chapter 6 - sunday pt ii

Bite after bite of salty, thick, and starchy potatoes went into my mouth. Cheyenne slathered butter and strawberry jam onto croissants and put them on each of our plates, ensuring that every time one had been eaten, another was quickly there to fill its place. My stomach was beginning to protest, gurgling and bubbling in an attempt to digest as I continued to cram Cheyenne's sensational cooking into it-- but I couldn't stop. I was excited by how far I was able to push myself, and I loved having a friend play a part in my game of self-soothing. In between mouthfuls, I began to confide in Cheyenne. "I truly thought he was the one. I feel empty with out him, like something in me is missing." She smiled at me sweetly, and then took a sip of her mimosa, causing her to hiccup and reflexively rub her hand into her chest, easing the gas bubbling up from her overstuffed stomach.
"Oh, honey. I'm sorry, Breakups are tough. You'll what's missing soon enough, and in the meantime, I can keep you from feeling empty." Cheyenne smiled and winked at me, reaching her hand out to touch mine. There was one croissant left and she tore it in half, giving one piece to me and stuffing the other into her own mouth.
"I had no idea you liked to eat so much. How do you stay so thin?" She threw her head back and a whisper of blonde hair escaped from her updo.
"I have my moments. Usually, I'm really conscious of what I eat, but when I see somebody indulge, it's hard not to join in. I love feeling full...and I don't think I'm alone." She moved closer to me and picked up the piece of my croissant, putting it to my lips. Obediently, I opened my mouth and allowed her to place it on my tongue. The butter soaked into my tastebuds and I moaned as I chewed it, closing my eyes.
Suddenly, I felt a cool hand on my belly. I opened my eyes to find Cheyenne rubbing her palm across my belly and then tracing the line where it was distended out from my hipbone, round and firm like a volleyball on my lap. I finished my plate of potatoes and split the rest of the pan between us. Cheyenne couldn't finished hers and scraped the rest onto my plate, collapsing into her chair with her belly cradled between her hands. I finished her potatoes and excused myself to the restroom.

Once inside, I yanked my shorts down around my ankles, sighing with relief. "Shit." I announced, noticing my reflection in the mirror. I had never seen myself so huge before, and I was tingling all over. My stomach extended out from below my breasts in a way that almost looked like somebody had stuffed a whole hard boiled egg inside me. The food was sitting low in my gut, packed tight as can be and swelling out, but it was as if there wasn't enough room for it all, and now it was stacking itself all the way up to my sternum. I forced myself to belch and my whole body shook.
I sat on the toilet with my shorts down and pulled up my tank top, admiring the way my belly spilled into my lap, and my thighs gently lifted it, giving me a brief reprieve from its heaviness.
I didn't want to seem like I was doing anything weird in there, and I definitely didn't want Cheyenne to think that I'd tapped out on her delicious home cooking (although, I also wasn't sure there was any left). I finished up my business and pulled the waistband of my shorts up as high as it would go, right under my boobs where there was the least amount of food pushing back against it.
I came out of the bathroom to a kitchen table covered with so many empty plates and serving dishes, that the lace tablecloth could hardly be seen underneath. I held my belly, thinking about all of the deliciousness that had been on those plates, and was now inside it. "Cheyenne?" I called out to her, but there was no answer.
Suddenly, a waft of marijuana smoke came in through the living room. I followed it and found Cheyenne lounging on the couch with a lit joint in hand, sitting in front of a coffee table with a 5-tier tea tray placed in its center, as well as a teapot, and two teacups set on saucers.
"Oh good, you're back. I was getting worried about you." She smiled sweetly and handed the joint to me as I joined her on the couch.
"What's all this? You can't possibly be ready for another meal?" Despite the dull ache forming in my gut, and having already eaten what I knew was way too much, I actually was ready for another meal; I was more so having a hard time wrapping my head around how much Cheyenne was eating.
"I like to have tea after brunch on Sundays," She explained while pouring us each a cup of tea, "it's my little tradition, I guess. Cheers!" We clinked our cups together and took a sip. The hot liquid did feel soothing going down, and the joint had made me forget about the ache that was creeping into my tummy. I tasted a tea sandwich--cucumber, cream cheese and a sprinkle of black pepper, and then a cookie-- oatmeal raisin with cinnamon and chocolate chips, and finally a petit four-- strawberry cake with a thin layer of vanilla frosting, coated in a rich chocolate ganache. Cheyenne could really throw down in the kitchen.
It wasn't long before we'd nearly filled the ashtray with doobies and nearly emptied the platter of teatime treats. I was at my bursting point.
"This has been..*hic*..amazing Cheyenne. You *urrp* are a wonderful host." She smiled her seductive smile at me and stood to walk me out.
"I'm so glad you enjoyed it sweetie, I hope you'll come back for breakfast sometime and let me..satisfy you again." At the word "satisfy" she brought her hands to either side of my belly, gently pressing in and feeling it's firmness. My tank top had ridden up and she tugged it back down over my belly button. Then, she pulled me in for a hug. Our filled bellies pushed against each other, as if they were fighting for space. I could hear both of our stomachs as we moved our bodies together, trying their hardest to handle what we'd put them through. After what felt like several minutes, she let go and kissed me again. This time, I kissed her back.
Our lips tangled and I could taste maple syrup, mimosas, and marijuana on her tongue, spicy and sweet. Our bellies bumped against one another, still groaning and gurgling. Cheyenne moved her hand up my tank top, rubbing my aching globe of a gut and then cupping my breast in her hands, playing with my nipple.
When we stepped apart, her face flushed red from embarrassment and she shooed me out the door, quickly closing and locking it behind me.
I shook my head to clear the dizziness from the food, alcohol, and kiss. Blood was rushing to all of the tender parts of my body--my head, my belly, and my clit. I would have ran down the hall to my apartment, but the weight of my belly prohibited it. Instead, I walked cradling it in one arm, trying my best not to pass gas in the hallway, god forbid Cheyenne or anyone else see me in the after effects of utter and complete gluttony.
As soon as I got into my apartment, I opened my mouth and let out a long belch from deep in my belly, followed by several farts. I went straight to my armchair and turned on the show I'd been so sucked into. After an episode of nursing my belly, there was no more aching and my uncontrollable burping had subsided. Now, I just felt sleepy and fat--not unexpected after having pumped myself full of highly caloric foods for two and a half days straight.
But the day wasn't over yet. I looked at the clock and saw that it was only 4:30. I normally didn't eat dinner until 7. And with that thought, I dozed off into a food-induced nap, allowing the television show to be my lullaby.