emily 9d

# Beach Party Bender

The Uber dropped them off a block from the beach party, music already audible even from that distance. A steady rhythm pulsed through the air, growing louder as they approached the sand. Emily, Carmen, and Lucia wore light sundresses over their swimwear, blending in with the other partygoers streaming toward the gathering.

"Holy shit," Emily whispered as they crested the dune that gave them their first full view of the party.

The beach was transformed into a makeshift festival ground. A DJ booth sat on a raised platform near the water, surrounded by speakers pumping out tropical house beats. Hundreds of people were scattered across the sand—dancing, drinking, lounging on towels and beach chairs. Colorful umbrellas dotted the landscape, and string lights had been set up in preparation for sunset.

What immediately caught Emily's attention, however, was the demographic. Unlike the standard Miami beach scene of toned, tanned fitness models, this crowd was decidedly different. Women of all sizes dominated the landscape, many of them gloriously fat, wearing bikinis that showcased rather than concealed their curves. The men, by contrast, were predominantly fit and attractive, clearly there specifically for the plus-sized women.

"Told you you'd fit right in," Carmen said, nudging Emily with her elbow. "This is where the Curves crowd comes during the day."

Emily felt a surge of excitement. She had never been in a space where her body type was not just accepted but seemingly celebrated. She scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face—Jason—but there were too many people to pick out individuals from this distance.

"Let's change," Carmen suggested, pointing to a row of beach cabanas set up for just that purpose.

Minutes later, they emerged transformed. Carmen wore a sleek black bikini that contrasted beautifully with her caramel skin. Lucia had opted for a retro-styled two-piece with high-waisted bottoms. But it was Emily who drew the most attention in her bright red bikini, her massive breasts threatening to spill out of the top while the bottoms showcased her wide hips and substantial thighs. The outfit would have been considered scandalously revealing on a thin woman; on Emily's 400+ pound frame, it was a bold statement of confidence.

"I smell food," Emily announced, her nose twitching like a bloodhound's. She pointed toward a crowded section of the beach where smoke rose from several large grills.

Carmen laughed. "Of course that's the first thing you notice. Lucia and I will get drinks. Meet you over there?"

Emily nodded, already making her way toward the barbecue stall. She noticed with amusement that the area around the food was predominantly populated by the largest women at the party, creating a sort of gravitational clustering of fat around the source of calories. She felt right at home joining them.

The line moved quickly, and Emily found herself ordering with abandon—a rack of ribs, a loaded burger, and a massive pulled pork sandwich, plus all the sides. The server raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Emily carried her feast to an empty table nearby.

By the time Carmen and Lucia found her, Emily had arranged her bounty in front of her like a personal buffet. Three full meals, sides of mac and cheese, coleslaw, and corn bread, plus a large soda completed the spread.

"Wow, you got food for all of us? That's sweet," Lucia said, reaching for the burger.

Emily's hand shot out, surprisingly quick for her size, and swatted Lucia's away. "Uh-uh," she said through a mouthful of ribs. "This is all for me. Get your own."

Carmen burst out laughing while Lucia stared in amazement. "You're going to eat all of that? Right now?"

Emily shrugged, unapologetic as she dipped a piece of cornbread into the mac and cheese. "I haven't eaten properly all day. I'm starving."

Lucia continued to watch, mesmerized, as Emily systematically demolished her feast. Carmen, more accustomed to Emily's appetite, set down their drinks and cast her gaze around the party.

"I'm going to mingle a bit," she announced. "There are some cute guys over by the DJ booth."

Lucia wavered, clearly torn between following Carmen and continuing to observe Emily's impressive consumption. "I'll stay here," she finally decided, sipping her rum punch.

Emily barely registered their conversation, focused entirely on the pleasure of eating. The combination of the ocean air, the excitement of being somewhere new, and the lingering effects of their pre-party wine had heightened her already substantial appetite. She tore into the pulled pork sandwich with gusto, sauce smearing around her mouth. 

"Do you always eat like this?" Lucia asked, her voice tinged with something between awe and envy.

Emily paused briefly, taking a long swig of soda to wash down her mouthful. "Pretty much. More when I'm streaming—that's what the fans pay for."

Lucia nodded, her eyes tracking every bite as Emily returned to her feast. There was something almost worshipful in her gaze that Emily was too preoccupied to notice.

