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The wild part is, she doesn’t have to do it. No one’s going to force her; no one’s holding a gun to her head, saying, Luciana, eat an entire box of donuts, or else. This is completely optional. It’s an ego stroke (and god knows Luciana has a lot of ego). A test of endurance. Nothing more.
Which is exactly why she wants to do it. Annie’s best friend can never resist a challenge.
“Yeah, it’s at a good angle,” Annie declares, giving a minute adjustment to the camera stand. By now, this is routine for them. Luciana sits in the living room in leggings and her favorite t-shirt (six years old, loose at the shoulders and very tight in the chest area; it has Warrior Cats fanart on the front). Luciana’s legs are folded beneath her. Her mess of brown curls are pulled up in a bun. She sits upright, her expression steady, a determined gleam in her eyes. Or maybe it’s madness — a funny kind of mania that looks convincingly sane. Who the hell knows?
“You know,” Annie says, “you really don’t have to.”
Her friend casts her a quick smile. “We already bought the donuts,” she replies, gesturing to the bright pink box sitting beside her. It’s huge — a whole dozen donuts.
“We can give them away,” Annie retorts, shaking her head. The concierge of their building would love some donuts; it would make their day, and they wouldn’t gorge on them like pigs at a troth.
Pig. An image strikes her, vivid as a thunder-clap — a memory from last night. The rowdy frat party, the guys chanting, Luciana on the table as she shotgunned a whole 6-pack of Golden Arrow. Her crop top was so tiny… you could almost see the tantalizing lace of her bra underneath. At some point, she’d unbuttoned her skirt, and her belly was sitting in her lap, plush and heavy. For a moment, Annie could only stare. The seductive bob of her best friend’s throat… the soft brown flesh of her tummy, swelling a bit more with every gulp, growing so taut and needy…
“Like a goddamn pig,” one of the frat boys had said.
“Prettiest pig I’ve ever seen,” his friend retorted.
Were *they* the ones who gave Luciana this stupid dare? No… it could have been anyone. Luciana blossoms in social situations, whereas Annie shrinks. She has such a wide group of friends… and, ever since she started doing mukbangs, she takes occasional requests from her followers. Maybe one of them issued this challenge; all they want to see is their favorite influencer bursting out of her clothes. Emma swallows hard at the thought.
“Luci,” she starts — but her friend is already adjusting her shirt, making it sit just right over her boobs. Gotta give the followers what they want.
Luciana takes one last moment to review her script… then tosses the notebook away and looks straight at the camera. The shift is fascinating to watch; her normal confident, determined expression melts into a wide grin.
“Hey, everybody! What’s up, what’s going on? It’s Luciana here. I’m back with a challenge that some of y’all have wanted to see for a long time. Seriously, I’ve counted the comments.” She laughs, shaking her head. “And, you know what? Eating a dozen donuts at once was never on my bucket list, but the people ask, and I answer.”
With a flourish, Luciana presents the box, a special delivery from Amy Jo’s Bakery. She opens it slowly, revealing twin rows of colorful donuts; strawberry-frosted, double-chocolate, powdered jelly, glazed, Boston crème, and vanilla-sprinkle. Annie doesn’t even like dessert, yet looking at the array makes her stomach grumble. No one does presentation — or tasty treats — like Amy Jo.
“One thing about me,” Luciana chimes, “I can never refuse a challenge. This morning I’m hungover, and already had a big breakfast, but…” She flashes the camera a wicked grin. “I’m in the mood for something sweet.”
And with that, she reaches into the box.
They settled the rules in advance. She has to eat twelve donuts in twenty minutes or less — no conspicuous jump-cuts or editing the video. Luciana’s meticulous about her mukbangs; her followers want to see every bite, so she never cuts anything out. Whatever mess she makes, whatever sounds escape her… all part of the show. She’s allowed to drink milk in between the donuts, but nothing else. No water. No breaks. Just stuffing her face ‘til the box is empty and her stomach is bursting.
Annie doesn’t know why she does this. The nacho challenge was bad enough; then, the entire birthday cake, and that put Luciana out of commission for hours. It seems crazy to her, because she doesn’t watch this sort of content… but her roommate’s got eighty thousand followers. Clearly, there’s an allure to her madness.
She goes for a chocolate donut first. Bold choice — Annie would have started off easy, with the glazed. Easy isn’t Luciana’s game.
Only that fire blazing in her eyes, the smirk on her lips as they’re stained with chocolate frosting… hell yeah, she seems to say, this is easy.
