emily 9e

# Into the Deep End

The Uber dropped them off at South Beach just as the party was hitting its stride. Hundreds of people milled about on the sand, music throbbing from massive speakers while the afternoon sun blazed overhead. The girls stepped onto the beach in their cover-ups—Emily in her flowing maxi dress, Carmen in a sheer kimono, and Lucia in a loose t-shirt dress.

"This is insane," Emily breathed, taking in the scene. The beach was packed, but not with the typical Miami crowd she'd expected. Instead of uniformly toned fitness models, she saw bodies of all sizes—particularly women who looked like her, with generous curves and ample flesh on display.

Carmen grinned. "Told you it was going to be epic. This is the quarterly 'Big Beautiful Beach Bash.' Curves sponsors it."

Emily's eyes widened. "There's a whole event for people like me?"

"Like us," Lucia corrected, already pulling her t-shirt dress over her head to reveal a candy-pink bikini that showcased her plump figure.

Carmen removed her kimono with a flourish, standing proudly in a black string bikini that left little to the imagination. "Your turn," she urged Emily.

With slightly less confidence, Emily slipped out of her maxi dress. Her bikini was royal blue with gold accents, custom-ordered to accommodate her 400-pound frame. The top strained to contain her massive breasts, while the bottom dug slightly into the flesh of her hips.

"You look hot," Carmen assured her, noticing Emily's momentary hesitation. "Trust me, this is the one place where you're definitely going to get attention for all the right reasons."

Emily straightened her shoulders, allowing herself to absorb the atmosphere. For once, she wasn't the largest person around. Women her size and larger moved confidently through the crowd, their bodies slick with oil and adorned with glitter. Men—mostly fit and conventionally attractive—watched them appreciatively.

"I'm going to get us drinks," Carmen announced. "Lucia, come help me carry."

As the maids departed, Emily's nose caught the unmistakable scent of barbecue. Following her nose, she waddled toward a large food stall surrounded by a crowd of the party's largest attendees.

The scene might have been comical to an outside observer—a gathering of big women clustered around the food like moths to a flame. But Emily felt only a sense of belonging as she joined the throng, examining the menu with growing excitement.

By the time Carmen and Lucia returned with cocktails, Emily had secured a table and was waiting for her order, a plastic number tent placed in front of her.

"Found the food, I see," Carmen said, sliding a bright blue drink toward Emily.

"They have the best-looking barbecue," Emily said, already salivating. "I couldn't resist."

When a server appeared moments later, he placed three heaping plates in front of Emily—one piled high with ribs, another with brisket and pulled pork, and a third overflowing with mac and cheese, baked beans, and coleslaw.

Lucia reached for a rib. "Which one's mine?"

Emily's hand shot out, gently but firmly pushing Lucia's away. "None. It's all for me."

Carmen burst out laughing at Lucia's shocked expression. "You should see your face right now. Haven't you ever watched Emily's streams? This is a light snack for her."

Emily was already tearing into the ribs, sauce smearing across her cheeks. The combination of last night's drugs, this morning's alcohol, and the afternoon heat had created a voracious hunger that demanded satisfaction.

"I'm going to mingle," Carmen announced after watching Emily devour half a rack of ribs in minutes. "You two good here?"

Emily nodded without looking up from her feast. Lucia settled in to watch, her eyes never leaving Emily as she methodically worked her way through the mountain of food.

"You really can eat," Lucia said admiringly after Emily had demolished the first plate.

Emily paused just long enough to take a swig of her cocktail. "It's my superpower," she said with a sauce-covered grin before diving into the brisket.

Twenty minutes later, Emily leaned back in her chair, the three plates empty before her. She ran a finger through the remaining sauce and licked it clean, sighing with contentment.

"Done already?" Carmen's voice came from behind her. She had returned with three young men in tow—all athletically built, all grinning appreciatively at the sight of Emily's bikini-clad form.

"For now," Emily said, eyeing the newcomers with interest.

Carmen made introductions: "This is Trey, Marcus, and Dylan. Guys, this is my friend Emily, and you know Lucia."

The men pulled up chairs, squeezing in around the small table. Dylan, a tall blonde with a surfer's tan, sat closest to Emily.

"So what brings you ladies to Miami?" Marcus asked, his eyes lingering on Emily's cleavage.

"Just visiting," Emily replied, suddenly feeling a tinge of her old shyness. Without alcohol or drugs actively in her system, she felt unexpectedly self-conscious.

The conversation flowed more easily after another round of drinks. Dylan mentioned he grew up in Colorado and missed the easy access to quality weed.

