Chapter 2. Love at first stuffing

As I sat and grazed on my food, I continued to watch the couple. I wondered what it would feel like to be so large, so grand, consuming all that space. Her breasts were sumptuous, her belly was monumental. She was magnificent.

Before I knew it, I had mindlessly worked through all of the food in front of me. I only came to when my fork once again clicked against an empty plate. I now became aware of a breeze against the lower part of my stomach and looked down to see I had managed to bloat myself to a painful maximum. My comfy t-shirt had ridden up higher than my belly button, unable to contain the beach ball my belly now resembled. I became embarrassed, my distress growing with every fruitless effort to pull the shirt lower. I quickly gave up and sprung out of my seat, rushing for the exit. As I passed the couple the larger woman paid me no mind and kept eating, while the smaller woman regarded my scarlet face and ill-fitting shirt inquisitively.

By the time I made it to the cashier, I was sweating all over. I felt even more blood rush to my face when I saw how the cashier's eyes widened as he took in how stuffed I was. I fumbled with my card payment and mumbled a thank you, then fled into the welcoming cool air outside.

Walking home that day was the most humiliating experience I can remember having in my life. I felt as though everyone was watching me, judging me, scoffing at my incredible lack of self-control. I felt my heavy tummy pulling me forward, off my usual centre of balance. My gluttony was now out there for the whole world to see. And yet, there was something erotic about it. I enjoyed all those eyes on me. I wanted them to see what I had done to myself.

At home, I ran to the full-length mirror in the bedroom to survey the damage. From the back, I looked completely normal. If you just looked at my face, my breasts, my shoulders, my butt, my legs, nothing had changed. But my tummy...it was a large orb that was the most striking feature my body now had. It commanded attention, shamelessly protruding from my midsection. It was impossible to "suck it in" - I had completely filled up my stomach so that my tummy was firm and the skin was taut. I couldn't stop staring at myself from every angle, massaging my tummy, seeing how round and swollen I looked from the side. I looked at my distorted body in fascination: I didn't understand why, but there was something about how my distended belly was busting out of this shirt was commanding and sexy. I liked the idea of clothes struggling and failing to contain my bulk.

That was the first time ever that I saw what I looked like with my tummy stretching out in front of me more than my boobs did. It would soon become a regular occurrence, at least until my belly became a permanent fixture.