By the time Emily finished her final bite, licking sauce from her fingers with evident satisfaction, Carmen had returned, three attractive men in tow.

"Ladies," Carmen announced with a flourish, "meet Jake, Tyler, and Mitch."

The men were all classically handsome in different ways—Jake tall and blond, Tyler with darker features and tattoos visible on his muscular arms, Mitch more clean-cut with a dimpled smile. They greeted the girls warmly, pulling up chairs to join them.

"Hope we're not interrupting," Jake said, eyeing the decimated remains of Emily's meal with an impressed smile.

Emily felt a momentary flash of self-consciousness, but it faded when she saw genuine admiration rather than disgust in his expression. "Just finished," she said, wiping her hands on a napkin.

Conversation flowed easily, lubricated by the drinks Carmen had thoughtfully refreshed for everyone. Emily learned that the guys were locals—Jake worked in real estate, Tyler was a personal trainer (which explained his physique), and Mitch owned a small chain of vape shops.

"I'm a total stoner," Mitch admitted with a grin. "Started the business so I could write off my own supplies as research."

Emily perked up at this. "A man after my own heart," she said, reaching between her substantial breasts and retrieving a slightly squashed joint from her cleavage. She held it up with a triumphant smile. "I never leave home without provisions."

The men's eyes widened—partly at the joint itself, but more noticeably at its origin. Mitch in particular seemed transfixed.

"That's... resourceful," he managed, his gaze lingering on her cleavage where, Emily knew, several more joints were safely stored.

"Want to light it up?" she offered, enjoying the effect she was having.

The group relocated to a more secluded spot behind a large umbrella. Jake produced a lighter, and they passed the joint around. Emily noticed with amusement how the guys seemed to take extra care with their hits, their lips touching exactly where hers had been.

"Is it weird that I find it hot that this joint was in your cleavage?" Mitch asked, the weed apparently loosening his inhibitions.

Emily laughed, sending ripples through her body that the men followed with their eyes. "Not weird at all. I've got more if you want them," she teased, reaching toward her bikini top.

"I think we should pace ourselves," Carmen suggested, though her own eyes were already becoming pleasantly glazed. "Long night ahead."

The afternoon mellowed into a peaceful haze of marijuana smoke, casual conversation, and the steady backdrop of music. More joints emerged from Emily's improvised storage as needed. They watched other partygoers dancing, dipping in the ocean, or engaging in their own substance-enhanced socializing.

As the sun began to descend toward the horizon, casting golden light across the water, the group had settled into a comfortable circle on beach towels. Emily found herself leaning against Mitch, who had been particularly attentive, making sure her drink was always full and that she was comfortable.

"This is perfect," she sighed, watching the sun sink lower. "I've never been to a party like this before. Where everyone looks like me, I mean."

Mitch's arm wrapped around her shoulders, his hand resting comfortably on her upper arm. "Miami's got everything if you know where to look."

The sunset painted the sky in spectacular oranges and pinks, the beauty amplified by the THC flowing through their systems. Emily felt a contentment she hadn't experienced before—a belonging she hadn't known she was missing. Her size, usually something to be defended or apologized for in the outside world, was here just another variation in a sea of beautiful diversity.

As darkness fell, the party's energy shifted. The music grew louder, with deeper bass that vibrated through the sand beneath them. String lights illuminated the beach in a warm glow, and portable fire pits were lit, creating pockets of dancing light throughout the crowd.

Carmen returned from a trip to the bar with a tray of shots. "Time to turn it up a notch," she declared.

The tequila burned pleasantly down Emily's throat, chased by the sting of lime and salt. One shot became two, then three, the alcohol mingling with the lingering effects of the weed to create a pleasant, floating sensation.

Emily was laughing at something Tyler had said—she couldn't quite remember what—when Carmen leaned in close, keeping her voice low.

"Want to try something with a bit more kick?" she asked, discreetly showing Emily a small baggie of white powder.

Emily hesitated only briefly before nodding. She'd crossed one line already with the MDMA; cocaine seemed like a natural next step in her exploration. Carmen led her and the others to a more private spot behind the cabanas, where she expertly prepared lines on the surface of her phone.

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

Emily bent down, momentarily self-conscious about her multiple chins as she positioned herself over the line. Pushing the thought aside, she inhaled sharply, feeling the powder burn through her nasal passage and down the back of her throat. She straightened up, eyes watering slightly.