Emily perked up. "You smoke?"

"Every day," Dylan confirmed with a lazy smile.

Without hesitation, Emily reached into her cleavage and extracted a perfectly rolled joint from between her breasts. "I never leave home without provisions."

The men's eyes widened, both at her unexpected storage location and at the appearance of the joint.

"That's..." Trey began, watching as Emily handed the slightly damp joint to Dylan.

"Resourceful," Marcus finished, clearly impressed.

Dylan inspected the joint with reverence, seemingly unbothered by its origin. "This is some premium shit," he said, sniffing it. "Mind if I...?"

Emily gestured expansively. "Go for it. I've got plenty."

Indeed, over the next hour, Emily produced joint after joint from her ample cleavage, passing them around as the group moved to a more secluded spot behind a sand dune. The afternoon mellowed into evening, the sun casting golden light across the beach as they smoked and talked.

Emily found herself relaxing into the experience, the marijuana creating a pleasant buffer between her and her usual social anxiety. Dylan was particularly attentive, hanging on her every word as she described her livestreaming career in increasingly expansive terms.

"So people actually pay to watch you eat?" he asked, genuinely curious rather than judgmental.

"Thousands," Emily confirmed, exaggerating only slightly. "My biggest donor flew me out here, actually. He's like, this super-rich guy with a penthouse."

As the sun began to set, the music from the main stage grew louder, the beats more insistent. Colored lights illuminated the beach as darkness fell, turning the gathering into something more akin to a nightclub than a beach party.

Carmen returned from a brief absence, her pupils slightly dilated and her movements more energetic than before. She sat down next to Emily, leaning in close.

"Want to take this party to the next level?" she whispered, discreetly showing Emily a small baggie of white powder.

Emily hesitated only briefly before nodding. She'd never tried cocaine before last night with Jason, but the memory of that energetic high was appealing after hours of weed-induced lethargy.

They made their excuses and headed to the portable toilets—not ideal, but serviceable for their purposes. Inside the small plastic cubicle, Carmen laid out four lines on the back of her phone.

"Ladies first," she said, offering Emily a rolled-up bill.

Emily bent down, placing the bill to her nostril and inhaling sharply. The powder burned as it entered her nasal cavity, followed seconds later by a numbing sensation spreading across her face. She straightened up, sniffing repeatedly as Carmen took her turn.

By the time they returned to the group, the cocaine was taking effect. Emily felt a surge of energy and confidence, her earlier shyness evaporating completely. Words poured from her mouth in an unstoppable torrent as the drug hijacked her brain's reward center.

"I should network!" she suddenly declared, standing up so quickly she nearly fell over. "There must be so many content creators here!"

Before anyone could respond, Emily was weaving through the crowd, introducing herself to anyone who made eye contact. Her size made her conspicuous, but her newfound charm and energy made her magnetic. She collected phone numbers and social media handles from a dozen other women who created content similar to hers, her brain buzzing with ideas for collaborations.

An hour later, Emily felt the first warning signs of the cocaine wearing off—a slight headache, a dip in her energy. She sought out Carmen immediately.

"Got any more?" she asked without preamble.

Carmen raised an eyebrow but produced the baggie. "Running low, but I've got you."

By midnight, they had gone through their entire supply, Emily consuming the lion's share. She was in the middle of telling Dylan about her childhood for the third time when a commotion at the main stage caught their attention.

Police officers were visible at the perimeter of the party, and the music abruptly cut off. A voice over a megaphone announced that the gathering was in violation of noise ordinances and needed to disperse.

"Don't worry," Marcus said, noting the girls' concern. "They do this all the time. Just put your covers back on, and we'll head out like normal beachgoers."

The girls slipped back into their dresses, though Emily's maxi dress now clung to her sweat-covered body. As they made their way off the beach among the dispersing crowd, Emily felt the cocaine crash hitting her hard. Her mood plummeted, and her body felt suddenly heavy and uncooperative.

"I've got more at my place," Trey whispered, noticing her distress. "But we were thinking of hitting Curves first. You in?"

Emily nodded eagerly, the promise of more drugs temporarily lifting her spirits. Dylan slipped an arm around her waist, supporting her as they walked to the line of taxis waiting to capitalize on the party's premature end.

---

Curves was even more crowded than it had been two nights ago. The bouncer recognized the girls and waved them in without checking IDs, much to the annoyance of those waiting in line.

Inside, the club pulsed with energy. Bodies pressed together on the dance floor, sweat glistening under the strobing lights. Emily scanned the crowd for any sign of Jason but saw no familiar faces.

