Mutual Weight Gain Interactive Story

Suggest commands after the section of text is over to continue the story, ala /qst/. Since this story is about MWG, I'd imagine you'd want to direct the story to that goal. Depending on your command, the story's length shall flux. Don't be too unrealistic with the commands.
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>Cheese will be less filling. BBQ sauce will go down easier than hot sauce. Smooth Root Beer is the best soda choice.

	"Oh, sorry. Seems like somebody wants our attention," you claim. The cook possessed a stereotypical mustache atop his pink lips. Standing up, you were a bit perplexed on what to say. You tap Matt who is sitting and staring at his phone to act as auxiliary. "You're talking about the choices for our foods, right? Well, we wouldn't want them to be to stressful. This is probably something we should've prepped beforehand." On the spur of the moment, you blurt out some options. "No toppings on the pizza - just cheese. BBQ sauce on the wings. Smooth root beer for the two liter." You give a smile and a wink to grant the humble chef some gratitude, as he departs off into the kitchen. You smell the ripe smell of BBQ in the air.

	"Man, I wanted some buffalo sauce, and buffalo chicken on the pizza, and buffalo soda - wait." Silly ol' Matt, always with his spicy foods. Everywhere he went, he was always putting hot sauce on everything. Pizza, bacon, eggs, even on mac and cheese. "You've got such a lust for the heat, don't you, Matt?" Matt rebuts. "I don't put hot or buffalo sauce on everything, Maddie. If that was the case, I'd be grabbing the hot sauce bottle right now. I was just being satirical..."

	The name was true, Matt was the silly fellow. Even at the midst of puberty, Matt still made clumsy and outlandish decisions. You weren't so different, as you were the one who requested this mega meal. On the other side of things, Lindsey the black-clad was still helping herself with her meal, glancing to you and Matt bickering. She put her hand to her mouth and giggled, even though she was in the process of chewing her cheesy cuisine.

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	Tension arose into the air, like a campfire that wouldn't stay dead. Was it a feeling of unease, excitement, hunger, or all of the above? You weren't so sure. But, after a warning call that the plenteous platter along with a waiter to measure the time would arrive in the next ten minutes, you and Matt stood a simple posture within the booth, staring at each other, unblinking. Suddenly, the sharp smell of bar food swam through the air-conditioned restaurant - it had arrived. The Three Fifty Two was delivered by three different waiters, as they plopped a wooden board that held the three pizzas, all plain as could be. Next came the plate of hot wings, placed in the middle of the table. A perfect pile was attempted, but a few wings rested on the bottom. Pasqual's wasn't the most finessed place. Then came the root beer, which was stored in the typical two liter bottle. But, was what most interesting was Matt's eyes. They weren't as dazzling as yours, but a silent, confident aura danced around him. Perhaps it was some mental bond.

	"The Three Fifty Two," a waiter announced, "shall be challenged by..." 	The waiter stumbled for a moment, as he let his hand come to Matt. "...your name?" He called out stalwartly. "Matt!" Next, the hand swiveled in the air, pointed to you. "Oh, I'm Maddie," you respond to the man with the hand. "Matt and Maddie! This pair shall test their hunger and their stomach capacity with such a bountiful meal." A few other customers turned their heads, Lindsey sitting with a U-shaped smile. "Good luck to you two, and enjoy."

>How do you tackle the Three Fifty Two? Any sorts of things to do in the midst of the feast?