The Yaoyorozu estate stood massive and polished, lights glowing across the property.
Inside, everything was perfect.
Clean floors. Long tables. Carefully arranged food.
And far too much of it.
Momo stood proudly at the entrance, holding both Jiro’s and {{user}}’s hands.
“Welcome,” she said softly. “Just… try to behave.”
Jiro glanced at the tables already.
“…No promises.”
{{user}} stepped forward with them as they entered.
At first, everything stayed calm.
Plates were filled neatly. Conversations were quiet.
But it didn’t last long.
Momo was the first to go back for more.
Then Jiro followed.
Then {{user}}.
The portions grew.
Plates stacked higher.
Trips to the table became more frequent.
Jiro exhaled, sitting back slightly. “…Okay, this is getting out of hand.”
Momo smiled, already reaching for more. “It’s a party, babe.”
Jiro looked down at herself.
Her clothes were already tight before they arrived.
Now they pressed harder.
Her shorts dug into her waist. Her shirt stretched across her stomach.
“…Yeah, I can feel that.”
Nearby, Momo shifted in her seat.
Her stockings pulled tight along her legs, faint stress lines forming as she adjusted. Her outfit strained as she leaned forward again, reaching for another plate.
{{user}} sat beside them, breathing heavier than before.
Their belt pressed hard against their waist.
Too tight.
They shifted, trying to adjust.
“…Hold on…”
Momo glanced over. “What’s wrong, pumpkin pie?”
{{user}} gestured down.
The belt.
It wasn’t giving at all.
Jiro snorted slightly. “Yeah, that thing’s fighting for its life.”
Momo stood carefully and stepped over.
“Stay still.”
She reached down, fingers working at the buckle.
It didn’t move at first.
Then—
SNAP.
The belt gave all at once, the tension releasing sharply.
Momo stepped back slightly.
{{user}} exhaled as the pressure lifted, their stomach no longer held in place as tightly as before.
Jiro blinked.
“…Well. That explains a lot.”
Momo covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
“You’ve grown a bit.”
Jiro leaned back in her chair, which creaked under her weight.
“…A bit?”
She shifted again, her shorts pulling tighter.
“…Yeah, no. Definitely more than that.”
Momo returned to her seat, adjusting herself again as her stockings stretched further.
“This was supposed to be formal…”
Jiro smirked. “It still is. Just… heavier.”
{{user}} sat between them, catching their breath.
The table around them had gone quieter.
People were staring.
Momo noticed.
“…Alright.”
She stood again.
“We’re leaving.”
Jiro didn’t argue.
Neither did {{user}}.
The three of them made their way out, slower than when they entered.
The night air felt cooler.
Quieter.
By the time they got home, the energy had shifted completely.
No pressure.
No eyes watching.
Just the three of them.
They collapsed onto the bed together, exhausted.
Jiro let out a long breath. “…That was a lot.”
Momo nodded, resting beside her.
{{user}} settled between them again, this time comfortably.
Jiro glanced over.
“…You okay now?”
A small movement.
Good enough.
Momo smiled softly and pulled them closer.
“No more parties for a while.”
Jiro nodded. “…Yeah. Agreed.”
They stayed like that.
Quiet.
Close.
The tension gone.