Chapter 14: Infrastructure Maintenance

The hunger woke her first.

Sugi opened her eyes to the familiar ceiling, but the sensation in her gut was entirely new. It wasn’t the pleasant morning emptiness she used to know, or even the sharp appetite that came after a day of fasting. This was something else. A deep, cellular ache that started somewhere behind her navel and radiated outward, a hollow gnawing that felt less like desire and more like a system error. Her stomach gurgled loudly in the quiet room, a wet, insistent sound.

She remembered the small white pill Jennie had given her last night with a glass of water. Take it before bed, Jennie had said. It needs time to build up in your system. The telehealth doctor had called it Periactin, prescribing it off-label for supposed insomnia with a knowing, detached tone over the video call. Sugi had swallowed it without water at first, the chalky tablet sticking in her throat until she chased it down.

Now the chemical was awake inside her.

Sugi pushed herself up onto her elbows, a motion that still required conscious effort. The hunger didn’t subside with movement. If anything, shifting her weight made it worse, stirring up acids and sending another loud rumble through her abdomen. She looked at the clock on her nightstand. Seven-thirty. She’d slept through the night for once, no fitful dreams of meat mountains, just a thick, drugged unconsciousness. The medication probably helped with that too.

Her mouth tasted metallic. Dry. She reached for the water glass Jennie had left last night, now warm and stale, and drank it anyway. The water did nothing for the hunger. It just sloshed into the empty space and made her aware of how truly vacant she felt, despite the sheer mass of her body pressing into the mattress.

The deal was simple, honestly. Gym access in exchange for pharmaceutical hunger. Infrastructure maintenance, Jennie called it. Sugi swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet touching the carpet. Today was the first test of that maintenance.

Standing up was easier than it had been yesterday morning, though not by much. Her legs still trembled, but they held. She shuffled to the bathroom, each step accompanied by another groan from her stomach. In the mirror, her face looked puffy, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She brushed her teeth, the minty paste doing little to cut through the chemical taste in her mouth.

The hunger was a constant background noise now, a low-grade emergency signal her brain couldn’t ignore. She thought about breakfast. The thought wasn’t pleasant or anticipatory—it was urgent, almost panicked. She needed to put something in that void, and soon.

A key turned in the front door lock.

Jennie let herself in at eight on the dot, carrying two large fabric camera bags slung over one shoulder and a plastic shopping bag in her other hand. She dropped the bags by the door with a thump.

“Morning,” Jennie said, already surveying the room with a producer’s eye. “You take your morning dose?”

Sugi nodded from the hallway entrance. “Before I brushed my teeth.”

“Good girl.” Jennie’s smile was all business today. She kicked off her shoes and walked to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. “We’ll eat something small before we go. Need energy for the workout.” She pulled out a tub of Greek yogurt and a bottle of chocolate syrup. “But not too much. We want you hungry for the smoothie bar shots.”

Sugi watched as Jennie dumped three generous spoonfuls of yogurt into a bowl and drowned it in chocolate syrup. The sight should have been appealing—it was essentially dessert—but the hunger in Sugi’s gut felt divorced from any concept of taste or enjoyment. It was just a hole that needed filling.

Jennie brought the bowl over and handed it to her along with a spoon. “Eat up. We leave in twenty.”

Sugi sat on the edge of the couch and began eating. The yogurt was cool and tangy under the overly sweet syrup. She ate quickly, spooning large mouthfuls, barely chewing. The food hit her stomach and the gnawing eased slightly, enough to think about something else for a few minutes.

Jennie busied herself unpacking one of the camera bags, checking lenses and batteries. “I booked us a session at Flex Fitness on Maple,” she said without looking up. “It’s a twenty-four hour place, should be quiet mid-morning. Paid for a private corner rental through their ‘influencer package.’” She made air quotes around the last two words, grinning.

“They have an influencer package?” Sugi asked between spoonfuls.

“Everywhere has an influencer package now,” Jennie said, clicking a battery into place. “For an extra fifty bucks they’ll look the other way while we film whatever we want.” She finally looked at Sugi, her eyes sharp. “Speaking of which.” She nudged the plastic shopping bag with her foot. “Your outfit.”

Sugi finished the last of the yogurt, scraping the bowl clean. The hunger was already creeping back, a tide returning faster than she’d expected. She set the bowl aside and reached for the bag.

