Chapter 1

Anna was the heart of the office, her desk a bustling hub of activity amidst the quiet taps of keyboards and the occasional hum of the printer. She was known for her meticulous planning and organizational skills, the woman who could juggle a hundred tasks without missing a beat. With her neatly pinned hair and a smile that could brighten the dullest of cubicles, she was the unsung hero of the digital media company she'd called home for the past six years.

So when the CEO, Mr. Castellanos, asked her to organize a team dinner to celebrate their latest successful marketing campaign, she felt the weight of the request but took it in stride. The meal was to be a token of appreciation for the long hours and innovative ideas that had propelled the company into the spotlight. She knew exactly where to take them: 'Le Gourmand', the French restaurant with the reputation for serving dishes that were a symphony of flavor, a place where the city's elite often retreated for a taste of sophistication.

The booking was made with a flourish of emails and phone calls, the kind of place that still took reservations the old-fashioned way. Anna had secured the private dining room with a view of the city skyline, a perfect backdrop for an evening of camaraderie and good food. The team was thrilled when she announced it in the weekly meeting, their eyes lighting up at the mention of escargot and crème brûlée. The anticipation grew with each passing day, the talk of fine dining and victory wafting through the office like a tantalizing aroma.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans. The day of the dinner, Anna's phone buzzed with a call from the booking site she had used. A system error had occurred, and instead of 'Le Gourmand', the reservation had been made at 'The Smokin' Cow', a novelty BBQ place known more for its cow horn hats than its haute cuisine. She felt the color drain from her face as she listened to the apologies on the other end of the line. It was too late to make any changes; 'Le Gourmand' was fully booked for the next two weeks, and every other fine dining establishment in town had been reserved by the eager beavers of the corporate world.

With a knot in her stomach, Anna broke the news to the team. There were gasps and a few muttered curses, but mostly a resounding silence filled with the kind of disappointment that only comes from a shattered expectation. She saw the excitement in their eyes turn to confusion, then to something else - a challenge, perhaps? They had worked hard, and they were going to celebrate regardless. Some even cracked jokes afmitted they much preferred the sound of this place over frogs legs and snails which made her smile through her embarrassment.

The team piled into cabs and headed to 'The Smokin' Cow', their business attire a stark contrast against the restaurant's casual rustic decor. The hostess, dressed in a checkered apron and a cowgirl hat, cheerfully greeted them with a "Yee-haw!" that made Anna cringe. She apologized profusely for the mix-up, her voice a little too loud, hoping that maybe the sound of her own disappointment would be drowned out by the clinking of beer bottles and the sizzle of BBQ meat.

They were seated at a long picnic table, in a private corner surrounded by neon lights and framed photos of cows in various stages of BBQ readiness. The menu was a laminated board with items like "The Rodeo Burger" and "Rootin'-Tootin' Ribs". Anna scanned the list, looking for something that might resemble the gourmet experience she had promised. The team, however, took it in their stride, some even looking excited by the prospect of a night out of their usual routine.

The evening began with a round of drinks, the office chatter mixing with the country music playing in the background. Anna tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach, her mind racing with thoughts of what Mr. Castellanos would say to her the next day. But as the first plates of BBQ arrived, the aroma was surprisingly tantalizing. The meat was smoked to perfection, the sauces tangy and rich. Despite herself, she took a bite of the pulled pork slider and was met with a burst of flavor that made her pause. It wasn't 'Le Gourmand', but it wasn't bad either.

The appetizers soon disappeared, and the main courses were brought out. Anna picked at her chicken wings, the heat from the sauce a comforting distraction from her nerves. She and her friend Clara had decided to share a serving of fries, piled high next to their plates. As they were about to dig in, the owner, a larger-than-life man with a beard like a Viking, strutted over to their table with a boisterous laugh. He slapped a hand down on the table and announced, "Welcome to 'The Smokin' Cow'! I hear we've got ourselves a party of foodies!"

