Chapter 1 - Bursting with flavour

Anna, a slender young writer with an eagerness to prove herself approached the grand entrance of "Le Gourmand," a new restaurant that hoped to become as much a part of the city's landscape as the towering skyscrapers that surrounded it. The evening air was crisp, and the soft glow of the pendant lights outside the restaurant cast an inviting warmth. She took a deep breath, feeling the excitement bubble up in her chest. This was her first writing assignment for the prestigious "Flavours of the City" column in the local paper. The challenge of capturing the essence of this high-class dining experience in mere words was thrilling.

"Welcome, Miss...?" The maître d' looked up from his podium, his eyes scanning her simple yet elegant outfit - a black pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse.

"Smith," she said with a smile. "I have a reservation for one."

"Ah, Miss Smith," he said, nodding. "Your table is ready."

The dining room was a symphony of luxury, with soft jazz playing in the background and the scent of fine wine and exotic spices wafting through the air. She followed the maître d' through the maze of tables, each one adorned with pristine white linens and gleaming silverware. The patrons were dressed in their finest, a tapestry of wealth and sophistication. Anna felt a flutter of nervousness as she took her seat at a table for one near the back, her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a young woman with a confident elegance.

The waiter, a tall, suave man with a French accent, presented her with the evening's menu. "Tonight, we have a special treat for you," he said. "A ten-course tasting menu. A journey through our chef's most decadent creations."

Anna's eyes widened slightly. "Ten courses?" she repeated.

"Oui, mademoiselle. Each one more exquisite than the last." He gave her a knowing smile. "You are in for quite the experience."

Anna nodded, trying to hide her apprehension. Ten courses? She was used to writing about the local burger joints and coffee shops. This was uncharted territory. But she was a professional, and she was ready to tackle the challenge. Plus, she thought, it's not every day one gets to indulge in such culinary opulence.

The first course arrived, a delicate amuse-bouche that melted on her tongue, leaving a trail of delightful flavors. She took meticulous notes, savoring every bite, and the evening began to unfold like a gastronomic ballet. Each dish proved more impressive than the last, and the hours slipped by as she sampled the chef's creations, her plate a canvas of colors and textures. Anna felt a sense of awe and responsibility growing with every bite, knowing she had to do justice to this feast with her words.

The next course was a rich pasta dish—a creamy truffle fettuccine that flooded her senses with its decadent aroma. Anna took her time, twirling the pasta around her fork, teasing herself with the anticipation of each mouthful. With each decadent bite, the sweet richness enveloped her, teasing the limits of her waistline. She pressed her fingers against the taut fabric of her dress, feeling the way it hugged her body, a sensation both pleasurable and freeing.

But as the courses piled on, so did the sense of unease. Her skirt, usually a reliable and comfortable fit, began to feel snug around her waist. After the fifth course, she excused herself to the bathroom, her cheeks flushing with the heat of the meal and the sudden tightness of her clothing. Standing in the plush stall, she first opened her belt a notch, and then decided to remove it all together,. Folding in to her bag, she took a deep breath, telling herself it was all part of the experience. But as she returned to her table and the chef's masterpieces continued to arrive, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was slowly losing control over her own body.

"I should stop,” she thought with a laugh, despite having no intention to. A note of breathlessness escaped her lips. “This is all too much.”

The sixth course was placed before her, the waiter noting the absence of Anna's belt with a hint of a smile. It was a rich, velvety soup with croutons that filled her to the brim. Anna tried to ignore the pressure building against the waistband of her skirt as she took dainty sips, scribbling notes on her pad. The seventh was a sumptuous fish dish that had her eyes rolling back in pleasure, but with each bite she felt the fabric strain. By the eighth course, she was acutely aware of the tension around her midsection. The button at the top of her skirt slipped open, but she managed to notice and fasten it with trembling fingers, hoping it would hold.

The ninth course, a decadent slice of beef, was presented with a dramatic flourish. She took a tentative bite, the tender meat practically melting in her mouth, but the discomfort grew with every chew. Annas breaths grew shallower as the minutes ticked by, her focus split between the culinary mastery before her and the fear of her clothing betraying her.

