The scent hit you first, a thick, delicious cloud of fried dough, simmering spices, and sweet, candied fruits, all swirling through the colossal expanse of the city’s central food court. It wasn’t just big; it was a labyrinth of glowing stalls, towering food trucks, and rivers of people, all moving with a singular purpose: to eat. Your own stomach, a mere mortal organ, rumbled with a familiar, pleasant hunger, the kind that promised satisfaction with a good burger or a hefty plate of noodles.

But as you navigated the bustling thoroughfare, a small, unassuming parlor, nestled between a colossal sushi conveyor belt and a towering ice cream mountain, caught your eye. Its sign simply read: 'Hotdogs – The Original Bite'. Inside, an enormous woman, whose form seemed to defy gravity with its sheer volume, waved you over. Her cheeks were like overstuffed pastries, and her smile stretched wide across a face that had seen – and likely consumed – a thousand feasts.

“One, aspiring muncher?” she rumbled, her voice surprisingly light.

You nodded, and she effortlessly produced a steaming hotdog, piled high with condiments, practically an arm’s length long. You took a confident, eager bite. Steam kissed your lips, the flavors exploded on your tongue – and then, without warning, a sharp POP! Your shirt buttons flew like shrapnel, fabric ripping along the seams. Your eyes widened as your belly, suddenly and impossibly, inflated outwards, a taut, rounded sphere that stretched your skin taut. Yet, you felt no fullness, only a deeper appreciation for the taste.

Confused, you took another, even larger bite. Your belly swelled further, pushing against the now-shredded remains of your shirt, growing to an absurd, almost cartoonish size. Still, the sensation of hunger remained, a curious, empty void despite the physical expansion.

The woman chuckled, a seismic rumble that vibrated the very floor. "Ah, a natural, I see! Don't fret, dearie. This is the way of our world. Your belly will grow to a point until you work on your metabolism, or… we can push it to the limit, if you dare." She paused, her eyes twinkling. "And it’s not just your belly, you know. With enough dedication – and enough food – you could be the size of a skyscraper in height, marching through the city like a titan."

She produced another, equally massive, hotdog and pressed it into your free hand. "Come back anytime, aspiring muncher. There’s always more to eat, and always more room." Her smile widened. "Good luck becoming a Munching Master."

And with that, as the second hotdog warmed your palm, your expanded belly didn’t just feel empty; it felt an ungodly, bottomless hunger, a gnawing void that promised to consume everything in its path. The food court, once just a place to eat, now felt like an endless buffet waiting just for you.