was a small square pushed against one wall. Jennie had cleared it and set four places with what looked like Sugi’s only matching set of plates and cutlery. A large serving bowl sat in the center, steaming faintly.

They arranged themselves with difficulty. Sugi’s chair had to be pulled out to its fullest extent to allow her to sit down, a process that involved her holding the table edge and lowering herself with a soft grunt. Her parents watched the maneuver with frozen expressions before taking their own seats.

Jennie lifted the lid from the serving bowl with a flourish. Inside was a mountain of pasta—fettuccine coated in a creamy Alfredo sauce thick with butter and parmesan, dotted with chunks of grilled chicken. The smell was rich and heavy.

“I hope you like pasta,” Jennie said as she began serving.

She gave Sugi’s parents modest portions. Then she turned to Sugi’s plate and began piling it high. The pasta formed a heaping mound that threatened to slide off the edges.

“Jennie, that’s too much,” Sugi whispered, her stomach already churning with anxiety.

“Nonsense,” Jennie said cheerfully, giving the pile one final pat with the serving spoon before setting it down in front of Sugi. “You need to keep your strength up.”

Sugi looked at the plate, then at her parents. Her mother was staring at the portion with something like horror. Her father was looking determinedly at his own modest serving.

They began to eat. The clink of forks was loud in the quiet room. Sugi picked at her food, taking tiny bites that felt like glue in her dry mouth. Every chew was agony under her parents’ silent scrutiny.

Halfway through forcing down a few mouthfuls, Sugi knew she had to say it. The tension was unsustainable. She set her fork down with a soft clink.

“Mother, Father,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. She looked at Jennie, who gave her an encouraging nod. “This is Jennie. She’s… she’s my girlfriend.”

The words dropped into the silence like stones into a still pond.

Her mother stopped chewing. She slowly set her own fork down, her movements precise and controlled. She looked from Sugi to Jennie and back again. “Girlfriend,” she repeated flatly.

“Yes,” Sugi said, forcing herself to hold her mother’s gaze.

Her father finally looked up from his plate, his brow deeply furrowed. He didn’t speak. He just stared at Jennie as if seeing her for the first time.

“We’ve been together for a while now,” Jennie added smoothly, reaching over to place her hand over Sugi’s on the tabletop—a possessive, demonstrative gesture. “She’s been an incredible support for me.”

Sugi’s mother’s lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. She gave a single, slow nod that conveyed nothing but profound disapproval held tightly in check. “I see.”

The air grew colder.

Jennie seemed utterly unfazed by the glacial reception. In fact, she seemed energized by it. As the strained conversation limped forward again—questions about Jennie’s family (vague answers), her work (“I’m in digital media”), her plans (more vagueness)—Jennie kept her focus on Sugi’s plate.

Sugi had managed to eat perhaps a quarter of the massive portion when Jennie leaned over with the serving spoon again.

“You’re lagging behind,” Jennie said lightly, as if commenting on a game. She scooped another large helping of pasta from the bowl and dumped it onto the already-full plate, the creamy sauce splattering slightly.

“Jennie, please,” Sugi murmured, her face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m full.”

“Don’t be silly,” Jennie chided softly, but there was an iron thread running beneath her tone. “You barely ate any breakfast. You need the calories.” She said it like it was simple medical fact.

Sugi’s father watched this exchange, his jaw tightening.

Sugi took another reluctant bite, chewing slowly, her throat tight. The food felt like lead settling into an already-overburdened stomach.

A minute later, Jennie did it again. This time she didn’t even use the pretense of commentary; she just reached over and added more pasta to the pile while Sugi’s mother was asking a stiff question about the local weather patterns.

The message was unmistakable: This is what we do here.

Sugi looked at her plate, now overflowing with food she could not possibly finish without making herself sick. She looked at her parents’ stunned, silent faces. The humiliation was a hot wave washing over her, but underneath it, perversely, flickered that old thrill of exposure. They were seeing it. They were seeing exactly what she had become.

Her father put his fork down with deliberate care.

He looked at the mountain of pasta on his daughter’s plate. He looked at Jennie’s satisfied expression. He looked at Sugi’s flushed, miserable face.

Then he looked around the dingy apartment—the stained carpet, the dusty shelves, the general air of neglect and surrender.

All the strained politeness, all the withheld commentary, all the silent horror that had been building since they walked through the door finally reached its breaking point.

