Discovering Her Talents

Chapter 1 - Discovery

I didn’t always know about her talents. Her burps. Her appetite. In fact, for the first two years, I knew her I didn’t even know she burped. Which I know sounds silly. Of course, I assumed she burps as everyone should. But she had never expelled a microbe of gas around me in all. After she earned the trust I needed to feel comfortable with particular interests of mine, and her not running away from the discovery, the door was opened.

Maybe cracked would be a better term.

The first time I heard her burp wasn’t a moment I ever saw as having the worth to write about, but I still allow it to stick in my memories rent-free. We had a stay-at-home date night at my place. A Netflix and chill with ordered in pizza, wings, and cheesy breadsticks. I had sort of always known she was a foodie. The way her eyes rolled back with the first bite of something delicious during a meal that told you she could feel the tingle in her toes. Never realized she could put it away too. Most dates eating out would end with her saying she couldn’t eat another bite or had leftovers to take home with her. I should’ve suspected something from the midnight texts from her. I’d mention how she is probably looking forward to eating her leftovers the next day for her shiness shine through her texts with a sheepish confession that she already finished them.

That night she was sleeping over at my place for the first time. I was content with a few slices of pizza and a couple wings. However, she looked at the other half of the pizza and the majority of our order sitting before us and asked.

“Would it… would it be okay if I ate the rest?”

I looked at her perplexed. Then was taken aback as I am by her soft brown cheeks and delicate lips. Plump yet still petite. At the time, I only dreamed of seeing her push a whole pizza through her adorable lips, never expecting her to actually do so.

Of course, I didn’t say no. I encouraged it.

The pizza didn’t last more than a few minutes after she was given permission to have at it. She ate with such precision not to get grease on her face and clothes yet devoured every slice with olympian speed. I know she chewed, but I barely noticed it. The same thing happened to the cheesy bread. The equivalent of a loaf of bread and nearly a pound of melted cheese just disappeared into her stomach. Which at the time, was only a pudgy layer of self-consciousness that I’ve rarely pointed out due to that insecurity.

She unbuttoned her jeans for the first time that I’ve noticed before she started on the wings. I caught a glimpse of her golden-brown muffin top rippling to freedom before being covered by her shirt again. Since I was watching her, she blushed but did not lose focus as she skinned the wings to the bone.

At least her knowledge of my interests allowed her to find the courage to let me touch her stomach once she left no food behind. Believe me, I got to know the thick adipose beneath her smooth skin. Surprisingly dense but malleable. Even her being around 145 pounds at the time and a height of 5’4, I could sink my finger nearly half an inch into her middle before I felt the solid block of food beneath.

Then it happened

HooOOuurrop!

She let out a delicate whimper and slapped a hand over her lips the instant she realized she basically burped in my face. As I said, the burp for me wasn’t much to write about. A somewhat airy and involuntary burp just as delicate as her eyes, hands, or pudge. She’d apologize profusely to which I infinitely reassured her that it was okay, and if anything, I enjoyed it.

By morning I had only caught her burping a handful of times after that. All closed mouth, delicate, and usually with a dramatic adjustment of her head to avoid directing it to my face.

Nothing compared to the night a few months later.

Living with only her mother wasn’t easy. I didn’t realize until later into our relationship how many of her insecurities stemmed from her mother’s opinions and vile comments.

She called me in the dead of night crying. I was right over. I picked her up and she told me to drive somewhere, anywhere, then she told me what happened that night.

See, when she and I first met, it was freshman year of college. The fifteen pounds you’re expected to gain that year hadn’t hit yet, but she had always had some meat on her bones. Freshman fifteen did hit her though. Then she learned of my interests, the night I just described occurred, and there were no more leftovers being brought home from our dinner dates. She even opened up to at least tell me of times when she would eat a ton of food and not even realize it. I dubbed the tales ‘eating frenzy’ but had yet to witness it. Long and short though, she didn’t just gain another fifteen her junior year but fifty.

Her mother realizing she broke 200 pounds during a doctor’s visit that day is the source of her tears. At least where that part of the day started.

