Chapter 2 - language

I took a few seconds to process that bombshell of information. Some part of me wanted to check for cameras. But I knew better, that would’ve been impossible. So instead I turned my attention to the website. The writing was still in a language I didn’t understand but I noticed an option I had missed earlier. On the bottom of the chat room box I noticed a line of text with a dropdown box. I clicked on it and a fold down menu appeared. Languages including and quite importantly English. I clicked it and suddenly in a flash every piece of text on the screen became eligible. The previous runes replaced with seemingly perfected translated English. Above the main screen one line changed to say “Claire Saille” it was a familiar name. Seeing as it was mine. There were far too many questioned to be asked. How I was being recorded, how the website could’ve known my name. Hell, even its translation service was suspiciously competent. But what truly grabbed my attention was the chat room. Being live translated.

“I think the noobies figuring out” one line of text read. “Seriously did she not know she was live?” One interjected. “Then she seriously must’ve thought she ate all the food of her own volition, she must be a real natural porker then” a particularly rude comment interjected. “Who cares about that look at how round she is, she’s even eating more right now” a line toted. There were names next to each line but I was far too flustered to remember any of them. They were all viewers, watching me, seeing my engorged body. Perhaps the most worrying part was that they were right. While I was paralyzed by analysis I had actually begun eating again. Unconsciously beginning to devour the first of those candy bars. It was more of a lazy grazing that my earlier ice cream gorging. But I was still eating, cramming yet more food into my stomach. That commentator was right, my middle was practically spherical and somehow only getting fuller. I had my gluttony hammered home by actually watching myself do it on the live feed. It almost felt like a bad dream. But the undeniable ache and gurgle from my gut put me squarely in reality. Even if everything I was seeing seemed to defy it.

“I can’t believe some of you idiots almost voted for an extra cup size over having her finish the ice cream” one comment line stated. “Well not everyone likes an ironing board” “Some of us just want to see her get bigger” “she’s too small right now anyways” three different commenters voiced their opinions on that subject. I blinked at the words I was reading. Things slowly began to come together. Somehow this website was the reason I had been eating so much. There was a split second where that was a relief. After all it meant I hadn’t been responsible for the fact my gut was turned into a calorie blimp. That split second however faded quickly. The fresh taste of finishing off my first candy bar punctuated my thoughts. They could force me to eat, there was no telling when they’d stop. My mind couldn’t help but drift back to the fridge. If they had seen it, they’d know there was a lot of food in there. Far too much for anybody to reasonably stomach of course. But I had no idea of knowing if that’d stop them

I scooped up the tablet in one hand while I grazed on my chocolate with the other. Lying back on my bed as I tried to get comfortable. “Looks like she can move after all” “Hey I love this angle, really pronounces how much her gut is sticking out” “Think she’s gonna have a food coma?” The chat read in its chaotic fumbling of comments. Sure enough, on the main feed the perspective had changed to a side shot that showed just how much my overworked middle was protruding from my frame. I wondered how many viewers were watching my strange show. How many people were seeing me so embarrassingly bloated. It certainly didn’t help matters I was still eating. Even as I frantically scanned the website for any signs of a log out options I was chewing. Adding more calories and snacking myself rounder. My search didn’t pan out at all. As far as I could tell there were no options beyond the language option. All that there was to be seen, was the demeaning scroll of the chat, and the stuffed middle they seemed oh so interested in commenting on.

“Just got here, she’s a noobie right, how much did she eat?” one comment asked. “She had a full lite of ice cream and is still going right now, I don’t know how she’s packing it away” a seeming fan in the making shot back. “No way, even Black-Corset would’ve stopped after a litre” another responded with a hint of excitement. “Sure, she can pack some food away, but she seems kind of dull” one comment toted. For some reason I felt that one get under my skin a bit more than the others. The flood of comments talking about how I had stuffed myself stupid weren’t great for my self-esteem. But they were sort of to be expected. The earlier stuff about my rack being too small didn’t really get to me. I had a fine pair of Cs and anyone calling me a washboard had expectations that were more overinflated than my gut. But calling me a dull was another matter entirely. Especially when odds were all they had seen me do was stuff myself because of some supposed poll result. “Jackass” I muttered through a mouthful of chocolate to nobody in particular. Candy bar two had long since joined its progenitor in the gurgling confines of my comically swollen stomach.

“Excuse me?” “She can speak after all” “First words while live” “Were you expecting anything less from a red head” the chat exploded with posts in response to my words and I paused. They could hear me. It shouldn’t have been that surprising. It wasn’t like it was any more unlikely than however the hell they were recording me. But I was shocked enough that I actually paused mid bite of my candy bar. I swallowed it down and did my best to consider how I wanted to handle this. These so-called viewers were clearly all manners of weird. But they were also my only other source of info for the site. Based on what they were talking about there were other users. Meaning there had to be more to the site than what I was seeing. It singed my pride, but I knew I’d have to ask them for help. “How do I log out?” I asked them unable to keep a hint of sass from my voice. In response to my question chat became flooded with nothing but laughter. Various lols and lmaos. “You really are big noob ain’t cha?” “A big noob, she’s a huge noob” two commentators interjected much to my frustration.

However suddenly chat transitioned from laughter to numbers as it begun to accelerate. 1 2 or 3 was all the text box contained. I briefly wondered why, but a glance up to the top of the chat provided an immediate answer. “Options have been randomly selected, vote using 1,2 or 3” the text box read and below it was the options. “1) Instant Digestion 2) Feel Em Up 3) Slow metabolism” I blinked as I read those three options. Two of them were self-explanatory if as far as a I could tell impossible. But “Feel Em Up” was incredibly vague. As the poll rolled through, I found myself continue to snack as best I could. In all honesty I was beginning to feel rather sluggish. Even with the adrenaline of the alien situation I was filled with such a ridiculous amount of food it was impossible to ignore. I felt sleepy and achy and even breathing was a tad sore with how it shifted my sensitive gut. Slowly I felt myself dozing off a little as the last of the candy bars slipped past my lips.

I snapped to attention at the ringing off a bell, eyes fluttering open. The poll was over. “Feel Em Up” had won. My confusion found itself immediately remedied. I felt them. A pair of hands dainty and nimble hands pushing against the side of my gut. I let out a small burp and groan. Another pair joined them, this one on the side, finger tips beginning to trace the perimeter of my middle in a way that caused my toes to curl. Mentally I told myself this situation was surely impossible. I couldn’t have been made to eat all that ice cream. I couldn’t be being felt up by strangers using some website. Yet it was undeniable that it was what was happening. In spite of it all, it felt heavenly. My gut was sensitive as hell from being stretched to such an extent. So the sensation of it being touched and felt up was absolutely mind melting. In my sleepy state I couldn’t help but mewl a little bit kicking my feet a little out of idle pleasure.

The tablet had fallen flat across my supposedly “ironing board” chest, on it I could see some of the chat as It flashed by. “Wow she really ate all that food huh” “no softness at all yet, just all calories, this girls crazy” “I stand by my earlier assessment, but I’ll admit I was underselling just how much she could eat, she’s….really huge” the chat read magnanimously. It seemed they really were feeling up my gut. Slowly the hands were multiplying, increasing in number. There wasn’t really enough of me to go around, so it felt like every inch was being tested and toyed with it any given moment. For all my squirming there was something deeply calming about the flood of sensations as it took hold. Soothing like a massage that was coaxing me to sleep. The last line I read before slipping into a slumber was simple but somehow deeply memorable. “Look I don’t want to make any big calls, seeing as she’s such a noob, but I really feel like we’re stumbling onto the next big thing here folks”.