"How do you feel?" Lucia asked, watching her closely.

"Like..." Emily paused, feeling the first tendrils of the drug taking effect, a warm numbness spreading across her face followed by a surge of energy. "Like I could talk for hours."

And talk she did. As the cocaine hit her system in full force, Emily's natural shyness vanished completely. She became a social butterfly, flitting from conversation to conversation with boundless enthusiasm. She introduced herself to neighboring groups, complimenting outfits, asking questions, sharing stories about her life back home with people she'd just met.

"I make videos," she told a group of women who had welcomed her into their circle. "Eating videos, mostly. People pay to watch me eat."

"Mukbang?" one of the women asked. She was older than Emily, maybe in her thirties, with an impressively large body adorned in a gold lamé bikini.

"Yeah! Exactly!" Emily exclaimed, delighted to be understood. "Do you know about it?"

The woman laughed. "Honey, I've been doing it for five years. These are my friends—we all create content together sometimes."

Emily had stumbled upon a trio of established creators in her own niche. They exchanged social media handles, promising to follow each other, and for fifteen minutes, Emily was absorbed in an intense discussion about lighting techniques, platforms with the best monetization, and strategies for dealing with trolls.

By the time she returned to her original group, the cocaine was beginning to wear off, leaving her feeling slightly hollow but still energized. Carmen, recognizing the signs, offered another line, which Emily accepted gratefully.

The night continued in a blur of white powder, alcohol, and occasional joints when they needed to take the edge off. Emily lost track of time, aware only of the pulsing music, the bodies around her, and the constant chemical rush keeping her on her feet despite her size and usual inactivity.

At some point—it might have been around midnight, though Emily couldn't be sure—flashing lights appeared at the perimeter of the beach. The music cut abruptly, replaced by a disembodied voice announcing through a megaphone that the party was being shut down due to noise complaints.

"Shit," Jake muttered. "Cops."

They quickly gathered their belongings, Emily and the girls pulling their sundresses back on over their bikinis. The crowd began dispersing in an orderly fashion, no one particularly interested in confrontation with law enforcement.

"Where to now?" Emily asked, feeling the cocaine still buzzing through her system, unwilling to let the night end.

"Curves," Tyler suggested. "The club will be going all night."

The walk to the waiting Ubers was more challenging for Emily than she'd anticipated. The combination of sand, her weight, and the various substances in her system made each step an effort. Mitch noticed her struggle and offered his arm for support, which she accepted gratefully.

"You're like a gentleman," she giggled, leaning heavily against him. "A gentleman stoner."

The club was already packed when they arrived, the line stretching down the block. But Tyler knew the bouncer, and they were ushered in without waiting. Inside, the familiar environment of Curves felt like coming home to Emily, despite having been there only once before.

They claimed a booth in the corner, and drinks appeared almost immediately. Emily found herself pressed between Mitch and Tyler, their thighs touching hers on either side. The contact felt electric, especially as the cocaine began to wear off again, leaving her craving more stimulation.

As if reading her mind, Carmen leaned across the table. "Ready for round two?" she asked, her eyes glittering with excitement.

Emily nodded eagerly. "What's on the menu?"

Carmen opened her purse, revealing several small bags. "Dealer's choice. We've got more coke or..." she held up a bag of crystals, "molly."

"Molly," Emily decided without hesitation, remembering the euphoria of her first experience. "Definitely molly."

Carmen measured out doses with practiced precision. "We'll need more than last time," she explained. "Your body builds tolerance super fast with this stuff. If you take the same amount, you won't feel it nearly as much."

Emily accepted the crystals Carmen poured into her palm—noticeably more than she'd had at the club with Jason—and swallowed them with a gulp of her drink.

"What is that?" Mitch asked, watching the transaction with curiosity.

"MDMA," Emily replied, suddenly feeling like an expert despite having only tried it once before. "It's amazing. Makes you feel connected to everyone and everything. Music sounds better, touching feels incredible." She ran her hand along his arm for emphasis. "Want to try?"

Mitch looked uncertain. "I've never done it before."

"I'll walk you through it," Emily assured him, channeling confidence she didn't really have. "It's all about dosage. You want enough to feel it but not so much that you're overwhelmed. First timers should start small, but not too small or you'll miss the full experience."