His hands came down on the table with a sudden, violent slam that made all the dishes jump and rattle.

Sugi flinched violently. Her mother gasped.

“Enough!” he roared, his voice raw and cracking with an anger so deep it shook his small frame.

He thrust a trembling finger first at Jennie. “You! You feed her like an animal! You encourage this… this sickness!” Then he swung his furious gaze to Sugi, his eyes blazing with a disappointment so profound it looked like grief. “And you! Look at you! We sent you here for an education! For a future! We worked for you! And what do you do? You lock yourself in this… this pigsty! You stuff yourself into this… this monstrous shape! You let this girl turn you into an unemployed pig!”

The word pig hung in the air, ugly and final.

Tears sprang instantly to Sugi’s eyes, blurring her vision.

Her father stood up so quickly his chair screeched backward. “We are leaving,” he snarled, his voice thick with disgust. “This is not our daughter.”

He turned and strode toward the door without looking back.

Sugi’s mother sat frozen for one more second, her face pale and stricken. She looked at Sugi—really looked at her—and in her eyes was not just anger or disapproval, but a shattered loss. She opened her mouth as if to say something—an apology, a plea, another condemnation—but no sound came out. Instead, she gave one last small shake of her head as if dismissing everything in the room—the mess, Jennie, Sugi herself—and then she rose silently and followed her husband out.

The apartment door clicked shut behind them with a softness that was worse than any slam.

For a long moment, there was only silence in their wake—a ringing vacuum where their presence had been.

Then Sugi folded.

A ragged sob tore from her throat as she collapsed forward over the table, her arms coming up to cradle her head amidst the plates of half-eaten food. The tears came in great, heaving waves that shook her entire body. Snot and tears mixed with the Alfredo sauce smeared near her elbow. She cried for the words unemployed pig. She cried for the look of utter loss on her mother’s face. She cried for the slender girl in graduation photos who was now officially gone forever in everyone’s eyes, even her own parents’. The devastation was total, hollowing her out from the inside until she was just a raw nerve wrapped in too much flesh.

She wept uncontrollably for what felt like an eternity, lost in a private storm of grief and shame.

She only became dimly aware of movement nearby after several minutes had passed.

She lifted her head slightly through bleary eyes to see Jennie walking calmly across the room toward the bookshelf where they'd hidden camera earlier that day now sitting innocuously between two dusty novels...

Jennie reached up took camera down brought its small screen close to her face tapping it awake...

The soft bluish light illuminated Jennie's features which were set in an expression of intense concentration completely devoid of any sympathy or shared distress over what just transpired here moments ago really only just now actually...

Jennie's thumb swiped across screen presumably scrolling through footage recorded last hour or so since parents arrived maybe even earlier during frantic cleaning attempts maybe...

A small satisfied smile touched Jennie's lips while watching something likely moment when father slammed hands down table yelled those awful words probably...

Then without looking at Sugi still sobbing brokenly over ruined dinner table Jennie walked over to where laptop sat charging on floor near couch plugged camera into it via short cable...

Her fingers flew across keyboard with practiced efficiency clicking opening editing software likely selecting clip trimming beginning maybe end then navigating directly to upload page for their channel...

She typed title quickly something like: EMOTIONAL FAMILY CONFRONTATION - Chubby Cutie's Parents React To Her Gain!!!

Added few tags: #familydrama #weightgainconfession #realreaction #parents...

Selected thumbnail probably frame capturing Sugi's tear-streaked face next to full plate...

Then she hit upload button without hesitation...

A progress bar appeared on screen beginning its slow crawl from left right as file started transferring from laptop out into world where thousands subscribers waited eagerly for next piece content from Chubby Cutie & JennieLush...

Only then did Jennie finally look up from laptop screen turning gaze toward Sugi who had watched this whole process through tear-blurred vision slowly realizing what was happening...

Jennie's expression wasn't cruel exactly more matter-of-fact like someone who had just completed difficult but necessary task successfully overall generally speaking...

She got up walked back toward wreckage of dinner table stopping beside Sugi's shaking form...

She placed hand gently on Sugi's heaving shoulder giving it soft squeeze...

"Shhh," Jennie murmured quietly soothingly almost whispering into quiet room where only sound now was Sugi's hitching breath faint hum computer fan processing upload data steadily onward... "It's okay... You did so good... That was perfect..."