Chapter 1 - Section 1

Here continues the same story in a second installment.

Read "The Piercing that Sparked Revenge: part 1" here:

---> http://fantasyfeeder.com/stories/view?id=107916



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[26 August, Saturday, 8:57 am]

Except for a morning-daze making her thoughts ooze out of dense fog, Georgia wakes up staring at the roof, feeling almost clear headed. She feels no pain. Which scares her. It just means the hangover will be so severe it hasn't hit yet, holding off, accumulating power. She rolls her head to look left. A few people are up amid silent talk, a few whispers and quiet laughs, stepping respectfully over those on the floor whether still asleep or groaning under headaches. Rubbish and streamers lie everywhere, red plastic cups, still half full, others squashed underfoot, bottles upright and on their sides, a dark splat stain on the roof near a fan which spins slow and dreamy, sending humid morning air gently all over her body. Next thing she thinks about is breakfast.

Rolling her head the other way, she sees a salad bowl nearby on the floor. She reaches out, arm straining, just manages to hook it towards her with finger tips. She slides the thing to her side, tips it over and looks inside: a few potato chips floating like little sailboats atop a sea of crumbs. She scoops them up and munches, gazing up at the ceiling with an empty mind. Then, propping herself up on her elbows, she notices something bright and pink around her neck.

Woah... wha the f@ck is this?

At some point last night, right under her amnesiac nose, a pink tutu must have found its way around her neck, blocking out her view in a fluffy pink radius. 'Oh god,' she groans. What kinds of photos await her? She looks around the room. Nearby, a stranger lying on a sofa blows air through his lips in a great sigh, smacks his palms in a twin thud against his waist. 'Jesus,' he groans to no one in particular. 'My liver,' looking at himself, 'feels like a fuggen rock.' A mate from across the room laughs and adds, 'Same man,' sweeping some beer bottles clanging painfully loud into a bag. From behind her she hears he rustling of clothes as someone rolls awake on the ground. The guy on the sofa presses into his stomach and notices Georgia, looks blearily over at her. 'Jesus,' he yawns. 'Went hard last night hey. Goon time, that was. F@ck knows how much went between everybody. Liver's gonna be f@cked for a while. Reckon I musta put on five K's just overnight hah!'

Georgia blinks sleepily at him. His mate laughs again from across the room.

'You?' the guy on the lounge says.

Georgia sits up with an effort, cross-legged, a certain something spilling out for all to see. 'Wha?'

'Rockin' it as well?' he jokes, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles so hard they might burst.

'Rockin what?' She looks down, at the pink tutu.

But he's too busy yawning to answer. He smacks his lips lazily, leans back and proceeds to nod off before she can get an answer. Georgia acknowledges this as vaguely amusing and yawns herself, scratches her stomach then tries to stand. It takes a few attempts. Finally, up on wobbly legs, she goes stepping over sleeping bodies looking for Ruby, Molly and Vikky. She finds Molly already up and helping clean the balcony. They smile bleary-eyed at each other. Searching for her other grad friend, she walks in on Vikky puking in the bathroom sink. Georgia pats her back, gets a few sick bags from the kitchen, pats her back again and lets her be alone. Just outside, she stumbles in on Ruby still sound asleep in the bed of who else but Lucio Bean himself. Holy shit... Damn, gurl. Lips pursed, Georgia backs out the room and leaves her to it. Then takes a trip into the bathroom to visit Vikky again just to make sure she's alright. Leaving, she passes the mirror, missing the sight of herself as she goes by.

She finds a plate which holds two unfinished slices of cake sitting patiently. She takes them for herself and plops onto a beanbag to have breakfast, trying to ignore the pressure of her waistband underneath a roll she knows is there - but at least it's hidden under clothes. She couldn't care so much right now. She has to eat.

Molly, coming past with a bag full of beer bottles headed for the front door, nods at her with a smirk. 'Nice look, loser,' and passes on.

She swallows bite after bite of cake and, with a crumb-covered plate, gets up again, having to lean forward to find momentum (and that damned roll keeps pressing down against her waistband). Feeling like an idiot as she stands there, she decides it's time to get rid of this tutu around her neck. She slips it over her head and tosses it aside, wondering if she should help clean up, or... but...

Nah.

Molly goes by again, headed for the balcony. Passing, she glances at Georgia's pants, then back at Georgia. 'Psst. Close up.'

'Close what?'

But Molly has passed on. Georgia frowns, looks down. At first, all she sees are double-D's. But then, through their valley, she catches sight of something else. When she cranes to look over her chest, the blood runs out of her limbs, sucked back into her heart.

What happened?

Everything below her navel is out. A roll of fat covers her stomach from one hip to the other, bulging out from between the fly, splitting the zipper into a gaping V.

Above it all like a dark star; her belly button, deep and dark.

Georgia scampers out of public view, forearms crossed over her waist, feeling something jiggle underneath. She shoots around a corner into a hallway and hides herself against the wall, panting with panic. What can she do? She peeks in the toilet: nobody's inside. So she slips in, shuts the door and locks it tight, plonks down on the toilet lid, elbows on knees and head in hands, belly touching her thighs. She can't even bring herself to survey the damage. Eyes squeezed shut, she waits, and listens.

*

Ruby's eyes slide open to milky morning light. She's lying on her back under covers tucked up to her chin. A warm leg is splayed over her thigh and she feels her left hand laying atop a back. She turns over, snuggles into the body, closes her eyes again. And recoils.

What? Where? Whe- whose bed is this? As still as a hunted animal, she peers at a heap of dark hair facing away from her, the neck and back of a built-yet-untoned male body. Frowning, she cranes her head 70 degrees back and forth to inspect the room, looking for some clue. She sees her clothes spilled all over the carpet. And next to his side of the bed, his own clothes. She looks under the sheets to see what she can see: her own pale breasts, bump of belly and naked groin - beside her to the left, twin humps of male rump. Her eyes widen. 'Holy...' she mouths. Did she really take that calibre of ass to bed? Looking at the small of his back, the indent of tendon along his lower spine, she gets this vague flash-memory of some kind of feeling. She lets the covers down again, hot and cozy, then leans over his body on outstretched arms to get a look at his profile. Yep. Sure enough, it's the ear and jaw of Lucio Bean, party host. She silently whistles to herself, laying there propped up on one elbow looking at the guy. Damn.

Dim blue light is coming in from a half-shut blind. She swivels her legs off the bed, faces the wall to think. She sits forward, something suddenly ghosting the tops of her thighs. Ruby sits back and looks down. Only to find, between her parted breasts, her belly covering her groin and part of her thighs. She purses her lips, eyes wide, and takes a handful of chub, running her palm across her round stomach from one side to the other, the layer of fat sinking down as her hand passes over.

She looks over her shoulder. Lucio would have seen this. He must have. What had he said about it? She couldn't remember - doubted even he remembered his own words. But she still ended up in bed with him in the morning, so... What happened?

Alcohol?

He still has to wake up. What will he say? Will he be different? The same? Was this just the confused end result of intoxication and base instincts? A blind forgetting of aesthetic preferences? What sort of aesthetic preferences exist for bellied girls?

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