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Darkness. A soft drone of the earth. Candlelight dots what appears to be a large, cave-like room. Intricate woven patterns of rusted and bronze fabric find themselves hung from the rocky walls and ceiling. And stood within were what appeared to be tens if not hundreds of hooded figures cloaked in a dark orange.

"It is nearly sundown." A voice called out, one of the figures now standing at a pedestal before the crowd, which all turned to the figure. "Tonight is the height of the winter season, the Winter Solstice, where we shall be engulfed in the longest night of the year. It is time to act. Bring forth the tomes!"

At the commands of the speaker, two figures stepped out from the crowd and kneeled at the feet of said speaker, holding out two bulky books. "Only during this night may our kind be able to properly converse with our god of harvest, and give worship for hope of another year of salvation and good fortune." The speaker grabbed both books before slowly walking into the crowd, the sea parting to reveal a design of orange chalk which lined the ground in layers of circles. "Tonight, we shall bring forth Acras, and share with him the Night of Worship!"

The speaker slammed one of the tomes down into the center of the innermost circle, causing a pulse reaction which lit up the chalk lines. The speaker then backed up slowly, marveling at the situation, before grabbing at the other book he held. "Followers, join together now as we call forth Acras!" A hum was heard from around the room, a droning which seemed to match the low tone of the earth below. A whispered word was called from the shadows before being replaced by another, and another, and another continuously. The speaker opened their tome and joined in the slow chant which seemed to grow.

And if by sudden chain reaction, the room before them seemed to explode; an air of controlled chaos as the designs on the floor came alive and moved in their own patterns. The tome in the center opened on its own as a light wind seemed to blow through the crowd. A single page stuck out for all to see, showing what appeared to be a massive winged beast, only for the ground to tremble. The chaos rose, a feeling of anxiety yet a determination to proceed, until suddenly it all crashed into a blinding light.

And there, replacing the tome in the center, stood a figure; one which not only surprised the members before it, but equally... confused them? It was a behemoth of orange and yellow, at least twice their heights, and winged; these all seemed to match the visuals of their prophesized god, but the further details only seemed to warp this reality.

"A moth?" One of the followers called out.

"Quite a large one." Another confirmed.

"His stomach is massive!" One cried in awe.

"He's like a giant plush doll." Another was wonderstruck.

And as this happened, the morbidly obese figure before them could only stare back with an equally confused, yet seemingly embarrassed, wide-eyed blush. "Uhh... W-Where am I? What is going on?" The figure shuddered, their belly rippling ever so slightly from the sudden exposure they were met with.

"Oh, great Acras! Joy in your name!" The main speaker stepped forward, seeming to praise the figure before them.

"Uhhh... sorry," they shook their head, "but I think you have the wrong guy. My name is Russenluster."

There was a soft discourse among the crowd, now mumbling about the situation. "Ah, has your true name been lost to us with time?" The speaker asked in clarity. "Pardon my ignorance, oh grand one."

Russ stared back with a puzzled look at the little hooded figure below his belly. "Grand one? I appreciate the hospitality but I don't get what this is all about."

"Ah, it has been many generations since you last contacted us." The speaker turned around and walked back towards the pedestal, flipping through the pages as they continued to talk to Russ. "I am known as Tulg, the current leader of the Cult of Acras, and we are gathered here tonight in worship of you."

Russ blushed a bit at this, one hand grabbing at his paunch while the other held at his face. "Whoa now, I didn't realize I had a fan club."

The crowd seemed to make a soft chuckle in response. "We are all worshipers of your bountiful harvest. But ah! The night is young, and there is much to offer for you. Please, come rest yourself and allow us to share our great fortunes."

As if on command the crowd around Russenluster parted, revealing in the dim light a small cove to the full of this cave room. Further orange candlelight was created to shine upon both the massive moth and the ground below as he was beckoned to shuffle towards the side room. The pudgy patron was followed closely by many watchful eyes which seemed eager to be around him, gaze upon him, even wishing to reach out and touch him. It felt a bit overwhelming to Russenluster, having suddenly found himself in an unknown place compared to his boring old home, but a wave of both excitement and relaxation seemed to wash over as he entered to where he was guided.

As he stomped his way into the cove, he found it was something akin to a throne room. A large plush beanbag chair sat in the center among an intricate display of further comfort; gems and trinkets and ornaments strewn about this cozy little display, feeling far too rich compared to the portly moth's fast-food-on-the-couch lifestyle. But the thing which surprised him most: the food. Platters upon bowls upon trays of endless entrees and foodstuffs which poured out of this small hole in the wall. Russ nearly drooled at the sight, his following band of onlookers taking note and seeming to silently cheer in delight.