The first donut vanishes in three bites; the second follows right after. Jelly this time. Luciana has a weakness for strawberry jelly. (“Plus,” she declared, grinning brazenly, “it’ll make such a good mess on camera!”) She bites into it with a moan, and lingers on the flavor for a moment — eyes fluttering as she laps at the sticky-sweet jam.
“Mmm, fuck,” she breathes. “This is so good…” Pausing to take another bite, she chews, then speaks around a full mouth. “I could eat a dozen of these on their own. So fucking yummy.”
“You’re gonna weigh three-hundred pounds, if you make this a habit,” Annie observes.
“What’s wrong with that?” Luciana finishes off her donut, popping the last bite into her mouth. She sucks her powdered fingers greedily.
They’re both playing it up for the camera. Annie’s been filming for her friend for a while now; she knows what the audience likes to hear. She also knows Luciana will say anything on camera… but that doesn’t make her a liar.
The sugar rush hits almost immediately, a fizzy burst of energy surging through Luciana’s veins. She grins, licking the frosting off her thumb. It’s on her face, too, but… there’s no helping that.
“Next up,” she declares, and picks out a Boston crème.
Her appetite hasn’t faltered — Luciana’s still going steady. She’s savoring less, chewing with care; her eyes flutter as the gooey crème fills her mouth, flooding her senses with sweetness.
“Oh my god,” she moans again. Her tongue flickers out to lick the crème; Annie feels like she’s filming something lewd.
“You don’t have to—“ she begins, but Luciana’s already reading for another donut.
Onto her fourth. Then fifth. By the sixth donut, they’ve all started to blur together. Luciana isn’t savoring the frosting anymore; she takes each bite slowly, breathing deep in between. The dough doesn’t go down easy. It feels thick on her tongue. A soft burp rolls up, and she covers her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Uhh… Annie. I need some…”
Annie’s already ready with a large glass of milk. She passes it to her friend, and Luciana immediately gulps it down. She nearly chokes on it, she’s so eager… but the milk is a palette cleanser, a blissful relief.
Once the glass is empty, she sits there for a moment, looking dazed. A hearty belch rolls up; Luciana covers her mouth belatedly.
“Sorry, sorry, I’m just… hilC!” Her shoulders jolt; she takes a deep breath. “I’m so full, guys. This is…” Another burp. Her eyes flutter shut. “This is amazing.”
She reaches for the seventh donut. Annie mentally braces herself. She’s not even doing the challenge, but she feels too full in sympathy. The smell of fried dough has turned from pleasant to cloying.
Luciana dives into a strawberry frosted, taking each bite with care. It’s obvious how full she is; she’s sitting up straight, adjusting her posture to accommodate her tummy. Luciana’s soft pudge is turning into a round, overfull dome. It sits in her lap, heavy… visibly grumbling from the amount of food being forced into it.
The halfway point is a wall. Luciana has to push through it. Her stomach does not want any more donuts. It protests with deep grumbles, and slow, heavy pangs of discomfort. Luciana grunts. She leans forward, elbows on the table, breathing shallowly between bites. The sugar rush has peaked — and now comes the sluggish fog.
“Luci,” Annie says softly, behind the camera. “You can call it quits.”
Luciana responds with a hearty belch.
“Fuck,” she mutters, covering her mouth too late. “Sorry. I didn’t… mmm, I’m not gonna quit.”
Of course not. Annie knew that already — but she had to ask, had to offer. Had to try to inject some sanity into this situation.
“You’re gonna burst,” she mutters… and Luciana grins.
“C’mon, I can handle it.” She gives her stomach a resounding slap.
It’s a mistake, Annie knows — she can see her friend trying not to flinch with each cramp — but Luciana keeps pushing through. Onto the eighth donut.
Now, the challenge has really begun. Luciana struggles, winding through every bite. The chocolate doesn’t go down easy; she’s sluggish, and her lips are stained with frosting. She chews like a cow, slow and robotic. As soon as the donut is gone, she burps softly. Again, the milk; this time, Luciana sips.
“I’m almost there,” she declares, and goes for her ninth donut.
Every bite now feels like a battle. Her throat resists swallowing; her stomach is solid, painfully heavy, protesting the overload with grumbles and snarls. The sweetness burns in her mouth — she may as well be eating sugared glue. Luciana can’t help groaning while she eats, cradling her stomach.
“It’s so yummy,” she moans, and pops the last of the donut into her mouth. “So good… but I’m gonna regret it.”
She’s already regretting it. Luciana braces herself, cradling her belly. Her frosting-stained fingers leave a smear of chocolate on her t-shirt, but she doesn’t care. Nothing matters not — nothing but the tightness in her stomach, the overwhelming fullness. And the challenge before her.
