Turn 5 of 6
You flirt back with Mia, throughout the remainder of the shoot, taking pleasure in overstuffing yourself along the way once you notice Mia is fixated on your body. As the shoot wraps up, Mia is clearly infatuated with your fat and willingness to show it off. The AI suggests helping Mia relax as you have learned to do and orders food to feed Mia with, which you both accept and fatten each other
You take a long sip of the milkshake and let your eyes stay on Mia as you lower it. A line of cream sits on your upper lip. You don't wipe it away.
"You keep looking at my stomach," you say. It's not an accusation. Your voice is low, almost lazy, thick with the weight of food and heat and something you haven't felt in years. Mia freezes mid-step, her camera lowering an inch.
"I'm — I'm framing the shot," she says, but the flush on her neck tells a different story.
"Sure you are." You shift on the couch, letting your belly spread wider across your thighs, and watch her eyes follow the movement. You reach for a pastry, bite into it, and let the cream filling push past your lips.
"You want one?"
Mia takes the pastry. Her hand trembles slightly. She bites into it and chews slowly, still holding your gaze, and something shifts in the room — a door opening that neither of you is going to close. She lifts her camera again and photographs you reaching for the nachos, your arm heavy and soft, your fingers thick with cheese. You eat three more. Your belly aches, full and tight, and you lean back with a small groan. Mia's breath catches.
"You're incredible," she says. Her voice is barely above a whisper. She sets the camera on the coffee table.
"The company wants relaxed and recovered, but you're — you're something else. You're not performing. You actually love this." She isn't asking. She's recognizing something in you that she can't name yet, and the recognition makes her lean closer.
The Companion chimes from your phone. Both of you start slightly, the spell breaking for just a moment.
"Session complete. Excellent results. Ambassador metrics will be compiled and shared within 48 hours. Wellness suggestion: your guest appears fatigued from creative work. Shared recovery meals are encouraged under Protocol 9.3 — Companion Bonding. Ordering now."
You stare at the phone. Then at Mia. Mia stares at the phone too, then at you, and a slow smile spreads across her face.
"Did your AI just invite me to dinner?"
"It does that," you say. "It's very helpful."
The delivery arrives in forty minutes — enough for four people. Two large pizzas, a basket of garlic knots, a tray of stuffed pasta, and a chocolate cake that could serve eight. The smell fills your apartment, warm and heavy. Mia sits beside you on the couch, closer than she needs to. Her thigh presses against yours. You hand her a slice of pizza, and she takes it without protest, biting in with the same slow, deliberate focus she brought to the camera.
You eat together. You feed her a garlic knot when her hands are busy, holding it to her lips, and she takes it with her teeth. Her hand rests on your belly as she chews, light at first, then settling into the softness. You feed her another. She feeds you a forkful of pasta, and you open your mouth for it. The Companion chimes periodically, logging calories, praising compliance. Your belly swells against the bikini, the fabric biting into your sides. Mia's own stomach presses against her shirt, the roundness of it visible now, and she looks down at herself with an expression you recognize — surprise, and beneath it, want.
"I don't usually —" she starts.
"You don't have to explain," you say. You rest your hand on her knee.
"Just stay."
The chocolate cake is half gone before midnight. You're both lying back on the couch, heavy and breathing, Mia's head against your shoulder, her hand still on your belly. Your phone glows.
"Companion Bonding session logged. Mutual wellness meal recorded. Excellent compliance, Maya." Below it, a new line: "Guest profile created — Mia, Contractor. Wellness Companion v2.3 invitation sent."