Mrs. sanders' big brunch

Chapter 2 - part 2: brunch

Eleanor was one of the big doll house's younger residents, along with being Winnifred's closest neighbor. She was a quiet young lady who valued her privacy and always kept her living quarters neat and orderly. Except, of course, when the infamous Mrs. Sanders decided to pay her a visit, which happened more often than Eleanor would like. On this morning, around half past ten, she sat slowly rocking in her chair and reading a book on quilting patterns, when there was a knock on her door. "Oh my, goodness gracious," she murmured nervously to herself, "Who could that be? I am not expecting any guests." She crept towards her door as a second peal of knocks rang loudly through the room. "Umm, yes? Who is it?" She asked hesitantly. "It is me, Winnifred!" came the muffled reply. Eleanor's heart sank as she opened the door. "Mrs. Sanders! What a . . . pleasant surprise!" she said, greeting her guest through a forced smile. "What can I do for you today?"
As the door opened, the stout doll found herself facing a much thinner young female. Eleanor, being stuffed with sawdust, was naturally slim and unassuming in figure. Through the doorway, Winnifred could see a freshly set table over her neighbor's shoulder, which gave her extra confidence that her request would be granted, and also prompted her belly to growl demandingly. "Well you see," she began, "I was just about to sit down for my mid-morning something, when I discovered that my jar of marmalade was empty. I was just wondering if you could spare a small helping of the sweet stuff this morning." Winnifred smiled broadly and placed both hands around her stomach, which was intruding slightly into Eleanor's home as the presumptuous doll crept expectantly closer to the entrance.
"Actually, it's funny you should drop by now of all times," Eleanor replied through gritted teeth, "I was just about to sit down for brunch. Would you . . . care to join me?" In response, she was almost bowled over by Winnifred's substantial mass as the unwelcome visitor wasted no time before inviting herself inside. "Oh, yes, please and thank you, Eleanor! Umm . . . that is, if it isn't too much trouble of course." "No trouble at all, I'm sure. Please, come in and sit down. Make yourself at home, and let's not wait any longer." Eleanor barely managed to conceal the potent sarcasm in the last of her remarks, but she felt bound by honor to be a gracious host, and so she led Winnifred into the kitchen and set an extra place at the table. As Winnifred took a seat, the great expanse of her bottom spilled over the edges of the chair, which creaked loudly in protest at the unreasonable amount of weight it was being asked to support. Winnifred chuckled with nervous embarrassment. "I'm afraid don't quite fit in this chair . . . but that sort of thing does happen to me sometimes. I am stuffed with fluff, you know," she said, nodding importantly at Eleanor as if that statement somehow clarified everything. "Yes, you . . . you've mentioned that in the past." Eleanor said, smiling weakly as the reality of her situation began to set in. "Now, would you like honey or marmalade on your bread?"
This was the moment that Winnifred had been waiting for. "Oh, umm, both please!" she exclaimed loudly. Then, after a momentary pause during which Eleanor could only stare in shock, she continued, "But never mind the bread, thank you. Just a small helping, if you please, Eleanor." Eleanor managed to regain her composure long enough dispense a small amount of both honey and marmalade onto a plate. "Here you are, Mrs. Sanders," she said, smiling with false warmth. Winnifred looked at the plate for a moment and then, with obvious embarrassment, blurted out quickly, "Well, I did mean a rather larger small helping." Eleanor, who had been about to sit down and begin enjoying her own meal, placed both jars next to her guest and said firmly, "Here you are, Mrs. Sanders. Please just . . . help yourself."
"Oh! Thank you, Eleanor!" Winnifred needed no further invitation. She grabbed a spoon and quickly began shoveling food into her mouth, slurping and smacking her lips in an atrocious display of table manners (or lack thereof). As soon as the sweetness touched her tongue, her belly gave out a long, slow growl of relief. The famished doll couldn't keep herself from murmuring out loud, "Ahhh, that's better," while she massaged her midsection under the table, spoon still clutched in her other hand. After only a few moments, she was indeed helping herself, spooning more sugary goo onto her plate with childish glee. Eleanor slowly and glumly picked at her own food, her appetite ruined by the cacophony issuing from her guest's mouth and stomach.
When the jars of honey were about halfway depleted, Winnifred addressed her host for the first time since beginning to eat. "You know, Eleanor," she began, pausing to giggle at some honey which had dripped onto her breasts, "I think I shall have some bread after all if you don't mind." "Of course not, Mrs. Sanders" Eleanor said, shoving the loaf of bread towards the other doll, who was scooping honey off her bosom and licking it from her fingers, "I am done with it myself. Have as much as you like." Winnifred answered with a loud slurp and broke a large lump of bread off the loaf, not even bothering to cut off a neat slice.
"You will excuse my manners of course," Winnifred said. She was breathing deeply, a process made difficult by her massive stomach, which was slowly swelling to accommodate the vast intake of food. "You see, I did my stoutness exercises right before I arrived here, and doing so always gives me an incredibly hearty appetite." Eleanor eyed the other doll with amazement. "Yes, of course, Mrs. Sanders. I do not engage in calisthenics myself, but I understand that they can have an effect on the appetite." Was it possible that Winnifred was even larger than she had been when the meal began? No, it had to be a trick of the light coming in through the kitchen window, Eleanor assured herself.
"Yes, what you have heard is true," Winnifred continued, speaking between mouthfuls of food. By now, the jars of honey and marmalade were significantly depleted, and the doll of endless hunger had given up using a spoon, scooping morsels of sweetness directly into her mouth with her fingers. "And this morning I exerted myself especially hard. For a moment I thought I had ruptured a seam! It was only one stitch thankfully, so no need to visit Kayla just yet." Kayla, for those wondering, was a doll who lived on the second floor of the big house. She was a seamstress, and therefore quite intimately acquainted with Winnifred's backside, which she had repaired many times. "How . . . how fortunate," said Eleanor coldly, quietly wishing that Kayla had been the one tasked with catering to Mrs. Sanders' nonsense.
By now, Winnifred had consumed all the bread and was trying to coax the last bits of gooey goodness from the jars. "Oh bother . . . empty again" she complained to no one in particular, as she stuck her mouth into the opening of the jar and licked around the edges that were within reach. When there was nothing left, she sat for a moment, the silence broken only by the incessant gurgling of her stomach, which was satisfied at last, if only temporarily. Winnifred set the jar down regretfully and lowered her gaze to her now-enormous gut. The paunch which was normally soft and jiggly had grown tight and firm due to its state of engorgement. The fabric around her belly button was being stretched to the limit and beginning to separate in places, with a small sliver of white stuffing visible through the barely-intact seam.