Four of the followers stepped forward and ushered him towards the seat, Russ finding them practically moving his plump form themselves, before he was carefully spun around to plop right down with a meaty POMPH! The crowd seemed to take this with even further delight, quiet sounds of admiration on this supposed god of a person's appearance. Russ listened closer this time, noting how they seemed to be complimenting his body; how his belly rose up and splayed forward like a mountain, how each rump cheek seemed to rival his throne, how his arms and chest and legs all seemed to sag with a soft weight like they were a coin purse filled to the brim with offerings. Clearly, whatever Russ was here for, he had made quite the impression, and couldn't help but smile back with a tiny bit of pride.

GRRROOOOOAAAAANNNNN!

The crowd went silent, Russ reaching for his belly and rubbing it in response. "Ugh, starving already. I think that food's gotten to me." The crowd around him seemed to perk up at this, almost scrambling over themselves to prepare to serve. Russ looked down at them, absentmindedly grabbing a bit of flab in his hand. "Hey, you mind if I have some of it?" And that command was all it took as the followers rushed from their position to aid in the service of their god.

Russ was a bit taken by surprise at the commotion of activity, ready to tell them there was no need for this much help, until the figure of Tulg appeared before him once again. "There is plenty to dine upon, my large lord. Do not feel as if you must hold back."

Russ was nearly shocked into silence by this, only coming out of his wide-eyed trance by the sudden rush of food being nearly shoved into his face by his many hosts. "Don't hold back?"

"Of course!" Tulg agreed, the countless other followers eagerly nodding in agreement. "In fact, we would be honored if you indulged to your limits!"

Russ couldn't turn down an offer this hospitable, raising up his hands in a thanking motion before reaching to the first thing in sight, which happened to be a plate of chocolate doughnuts held out by one rather happy follower. The hungry moth carefully pulled the pastry to his mouth, biting down like it was nothing, and chewing with visible delight. It was nothing new, these flavors he tasted, but something about the way this all was set up for him made the dough all the fluffier, the frosting all the sweeter, and the moment all the more filling.

"I think I'm gonna like this place." Russ announced back in bliss, stuffing the rest of the doughnut into his maw as he grabbed another.

A light cheering delight filled the crowd upon hearing this, Tulg nodding in his own relief. "Then let the Night of Worship truly commence!"

Russ was met by hand after hand of delightful foodstuffs that he simply could not turn down. First it was a platter of roasted chicken, the warm fatty meat seasoned so perfectly as it practically fell apart in his mouth. Then he moved to a bowl of mashed potatoes, marveling over the salty, buttery, fluffy textures. He then tried changing up the pace a bit, swapping to a different bowl of tossed salad to breathe a bit and lighten up his palette. But the compelling smell of red beans and sausage broke him quickly into scarfing a bowl of that down too. All these flavors of the meals presented, mixed between each bite, were not only perfectly transitioned between each other but seemed to be given such love and care that Russ could only wordlessly compliment with a smile or a blush or a moan. And before the moth could even find himself feeling thirsty or gunked up, the plethora of drinks on display were offered at his sides; there were colas and sodas, juices and teas, even just plain water. To say Russ was taken perfectly care of, well, to the stuffed god it certainly felt like everything was perfect.

What surprised Russ more than anything was just how much he was managing to put away this time compared to most. Racks of ribs? Torn apart. Mac and cheese? Swallowed down. Cakes and pastries? Cut to pieces. His belly was slightly rising more and more as he took it all in, feeling as if it sunk him deeper into the rival that was his beanbag throne, but he found a comforting delight in the gluttony as he gorged and slowly blimped centimeter by centimeter. He had gone through seven, right, nine servings of different food offerings, all of which left him with a variety of flavors he simply couldn't resist.

That was, until by the tenth serving in the form of a bowl of chicken noodle soup, that the moth deity felt himself grow... tight; a feeling of fullness which creeped up on him and suddenly grew too large to ignore, having to hold out his hand to the oncoming train of offerings as he laid the other over the top of his stuffed gut.

"Oof... h-hold on now." Russ requested, feeling the impact of this meal truly begin to settle in on him.

Tulg stepped forward, tilting his head in concern as he looked up to Russ. "Acras, Russenluster, why have you stopped?" Tulg asked in confusion. "Is something the matter? Are our offerings not to your liking?"

Russ swallowed instinctively. "No no, just getting full is all." The lardy lord took a moment to breathe, his hill-shaped belly rising and falling in the labor. "I think I stuffed myself plenty tonight."

"Why, nonsense my lord." Tulg thought otherwise. "The night still has plenty of time to go, and we have many more offerings we may provide for you."

Russ groaned a bit from inside. "Ugggh... I think I've got... no room left in my tank."

"Allow us to take care of that then." Tulg rose his hands, to where then numerous followers stepped out from the watchful crowd and slowly descended upon Russenluster. "Followers, ensure our patron is properly comforted."

