Chapter 5

The first thing I noticed was her eyes, glazed over like she’d seen a ghost, no, a hundred ghosts, and they were all a million miles away. Blank was not strong enough a word to describe the vacancy to them, the lifelessness of them. Unfocused, unattached to anything, they drifted in the room around us.

One hand gripped against her stomach, her loose pajama shirt rolled up so she could press against the tightness of her stomach. She kneaded the stretched skin gently, a circular motion, fingernails gripping into its taught exterior. The other hand clutched a donut tightly, the penultimate of the dozen formerly in the box.

Crumbs were everywhere, across her shirt, down her bare legs, across the floor. Her legs were spread wide as she slouched against the backrest of the chair she’d made a mess of, her head pressed back against the headrest in extended bliss.

I was about to say her name, I really was, I was about to say something, to consolidate her, to clarify, to say anything. “Rylee?” I would've asked. I hadn’t used her full name in ages.

She leaned further back into her chair, pushing the remaining three fourths of the donut in, folding it twice in the process.

Then she moaned again. Full, rich, as powerful as any I’d ever heard from her, like I’d been teasing her for hours (as I had many times before) and she was finally getting there, her moan was the most intensely sexual thing I’d ever heard. It was carnal and guttural, like the strongest, darkest of her needs were being satisfied so entirely and completely. Her eyes rolled back in her head, eyelids fluttering as I was instantly turned on.

She hadn’t noticed me, so it seemed. Engrossed by the task ahead of her, reaching for the last donut of the box, rubbing her taut stomach as she did, moaning deeper and longer as it was surely full of sugar and cream and fat.

I only then saw her headphones beneath her hair, the video playing on her laptop. Lush green colors in rhythmic patterns spun and spiraled as words played over them.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I’d seen those videos before, they were cute, wholesome even, talks of self acceptance, of stuffing beyond all comprehension, pushing your limits. I’d pleasured myself to them a few times, imagining celebrities listening to the same video, falling into a stupor, and stuffing themselves silly. Never in a million years did I think they would actually work. Maybe they weren't.

Rylee had resumed stuffing the twelfth donut into her mouth, spilling even more glaze across her body, mindless and careless as she pressed an ungodly amount of it into her mouth and began to chew.

Everything was short circuiting. Was she actually stuffing herself right now? Should I talk to her? Was I dreaming? What in the actual fuck was going on?

By the time I’d thought them all, the last donut was gone, disappeared into my girlfriend’s mouth to fatten her, to widen her, to stretch her.

I was already soaked. My middle finger delved down beneath my legs, pleasure radiating from the first touch, warmth spreading through my body. I closed my eyes at first contact, reveling in hedonism, the guilt of it all. I didn’t care about anything else, anything except whatever the hell my girlfriend was doing.

My eyes were thrust back open as I heard the click and buzz of an object I could instantly recognize––her vibrator. She placed it almost lazily between her legs, her sigh of pleasure catching a few times as she pleasured herself.

It took less than a minute for a violent climax to tear through me. I shuddered to the ground, shaking in pleasure and euphoria, biting into my shoulder to keep from crying out. She came quickly after.

Still in shock, I slowly dragged myself to my feet, stepping away from the door. Whatever she was doing, I wasn’t about to stop it, not now.

I crept away, slowly, returning to our room, and went to sleep. I didn’t wake when she joined me a half-hour later.

***

I woke when her alarm went off, and when I’d normally turn over and fall back asleep, my heart instantly thudded as it recalled the events of the previous night.

So when she got up to shower, I followed her. Without words, we made love in there before she playfully kicked me out, trying to make it to her class on time.

I laughed, hanging her towel back up. There had been no mention of last night, because why would there be? She had no idea I knew.

“Want anything different for breakfast today?” I asked. A question and a test.

“No, thanks Princess,” she replied, still running her fingers through her hair.

She was washing her hair, so that gave me some time for snooping in the kitchen. I stepped out of the bathroom and threw some PJs on, walking back to the scene of the crime.

Nothing.

Not a single thing out of place. The chair had been put back the way it usually was, the table clean, the floor clean, just like it always was. Not a single crumb. The trash wasn’t empty, but had nothing out of the ordinary, just like the recycling. No extra plates left out, not a single thing out of the ordinary, it looked exactly as it did when I went to sleep last night.

I was in the midst of checking under the sink when I heard a, “Princess?”

I stood, finding my wonderful girlfriend smiling, warm and gentle and excited for the day. She looked like she did every morning, not a tease of tiredness. “You get distracted?” she teased.

“I did, sorry,” I said, returning myself to the preparation of breakfast. God, my heart couldn’t stop pounding against my ribcage, the image of her stuffing herself just replayed over and over in my mind. It made me excited, too, just…

“No worries, Princess,” she said, wrapping her arms around me.

“You sleep okay?” I asked. Another test.

“Like a rock, you?” she asked, setting about making herself a cup of coffee.

The morning passed in small talk, and I couldn’t sense a single bit off with her: she was still her joyous, smiling self. She said she enjoyed my company and drove off to get to class.

I was dumbfounded, again. No evidence of anything. Had I dreamed it all?