Chapter 1

The London fog clung to Nathaniel like a shroud, mirroring the perpetual melancholia that seemed to settle in his bones. He sat hunched over his typewriter, the keys clicking a lonely rhythm against the quiet hum of the gas lamps. Another rejection slip lay crumpled beside him; his aspirations of becoming a published author felt as fragile as the paper they were printed on.

A sudden crackle, like a misplaced spark, shattered the silence. Nathaniel jumped, his pen skittering across the page, leaving a jagged blue line. He looked up, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Standing in the middle of his study, shimmering faintly like a heat mirage, was a woman he had never seen before.

She was unlike any woman he had ever encountered, and he found himself speechless for the first time in recent memory.

—Hello?— she said, her voice a melodic whisper. —I... I apologize for the intrusion. I seem to have miscalculated.—

—Miscalculated?— Nathaniel managed, his voice cracking slightly.

—Yes. Time coordinates. They can be… fickle.—

Nathaniel, usually tongue-tied and awkward, found himself offering her tea. His small, cluttered flat above the bookshop suddenly felt… brighter. Her presence, like the unexpected bloom of a rare flower, scattered the dust of his solitude.

And so the story began...

She explained, with a charming blend of scientific jargon and disarming honesty, that she was a traveler from a future far beyond his comprehension. She spoke of flying cars, personal teleportation, and a world entirely devoid of the melancholic charm that permeated his own time.

Nathaniel, at first skeptical, found himself increasingly enthralled by her tales, by the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of the future, and by the subtle, alluring curve of her smile. He found her incredibly beautiful and utterly captivating. He began to look forward to the evenings they would spend together in his study. They talked of literature, philosophy, and their deepest hopes and fears. He read her his stories, and she listened with an attentiveness that made him feel, for the first time, truly seen. He learned to expect her sudden bursts of enthusiasm followed by quiet, pensive moments.

He was falling in love...

And so was she. Lilian knew her time in this era was limited. The chronometer hidden beneath her sleeve was a constant, silent reminder of her origins. But Nathaniel was unlike anyone she had ever encountered. She loved his writer’s hands, constantly moving, sometimes scratching his hair, sometimes holding her hand with such a tenderness that made her heart ache.

She noticed, too, the way he would sometimes rub his stomach after a meal, a gesture of quiet satisfaction. She found herself watching him during dinner, her gaze drawn to the subtle fullness that would bloom beneath his shirt. She’d even find herself leaning across the table slightly, hoping to catch the faintest sound of a satisfied burp. The secret, the thrill, the intimacy of this silent love for these expressions of fullness, made her blush.

One evening, after a particularly hearty meal of roast beef and potatoes, Nathaniel found himself utterly stuffed, his belly taut beneath his loose shirt. Lilian could see the change. His lean frame was filled out, his belly gained a big curve that she adored.

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, letting out a burp. He apologized, a flush rising on his cheeks, but Lilian only smiled, her eyes shining.

—It's… it's alright— she said, her voice a soft whisper.

He didn't know why, but his embarrassment slowly turned to a different kind of excitement. He felt seen, understood in a way that he never had been before. He always felt the need to eat more and more, the feeling of fullness was a high to him. It felt like a secret he had always held within, a craving only he knew. And somehow, Lilian was drawn to it.

Nathaniel's swollen belly was a sight to behold to Lilian. It was round and full, a testament to his love for food. Lilian couldn't resist any longer. She straddled him, her wetness pressing against his belly. Nathaniel's hands found their way to her vagina, his fingers teasing her, making her moan.

He thrust into her, his belly rubbing against her, sending waves of pleasure through her. Lilian's moans filled the room, her breath hitching as Nathaniel's belly pressed against her. She loved the feel of his huge belly every time he thrust into her, the way it rubbed against her, making her wetter.

Nathaniel's fingers moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent. Lilian's moans grew louder, her body trembling with pleasure. Nathaniel's belly rubbed against her, the sensation driving her wild. She could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing with anticipation.

With a final thrust, Nathaniel sent Lilian over the edge. She cried out, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. Nathaniel followed soon after, his own orgasm hitting him like a wave. They collapsed in a heap, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in unison.

They spent the next few weeks lost in their bubble of stolen moments. They ate together, drank together, read together, and made love, their bodies a testament to the love blooming between them. Nathaniel always ate more than he should, driven by an insatiable craving, not truly aware of the pleasure he was giving Lilian. And Lilian, every time, was filled with a secret thrill, watching his belly grow rounder and fuller, listening to his satisfied burps.

But the day of her departure came far too soon. The shimmering began, a soft hum that vibrated through the air. Lilian’s face was pale, her hazel eyes filled with a desperate sadness.

One evening, Lilian stood before him, her expression somber. —My time is up, Nathaniel— she said, her voice barely a whisper. —The coordinates are stable. I have to go.—

The words fell like heavy stones in the room. Nathaniel's breath caught in his throat. He wanted to beg her to stay, to tell her of the love that had bloomed in his heart. But he knew it was futile. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, the skin soft and warm beneath his touch.

—I will never forget you, Lilian— he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

—Nor I you, Nathaniel— she replied, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. —You... you made this time special. More than you know.v She smiled and offered him one last thing to remember her by a gentle prod to his rounding belly —You look so... contented— she whispered.


Then, with another crackle that filled the room, she was gone. Nathaniel stood alone in his study, the silence deafening. The rain lashed against the window, now a mournful dirge for a love that could never be. He was left with only the memory of her laughter, the warmth of her gaze, and the strange, bittersweet knowledge that he had found love in the most improbable of circumstances, even if it was only for a little while. He ran his hand over his very full belly. He was smiling by the time he reached for his pen. He had a lot to write.