chapter seven (part two)

(posting two chapters in a row, so make sure you read part one before reading this one!)
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His stomach wasn't settled at all, he burped as soon as he had to step down from the sidewalk and cross the street. He had to ignore that as he headed into the lecture hall.

The hall was standard, though on a smaller level because this was a community college. There were seats stacked in rows in a semi-circle around where the teacher spoke, and unfortunately for Jordan that was also where the entrance to the classroom was. His face was red as he attempted to open the door and step in quietly. He heard the professor stop mid-sentence to turn to him.

"You're late. Take a seat." he said abruptly. Jordan just nodded and looked to the seats.

The class was small, small enough that only half of the seats were taken, but all but one of the rows had a student on the end, so Jordan was forced to march past them. He was out of breath from the rush, but he wasn't so out of shape that a slight staircase would stop him in his tracks. He was about half way up when he met eyes with one of his old friends. She was a cute girl, thin and tiny and catty as hell. Jordan used to like that about her, until that cattiness led her to call him out. That didn't seem to end with the friendship, either. Her eyes panned down, and Jordan realized he'd never tugged his shirt down his fat paunch.

He flushed and did so, though it barely reached his jeans and slid back up his pale gut the second he let go. He needed new clothes, but his paychecks were much lighter lately... Especially when he spent most of them on food.

"Pig." someone whispered behind him, eliciting a few chuckles. The teacher cleared his throat and continued his lecture as Jordan finally sat down.

He looked up at the board, heart pounding even harder when he realized he didn't recognize a single thing on it. How many classes had he skipped? How much reading had he not done?

He tried to do his best to follow along, pulling out a notebook and pencil and jotting what little he did understand, and he settled down. Things were looking a bit better, for about half an hour. Then his stomach started to growl. He put his hand against it, catching how the boy in front of him turned his head just enough to let him know he'd heard it and was distracted.

It growled again, and again. He tried to ignore it, but the hunger was so distracting! He could barely listen to the lecture, wondering what Shin was going to make for dinner tonight. He glanced down at his bag. He knew he had some donuts in there from work. He'd wanted to bring them home for Katsuo and Shin, but... they were right there! A little stale, maybe, but still food.

He tried to be quiet, really he did. He slipped the paper bag out as slowly as he could, with only a few crinkles. He was in the very back, so he knew there would be an echo if he was too loud. Once he had the first donut in hand, he stopped caring so much. He gobbled it down easily, and then moved onto the next. And the next. There were nine of them in all, and he stuffed them down without a care in the world. He may have moaned at one point, eyes closed, lost in the bliss of chocolate frosting. He licked his fingers greedily, and once he was finished he leaned back, once again fat and satiated. His stomach was hanging out of his shirt again, but what did it matter? He was in the back, the lights were lowered, it was fine--

Until he felt it. That familiar bubbling, the pressure. He knew what was happening before the gas even started shifting to his backside. He clenched his lower half, holding his breath. The professor was droning on, but besides that the room was dead silent. His stomach groaned and he let out a small whimper, shifting in his seat. He felt his belly fat brush against his thighs, just barely touching.

Inside, he tried to encourage himself. Hold it in. Hold it in. Just another- fuck- twenty-five minutes. He could do it. He'd had to hold it for longer before. At work. In bed with Katsuo. At restaurants. He could do it.

He rubbed his fat stomach. There was no other word for it now; he'd never felt fatter in his life. His gut had barely worked through the huge, greasy meal he'd eaten and he shoved more on top of it, this time fried sugar coated in frosting. No wonder his shirt didn't fit. He was sweating- the room felt warmer. He looked down and only now realized he was coated in crumbs. Some on the small table his gut provided, and some on his chest. Like two levels made by soft flab, He went to wipe it and didn't catch his mistake until after. The mistake being that there had been frosting mixed in with the crumbs, and now he had a smear of chocolate outlining the top curve of his gut.

Ten minutes past, and Jordan kept hoping the feeling would fade. It didn't. He was taking deep breaths to try to control himself, ass clenched and body sweating. He couldn't help but think of women on television who were giving birth, remembering to breath and clutching their fat bellies. He felt like that, except trying not to let the thing in his gut get out. His gut continued to churn and bubble, loud enough that the boy in front of him turned back twice more- once all the way to make eye contact with the fat pig behind him, as if Jordan had any control over his guts noises.

Only another minute or two after that, Jordan was starting to realize he wasn't going to make it. It was so strong, and his stomach hurt so much. He swore he could feel the gas in his gut stretching his tummy out more. He still tried, but it was too much. There was one particularly nasty churn and he leaned forward, groaning softly. He prayed it would be quiet, but it wasn't. In the small lecture hall it echoed from his backside. Loud and long, he swore he felt his butt-cheeks wobble from the force. His face was already red from the exertion of holding it in for so long, but he only became redder as every set of eyes in the room turned to him. It wasn't a question, they all knew he was the culprit.

As the group of students in front of his fanned their noses and shook their heads, mumbling 'Gross!' and 'Fat ass!', all he could think was 'I was going to be a model' while he cradled his still-bubbling gut in both hands.