You step off the crowded city bus onto the busy sidewalk of Nova Haven. It’s a regular, lived-in metropolis — cracked concrete, honking taxis, flickering neon signs, brick storefronts mixed with glass retail — but the entire population consists of anthro animals of all shapes and sizes, from pleasantly chubby to enormously plush, and every available surface is saturated with bold, unapologetic propaganda: eat without restraint, grow proudly, celebrate every added pound.

Towering billboards dominate the intersection. One features a blissed-out bear twice as wide as he is tall, sauce dripping down his stacked chins as he demolishes a triple-stacked burger. Huge block letters declare: “THE FIRST OF MANY.” Beside it, another shows a fox’s overflowing belly rolls glistening like warm butter in slow, indulgent wobbles: “SMOOTH LIKE BUTTER. LET IT ROLL.” One of the most eye-catching wraps an entire building side: a close-up of a very large anthro guy (maybe a boar or hippo) with his monumental rear end shining under dramatic lighting — but the real focus is his belly, so massive and heavy that soft folds spill downward, cascading right over the bold white text like it’s being gently buried under his own weight: “GRAVITY WILL NEVER FEEL THE SAME.” Smaller posters plaster every lamppost, bus shelter, shop window, and even the sides of trash bins: • A wolf mid-bite into a giant sesame-seed bun, crumbs tumbling down his growing chin stack: “YOUR ONLY LIMIT IS YOU.” • A boar with a tape measure stretched to breaking around his monumental gut, smiling wide: “OUTGROW EXPECTATIONS.” • A tiger holding a half-eaten pizza slice, multiple chins proudly on display: “KEEP YOUR CHINS UP — YOU’RE NOT DONE YET.” • A close-up of a very round raccoon cradling an oversized burger like a treasure, cheese dripping: “KEEP YOUR CHINS UP. YOU’RE NOT DONE YET.” • A hippo lounging back with a family-sized fry bag resting on his belly shelf, eyes half-closed in bliss: “YOUR NEXT MEAL IS YOUR BEST ONE.” • A wolf in profile, belly ballooning outward as he reaches for another slice: “MORE IS ALWAYS BETTER.” • A simple, repeating slogan on smaller stickers everywhere: “EAT. GROW. REPEAT.”

The crowd around you shows the full spectrum — a lean-but-soft raccoon munching fries from a paper bag, a noticeably plump wolf carrying a takeout container balanced on his modest belly, a truly huge tiger whose thighs rub audibly as he passes, and a few absolute titans lumbering slowly, bellies swaying like pendulums, drawing admiring glances from slimmer passersby. Everyone seems content, mid-bite or eyeing the next meal.

Food trucks line the curb, engines idling quietly. Their side panels display simple chalkboard-style signs in neat lettering: • “Free starter cone — whipped cream & donut holes. Help yourself!” • “First portion always complimentary. Enjoy!” • “Unlimited refills inside — ask at the window.”

The air is thick with frying oil, melted cheese, warm dough, and sugar. Classic neon signs glow above diner entrances: “Haven Grill” • “Main Street Diner” • “Corner Café — Open Late.”

A few locals glance your way curiously — a chubby fox wiping sauce from his muzzle, a very round bear pausing to adjust his straining belt — as if quietly sizing up whether you’re ready to join the city’s rhythm.