Finally, the tenth and final course arrived: a heavenly chocolate dessert that looked like it had been plucked from a fairytale. The aroma was intoxicating, and she knew she had to try it. As she brought the first spoonful to her lips, the unthinkable happened - the top button of her skirt popped loudly, echoing through the hushed dining room. A few diners glanced over, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement. Anna's face burned as red as the wine in her glass, and she could feel the sweat beading on her forehead.

Before she could react, the second button gave way, flying off as her stomach rushed to fill the space created by the first button's removal. With almost comical timing, her third button followed suit, pinging off her wine glass as her eyes widened. Panic set in as she tried to cover her lap with a napkin. She could feel the eyes of the other patrons, their whispers a symphony of judgment. The waiter, ever the professional, was at her side, sensing a disturbance.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, mademoiselle?" he asked, his French accent thick with worry.

Anna managed a nod, her voice a squeak. "It's... it's all just so delicious." She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. "But I'm afraid I've had more than my fill." Her eyes lowered to the evident bulge, no longer being contained by her prim skirt.

The waiter's expression softened, and he gave a knowing nod. "Ah, the perils of the tasting menu," he said gently. "I will giver your... ahem... compliments... to the chef." He discretely brushed Anna's buttons in to his hand and deposited them in his breast pocket.

With trembling hands, Anna took another spoonful of the dessert, her heart racing as she hoped against hope that she could make it through this night with her dignity intact. But as the sweetness hit her tongue, she felt she didn't care either way. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the freedom her stomach had to expand for the first time in hours.

As Anna finished the rich chocolate dish, she slumped back in her seat, closing her eyes in bliss while she folded her hands atop her prominent belly. The waiter removed her dish silently, retreating to the kitchen to return with a mint tea. "To aid your digestion madame".

She took a moment to dab at her forehead, and then the corners of her mouth with the napkin, feeling the weight of the food pressing down on her. The mint tea arrived, the steam rising gently from the cup offering a hint of relief. She took a sip, the warm liquid soothing her and momentarily distracting from the discomfort in her stomach.

As she drained the cup of tea, she could delay her exit no longer. Anna stood gingerly, one hand braced on the table and the other clamped to her midriff, looking to all the world like a proud mother-to-be. She grabbed her coat, holding it in front of her waist with trembling hands. "Merci beaucoup," she murmured to the maitre'd, her eyes downcast, avoiding the stares of the other patrons. She knew they were all wondering what had happened to the elegant young journalist who had started the evening with such poise. The walk to the exit felt like a mile, each step heavier than the last. She gripped her coat for comfort, and stepped out in to the night to wait for her taxi.

The journey home was a blur of lights and sounds, her stomach's noises growing louder with each bump in the road. As she fumbled with her keys at the front door, she couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. She had never felt so stuffed in her life, and yet she had to write about the elegant surroundings and classy food with the finesse of a seasoned critic. She pushed open the door, the sweet relief of her apartment's familiarity washing over her.

Anna stepped inside and kicked off her heels, dropping her coat and stepping out of her skirt as she stopped to relieve the tightness of her clothes. She unbuttoned her blouse, the lower fasteners not under the same kind of tension as her skirt had been, but feeling tighter all the same. She made her way to the living room, her eyes landing on her laptop, open and waiting for her words. The smell of the rich food still lingered on her breath, a reminder of her gastronomic overindulgence. But she knew that this was just the first of many challenges she would face in her new career.

With a sigh, she sat down and began to type, the clack of the keys a soothing rhythm that helped to ease her embarrassment and.. exhilaration. She knew the article wouldn't write itself, and she had a story to tell, no matter how mortifying the experience had been. As she recounted each dish, the flavors came back to her in vivid detail, and she found her voice - one that was honest and humorous, despite the evening's mishap.

The words flowed as she described the exquisite presentation of the meal and the meticulous care with which each course had been crafted. But she didn't shy away from the truth of her experience either. She wrote about the escalating tightness of her skirt, the buttons popping one by one, and the feeling that had washed over her as she felt it happen. After all, what higher praise could there be than to describe the food as so good it had filled her to bursting... not just her stomach, but her soul, until she could hold no more.