Chapter 1

Daniel Koch pulled his SUV into the gravel driveway of his new home, killing the engine but not moving. The sound of the crunching gravel beneath the tires had felt oddly final, as though he had crossed an invisible threshold into an entirely new life. The house before him was simple but charming: a single-story cottage with white siding, green shutters, and a small front porch framed by overgrown shrubs. It wasn’t anything like the sleek high-rise apartment he had just left behind in the city, but that was the point.

For the first time in years, Daniel wasn’t rushing to get anywhere. He didn’t have back-to-back client meetings looming over him or a buzzing phone demanding his attention. The quiet was disorienting. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white, as if letting go might send him spiraling back to the chaos he had left behind.

He exhaled slowly, leaning his head against the seat. “This is it,” he muttered, half to himself.

The decision to leave his high-paying job as a financial advisor in Chicago hadn’t come easily. It had taken a breakdown in his office—the kind where you wake up on the floor with no memory of how you got there—for him to finally realize he couldn’t do it anymore. The long hours, the endless demands from clients, the constant pressure to outperform the market—it had eaten away at him, literally. The stress had driven him to find solace in food, often at 2 a.m., with his laptop open beside a half-eaten pizza. His reflection in the glass doors of the office building had grown softer, rounder, over the years, but he hadn’t cared. There was no time to care.

Until his body forced him to.

The memory of handing in his resignation still felt surreal. But the day he had signed the contract for a fully remote job with a small, low-pressure firm had been one of the best of his life. The salary wasn’t much lower, and the idea of working from home—of setting his own hours, of eating lunch at a table instead of at his desk—had felt like freedom.

He opened the car door and stepped out, stretching his back. The air smelled clean, tinged with the faint scent of freshly cut grass and distant wood smoke. It was the kind of smell that didn’t exist in the city. For the first time in years, his chest didn’t feel tight.

His footsteps crunched against the gravel as he approached the porch. The front door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing a small but cozy interior. The living room was modest, with hardwood floors and a brick fireplace that begged for a fire on cold nights. The kitchen was outdated but functional, its counters lined with cream-colored tile and a small window overlooking the backyard.

He wandered through the house, running his hand along the smooth wooden banister that separated the tiny dining nook from the living room. The master bedroom was small but had a window seat that instantly made him smile. It wasn’t much, but it felt… peaceful.

He dropped his bags by the couch and sank into it, closing his eyes. This was home now. No more crowded elevators, no more honking horns outside his window at midnight. No more fighting to prove himself to bosses who never seemed satisfied. For the first time in years, Daniel felt like he could breathe.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Startled, he opened it to find a man standing on the porch—a man so large Daniel almost took a step back in surprise. The stranger had to be at least 600 pounds, with a wide, beaming face and a handshake that engulfed Daniel’s hand.

“You must be Daniel! Tom Hargrove,” the man said warmly, his voice as big as he was. “I’m the one who sold you this place.”

“Oh! Right, of course,” Daniel said, recovering. He had spoken with Tom over the phone but hadn’t expected… well, this.

“Welcome to Maplewood,” Tom said, slapping his enormous belly with a laugh. “Hope you like it here. We’re a small town, but we’ve got a lot of heart—and a lot of food!”

Daniel chuckled politely, still trying not to stare.

“You’re just in time for the city fair tomorrow,” Tom continued. “Best way to meet folks. And you’ve got to try the eating contest.”

“The eating contest?” Daniel repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s tradition for new folks,” Tom said, his grin widening. “Besides, you’ll fit right in.”

Daniel wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t press. He wasn’t even unpacked yet, and already he was being recruited for some bizarre small-town ritual. But then again, wasn’t that why he had come here? To step out of his comfort zone?

As Tom waddled back to his truck, Daniel stood in the doorway, staring out at the quiet street. The city had been loud, fast, and relentless. Maplewood was slow, quiet, and just a little strange.

He smiled to himself. Maybe this was exactly what he needed.

Daniel woke early the next morning to sunlight streaming through the small kitchen window. After years of waking to the shrill beep of an alarm clock in a dark, air-conditioned high-rise, the natural light felt… refreshing. He brewed a cup of coffee, staring out at his quiet street. There were no honking cars, no hurried pedestrians glued to their phones—just the occasional chirp of birds.

Tom had mentioned the city fair, and as much as Daniel wanted to spend the day unpacking and settling in, he figured it might be a good opportunity to meet some of the locals. He’d never been much of a “small-town fair” kind of guy, but Maplewood wasn’t exactly brimming with nightlife.

After a quick shower and change into jeans and a plain shirt, he made his way to the fairgrounds. The heart of Maplewood was only a few blocks from his house, and the walk gave him a chance to observe the town. It was picturesque, with neatly trimmed lawns, colorful flowerbeds, and tidy little shops lining the main street.

What caught his attention, though, was the people. Or more specifically, the men.

Everywhere Daniel looked, there were men who could only be described as gargantuan. The first man he passed on the sidewalk looked to be in his mid-fifties, with a gut so large it strained the fabric of his suspenders. A group of teenage boys loitered outside the diner, each of them easily 400 or 500 pounds, their shirts riding up over rounded bellies as they laughed and shoved each other playfully. Even the local mailman, a cheerful guy who waved at Daniel as he passed, was so big that the buttons on his uniform looked ready to pop.

