emily 7

Chapter 7, The High Life: Emily's Wild Night

The morning after the lackluster club experience with Max, Emily woke up around noon. Her first instinct was to reach for her vape pen on the nightstand, taking a long drag before even opening her eyes fully. The familiar light-headed sensation was a comforting start to her day.

She heaved herself up to sitting position, her substantial body making the simple movement an effort. The smell of brunch wafting from the kitchen area of the penthouse was enough motivation to get her moving. She pulled on a stretchy sundress—one of her few items not purchased yesterday—and shuffled toward the scent of food.

In the dining area, the maids were setting up an elaborate spread. Denise was directing Carmen and Lucia on the placement of dishes while simultaneously flipping French toast on a portable griddle.

"Good morning, Emily!" Lucia chirped, her youthful energy making Emily wince slightly. "Mr. Max had to step out for a business emergency. He said he'll be back this evening."

Emily lowered herself carefully into the reinforced chair they'd specifically brought in for her after the first one had creaked ominously under her weight.

"Fine by me," she mumbled, eyeing the food hungrily. "More food for me."

The maids laughed, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Emily noticed they seemed less formal today without Max around. Denise brought over a plate stacked impossibly high with French toast, bacon, and fresh berries.

"So," Carmen ventured, pouring Emily a large glass of orange juice, "how was the club last night?"

Emily rolled her eyes dramatically while shoveling a forkful of syrup-drenched French toast into her mouth. She took her time chewing, savoring the sweetness before answering.

"Boring as hell," she finally said, bits of food still visible as she spoke. "Max means well, but he had us in this stuffy VIP section away from everyone. It was like watching a party through a window."

The maids exchanged glances as they sat down with their own much smaller portions.

"That's not the real Miami experience," Carmen said, her eyes lighting up. "I know a place you'd actually love. It's called Curves, and it's specifically for plus-sized people and the people who appreciate them."

Emily paused mid-bite, intrigued.

"For real? That exists?"

Denise nodded. "It's relatively new, but it's become quite popular. Carmen goes almost every weekend."

Carmen blushed slightly. "It's where I met my last boyfriend. The vibe is amazing—everyone's there to have a good time, no judgment."

"Would you..." Emily hesitated, surprised at her own interest given her usual preference for staying in. "Would you take me there tonight?"

Carmen squealed with excitement. "Yes! Oh my god, it'll be so fun! We can all go, right girls?"

Lucia nodded enthusiastically while Denise smiled more reservedly.

"Mr. Max won't be back until late," Denise said thoughtfully. "I suppose we could all use a night out."

Emily stuffed another massive forkful into her mouth, already feeling excited about the prospect. "It's settled then. Tonight, we party for real."

---

By 9 PM, Emily's room had transformed into a pre-gaming headquarters. Music blasted from a Bluetooth speaker as the four women prepared for their night out. Clothing was strewn everywhere—Emily had tried on and discarded at least five outfits before settling on a clingy red dress with strategic cutouts that showcased her cleavage while hiding areas she felt self-conscious about.

Carmen had brought in her prized possession—an elaborate glass bong with color-changing lights—and placed it on the coffee table.

"Anyone want a hit?" she offered, packing the bowl with fragrant weed.

Lucia looked nervously toward the door. "What if Mr. Max comes back early?"

Denise waved her hand dismissively. "He texted me an hour ago. He's still tied up with his business thing and won't be back until after midnight."

That was all the reassurance they needed. Carmen lit the bowl and took a modest hit before passing it to Lucia, who coughed violently after a tiny inhale. Denise took a slightly more substantial hit, holding it in expertly before exhaling.

When the bong reached Emily, she took it with practiced ease. She filled the chamber with thick smoke, cleared it completely, held her breath for an impressive duration, and exhaled a massive cloud. Without pausing, she immediately refilled the chamber and repeated the process three more times.

The maids stared in awe.

"Holy shit," Carmen whispered. "I've never seen anyone hit it that hard."

Emily grinned, already feeling the familiar warmth spreading through her body. "Amateur hour over here. This is just my warm-up."

By the time they were ready to leave, Emily had consumed what would have been a debilitating amount of THC for most people, but for her, it merely created a pleasant buzz. The maids were significantly more affected, giggling uncontrollably as they applied their makeup and helped each other with outfit choices.

---

The Uber dropped them off at Curves just before midnight. The line outside wasn't as long as at the exclusive club Max had taken her to, but it had much more diverse clientele. Emily saw women of all sizes—though many were plus-sized like herself—dressed in outfits that celebrated rather than disguised their curves.

As they approached the entrance, Emily felt a momentary flash of her usual social anxiety, but the combination of weed and the encouraging presence of the maids helped her push through it. The bouncer barely glanced at their IDs before waving them in.

Inside, the club pulsed with energy. Unlike the distant, observational experience she'd had with Max, Emily was immediately immersed in the crowd. The dance floor was packed with bodies of all shapes and sizes moving to the music.

"This is more like it!" she shouted over the beat, feeling the vibrations in her chest.