The team looked up from their menus, a mix of curiosity and skepticism on their faces. The owner winked at Anna and continued, "Now, I've got a little somethin' for ya'll. For any group over fifteen, I've got a challenge that'll make your taste buds dance the hoedown!" He pointed to a giant platter in the corner of the room, piled high with ribs, spicy wings, burgers, steak and fries. "This here's our Inferno Platter. If one of you can clean it up in under an hour, your whole group eats free!"

Anna's heart sank further as she saw the smug smile spread across Joan's face. "What better way to start the night than with a little friendly competition?" Joan quipped, turning to Anna. "Since you're the one who brought us here, why don't you go for it?" The team erupted into laughter, some genuine, others a little forced. Anna felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and was in a bind. She could decline and lose face, looking like a spoil-sport. Or she could accept and face certain humiliating failure.

But something in the way the owner spoke, his twinkling eyes and the cheers from her colleagues, made her hesitate. Clara leaned over and whispered, "Just do your best, and if you can't, who cares? It's all in good fun anyway." With a deep breath, Anna nodded and took a step forward. "Alright, I'll give it a shot." The room grew quieter, the music fading into the background as the owner set the clock on the wall to count down from 60 minutes.

The Inferno Platter was placed before her with a dramatic flourish. The smells of grease and salt and chargrilled meat filled the air, making her stomach growl despite her nerves. The team clapped and whooped, urging her on with a mix of enthusiasm and skepticism. Mr. Castellanos even gave her a nod of encouragement, his usual stern expression softened by a hint of amusement.

Anna took her first bite, a rib coated in a sauce that was more hot than she was expecting. She chewed and swallowed with a dignity that was definitely not in the spirit of the challenge. The team watched her, some already back to their own meals, their conversations resuming around her. They were good sports, she thought, trying not to let her discomfort show.

As the minutes ticked by, Anna's pace grew more relaxed. She found herself enjoying the food, the smoky sweetness of the ribs, the crunch of the fries, and the surprisingly tender chicken. The heat of the wings didn't bother her as much anymore, the spice a welcome distraction from her earlier embarrassment. The team had mostly returned to their own dinners, their glances at the clock and her plate growing less frequent.

Mr. Castellanos leaned back in his chair, watching her with a twinkle in his eye. "You're doing quite well, Anna," he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine surprise. "I didn't know you had it in you." Anna managed a small smile, her mouth too full to reply. She took another bite, savoring the flavors and the camaraderie of the evening. It wasn't what she had planned, but it was turning out to be a memorable night.

By the 20-minute mark, the pile of food on her plate had noticeably shrunk. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her eyes began to water from the spicy wings. The team had shifted from skepticism to cheerful banter, placing bets on how much more she could eat. Some had even started to encourage her, offering sips of their drinks to help wash down the food. The atmosphere in the room was electric, the tension of the challenge mixing with the easy chatter of colleagues enjoying themselves.

Her skirt was feeling tight as she wiped her fingers and rubbed her belly beneath the table. She picked up a juicy burger and bit into it, the juices dribbling down her chin. Flecks of fat and cheese marked her white blouse. Anna felt the weight of the food in her stomach, but she was determined to save face. She took a moment to survey the damage, mentally calculating how much was left. The ribs were halfway done, the chicken wings a diminishing pile and the fries were disappearing at an alarming rate.

Clara watched her with a mix of horror and admiration. She leaned over and whispered, "You're actually doing this, aren't you?" Anna just nodded, her mouth too full to speak. She was aware of the smudges of BBQ sauce on her face and the way her hair was sticking to her forehead, but she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. It was absurd, and she knew it, but the absurdity was becoming part of the fun.

The owner checked in on her every few minutes, his own grin widening as the platter grew more bare. "Looks like we've got ourselves a contender!" he boomed, slapping Anna on the back with a heartiness that made her cough. The team had abandoned all pretense of decorum, shouting advice and cheers as Anna eyed the steak, a piece of food that had never looked so daunting.

Her fork hovered over the waiting steak, and with a sigh, Anna pushed back her chair. The room had grown warm with the collective body heat and the fiery food, and she suddenly felt the need for a moment of solitude. She mumbled something about needing to use the restroom and made her way through the crowded restaurant, her head spinning from the meat she had already consumed.

