Chapter 9. Pigging out

I woke up with my face buried in Kelsey's pillowy, generously sized chest. Not a bad place to be. I was pressed right up against her tummy, still a bit bloated from her antics the night before. She held me close, and I closed my eyes to relish the moment until -

"Oh. You're still here?" Even when groggy, Kelsey was just as loud and dismissive as usual. She untangled herself from me unceremoniously and rolled out of the bed with a level of energy that impressed me. Was her head not killing her?

I watched Kelsey play with her hair in the mirror for a few minutes before she turned to me impatiently.

"Well? Get a move on."

Like a puppy, I trailed after her to our unknown-to-me destination. Out of the bedroom, down the stairs, through the trashed rooms, out onto the street. We didn't speak. I didn't know what to say. Did she remember anything? It was impossible to tell, and I was too embarrassed to ask.

We made it to a seedy, hole-in-the-wall diner called "Piggy's". Dirty wooden walls, flickering pink neon lights. Kelsey couldn't have looked more out of place there, in her rumpled but still obviously expensive clothing from last night. I noted how even in this environment, she commanded attention. A couple of the staff raised their eyebrows at her, then at each other.

"Two," her voice rang out, clear as a bell.

"Seat yer'selves anywhere," grunted a portly, unimpressed lady in her 30s that was wiping down the bar. She pushed greasy menus towards us across the counter and went back to polishing sketchy-looking glasses with a still filthier-looking rag.

Kelsey collected the menus and slid into a booth.

"Don't worry, the food's amazing," she reassured me as she took in my alarmed expression.

"Filling, and cheap too," she added. "Perfect for hangovers."

I quickly perused the menu and decided on their Don't Hog The Bacon omelette. Kelsey told me she was going to go for something called the Big Pig Supreme, and then went up to the bar to place our order.

She came back with two glasses of water and passed me one.

"So what do you do, anyway? I never asked." Kelsey inquired. I was taken aback by the sudden interest.

"Oh, um...I study marketing."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, whatever. I mean like, what do you really do? What do you like to do? Do for fun or whatever. Don't give me that auto-fill shit."

"Oh. Okay, um...I guess I like eating?" This earned a knowing smile.

"And watching me eat. Yeah. Tell me something I don't know."

"I like baking. And, umm...hmm. You know, I really enjoy photography. But I'm not very good."

"What do you take photos of?"

"People, mainly."

"You wanna take photos of me?"

Would I ever! I blushed, thinking about the specific scenarios I'd like to see her in. She'd follow my directions for poses. Wear what I instructed. Do as I directed...my heart sputtered.

"I'd like to," I admitted.

Before she could reply, two heaping platters of food materialized on the table.

"Enjoy. Resta the Big Pig'll be rolling out over the next half hour or so. If ya need anything, just ask." The last sentence was an afterthought over the server's shoulder, as she was already waddling back to the kitchen.

I looked down at the mountain of food in front of me. It smelled heavenly. The cheery yellow omelette itself was the size of a loaf of bread. It was almost obscured, however, by the bounteous amount of bacon it was drowning in. Around the omelette were arranged: four thick slices of butter-soaked sourdough, three buttermilk pancakes doused with syrup and topped with whipped cream, two girthy sausages shiny in their own grease, and a pile of crispy hash browns. Breathing in all the mouthwatering scents, I felt my arousal spark as I thought about what devouring this fattening meal was going to do to me. I was still in Kelsey's shorts from yesterday, and they were already tight on me. I didn't think they would last long.

I dug in with gusto, sneaking a peek over at Kelsey's plate as I chewed. It looked more simple than the spread in front of me, just eggs and bacon. But in much larger amounts than I was used to!

I suppressed hums and sighs of delight with every bite I was taking. The omelette was fluffier than I had imagined an omelette could be, the hash browns flavourful, the sausages juicy. The food was so good I couldn't control my pace, instead opting to shovel it in my mouth as quickly as I could. I relished how the hot meal settled heavily in my stomach, giving me a warm feeling as I gulped it down.

Kelsey wasn't halfway through her plate when another was set down in front of her. It was a tower of golden flapjacks, complete with rivulets of chocolate down its sides and fresh fruit forming a moat around its base. It was crowned with an indulgent dollop of whipped cream. I counted 11 large pancakes, then realized: this was only the second course of whatever she had ordered. The first plate was a mere warm-up in comparison.

We both plowed through our breakfasts without speaking as we were wholly preoccupied with pigging out. Kelsey's shorts quickly became uncomfortably constricting around my waist as my belly expanded to accommodate my stretching stomach. I was too busy eating to waste time or energy on unbuttoning them, but my discomfort was eventually relieved when the shorts gave in. The button slipped open and the zipper easily yielded to the pressure of my stuffed belly. Victorious, my bloated gut plopped into my lap and rested there proudly as I continued my quest to clear the plate in front of me. I knew I was making a pig of myself, but I didn't care. Each bite was more delicious than the last, and the feeling of fullness growing as I topped up my stomach to its full capacity only egged me on further. I had conditioned myself to enjoy the feeling of a full, packed stomach through the constant snacking on ice cream at my summer job. Looking down at my own round, tight belly - on display now as my borrowed crop top had rode right up over it - and feeling its soft skin against my thighs only turned me on further.

Across the table, it was a similar story. Kelsey was a force of mass destruction: obliterating the food in front of her as well as her toned abs. More plates were brought out as promised over the course of the half hour, each one more elaborate and with a larger portion than the last. The beautifully arranged meals disappeared rapidly, while Kelsey's flat stomach swelled to become an over-inflated beach ball on the verge of bursting. The way she massaged her belly delicately between each course and rested a hand protectively overtop of it as she ate only added to the impression that she was actually well into pregnancy.

When we finished, the tabletop was a graveyard of plates licked clean. We both leaned back in our seats, groaning and burping as we rubbed our distended bellies. We were both stuffed to the gills. It was hard to breathe, but we were both satisfied.

We had walked into the diner as slim girls and waddled out with enormous, round, tight bellies that were disproportional to our petite frames. From the back we still appeared as slim girls. But from the front or side, anyone could see our boobs were now propped up by bloated balloons protruding from our midsections - revealing what pigs we really were.