Denise scanned the room with practiced eyes, then nudged Carmen and pointed toward a section near the DJ booth where a group of well-dressed men were watching the dance floor.

"Let's try over there," she suggested.

Emily followed, grateful that the club had wide pathways and sturdy seating scattered throughout. Her size often made navigating crowded spaces difficult, but this place seemed designed with bodies like hers in mind.

Denise approached the group with confident sensuality that surprised Emily. Within minutes, she was chatting animatedly with a silver-foxed gentleman who couldn't take his eyes off her curves. Carmen and Lucia quickly paired off with two younger men from the same group, leaving Emily momentarily alone.

She was considering heading to the bar when she felt a presence beside her. Looking up, she found herself staring at a tall, dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes and a jaw so chiseled it could cut glass.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth despite the loud music.

Emily blinked, momentarily stunned that someone who looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine was talking to her.

"Uh, sure," she managed, her usual boldness momentarily deserting her.

He guided her toward the bar, his hand lightly touching the small of her back. They found two seats, and he ordered drinks without asking what she wanted—normally something that would annoy her, but tonight it felt mysteriously exciting.

"I'm Jason," he said, leaning close so she could hear him.

"Emily."

"First time at Curves?"

She nodded.

"You'll love it here," he promised. "Everyone can be themselves." His eyes scanned her body appreciatively, lingering on her ample curves in a way that made her flush with pleasure rather than embarrassment.

Their drinks arrived—something pink and fruity for her, something amber and neat for him. As they sipped and chatted, Emily found herself relaxing. Jason asked about her visit to Miami, and she told him about Max's penthouse and their shopping spree.

After their second drink, Jason leaned in conspiratorially.

"Want to try something better than alcohol?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Emily hesitated. "Like what?"

Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag containing white powder. "Something that will make you feel amazing. Better than anything you've ever felt before."

"Is it... cocaine?" Emily whispered, her heart suddenly racing.

Jason laughed. "No, nothing like that. This is much more fun and way safer. It just enhances everything—music sounds better, touching feels incredible, and you'll be so happy you won't believe it."

Emily bit her lip, considering. She was no stranger to altered states, but she'd never ventured beyond weed and alcohol. Still, the way Jason described it made it sound appealing, and she was on vacation after all.

"What exactly is it?" she asked.

Jason smiled reassuringly. "Trust me, it's perfectly safe. I take it all the time. Much more fun than drinking, and no hangover."

Before she could ask more questions, he had already opened her fresh drink and poured in a substantial amount of the powder, stirring quickly.

"Bottoms up," he encouraged. "It tastes a bit bitter, so it's better to drink it fast."

Emily took the glass and, after a final moment of hesitation, downed it in several large gulps. The bitter chemical taste made her gag slightly.

"Ugh, that's disgusting," she complained.

Jason laughed. "The taste doesn't matter once it kicks in. Should be about 20-30 minutes."

They continued talking, Jason asking about her life back home. Emily found herself warming to him, sharing details about her livestreaming career and her growing following of fans who enjoyed watching her eat.

About twenty minutes later, mid-sentence about her favorite restaurants, Emily suddenly felt a warm tingling sensation starting in her stomach and radiating outward through her limbs. The sensation intensified rapidly, rushing through her body like a wave of pure pleasure.

She gasped involuntarily, her eyes widening.

"Oh," she breathed, her voice barely audible even to herself.

Jason grinned knowingly. "There it is. How do you feel?"

"I feel..." Emily struggled to find the words as the sensation continued to build. Her skin felt hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. The music, which had been background noise, suddenly became crystal clear, each beat sending pulses of ecstasy through her body. "I feel amazing."

Within minutes, the effects intensified dramatically. Emily's jaw tightened, her teeth clenching and unclenching rhythmically without her conscious control. Her vision blurred slightly at the edges, and her eyelids fluttered. But none of these physical symptoms bothered her—they were merely background sensations to the overwhelming euphoria flooding her system.

"Do you want to dance?" Jason asked, his voice sounding somehow deeper and more resonant than before.

Emily nodded enthusiastically, suddenly filled with energy despite her usual aversion to physical exertion. As Jason led her to the dance floor, the feeling of his hand in hers sent shockwaves of pleasure up her arm.

On the dance floor, Emily moved with an abandon she'd never experienced before. Her substantial body, usually a source of limited mobility, felt weightless and fluid. She closed her eyes, letting the music guide her movements, completely unconcerned with how she looked or what others might think.

When she opened her eyes, she found Jason watching her with undisguised desire, which sent another surge of euphoria through her. She moved closer to him, craving physical contact. As they danced, his hands on her waist felt like electricity, each touch amplified beyond anything she'd experienced before.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered in her ear, and in that moment, Emily believed him completely. She felt beautiful, desirable, perfect.

Time became meaningless, expanding and contracting in strange ways. What felt like hours might have been minutes; what seemed like a brief conversation might have lasted an hour. Emily lost track of Carmen, Lucia, and Denise, but it didn't matter—all that existed was the music, the movement, and Jason.

