Two of the girls are fairly regular-proportioned--for this school. Of course, in this school, where girls fill out their figures with the figures of other girls, that's about a cup size bigger than the average. Not that you actually know what the statistical average is.

The third girl is meaty. It's quite obvious that she downed a person or maybe even two on the first day here, but there's a difference between her chunkiness and yours:

Her moderately pudgy flesh is the light plunders of people's bodies as she takes excess blubber from the people she sends to wake up at the nurse. She had that fancy potion.
Your paunch is the result from taking much more of every person and claiming it as your own, then dumping out the remains into a lifeless pile to go back into the earth. You prefer the fast results of your method.

The three girls all turn to you after you approach them, breaking off their animated conversation in which the plump girl was baring her teeth, one of the small girls was giggling red in the face, and the other was uncomfortably trying to keep backing away.

"Hey, guys, you seem new here. I'm uh... umm... very pleased to meet someone else who's new. If you're new that is."

Smooth talker there, Tex. Well, anyway, there seems to be some success, because the big girl extends her hand in a very formal way. Kinda strange.

"Hey, there! You're... wow. Those are nice." Unabashedly, she stares at your breasts for a couple seconds. It's fairly flattering. At one time in your life, you were a different kind of girl, but now you don't think sexual compliments are inappropriate in casual conversation, nor objectifying as others may say. After all, everyone else is an edible object to you.

"Thanks! By the way, do you comestibles know when we're going to start classes?"

The timid girl looks up and contorts her face. "Do we what?"

Crap. "Err, I said, do you... comrades know when?"

"Comrades... you know we're not commu---" She abruptly stops talking to watch the saliva fall out of the sides of your mouth and land in your cleavage.

So much for the stealth, Lieutenant JG Iroquois Pliskin.