The clothes inside were folded neatly. She pulled out a pair of black leggings first. The material was thin, almost shiny, with a high-waisted design that promised compression. Except when she held them up, she could see they were at least two sizes too small already. The waistband looked like it would barely reach her hips.

Next was a hoodie. It was grey with a faded brand logo across the chest. She unfolded it. The cut was cropped, ending several inches above where a normal hoodie would.

“You’re kidding,” Sugi said flatly.

“It’s content,” Jennie replied, not missing a beat. She had her camera out now, testing the settings. “The contrast is key. You’re at a gym, but you’re dressed for a fetish shoot. The tightness shows off every pound.” She glanced over. “And the belly out shot is mandatory.”

Sugi stared at the clothes in her lap. The leggings felt cheap under her fingers, the kind that would pill after one wash. The hunger in her stomach twisted again.

“Come on,” Jennie said, putting the camera down and walking over. “Let’s get you dressed. We need to leave by eight-thirty to make our slot.”

Reluctantly, Sugi stood up from the couch. She was already wearing an old t-shirt and loose pajama pants—her standard sleeping attire since most normal clothes didn’t fit anymore anyway. She let the pajama pants drop to the floor and stepped out of them.

The leggings were worse than they looked.

She tried to step into one leg, almost losing her balance before catching herself on the back of the couch. The material refused to slide up over her calf, which was thick with fat and still dimpled from days of inactivity. She had to tug hard, rolling the fabric up inch by inch until she could get her foot through. The other leg was just as difficult.

Finally standing with both legs in, she began to pull them up.

It was like trying to sheath a overstuffed sausage.

The leggings reached her knees and stopped dead. The material stretched taut over her thighs, creating visible horizontal strain lines across the front. Sugi grunted, using both hands to haul them higher, wrestling them over her hips which spilled out over the sides of the waistband before she’d even gotten it all the way up.

“Let me help,” Jennie said, sounding amused rather than sympathetic.

Jennie knelt in front of her and grabbed the waistband on both sides. “On three,” she said, like she was helping Sugi stand after a fall. “One, two—”

They pulled together.

The leggings crept upward another few inches with a sound like tearing fabric, though nothing actually ripped. The waistband settled not at Sugi’s natural waist but somewhere below it, cutting deeply into the soft flesh of her lower belly and creating a pronounced muffin top that bulged over all sides. The material was so tight across her stomach that Sugi could see every stretch mark through it—the angry red and purple lines mapping her recent growth like topography.

She could barely breathe.

The compression was intense, pushing everything upward and inward in a way that felt less like support and more like bondage. Every seam strained visibly. The crotch area pulled uncomfortably tight.

“Perfect,” Jennie said, standing back to admire her work.

Sugi looked down at herself. The black fabric clung to every curve and roll, leaving nothing to imagination. Her thighs looked like tree trunks squeezed into spandex sleeves.

“Now the top,” Jennie said, handing her the cropped hoodie.

Sugi pulled off her sleep shirt, exposing her heavy breasts and the massive dome of her stomach underneath. The air in the apartment was cool on her skin.

The hoodie was a joke.

She got her head through the neck hole easily enough—it was cut generously there—but as she pulled it down, she realized it wasn’t going to cover much at all. The hem stopped just below her breasts, leaving her entire midsection completely exposed from sternum to hips where the leggings began.

Her belly protruded freely, pale and round and marked with those fresh stretch marks that looked even angrier against her skin without fabric covering them.

The hoodie’s sleeves were tight around her upper arms, cutting into the soft flesh there too.

“I look ridiculous,” Sugi said quietly.

“You look profitable,” Jennie corrected, already picking up her camera again. She raised it and snapped a quick test photo without warning, the shutter click loud in the quiet room.

On screen, Jennie showed her the image.

It was worse than Sugi imagined.

The outfit didn’t look like gym wear at all—it looked like parody fetish gear bought from some cheap online store catering to very specific tastes. Every ounce of fat was highlighted: squeezed by too-tight fabric here, spilling out freely there. Her expression in the photo was one of stunned discomfort.

“They’re going to love this,” Jennie said confidently, putting the camera away again and starting to pack up her gear bags.

Sugi stood there in the middle of her living room, half-naked in clothes that didn’t fit, with a chemical hunger eating at her insides.

Flex Fitness smelled like rubber flooring and artificial citrus cleaner.