Russ was shocked by the sudden approach of hands which softly grabbed over his now bloated belly. There were at least ten pairs he could see which began to rub and knead and press into different parts of his taut, exposed front, and many more he could feel exploring where his legs had been parted by the stuffing session. As much as Russ found this attention awkward, he had to admit there was a bit of charm to it. The amount of genuine love to his paunch, the careful massaging in places he couldn't normally reach, the releasing pressure in his lower sel-

OOOAAARRRP!

Russ was shocked by the sudden belch which found its way out of him, seeming to pull him from the bliss of the moment and back into reality. "No," he thought, "something about this is really off. I don't think I like this anymore."

But before he could make his complaints vocal, a new plate of spaghetti was shoved to his face alongside the bowl of fruit which fought for space. Russ tried to push back with a single hand, only to find it landing on a plate of cookies instead. The massive moth was beginning to feel overwhelmed by this all, unsure if he should even keep going or waddle his fat ass right out of here. But be it the eager faces of his kind hosts, or the intoxicating love to his lower half, or even just the weight of all the food inside or outside of him, Russenluster just could not help himself but to close his hand around that cookie and take an awkward bite.

And thus, the feast continued.

This time, as Russ sat back and munched much slower on the foodstuffs he was offered, he couldn't help but feel that pressure building inside him once more. He felt far fuller than he had in quite some time, and while normally that would be a fantastic feeling for such a gluttonous insect, the circumstances here felt uncomfortable to him. A fifth cookie was shoveled into his mouth as he felt his rumbling stomach fighting for space. This was becoming quite the workout for him, but equally it was like he was getting pressured into enjoying it by the countless fingers and palms which traced over his body in spiraling trails; circles which loosened him up, pushing him forward to clean the plate before him of the last cookie as it was soon replaced by a stack of brownies.

A basket of chips, eaten with hesitation. The pressure within grew like his blimp belly. A bowl of jello, slowly slurped up. A dull pain in the pit of his gut that sagged. Grilled veggie kabobs, slowly picked apart one by one. A tiny feeling of nausea was beginning to set in for Russenluster. And yet, how much further was he willing to go? Even as his belly began to droop further below his pushed-apart knees than before, even as he could feel the pounds slowly begin to form on his already plushy rear, even as he took notice of the countless drips and droppings which coated his face; could he really keep eating even more, just to satisfy this kind group with all the free food he could ever want?

"N-... n-no more." Russ weakley begged the servant before him. The crowd took notice, looking up to him in a questioning mix of concern and confusion. "No more!"

Suddenly, as if in response, a rumble of the earth shuddered through the cove. Everyone perked up in response to this, especially Russ as he felt the rumbling give a sway to his bulging tank and pull him down to the ground. The servants at his belly quickly moved out of the way before they could be crushed under the shifting weight of this rolling royal. And as Russ struck the ground like a beachball pumped full of slime, an orange light seemed to form in an outline to body and caused a shock among the crowd.

"Daylight already?" Tulg was the first to speak. "How did the night pass so quickly?"

Russ felt the whole of the world seem to tremble below him, stumbling on his footing as he tried to pick himself up, only to trip again and embarrassingly roll over himself once more, landing in the center of the main cave. What shocked him most, however, was how the light of the cave suddenly rose in great intensity around him. And what was this strange hum of the earth below he now heard? Why was the ground still shaking? When did it get so windy? And wh-

Before he could finish thinking, a flash of light around him found his fat insect butt on a familiar floor to stare at a familiar ceiling. Russ took a moment to take in what had just happened as he then took in his surroundings as well. He was back where he once was just before, back in his own quiet and cozy house. His head was spinning, but he was sure this was his own home, be it the basic reminders or just the lack of people.

But try how he could to focus, the pressure within him froze his body. He could not move, eyes growing heavier than even his own belly as he realized just how much he had to eat in one sitting. He was more of a beached whale than a moth at this point, having been stuffed until he was a pure food blimp, as if he was a storage unit for the food supplies that could keep a whole army fed for days. Arms and legs sunken in yet wiggling, he still had so many questions with so little answers; but even the dull rays of the early sunrise which trailed into his home could not keep him from the sudden, but inevitable, knockout.

Russ found himself sometime later waking up to the familiar sound of his doorbell, eyes groggily fluttering awake as he yawned hard. He couldn't quite tell what was going on, as he was prone to be first thing in the morning, but still couldn't help to ask why he was sleeping on the floor. The call of the doorbell pulled his attention away once again as he put his focus of effort now into rolling off his mountainous belly and getting to the front door. He was too tired to truly process why it was not only harder this time to get up, but why he had to waddle rather than walk to get to his desired destination. But questions would take time to answer, time he could spend on this doorbell, or breakfast, or maybe even some-

"Ah, it is you, truly!" The opening door revealed a sight which finally woke Russ up for good, as standing before him were unfamiliar faces in some familiar outfits. "Hail to our god of harvest, praise be Arcras!"