At some point, they found themselves in a quieter corner of the club. Emily couldn't stop talking, words pouring out of her in a torrent of emotion and disclosure.

"I've never felt like this before," she gushed, her pupils dilated so wide her eyes appeared almost black. "It's like... like every cell in my body is singing. Do you know what I mean? Can you feel it too? Is your heart racing like mine? Feel my pulse, it's so fast!"

She grabbed Jason's hand and pressed it to her neck, laughing at the sensation.

"You're rolling hard," Jason said, clearly pleased with this development. "First time is always the best."

"Rolling? Is that what this is called?" Emily asked, momentarily distracted by the fascinating texture of Jason's shirt under her fingertips.

He nodded. "MDMA. Ecstasy. Molly. Whatever you want to call it."

"Oh!" Emily exclaimed, connecting the dots in her drug-addled mind. "I've heard of that! But I never thought... never imagined... oh my god, this feels so good."

She found herself telling Jason everything—about her conservative parents who had kicked her out, about Max's unexpected generosity, about her growing online presence.

"I have so many fans," she told him, her words slightly slurred from her uncontrollable jaw movements. "They love watching me eat. They pay me so much money just to see me gain weight. Isn't that wild? Some people pay hundreds just to watch me eat a pizza!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, Emily felt a momentary flash of clarity through her euphoric haze. She'd just confessed her deliberate weight gain to a complete stranger—something she rarely acknowledged so explicitly even to herself.

"Oh no," she whispered, suddenly feeling exposed. "I shouldn't have said that. You must think I'm disgusting."

Jason's expression didn't change. "Actually, I'm familiar with the whole gaining thing. My ex was into it—she gained about a hundred pounds while we were together. I helped her with it."

Emily stared at him in disbelief, the drug amplifying her emotional response to this revelation. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Really? You don't think it's weird?"

Jason shook his head, pulling her closer. "I think people should do whatever makes them happy. And clearly, it makes you happy."

The validation from this attractive stranger, combined with the MDMA flooding her system with serotonin, created an overwhelming emotional response. Emily felt a connection to Jason that transcended their brief acquaintance—in that moment, he seemed to understand her completely, to accept her unconditionally.

"You're amazing," she whispered, reaching up to touch his face with wonder.

What happened next became a blur of sensations rather than clear memories. Emily remembered dancing more, her body pressed against Jason's. She remembered finding Carmen and Lucia at some point, all three of them hugging and telling each other how beautiful they were, their inhibitions completely dissolved by various substances.

She had flashes of Denise trying to round them up to leave, of Jason insisting he would make sure Emily got home safely, of exchanging more intimate touches in a dark corner of the club.

The peak of the drug hit her like a tidal wave, washing away all coherent thought and leaving only pure sensation in its wake. The music became a physical force moving through her body. Every touch felt like electricity. Colors seemed brighter, sounds clearer, emotions more intense than she'd ever experienced.

Emily vaguely recalled stumbling out of the club with Jason, the cool night air a shock against her overheated skin. She remembered a taxi ride where she couldn't keep her hands off him, the boundaries between them seemingly dissolved.

---

Consciousness returned slowly, like swimming up from the depths of a dark lake. Emily's eyelids felt impossibly heavy as she forced them open, immediately wincing at the sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains.

Her head pounded with a pain unlike any hangover she'd experienced before. Her mouth was desert-dry, her jaw ached as if she'd been clenching it all night, and her body felt simultaneously leaden and hollow.

As her vision cleared, panic set in. This wasn't Max's penthouse. This wasn't her room. This was...

She turned her head slowly, ignoring the stab of pain the movement caused, and saw Jason sleeping beside her. The events of the previous night came back in disjointed fragments—the club, the drug, the dancing, the taxi ride.

What happened after that remained a blank space in her memory.

Emily sat up carefully, fighting a wave of nausea. Her clothes were scattered across an unfamiliar bedroom floor. Looking down at her naked body, she felt a surge of vulnerability that the darkness and drugs had masked the night before.

She dressed as quickly as her aching body would allow, gathering her purse and checking that her phone was still inside. Seven missed calls from Denise. Three from Carmen. Two from an unknown number that might have been Max.

Jason stirred but didn't wake as Emily crept toward the door. She had no idea where she was or how far from Max's penthouse, but she knew she needed to leave immediately.

The bright Miami sunlight assaulted her eyes as she stepped outside the apartment building. She squinted at her phone screen, ordering a rideshare with trembling fingers. As she waited on the curb, the reality of what had happened—what she had done and what she had taken—began to sink in.

Yet despite the fear, despite the physical discomfort and the gaps in her memory, a treacherous thought surfaced in Emily's mind: she had never felt so good as she had at the peak of that high. Not while eating, not while smoking, not even during her most successful livestreams when the donations were pouring in.

The car arrived, and Emily lowered herself into the backseat with effort, her body feeling twice as heavy as usual.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

Emily gave Max's address, then leaned her head against the cool window, closing her eyes against the too-bright day, wondering how she would explain her absence—and whether she would ever see Jason again.