Jennie had rented a compact SUV for today—something about needing space for all their equipment—and drove them there while Sugi sat in passenger seat feeling every seam of her leggings dig into her skin during bumps in road.

The gym itself occupied ground floor unit in strip mall alongside dry cleaner nail salon on Maple Avenue just as Jennie promised mostly empty mid-morning few dedicated regulars scattered around place ignoring each other headphones plugged in faces focused on their own routines

Jennie spoke quietly desk clerk young guy maybe college-aged wearing branded polo shirt who glanced at Sugi then quickly looked away after taking extra fifty dollar cash payment for private corner rental He pointed toward far corner near floor-to-ceiling windows where some equipment had been roped off with yellow caution tape

“Our studio” Jennie murmured guiding Sugi through maze weight machines treadmills elliptical riders

They reached corner Jennie dropped larger camera bag floor with thud then immediately began scanning space with critical eye assessing light angles background potential distractions

“Okay” she said after moment decision made “We'll set primary camera tripod here” She indicated spot just outside taped-off area where tripod could stand without violating rental agreement “Get full-body shots you moving between machines”

She unzipped bag pulling out sturdy tripod extending legs locking them place with practiced efficiency Then came main camera DSLR model Sugi recognized from previous shoots though lens looked different longer today

Jennie mounted camera adjusted height until viewfinder roughly level with Sugi's chest when standing few feet away

“Let me check framing” Jennie said peering through viewfinder “Step into shot”

Sugi shuffled forward into taped-off area Her leggings whispered loudly against each other with every movement sound embarrassingly intimate public space

Through camera lens Jennie studied composition Sugi could see wheels turning behind eyes calculating what would play best their audience

“The tightness really reads” Jennie said approvingly still looking through viewfinder “Every seam straining every roll defined Perfect” She adjusted angle slightly tilting camera upward bit “Makes you look even bigger from this low angle Belly dominates frame exactly what we want”

She stepped back satisfied began unpacking smaller bag which contained wireless microphone kit extra batteries memory cards whole production toolkit

Sugi stood waiting feeling exposed under bright fluorescent lights gym smelled cleaner closer here masking scent sweat old rubber Her stomach growled again loudly enough hear over distant hum treadmill motor few machines over

Chemical hunger back full force now demanding attention

Jennie clipped the small lavalier microphone to the collar of Sugi’s hoodie, running the thin wire down her back and tucking the transmitter into the waistband of her leggings. “Sound check,” she said, stepping back to the camera. “Say something.”

“What should I say?” Sugi asked. Her voice came out thin.

“That works.” Jennie adjusted a dial on the side of the camera. “Okay. We’re rolling in three… two…” She didn’t say ‘one,’ just pointed a finger at Sugi and then gestured toward the nearest weight machine—a seated leg press positioned a few yards inside their taped-off corner.

Sugi understood. The performance started now.

She turned away from the camera and began moving toward the machine. Her walk was less a walk and more of a lumbering shuffle, each step requiring a deliberate shift of her entire weight from one leg to the other. The tight leggings restricted her stride, forcing her thighs to rub together with every movement. Her exposed belly swung slightly with the momentum, a heavy pendulum of flesh that she was acutely aware of under the bright lights.

The distance felt longer than it was. A young woman on a stationary bike about thirty feet away glanced over, her eyes lingering on Sugi’s midsection before quickly looking back at her phone. Sugi kept her gaze fixed on the leg press, focusing on the simple goal of reaching it.

The machine was designed for normal-sized people. The seat was a padded bench, and the footplate waited at an angle in front of it. Sugi reached the bench and turned around, preparing to lower herself onto it.

This was always the tricky part now—sitting down in something not built for her.

She gripped the metal frame on either side of the seat for support, then began the slow, controlled collapse. Her backside hit the padding first, but she had misjudged the width. The soft outer flesh of her thighs and hips spilled over both sides of the narrow bench immediately, spreading out like dough over a too-small pan. She had to adjust her position, shifting her weight to center herself, which caused more of her body to overflow the seat’s edges. When she finally settled, she was perched on what felt like a sliver of actual bench, her bulk occupying space well beyond its intended boundaries.

From behind the camera, Jennie zoomed in slowly. Sugi could hear the faint whir of the lens adjusting.

“Good,” Jennie said quietly, her voice just loud enough to pick up on the mic. “Now get into position.”

