Bianca looked doubtfully at her reflection in the mirror suspecting that she had put on a little weight, using her own words. She started he inspection poking and pinching her soft potbelly, clearly visible even under her sweater. She was a beautiful Italian girl with long and smooth black hair, 56 tall and weighing about 120 pounds. Or, at least, that had been her weight until the beginning of December.
During the Christmas month she had been eating more than usual and stopped going to the gym at all. She had never had a good metabolism and thus her weight had almost immediately started increasing. She had not paid much attention to it, as she would spend her days wearing her favourite sweats and was not aware at all of her growing girth. Had she stepped on a scale, she would probably find out that she had reached 130 pounds in the past weeks.
This belly was not here last month, was her first thought.
She raised her sweater and shirt, folding them below her breasts and looked at her gut with a perplexed face. Her belly was tan even in winter, thanks to her southern Italian heritage, and looked like a big milk chocolate Easter egg, curving slightly outwards. She caressed the bulge, then turned to one side without lowering the sweater. Her profile was even more amazing: she had small B cup breasts, but a huge and firm ass.
Has it ever been so big? she wondered while still massaging her belly.
She would never admit it, but what was unpleasant to the sight was delightful to the touch.. Her flesh was not flabby and retained some of its former tone, she was only a little rounder. Her curves were only accentuated by her tight black skirt that hugged her buttocks letting little to imagination. Her hips, naturally wide, now carried some extra padding and the fabric was skin tight in those points.
At least I have no cellulite, she thought, trying to be positive.
It was true, indeed. Even though her thighs were rather meaty, they were as smooth as silk, with the same tan skin as the rest of her body. She had gone to the gym until the end of November, working especially on the cyclette and the treadmill, trying to convince her buttocks to slim down; they were still as big as they had always used to be, but, as a sort of compensation, she had obtained a pair of muscular legs with beautiful and toned calves.
But why must all my fat accumulate below my waistline? she asked herself sliding down her sweater and looking at her breasts.
Actually they were quite perky and sensitive: she cupped them and slowly caressed her nipples: a pleasure, but they were so small, if compared to her other curves. She was not overly disproportioned, but had definitely a pear shaped figure, at least since she had started developing, back in secondary school. Her happiness after the growth of her breasts had been short lived, as her butt had followed a few months later becoming her biggest asset.
Oh well, better get ready for lunch. She muttered with a last pat to her potbelly You are going to work extra hard, today.
It was true. On Christmas Eve, all her relatives would come home for dinner, a huge meal that would last for several courses, where everybody felt compelled to take second and even third helpings. Eating very little was frowned upon and, since the celebration was held in her house, she was well aware that she would be probably going to eat leftovers for the following days.
She exited her room and went downstairs to meet the other members of the family. Somebody waved at her, but most of them were busy around the buffet, even though lunch was not ready, yet, there was a big table that carried a huge burden of appetizers.
Bianca was well aware that she was going to have more than her right share once seated at the table, but she could not stand alone in the midst of the room because she felt than every relative and friend who was not busy stuffing his (or her) face was staring at her belly. She was actually exaggerating, as she was not the only person in the room who carried some extra weight since the beginning of December, but it was nonetheless an unpleasant feeling.
I cannot remain here! I need to keep a low profile! she suggested to herself trying to avoid unwanted attentions.
She casually walked to the buffet table, grabbed a dish and loaded it with some slices of Bruschetta. It was a typical Italian hors doeuvre: a slice of toasted bread covered with oil, salt, fresh tomato and a little garlic. Bianca stood with her back near a dark corner and frowned when her buttocks pressed on the wall before she could rest her shoulders. Her black skirt made an unpleasant noise.
I feel like there is a pair of balloons attached behind my hips, she thought, not daring to look back. I might just bounce back...
The slices of Bruschetta were soon gone and Bianca started to feel a little better: nobody had noticed her weight gain and she felt more and more confident about her looks. She put on a big smile, chatted with a pair of distant aunts (the kind of relatives you only see at weddings and funerals) and was amused when both remembered exactly her name. Her throat became very dry, as the Bruschetta always made her thirsty and she poured herself a nice glass of tea.
