The sun beat down on your lakeside backyard, the air thick with the scent of grilling meat and distant fireworks already popping. It was the Fourth of July, and your favorite holiday, not just for the spectacle, but for the company. Maya, your magnificent bald eagle woman, was already setting up the picnic blanket, her white head feathers gleaming, while Sheila, your wonderfully full-figured bison woman, was wrestling with a stubborn umbrella pole, a low chuckle rumbling in her chest.

"I'm grabbing the hot dogs!" you called out, heading for the kitchen. Their excited calls followed you, promises of gluttony already hanging in the air. You chuckled, knowing these two. They never held back, especially on a holiday.

Returning to the back patio a few minutes later, your arms laden with buns and a platter of freshly grilled hot dogs, you stopped dead. The scene before you was exactly what you loved about them, amplified. Maya, usually so regal, was sprawled on a huge beach towel, her feathered arms (and generous chest) encased in a star-spangled bikini top, her massive eagle wings folded back, revealing a truly patriotic amount of skin. Beside her, Sheila, already a woman of considerable, pleasing curves, had somehow found a bikini bottom that perfectly highlighted her powerful thighs and famously big butt. Her top was a deep blue, straining pleasantly against her ample bosom. They both looked utterly delectable, their smiles wide and inviting.

"Well, hello there, handsome," Maya purred, winking.

"Took you long enough," Sheila teased, patting the space between them.

The hot dogs vanished first, a blur of hands and mouths. Then came the potato salad, the chips, the colossal bowl of macaroni and cheese. It was like watching a natural phenomenon. Maya, the self-proclaimed "Fatass American patriot," devoured everything with a fierce, almost territorial zeal. Sheila, the "tubby bison woman" who could out-eat anyone, matched her bite for bite. Tubs of ice cream, brought out when the sun began to dip, were scooped directly from the containers, then simply handed around to be consumed by the spoonful.

By the time the first real boom of fireworks echoed over the lake, they were a sight to behold. Sprawled on their respective tanning chairs, two melting ice cream cones were being slowly licked, one in each of their hands. Their bikinis, once snug, were now stretched taut over bellies that protruded a truly impressive distance, each engorged with the day’s feasting. Sheila’s usually firm abdomen was now a soft, expansive mound, while Maya’s own gut swelled out, pushing the star-spangled fabric to its limit.

They looked at each other, then at you, their eyes sparkling with mischief and a blatant challenge. They knew exactly what they were doing.

"You going to just stand there, or are you going to earn your keep?" Maya murmured, holding out a hand.

Sheila just smirked, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she patted her own swollen middle. You just smiled, shaking your head, utterly smitten. You knelt between their chairs, your hands naturally finding their way to the warm, soft, incredibly full expanse of their bellies, gently rubbing in slow, circular motions. The happy groans that followed were all the thanks you needed. This was your kind of Fourth of July.