Sugi scooted forward on the bench, which made her thighs press even more tightly against the cool metal sides. She planted her feet on the large footplate, which was thankfully wide enough to accommodate her stance. Her knees were already bent at a sharp angle just from sitting.

The leg press worked simply: you pushed the weighted plate away with your legs until your knees were almost straight, then lowered it back down with control. Sugi had used similar machines in college, back when she occasionally visited the campus gym during a brief fitness phase that lasted about three weeks. That felt like another lifetime now.

She reached for the safety handles on either side of the seat and disengaged the locks with a clunk. The weight sled was loaded with what looked like a modest amount—maybe ninety pounds total, judging by the plates. Jennie had set it up earlier while Sugi was getting dressed.

“Start with ten reps,” Jennie directed from behind the camera. “Nice and slow. Show the form.”

Sugi took a breath that was cut short by the tight waistband digging into her diaphragm. She pushed.

Her leg muscles, weakened from days in bed and years of neglect, trembled immediately. But they engaged. The weight sled moved forward along its tracks with a metallic groan, her knees straightening as she extended her legs. The movement felt strange after so long—a different kind of strain than she was used to. This wasn’t about carrying passive mass; this was about activating tissue to move an external load.

She held the extension for a second, feeling the burn in her quadriceps, then slowly bent her knees to lower the weight back down.

“Good,” Jennie murmured. “Again.”

Sugi did it again. And again.

By the fifth rep, a light sweat had broken out on her forehead and upper lip. Her breathing became more labored, but not from cardiovascular effort—just from the sheer work of moving her body into unfamiliar positions while compressed in synthetic fabric. She completed ten reps, her legs shaking visibly on the last one.

“Rest thirty seconds,” Jennie said. “Then another set.”

Sugi let her legs relax, her feet still planted on the plate. She became aware again of the hunger. It had been a background hum during the exertion, but now it surged forward, sharp and demanding. Her stomach clenched emptily, a hollow cramp that had nothing to do with muscle fatigue.

She looked past the camera toward the front of the gym where she’d spotted a small counter earlier with a blender and a refrigerated case of fruits and yogurts. A neon sign above it read ‘Fuel Bar.’

“Jennie,” Sugi said between breaths.

“Thirty seconds isn’t up,” Jennie replied without looking away from the camera’s viewfinder.

“I need…” Sugi trailed off, swallowing. Her mouth had gone dry again. The chemical need was a physical pressure now, an urgent void that demanded filling right now. “I need to get a shake.”

Jennie lowered the camera slightly, finally looking at her directly. A slow smile spread across her face. “Already?”

Sugi just nodded, unable to articulate the gnawing sensation any further.

“Okay,” Jennie said, her tone shifting into something pleased. “That’s good content. Get up slowly. I’ll follow you.”

Getting out of the leg press seat was another production. Sugi had to rock her weight forward, using her arms on the frame to heave herself up from the sunken position while her spilled thighs unstuck themselves from the metal. She stood on wobbly legs, feeling the blood rush back into places compressed by sitting.

Then she began waddling toward the Fuel Bar.

Jennie followed a few steps behind, camera held at waist level to capture Sugi’s broad back and swaying gait from behind. The walk felt endless. Every step echoed the hunger pangs in rhythm.

The young guy behind the counter—the same one from check-in, wearing the same polo—looked up as she approached. His eyes flickered over her outfit, then down to his menu board quickly.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Sugi stared at the list of smoothies and protein shakes printed on the board behind him. The words blurred slightly. “A protein shake,” she said. “The biggest one.”

“We have twenty-four ounce or thirty-two ounce.”

“Thirty-two.”

“Any particular flavor? We have chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, peanut butter banana…”

“Chocolate,” Sugi said instantly. Chocolate meant calories. Chocolate meant density.

“Whey or plant-based protein?”

“Whey.” She remembered from her food science days that whey absorbed faster.

The kid nodded and turned to his blender station. He pulled out a large plastic cup—the thirty-two-ounce size was enormous, nearly a quart—and began scooping powders and ice and milk from containers below the counter.

Jennie had moved to Sugi’s side now, angling the camera to capture her profile: the tight hoodie ending high above her belly, her face turned toward the counter with an expression of naked need. The soft whir of the blender starting up drowned out any ambient gym noise for a moment.

When it stopped, the kid poured thick brown liquid into the giant cup, snapped on a dome lid, and poked a fat straw through the opening. He handed it across the counter.