She continued her improvised lecture on MDMA use, piecing together information she'd gleaned from Carmen and her own limited experience. Mitch listened attentively, nodding as if she were imparting profound wisdom.

Eventually, he agreed to try it, and Carmen prepared a dose for him and the rest of their group. They swallowed the crystals together, raising their drinks in a toast to the night ahead.

Waiting for the drug to take effect, they moved to the dance floor. Emily usually avoided dancing due to her size and the exertion required, but the lingering cocaine gave her energy she rarely possessed. She moved her body to the rhythm, enjoying how her flesh undulated with each movement. The men watched, clearly appreciating the show.

When the MDMA hit, it hit harder than before. One moment Emily was dancing, aware of her surroundings; the next, a wave of sensation washed over her so intense that her knees nearly buckled. Mitch caught her, his hands on her waist to steady her.

"Whoa," she breathed, her eyes widening as her pupils dilated dramatically. "It's starting."

The transformation was beautiful to witness. Mitch's expression shifted from concern to wonder as the drug took hold of him too. His eyes locked with Emily's, and a look of pure understanding passed between them.

"I feel it," he whispered, his hands still on her waist, fingers pressing gently into her soft flesh. "I feel... everything."

Around them, their friends were experiencing similar revelations. Jake and Carmen were locked in an embrace, swaying more than dancing. Tyler had his arm around Lucia, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle uncontrollably.

The music transformed from mere sound into a physical presence, each beat a tangible pulse moving through Emily's body. Colors seemed brighter, more vibrant. The lights streaking across the dance floor left trails in her vision. Her skin tingled wherever it was touched—by clothing, by air, by hands.

And there were many hands. As the night progressed and the MDMA reached its peak, boundaries within their group began to blur. What started as dancing evolved into a more intimate exchange of touch. Mitch remained primarily focused on Emily, his hands exploring the expansive landscape of her body with reverent curiosity. But Tyler would occasionally join, running his fingers along her arm or brushing her hair back from her face. Even Jake, primarily occupied with Carmen, would sometimes include Emily in their orbit, pulling her into a three-way hug or dance.

Lucia watched it all with growing desire evident in her eyes. She hovered at the periphery, occasionally touching Emily's shoulder or back, but never quite committing to more direct contact.

"You're so beautiful," Mitch murmured, his face close to Emily's ear. "So much of you to love."

The words would have sounded like a backhanded compliment in any other context, but in her MDMA-enhanced state, Emily received them as pure adoration. She gazed at him with equal appreciation, running her hands over his chest.

"I love touching you," she confessed, her voice thick with emotion. "I love touching everyone. Why don't people touch more all the time?"

This philosophical question struck their drug-addled group as profoundly insightful. They all nodded in solemn agreement.

"Society keeps us apart," Tyler theorized, his hands now resting on Emily's shoulders from behind while she remained facing Mitch. "Makes us afraid to connect."

"Not tonight," Carmen declared. She grabbed Emily's hand and twirled her—or tried to, the mechanics complicated by Emily's size. The attempt sent them both into fits of giggles that seemed to last for hours but was probably only minutes.

Time had become entirely subjective, stretching and compressing without warning. What felt like a brief conversation might have been thirty minutes; what seemed like hours of dancing might have been just a song or two.

At some point, Carmen disappeared briefly, returning with a spark of renewed energy that suggested she'd found another substance to add to the mix. She pulled Emily aside, leading her to the relative privacy of the bathroom.

"Ready to go higher?" she asked, producing yet another bag of white powder.

Emily nodded eagerly, chasing the next peak. Carmen prepared two lines on the edge of the sink, and Emily bent to inhale one.

The effect was instantaneous and overwhelming. The cocaine hit her system already flooded with MDMA, creating a synergistic rush that was almost too intense to bear. Emily gripped the sink for support, her knees weak and head spinning. Her jaw clenched involuntarily, teeth grinding as her facial muscles contorted in ways she couldn't control.

"Holy shit," she gasped when she could finally form words. "That's... that's a lot."

Carmen, having taken her own line, nodded vigorously, her eyes wide and glassy. "Amazing, right? Let's get back out there."

Walking back to their group felt like navigating through an alternate dimension. Emily's perception was so altered that the simple act of moving through the crowd became a complex negotiation of space and time. Lights left long trails in her vision, and the bass from the speakers seemed to synchronize with her heartbeat.