Daniel felt almost self-conscious. Back in Chicago, his own weight had been a sore spot—an uncomfortable reminder of his poor habits and lack of self-care. But here, his soft midsection seemed almost average, maybe even small by comparison.

When he arrived at the fairgrounds, it was already bustling. The smell of fried food and sugar hung thick in the air, and rows of stalls offered everything from funnel cakes to deep-fried Oreos to something called “bacon bombs.” Daniel’s stomach growled despite himself.

“Daniel! Over here!”

Tom’s booming voice cut through the crowd, and Daniel turned to see the realtor lumbering toward him, a corn dog in one hand and a cup of lemonade in the other.

“Glad you made it!” Tom said, clapping Daniel on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. “First time at the Maplewood Fair, huh?”

“It’s… something,” Daniel said, glancing around at the throngs of impossibly large men wandering between the stalls.

“Best food you’ll ever eat,” Tom said, shoving the corn dog at Daniel. “Here, try this. On me.”

Daniel hesitated, then took a bite. The batter was crisp, the sausage inside smoky and flavorful. “Wow,” he said, his mouth still full.

“Right? And that’s just the start! You’ve gotta try the fried pickles, the cheeseburger egg rolls, and—oh, the loaded nachos. You’ll love those.”

Before Daniel could protest, Tom was dragging him from stall to stall, piling his hands with plates of food. Deep-fried macaroni and cheese balls, crispy pork belly skewers, chocolate-dipped bacon—it was all overwhelming and delicious. By the time they reached the main square, Daniel was stuffed, his stomach pressing uncomfortably against the waistband of his jeans.

“That’s good practice,” Tom said with a grin, patting his own enormous belly. “You’re gonna need it for the contest.”

“What contest?” Daniel asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“The eating contest! It’s the highlight of the fair. Trust me, it’s all in good fun.”

Daniel tried to argue, but before he knew it, he was seated at a long table in the center of the square, surrounded by other contestants. The crowd was massive—larger than Daniel would have expected for such a small town—and every man in sight was as big or bigger than Tom. He was starting to think this wasn’t a coincidence.

The contestants, ranging in size from “merely huge” to “how is that even possible,” were already chatting and laughing, sizing each other up. Daniel, seated at the end of the table, felt completely out of his depth. The plates in front of each contestant were piled high with hot dogs, burgers, and pies, with pitchers of soda to wash it all down.

“You ready?” Tom asked from behind him, clapping him on the shoulder again. He had somehow secured himself a front-row spot in the audience, his large frame looming over the back of Daniel’s chair.

“Not really,” Daniel admitted, glancing nervously at the food.

“Don’t worry about winning. Just have fun,” Tom said, grinning. “But if you win, it wouldn’t hurt your reputation around here. Folks love a good underdog story.”

Before Daniel could respond, the announcer—a short but rotund man in a cowboy hat—stepped up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Maplewood Annual Eating Contest!”

The crowd erupted into cheers.

“This year, we’ve got a fantastic lineup of competitors, including a brand-new face—Daniel Koch!”

Daniel flushed as the crowd turned to look at him. He could feel their eyes, some curious, some amused.

“You’ve got this!” Tom shouted, his voice booming over the crowd.

The rules were simple: eat as much as you can in fifteen minutes. The person with the most empty plates at the end would be crowned the winner.

When the whistle blew, Daniel hesitated for only a moment before digging in. At first, he ate slowly, overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of food in front of him. But as he chewed and swallowed, something clicked. Years of stress-eating in his old job had trained him for this in ways he hadn’t realized. Bite after bite, plate after plate, he found a rhythm.

The crowd’s cheers grew louder as the contestants devoured their food. The man next to Daniel, who looked like he could easily be pushing 700 pounds, was working through his burgers at an alarming pace. Daniel didn’t think he could keep up, but he refused to stop.

By the time the whistle blew, Daniel was leaning back in his chair, his stomach uncomfortably full but his plates completely empty. The announcer and a team of judges counted the plates in front of each contestant, murmuring among themselves.

“And the winner is… Daniel Koch!”

The crowd roared, and Daniel blinked in disbelief. Tom was the first to reach him, lifting his arm like a boxing coach celebrating a victory.

“I told you! You’re a natural!”

Daniel tried to smile, though his stomach protested the movement.

As the crowd surged around him, shaking his hand and slapping him on the back, a massive man in a red apron waddled up to him. He was the largest person Daniel had ever seen, easily over 700 pounds, with a friendly smile and a diner logo stretched across his chest.

“Name’s Big Ed,” the man said, extending a hand. “I own Ed’s Diner just down the street. Best pancakes in Maplewood, if I do say so myself.”

“Nice to meet you,” Daniel said, shaking his hand.

“That was some performance,” Ed said, reaching into his apron pocket and pulling out a gift card. “Here. Free meals at my place for the next two years. You earned it.”

Daniel stared at the card, stunned. “Two years?”

Ed laughed, his belly shaking. “You’ll need it. Trust me, we eat well around here.”

As the crowd cheered again and Daniel pocketed the card, he couldn’t help but smile. He had only been in Maplewood for a day, but he was already beginning to understand its strange charm—and its love of food.