“Twelve-fifty,” he said.

Jennie stepped forward smoothly before Sugi could fumble for money she didn’t have on her. She handed over a twenty from her pocket without taking her eye from the camera viewfinder trained on Sugi’s hands accepting the cup.

The shake was heavy and cold through the plastic. Sugi’s fingers wrapped around it eagerly.

She turned away from the counter and began waddling back toward their corner without waiting for direction. The straw beckoned. She put it to her lips as she walked and sucked.

The flavor hit first: overly sweet synthetic chocolate with an underlying chalkiness from the protein powder. The texture was thick and icy, sliding down her throat in cold gulps that did nothing to warm the hollow feeling inside her but began to fill it physically.

She didn’t stop drinking as she navigated back through the equipment maze toward their taped-off area.

Jennie kept pace beside her, camera lens focusing tight on Sugi’s mouth around the straw, then pulling back to show her walking and drinking simultaneously—a feat of multi-tasking gluttony.

By time Sugi reached leg press machine again she had drained nearly third of massive cup

She didn’t sit back down immediately Just stood beside machine continuing drink between ragged breaths from walk Her throat worked swallowing large mouthfuls while Jennie circled her getting close-up angles

The camera zoomed in until only Sugi’s lips and bottom half of cup filled frame Plastic crumpled slightly as she squeezed it drinking faster now almost desperately trying flood system with calories quiet chemical scream hunger

Liquid sloshed audibly inside container each tip cup Another long suck straw produced loud gurgling sound last dregs bottom She finally lowered cup gasping for air thin line chocolate shake escaping corner mouth which she wiped back of hand without thinking

Jennie panned camera down to show cup now one-third empty then back up to Sugi’s face flushed from effort both workout and frantic consumption

“Ready for your next set?” Jennie asked voice quiet but clear through Sugi’s microphone

Sugi nodded still catching breath She placed nearly-full heavy cup floor within reach then maneuvered herself back onto leg press seat same awkward spillage process repeated

This time when she positioned her feet on plate and disengaged safety locks movement felt different Leg muscles were warm now but also heavier somehow weighted down by rapid influx liquid calories already processing through gut

She pushed through another set ten reps slower this time more deliberate between fourth fifth rep she paused reached down without getting up grabbed cup from floor took two long gulps shake then returned cup resumed pressing

Jennie adjusted position filming entire sequence seamless flow exertion interrupted by consumption making them part same act workout fueling fueling workout endless loop enforced by chemistry inside Sugi’s bloodstream

By end second set sweat beaded across Sugi’s forehead dripped down between exposed rolls stomach The shake was half gone now leaving cold heavy mass sitting atop deeper ravenous emptiness that seemed paradoxically grow even as she filled it

The pattern established itself over the next hour, settling into a grim, efficient rhythm.

After the leg press, Jennie directed her to a seated chest press machine. Sugi’s arms trembled pushing even the lightest weight, her triceps soft and unused to resistance. Halfway through her second set, the hunger roared back, sharper now, as if the physical activity had accelerated her metabolism and burned through the shake’s calories already. She abandoned the machine mid-rep and waddled back to the Fuel Bar.

This time the kid behind the counter didn’t ask questions. He just raised his eyebrows when she ordered another thirty-two ounce chocolate protein shake, identical to the first. He took Jennie’s twenty again and made the drink.

Sugi drank this one faster, standing right at the counter, not even bothering to walk away. She drained half of it in continuous gulps before coming up for air, a chocolate mustache staining her upper lip. Jennie filmed it all, the camera lingering on the desperate way Sugi’s throat worked, on the visible distention of her stomach under the cropped hoodie as it began to swell with liquid.

Back to the chest press. Finish the set. The remaining half of the second shake disappeared between reps.

Then to a lat pulldown machine. Sugi struggled to grip the wide bar, her fingers slippery with sweat. She managed a few weak pulls before the hollow feeling returned, a cramping emptiness that made concentration impossible.

Third shake. Peanut butter banana this time, because the kid suggested it had more calories. It was thicker, cloyingly sweet. She drank it leaning against the smoothie counter, one hand pressed against her belly which was now taut and rounded from the earlier volume.

The gym had a few more people now—lunchtime crowd trickling in. A muscular man in a tank top watched from across the free weight area, his expression unreadable. A pair of women on adjacent ellipticals whispered to each other without looking over. Sugi stopped noticing them after a while. The world narrowed to the next machine, the next set of trembling reps, and the next cold plastic cup handed across the counter.