Her hands tremble as she picks up the tenth donut up. The edges of her vision blur a bit — the combination of sugar, nausea, and adrenaline is dizzying. It’s jelly. She likes jelly. Luciana moans before taking her first bite.
By now, her breathing comes hard and heavy. Luciana’s sweating through her shirt, her chest heaving with shallow hiccups. She manages three bites before needing to take a drink of milk. For a long moment, she just stares at the donut. It’s saccharine sweetness feels like it’s mocking her.
“Fuck,” she mutters, and glances at the box. Two donuts left. “How— how much time do I—“
“Three minutes,” Annie says gently. She doesn’t want to discourage her friend, but… it really doesn’t feel like she’ll make it. Luciana is moving sluggishly, her eyes glazes. It’s taking her ages just to get through this jelly donut.
There’s no way she can finish in three minutes…
But her friend should know better. Luciana’s nothing if not a champion.
She pushes through, punching the air once before shoving the rest of the jelly in her mouth. There’s nothing to do but she’s. She doesn’t savor the sweetness, doesn’t mind the glob of jelly that falls onto her shirt. Luciana has to get through this.
Onto the eleventh donut. Vanilla frosting. She doesn’t like vanilla frosting. Luciana eats this one with spite, growling through each bite. She doesn’t even taste it — just powers through.
Final donut. The moment of truth. Luciana reaches for the innocuous glazed donut. It looks so casual, sitting there — like it’s not the last one standing. Luciana’s ticket to victory.
She doesn’t eat that little donut. She devours it. Three bites, and it’s gone. Luciana has to force it down, her throat protesting the whole while. She grunts, belches… and then licks her fingers. A triumphant grin slowly spreads across her face.
“Twelve,” Luciana declares. She cradles her belly with both hands, beaming up at the ceiling. “Twelve fucking donuts. I’m a goddamn beast!”
Just to prove it, her stomach gives a fierce growl. Luciana flinches, cradling it; she leans forward, a soft whine slipping out of her.
“Annie… more milk. Ooohh…”
Annie knows how this night is going to go. Wordlessly, she passes her friend another glass of milk. Luciana take a few slow, dainty sips.
Finally, she speaks again; looking directly at the camera, her dark eyes glow with triumph. “You guys asked, I delivered. Nobody calls Luciana a quitter! A whole box of donuts, down the— BHHUUURRRrrrrppp!”
Time stops. Luciana blinks, mouth hanging open. She manages a few shaky breaths… then covers her mouth with a fist.
“Sorry,” she declares. “I’m so fucking full. Can’t even help them.”
Will her followers like that, Annie wonders? Will they be amazed by how much Luciana is able to pack in her stomach… by her shallow breathing and uncontrollable belches?
She doesn’t know what to make of that. All Annie knows is, a heat is simmering in her own gut. It’s going to be a long night.
“See you guys next week with a new video,” Luciana chokes, flashing a winning smile at the scene. “Lets see how I handle a full order at McDonalds!”
Even thinking of eating now makes her stomach groan in protest. Luciana flinches, but keeps her smile in place… until the video ends.
“Fuck me!” she groans, slumping back against the couch. Her legs spread wide to accommodate her over-packed gut. “Never been so full in my life. Ohhh… fucking donuts. They’re so good. Couldn’t have stopped myself… even if there wasn’t a challenge.”
“You’re insane,” Annie says kindly. She crosses the living room, and helps her friend into a prone, comfortable position. Laying down helps Luciana breathe; her hands remain nursing her belly, which swells obscenely past her t-shirt.
Luciana pops open the button of her jeans. Immediately, she groans in relief. “‘M too fat to be wearing these,” she mutters.
“You’re not fat,” Annie replies… but it’s a blatant lie. Luciana’s sides are spilling out of this outfit, and now her belly… fuck, it’ll take days to go back to the way it was. It might never go back — maybe a dozen donuts have put so much weight on her, she’ll have to get a whole new wardrobe soon.
Annie swallows thickly, and rests a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You want more milk?”
Luciana shakes her head, eyes fluttering shut. Her stomach gurgles, a low groan of protest. “Just wanna rest. Need to — uUrp — digest.”
That much is true. Resigned, Annie steps away. She has… no idea where she’s going, so long as it’s away from Luciana.
Standing in her bedroom, it occurs to her that she might be screwed. She’s no better than the followers who consume Luciana’s every video, drooling over her slowly-softening figure. Annie’s been drooling too… except Luciana’s her roommate. Her friend.
And Annie’s the girl behind the camera.
Another moan rings out from the living room, and Annie braces herself. It’s going to be a long night, indeed.