The studio was quiet except for the hum of old amps and the occasional creak of floorboards. Noodle had claimed the center of the room, sprawled comfortably on her massive belly. Years of touring, indulgence, and late-night snacks had left her body soft and heavy, her frame transformed into something round, plush, and utterly content.

Her cheeks flushed with amusement as her hands pressed deep into her enormous stomach, kneading the soft rolls like dough. Each squeeze made her belly ripple and spread beneath her, the weight of it anchoring her to the floor. She giggled to herself, a childlike joy cutting through the silence.

“Squishy, squishy, squishy!” Noodle sang out, her voice muffled slightly by the flesh pressing against her chin. Over and over again, she repeated it, laughing louder each time, fingers digging deeper into her belly.

The room seemed to shrink around her, every squish and ripple making her more delighted. She wasn’t self-conscious—only giddy, basking in the sheer silliness of her own size. The sound of her chant echoed in the studio: “Squishy, squishy, squishy!” until it became a playful rhythm, her laughter mixing with the words.

She was enormous, soft, and carefree, wrapped in the joy of her own plush body.