Then there was arguing. Her mother chastised her eating habits which triggered her to go into an eating rage just to spite her which lead to more arguing which ended up with her thick thighs and plump ass sitting in the passenger seat of my SUV. Safe to say I wasn’t complaining outside of her mother being a B-

But while I allowed her to confide in me, my eyes kept darting to her stomach. She had on a loose shirt as she usually wore. Tight around her generous bust which had grown to a D cup with her recent and rapid weight gain, but would drape down her waist. Except I couldn’t help noticing a third round bulge sitting right below her breasts. I knew it was her stomach. Only I couldn’t figure out how it was so noticeably high but wasn’t sticking out. God, I wanted to ask her the details of her eating rage she went on, but she was still upset.

It took a fifteen-minute rant for her to get over the peak of rage she had. I somehow managed to hold the conversation without losing my words over how her thick thighs gushed from the leg holes of the shorts she wore like overinflated toasted marshmallows. But with her rant finished, I felt it was time for me to give an uplifting counter-speech to her.

As I began talking I noticed a look of discomfort in her eyes. A blush, difficult to see in her complexion and in the dim moonlight, began to show. I could tell something was up but before I could ask.

“I’m sorry…” She said quietly but not without any of the shyness I knew her for. She lifted her shirt revealing the high waist shorts she had on. Five gold buttons hanging on for dear life. Her stomach, the tremendous amount of contents pushing on them. And there was my answer. A prominent muffin top bulging over the lip of her denim shorts and circling around right beneath her bra. “I need to let this out.”

As I felt the frog catch my throat forcing me not to speak my heart nearly left my chest to the event I witnessed.

She struggled to get the first button undone, her spare tire rippling as it snapped. The second went a bit easier, doubling the amount of exposed pudge in the open space. And those were the only two she had to work on. With a great exhale the last three buttons shot off and clattered against the dash to give way to the pounds of a constrained potbelly to surge forth. I don’t know how she did it. Maybe a gift to her rich fat. But it was as if her belly had gone from 30 inches to 45. Most of those inches shooting straight out onto her lap. It was heavy too… I swear I heard a smack! When her gut planted itself onto the foundation of her thick thighs. A cascading jiggling effect surged throughout her figure twice before her gut settled.

Only I was wrong for thinking it was settled…

She had a look of relief having released her bloated gut that only lasted a handful of seconds. With a grimace and an inhale which began to sound like she was sucking in a burp in reverse, her belly expanded. I didn’t realize then but she wasn’t stuffed despite having claimed to empty the fridge at home before seeing me. No, she wasn’t stuffed. But she definitely had to belch.

BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU RRRRR-

A belch unlike any I knew to be physically possible was released into my SUV through her delicate, quivering, lips. Like a gluttonous lioness’s roar, it nearly deafened me from sitting right next to her. Though she directed it forward, vibrations broke through the air shaking my body and my entire car. I couldn’t tell if my windows were rattling or there was some other inhuman undertone coming from her belch but they fogged up all the same.

I could barely tell with one eye open that it was a relief. Ten seconds into her eructation she slapped her hands to the sides of her gut. Kicking her belch up another octave as I feared that it would wake the neighborhood. And was she forming a grin as her pudge jostling belch neared a half minute in length? Like she was happy to finally be relieving the years of her mother’s criticism and effort to be as much of a girly girl as possible to fit into societal norms? Hell, I’d believe that it was just all the burps she’d held in for her mother just to gain her mother’s approval. But I’d come to accept that it was just the burp she had been holding in while eating today.

When my car finally stopped shaking, which occurred moments after her belch ended, she gently whipped her bottom lip with her thumb and politely excused herself. As it turns out, she almost forgot she had such a talent. Having been a bit of a tomboy in elementary school. But her mother’s strict teachings mold her to societal norms, the talent was lost to her. Rediscovered once she started to actually exercise her stomach. Eating great amounts being another of her secret talents.

“I’m sorry…” She apologized as she sheepishly made a futile attempt to pull her shirt over her prodigious gut. “what were you trying to say?”

Nothing that my lips could utter when locked with her’s Or what my body couldn’t tell her in the back seat.

It was the start of the next incredibly explosive stage in our relationship.