Carmen pulled them toward a quieter corner. "Time for the good stuff," she announced, producing a second baggie containing several white pills marked with a dolphin logo.

"Molly," she explained, pressing one into Emily's palm. "But since we rolled two days ago, we'll need more to feel it. Take two."

Emily didn't question this logic, eagerly swallowing two pills with a gulp of her vodka cranberry. Dylan watched with wide eyes as she handled the drugs with apparent expertise.

"Have you done this before?" he asked nervously.

Emily adopted a worldly expression. "Oh yeah, tons of times. It's amazing. You should start with half a pill since it's your first time. It'll hit in about 30 minutes, and you'll feel like you're floating. Everything will feel incredible—the music, touching, even just breathing."

She continued expounding on the effects of MDMA with the confidence of someone who'd taken it more than once, rather than someone regurgitating what she'd read online and experienced briefly two days ago.

Dylan took her advice, swallowing half a pill while Emily watched approvingly. The others took varying amounts, with Carmen and Lucia each taking one and a half.

They moved to the dance floor to wait for the drugs to take effect. Emily found movement difficult—her size combined with the lingering effects of the cocaine crash made dancing an almost Herculean effort. But she persisted, determined to maintain her facade of party expertise.

Approximately forty minutes later, in the middle of a particularly bass-heavy song, Emily felt it—the now-familiar warmth spreading from her core to her extremities. But this time, the sensation was more intense, the rush more immediate. Her eyes widened as the club seemed to transform around her, the lights becoming brighter, more vibrant, more beautiful.

"Oh," she gasped, gripping Dylan's arm. "It's happening."

Dylan looked at her with pupils already dilating. "I feel it too. Holy shit."

Within minutes, they were both in the grips of an intense roll. Emily's body felt simultaneously weightless and incredibly sensitive. Every touch sent shivers of pleasure across her skin. The music wasn't just heard; it was felt, each beat pulsing through her body like a physical entity.

"Your skin is so soft," Dylan marveled, running his hands along Emily's arms. "It's like touching a cloud."

Emily laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her. "Everything feels amazing. Feel this!" She took his hand and placed it on her exposed thigh where her dress had ridden up, shivering at the contact.

Soon, all six of them were peaking simultaneously, their inhibitions completely dissolved. They formed a tight circle on the dance floor, arms around each other, moving in a synchronized rhythm that felt divinely orchestrated. Emily found herself pressed between Dylan and Marcus, their hands roaming freely over her body.

"I love you guys," Emily declared earnestly, her jaw working overtime as she spoke. "I've never felt so... so connected to people before."

"We love you too," Marcus replied with equal sincerity, his own face contorted in the characteristic expressions of someone rolling hard.

Dylan nodded vigorously. "It's like... it's like I've known you my whole life. How is that possible? We just met today!"

This observation struck them all as profoundly insightful, leading to a five-minute discussion about the nature of time and human connection, none of which would have made sense to anyone not equally high.

Carmen, her own roll intensifying, suddenly declared, "It's too hot in here!" Without waiting for a response, she pulled her dress over her head, standing in just her black bikini.

"Much better," she sighed, running her hands over her own body with unabashed pleasure.

Lucia followed suit, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Emily. The three women stood in their bikinis, sweating profusely but feeling nothing but bliss. Emily's substantial body glistened under the club lights, rolls of fat jiggling slightly as she moved to the music.

Rather than feeling self-conscious, Emily reveled in the attention her nearly naked form attracted. The three men couldn't keep their eyes—or hands—off her. Dylan massaged her shoulders, Marcus ran his fingers along the exposed flesh of her lower back, and Trey periodically leaned in to whisper compliments in her ear.

In her sober state, Emily might have found their attention overwhelming or their touch inappropriate. But in the grips of MDMA, every caress felt like an expression of genuine affection rather than sexual objectification.

"You're so beautiful," Dylan murmured, his hand sliding beneath the strap of her bikini top to stroke the soft flesh underneath. "So much woman."

Emily melted into his touch, her body responding with waves of intense pleasure. "You make me feel beautiful," she breathed, turning to kiss him deeply.

The kiss seemed to last both seconds and hours, time becoming elastic under the influence of the drug. When they finally broke apart, Emily found Marcus waiting his turn. She kissed him too, with equal enthusiasm, feeling no jealousy or competition from Dylan—only a serene sense that there was enough love to go around.

Lucia watched these exchanges with growing intensity, her own high manifesting as an obsessive focus on Emily. When there was a momentary lull, she seized her opportunity, pressing herself against Emily's back.