By the time Jennie guided her toward a set of dumbbells for some cursory bicep curls, Sugi had lost count of the shakes. Five? Six? The cups piled up in a small trash can near their corner, each one bearing the distinctive logo of the gym’s Fuel Bar. Her gut was a sloshing, overfilled basin, pressing insistently against the waistband of her leggings which now cut even deeper into her flesh. Every movement made liquid shift inside her with audible gurgles.

Her workout clothes were drenched. Sweat plastered the thin hoodie to her back and chest, darkening the grey fabric to charcoal in patches. The leggings were soaked through at the waist and inner thighs, clinging with uncomfortable suction. Sweat rolled down her exposed stomach in rivulets, tracing paths through the stretch marks and dripping onto the rubber flooring.

“Last thing,” Jennie said finally, her own shirt damp from carrying equipment around. She pointed toward a wooden door in the far wall marked ‘Sauna.’ “Cooldown shot.”

Sugi just nodded dumbly, too exhausted to question it. She followed Jennie’s pointing finger, her shuffling gait even slower now under the weight of so much liquid sloshing inside her.

The sauna was small, a cedar-lined cube with two tiers of benches. The heat hit Sugi like a wall when Jennie opened the door—dry, oppressive air that made her already-labored breathing catch. It was empty.

“Sit on the lower bench,” Jennie instructed, propping the door open with her foot as she adjusted camera settings for the steamy environment.

Sugi ducked inside and lowered herself onto the warm wood. The heat intensified immediately, squeezing sweat from every pore. Within seconds, fresh beads formed on her forehead and rolled down her temples.

Jennie stepped inside briefly, the camera already recording. She didn’t sit. She just focused the lens on Sugi’s torso.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. Sweat didn’t just bead on Sugi’s exposed belly; it poured. It streamed from the undersides of her heavy breasts where they met the swollen dome of her stomach. It ran in sheets down the deep valley of her navel, which was stretched nearly flat by distention. It dripped from the overhang of her lower belly where it spilled onto her thighs.

The tight leggings trapped heat mercilessly, creating a sauna within a sauna below her waist. Sweat darkened the black fabric entirely.

Jennie filmed for a full minute in silence, zooming in on individual streams of sweat tracing purple stretch marks, on the heaving rise and fall of Sugi’s breath that made everything jiggle and glisten under the harsh sauna light.

“Okay,” Jennie said finally, her own face flushed from the brief exposure to heat. “That’s enough.”

Getting out was harder than getting in. Sugi felt lightheaded from the heat and the sheer volume of fluid inside her. She used both hands on the bench to push herself up, stumbling slightly as she exited back into the marginally cooler air of the gym.

They didn’t shower or change. Jennie simply packed up her gear quickly while Sugi stood waiting by the entrance, a massive, sweat-soaked spectacle drawing sidelong glances from everyone entering or leaving. Her stomach gurgled loudly, a long, liquid sound that echoed in the tiled lobby.

The compact SUV’s air conditioning was a relief at first, blasting cold air on Sugi’s sweaty skin as Jennie pulled out of the parking lot. But within minutes, the chill made her damp clothes feel clammy and uncomfortable. The seatbelt strained across her chest and belly, digging in.

And the hunger returned.

Not a gradual resurgence—a full-scale assault. The gallons of protein shakes had filled space temporarily, but they were already processing, leaving behind a ravenous chemical demand that made her earlier hunger seem like a mild suggestion. Her hands trembled in her lap.

They were two blocks from the gym when Sugi spoke, her voice hoarse. “We need to stop.” Jennie glanced over from the driver’s seat. “You’re hungry again.” It wasn’t a question. Sugi just nodded, staring out the windshield at passing storefronts. “There’s a Burger Basin at next light,” Jennie said calmly, as if she’d planned this all along. She probably had.

Jennie pulled into drive-through lane easing behind sedan already ordering at menu board speaker She rolled down her window letting in humid afternoon air then handed Sugi her own phone camera app already open video mode

“Film yourself ordering” Jennie said “And eating”

Sugi took phone with unsteady hands She held it up pointing lens at her own face which looked flushed sweaty desperate in small screen She switched view to show out windshield as they pulled up to speaker

A staticky voice crackled “Welcome to Burger Basin what can get for you”

Sugi leaned toward open window though seatbelt held her back “I want” she started then stopped Her mind blanked for second overwhelmed by sheer scope of need “Three number four combos” she blurted out “All large Extra large fries each And chocolate milkshakes large ones”

A pause on other end “Three… number four combos? That’s three double cheeseburger meals all large?”