They found the others at their booth, Mitch and Tyler deep in what appeared to be an intense philosophical discussion while Lucia and Jake swayed to the music nearby. Emily collapsed onto the cushioned seat, her substantial body sinking into the upholstery as waves of sensation continued to crash over her.

"I love you guys," she announced, her voice thick with emotion. "All of you. So much."

This declaration was met with enthusiastic agreement from everyone. Tyler attempted to explain the cosmic significance of their meeting tonight, a rambling discourse that made perfect sense to their drug-enhanced minds but would have been largely incoherent to anyone sober.

Lucia, emboldened by the MDMA and whatever else she'd consumed, finally made her move. She squeezed in beside Emily, their thighs pressing together.

"You're so amazing," she whispered, her hand coming to rest on Emily's bare knee where her dress had ridden up. "I've been watching you since you arrived at the penthouse."

Under normal circumstances, Emily might have found this confession awkward or even creepy. But in her current state, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. She turned to face Lucia, their faces now inches apart.

"You're pretty amazing yourself," Emily replied, her hand reaching up to touch Lucia's face.

The kiss that followed seemed inevitable, their lips meeting with an electric charge that sent shivers through Emily's body. What began as tentative exploration quickly deepened, their inhibitions completely dissolved by the cocktail of substances flowing through their systems.

Emily was vaguely aware of the men watching, of Carmen's delighted exclamations, but these were peripheral concerns. The center of her universe had narrowed to the points where her body connected with Lucia's—lips, hands, thighs.

Carmen, never one to be left out, approached them with a small baggie. "Open up," she instructed during a brief pause in their kissing.

Emily obediently stuck out her tongue, and Carmen placed what looked like a small tablet on it. Lucia received the same treatment. Emily swallowed without question, chasing whatever high came next.

The club became increasingly chaotic as the night wore on, or perhaps it was just their perception that changed. Emily found herself in various configurations with their group—dancing with Tyler while Mitch whispered in her ear; sitting on Jake's lap while Lucia braided her hair with clumsy fingers; pressed between Carmen and Lucia in a sandwich of feminine curves.

Her dress had long since been discarded, leaving her in just the red bikini again. Carmen, following her own impulse, had done the same, and soon convinced Lucia to join them. The three women moved through the club in their swimwear, their substantial bodies glistening with sweat under the pulsing lights. The men stayed close, forming a protective circle around them while also clearly enjoying the view.

Emily's body, usually a source of self-consciousness despite her public celebration of it, had become a playground of sensation. Every touch—from the brush of fabric to the press of someone's hand—sent ripples of pleasure through her. She reveled in the attention, in the admiration so evident in the eyes of those around her.

At some point—it might have been 3 AM, or 4, or 5—an announcement came that the club would be closing soon. The news was met with collective disappointment from their group, all of them still riding various chemical highs with no desire to end the night.

"My place isn't far," Tyler suggested, his arm draped around Emily's shoulders. "We could continue the party there."

The offer was accepted without hesitation. None of them were ready to return to reality just yet, least of all Emily. The thought of going back to Max's penthouse, of facing his disappointment and Denise's judgment, was enough to kill any buzz. Better to stay in this magical bubble they'd created, where her body was desirable, her appetite—for food, for drugs, for experience—celebrated rather than criticized.

As they stumbled out of the club into the pre-dawn light, Emily felt Mitch's arm circle her waist. On her other side, Lucia held her hand, their fingers intertwined. Ahead, Carmen led the way with Jake and Tyler, her laughter carrying on the cool morning air.

This was freedom, Emily thought hazily. This was what she'd been searching for all along—acceptance, pleasure, connection. The fact that it came chemically enhanced seemed irrelevant. The feeling was real, even if the circumstances were artificial.

The sun was just beginning to rise as they piled into rideshares, heading toward Tyler's apartment and whatever new experiences awaited them there. Emily, squeezed between Mitch and Lucia in the backseat, felt a momentary pang of something like concern—a distant voice suggesting that perhaps she was in over her head.

But then Lucia's head rested on her shoulder, and Mitch's hand found hers, and the thought dissolved like sugar in water. There would be time for consequences later. For now, there was only this perfect, endless night and the promise of more pleasure to come.