"You feel so good," she whispered, her hands circling Emily's waist from behind, gradually sliding upward to cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her bikini.

Emily leaned back into the touch, turning her head to meet Lucia's gaze. There was a moment of recognition—of desire acknowledged—before their lips met in a kiss that startled them both with its intensity.

The men stepped back slightly, watching in appreciative awe as Emily and Lucia became lost in each other. Their hands roamed freely, slipping underneath bikini tops and bottoms, exploring the soft curves and hidden places with drug-enhanced sensitivity.

This intimate moment was interrupted by Carmen, who appeared with yet another baggie. "Who wants to mix it up?" she asked, her voice slightly slurred from the MDMA.

Emily broke away from Lucia, her eyes fixing on the white powder Carmen was preparing on the flat surface of her compact mirror. Even in her altered state, Emily recognized that doing cocaine while rolling was crossing into new territory. But the thought was fleeting, drowned out by the overwhelming desire to maintain—or even intensify—her current euphoria.

"Me first," she insisted, bending down to snort the line Carmen had prepared.

The effect was immediate and overwhelming. The cocaine hit her system like a lightning bolt, interacting with the MDMA already flooding her brain. For several seconds, Emily lost all connection to reality. Her vision fractured into kaleidoscopic patterns, her body seemed to simultaneously expand and contract, and her mind became a jumble of disconnected sensations and thoughts.

When she regained some semblance of awareness, she found herself seated on a couch in the VIP area, her face contorted in an exaggerated expression, jaw working furiously. She was vaguely aware that she was speaking—or rather, that words were pouring from her mouth in an unstoppable stream—but she had no idea what she was saying.

"I just love you guys so much," she repeated for perhaps the twentieth time, clutching Lucia's hand with desperate intensity. "Like, so, so much. You don't even understand. It's like we're all one person, you know? Like our souls are connected by these invisible threads of light, and when we're together, the light gets stronger, and I can feel it inside me, this warm, glowing energy that's just pure love."

Lucia, who had followed Emily's example and done a line of cocaine during her MDMA peak, was equally affected. She nodded vigorously at Emily's philosophical ramblings, occasionally interjecting with her own drug-induced epiphanies.

"I've been watching you all day," Lucia confessed, her hand sliding along Emily's thigh. "You're so... so magnificent. The way you eat, the way you move... I've never met anyone like you."

Emily turned to her, pupils so dilated her eyes appeared almost black. "Really? You think I'm magnificent?"

Instead of answering verbally, Lucia leaned in, kissing Emily with an urgency that communicated more than words could. Emily responded immediately, her drug-enhanced body interpreting the contact as pure ecstasy.

Their makeout session intensified, hands wandering with increasing boldness. Emily's fingers slipped under the fabric of Lucia's bikini bottom, exploring the warmth between her legs. Lucia gasped into Emily's mouth, her own hands kneading Emily's abundant flesh.

The men and Carmen watched this display with expressions ranging from arousal to awe. In the dimly lit VIP section, surrounded by other party-goers equally lost in their own worlds, the intimate encounter seemed both private and performative.

"You guys are so hot," Carmen slurred, her own high making her more voyeuristic than usual.

Eventually, the club lights came on—the universal signal that closing time had arrived. Emily blinked in the sudden brightness, momentarily disoriented. It was 6 AM, and she had been high continuously for nearly 12 hours on various substances.

But rather than feeling ready to crash, Emily felt a desperate desire to maintain the chemical euphoria that had been sustaining her. The thought of returning to Max's penthouse, of facing reality, was unbearable.

"What now?" she asked, her voice hoarse from hours of talking and the drying effects of the drugs.

Trey pulled out his own baggie, which still contained a substantial amount of white powder. "My place? We can keep this going until we crash."

The offer hung in the air for a moment. Emily knew, in some distant part of her brain that wasn't completely hijacked by drugs, that continuing would be pushing her body to dangerous limits. But that rational voice was easily drowned out by the chorus of neurotransmitters demanding more stimulation.

"Yes," she heard herself say. "Let's do it."

As they gathered their things—the girls pulling their dresses back on over their bikinis, the men collecting empty glasses and discarded baggies—Emily felt a momentary pang of something like fear. But it was quickly suppressed by another bump of cocaine, offered by Marcus as they exited the club into the harsh morning light of Miami.

The sun was rising over the ocean as they piled into a taxi, heading for Trey's apartment with no plans except to keep the party going until their bodies or their drug supplies gave out—whichever came first.