“Yes”

Another pause longer this time “That’ll be forty-seven eighty at first window”

Jennie already had credit card ready

They pulled forward to payment window where teenage girl took card with wide eyes glancing past Jennie at Sugi in passenger seat who still held phone filming

At pickup window another employee three paper bags so overstuffed sides bulged greasy spots already appearing on brown paper He passed them through window along with tray holding three enormous waxed paper cups topped with domed lids

“Have a nice day” he mumbled not making eye contact

Jennie passed bags directly to Sugi who let phone drop into lap momentarily to receive them The bags were heavy warm fragrant with grease salt meat scent filled car immediately making Sugi’s mouth water painfully

She fumbled phone back up one-handedly angling it as Jennie pulled out parking lot back onto street

Sugi didn’t wait for permission or direction She tore open first bag right there in passenger seat pulling out cardboard container holding double cheeseburger wrapped paper Already unwrapping it with clumsy fingers she brought burger to mouth took huge bite

The flavors exploded—greasy beef melted cheese tangy sauce soft bun She chewed twice swallowed barely tasting it before taking another bite then another

Jennie drove steadily keeping car smooth platform for filming

Sugi finished first burger in under minute reaching into same bag for cardboard boat overflowing with golden fries She grabbed handful shoved them into mouth salty crispy greasy perfect She washed everything down with long pull from first milkshake which was thick cold sweet contrast to salty food

She opened second bag repeating process unwrapping second burger biting chewing swallowing mechanical efficient driven by chemical imperative not enjoyment

Between bites she kept phone pointed roughly at herself though framing was shaky chaotic capturing glimpses of food entering mouth of cheeks bulging of hands moving with frantic urgency

Traffic slowed at red light giving Sugi chance open third bag start third burger Her stomach was visibly distended now pushing hard against steering wheel even from side passenger seat tight leggings must have been agony but she didn’t seem to notice or care

She ate third burger slower last few bites requiring conscious effort to chew swallow The mountain of fries remained—three large orders plus extras she had barely made dent in She picked at them steadily methodically dipping occasionally into small cardboard tub of ketchup she’d found in one bags

By time Jennie pulled into parking space outside their apartment building twenty minutes later Sugi had consumed all three double cheeseburgers two large chocolate milkshakes and approximately half of total fries The remaining fries filled one grease-stained cardboard boat which she clutched in one hand as Jennie turned off engine

The chemical hunger had finally quieted not gone but subdued under sheer mass of intake

Sugi sat still for moment breathing heavily car smelling like fast-food kitchen Her entire body throbbed with exhaustion—muscles aching from unaccustomed workout gut painfully packed with layers of protein shakes burgers fries milkshakes all competing for space Skin chafed under sweat-soaked clothes that had dried stiff uncomfortable during drive

Jennie collected phone from Sugi’s lap checked footage quickly “Good stuff” she said simply then got out began unloading camera gear trunk

Sugi opened passenger door using both hands to maneuver her bulk out She stood unsteadily on sidewalk still holding half-eaten fries afternoon sun glaring down on her ridiculous outfit stretched to breaking point over swollen form

They went inside building took elevator up in silence

At apartment door Jennie unlocked it pushed inside holding door for Sugi who shuffled past

Sugi didn’t make it far She walked three steps into living room then simply stopped functioning Her legs gave out not buckling but just refusing hold anymore

She collapsed sideways onto couch landing with heavy thud that made frame groan protest The half-eaten box of fries tumbled from her hand spilling onto cushion beside her but she didn’t move to pick them up

She lay there on her side breathing shallowly because deep breaths hurt now Every part of body hurt Muscles screamed from workout Stomach groaned under impossible volume Skin burned where tight fabric had rubbed raw

But beneath all that physical feedback beneath exhaustion and pain chemical signal still pulsed faint persistent in bloodstream A low-grade reminder that this reprieve was temporary that hunger would return soon maybe within hour demanding more always more

Sugi stared at wall opposite couch not seeing it Body exhausted chemical hunger unabated