The 'little cow girl's' bathroom was a small oasis of kitch, with a cow-print rug and a mirror framed by tiny lights shaped like stars. Anna took a deep breath, looking at her reflection. The woman who stared back at her was not the composed office administrator she knew, but rather a BBQ warrior with a glint of determination in her eyes. Her blouse was stained, and her makeup had started to run from the heat. Her lips were stained with bbq sauce and she could see the outline of her lower belly becoming evident in her smart skirt but she felt oddly invincible. With a shrug, she took a paper towel from the dispenser and cleaned herself up as best she could.

Joan, ever the opportunist, followed her in. "Looks like you're enjoying yourself," she said with a sneer, eyeing Anna's distressed state. "I always knew you had a wild side, but who knew it was so... greasy?" Anna felt her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and anger. She turned to face her colleague, the platter of food momentarily forgotten.

"It's just a bit of fun, Joan," Anna replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's not about winning or losing, it's about making the best of the situation." Joan raised an eyebrow, the glint in her eye hinting at something more. "You know, I never pegged you for a glutton," she said, eyeing her middle. "You are what you eat I suppose, and you've had a lot of cow". The words stung, but Anna took a deep breath and reminded herself that this was not about proving anything to anyone but herself.

Joan's apraising eye never left Anna's belly, an almost hungry glint in her eyes. "You're not going to be sick, are you? And embarrass yourself more than you have already?" Joan asked with feigned concern, her voice dripping with sarcasm as Anna clamped a hand to her stomach. Anna felt the heat rise in her cheeks, and for a moment, she wondered if she might be. She opened her mouth to reply but instead of words, a deep, rumbling belch escaped her. "You really are an animal", Joan sneered. "Oink oink, piggy".

Joan stroked a hand on the curve of the bulge that was developing beneath Anna's skirt button, bold and overfamiliar, Anna's senses pinged with... shame? Excitement? Both? She looked at Joan with a searching expression as she swished out of the room.

The burp had helped though, the pressure on her waistband reduced and Anna felt she had room to breathe again. She was far from empty but at least felt she could manage a bit more without popping. She brushed her hair from her face and returned to the table, her cheeks burning but her resolve stronger. The team had finished their own meals, and were now watching with a mix of horror and fascination. She took her seat with a forced smile, ignoring the sniggers from some of her colleagues, especially from Joan.

Mr Castellanos raised his glass to her, "To Anna, the woman who can eat a cow!" The team chuckled, even Clara couldn't help but snicker. Anna took a deep breath and picked up the second half of a burger, having finished one half-pounder already, eyeing it like a gladiator eyeing their next foe. The bread was soggy from the juices of the meat, the cheese had melded into the bun in a greasy embrace. She took a bite, the taste surprisingly delightful, and chewed with purpose. Each bite was a victory, and she could feel the team's energy swelling around her, almost as distinctly as she could feel her buttons getting strained.

The minutes ticked down, the clock seeming to race faster as the challenge grew more intense. Anna's eyes remained glued to the platter, her mind a whirlwind of flavors and pain. The two bulges on either side of her waistband seemed to be growing by the second, the fabric of her skirt stretching taut, her waistband cutting in like a bowstring. She took a sip of water, hoping it would ease the pressure, but it was like adding oil to a fire. Her cheeks were flushed, her forehead gleaming with sweat, but she wasn't about to give up.

Anna sat up straight to tackle the final stretch. She leaned across to grab a handful of fries and with a sudden pop, the first button of her skirt gave way, sending a gasp through the table. The button ricocheted off the surface, bouncing off a plate before coming to rest next to Clara's wine glass. Anna's hand shot to her waist, a look of horror flashing across her face. The team erupted in a mix of shocked laughter and stares, the tension in the air crackling like electricity. Clara leaned over, her eyes wide, whispering, "Are you okay?" Anna nodded, trying to keep the panic out of her eyes.

Without warning, the second button followed, pinging off a bottle of beer. It was forced off by the rapid expansion of Anna's belly, which had rushed forward to claim to space afforded by the first button's removal. She glanced down, not recognising the sight. A vast roll of flesh encroaching above her lap.