No alcohol at all, she ordered herself, I do not want to lose control tonight.
Other relatives joined the young lady and the two aunts and Bianca took the chance to dodge stupid questions like Have you got a boyfriend, dearie? grabbing some more appetizers and retreating again to her favourite corner. She ate in silence, focusing more on the taste of her treats and ignoring the conversation around her: they were speaking about weather, politics and other issue that always made her want to be somewhere else.
The plate was emptied for the second time and a second glass followed, orange juice this time. Biancas stomach rumbled slowly making her blush: this first intake of food had awakened it and it was waiting for more. Without thinking, Bianca piled her plate for the third time and dug in with renewed vigor, licking her lips after each bite. The food disappeared rapidly down her throat and she decided it was enough for the moment. Seeing a free seat on the sofa she put the empty plate on the buffet and sat down.
Oh, great, she reflected, lunch has not started yet and I have already stuffed in my belly three plates of food. I have a bad feeling about this...
Her belly felt a little rounder and fuller than it had been only half an hour earlier. When she was standing it was not noticeable, thanks to her sweater, but when she sat down everybody could see a little bump and she felt the waistband of her skirt a little too tight to be perfectly comfortable. She tried to lean back to ease the pressure, but there was not enough room.
Hi Biba! A familiar, high-pitched voice greeted her using her childhood nickname. I finally found you!
Bianca turned her head to the left and saw her brunette friend Enrica sitting beside her. Enrica was maybe an inch shorter, but had to be at least twenty pounds lighter with small breasts, a little belly and a firm little butt. Her nice face had red cheeks and her breath smelled of wine. She had clearly drunk too much on an empty stomach and was in a playful mood.
Hi sweetie, Bianca answered putting a hand on Enricas arm, its great to see you here. We havent been seeing in the past months and Im glad that you made it for Christmas!
Im happy, too! Enrica exclaimed with a drunken voice sliding and arm behind her friends back. Let me squeeze you, Biba! She continued hugging her.
Bianca could not escape her friends tight grip and soon felt Enricas left hand pushing on her bloated gut, as the drunken girl was kissing her on the cheeks chatting endlessly. Stuck in the corner of the sofa, she had no way out unless she wanted to wrestle the brunette to the ground and she did not really want to lure anybodys attention.
Oh, what have we got here? Enrica asked with a dopey smile patting Biancas belly. Bibas gotten round! My big friend is bigger. She was almost chanting with an even more childish voice.
Bianca blushed tremendously trying to hush Enrica.
Enrica, please, shut up! she hissed in her ear. I dont want all the persons in this room to know about... She exhaled a bit before uttering the last word. ...this!
She put her hand on her friends one, that was still stroking her gut.
Ok, honey, Enrica answered hugging her closer and lowering her voice, Im not going to tell anyone about this... She literally sunk her head into Biancas sweater and muttered something unintelligible.
Bianca could only chuckle slightly, as the situation was amusing rather than embarrassing. She was sitting on the sofa with a bloated belly and some tight clothes and one of her best friends had apparently mistaken her for a giant size teddy bear. Beside, nobody in the room was really paying attention to the two girls and the few who did, had just dismissed it as some kind of playful greeting.
Lunch is ready! Biancas mother yelled from the kitchen.
All the people in the room moved straight for the dining room, like a nice herd and Bianca literally lifted her friend to break free. The bloated girl walked as fast as she could to the table, followed shortly after by the staggering drunk Enrica. All her relatives where already seated around the table, so she hurried ignoring the ominous sounds of her skirt and sat in the only free place: between her two young cousins. The place was snug enough to make her feel constricted and the room felt uncomfortably warm.
And I have not eaten a single morsel, yet, she thought... clearly referring to the lunch alone and not thinking about her massive binge of appetizers.
Dinner began and the table was immediately loaded with every kind of fattening food, dutifully served by Biancas mother and her two sisters. Bianca found her plate filled with a mound of spaghetti flavoured with oil, garlic and some pepper. The smell climbed up to her nostrils and she felt her mouth salivating; despite her full stomach she felt already a bit hungrier than before: it was not strange, as her mother was surely a great cook.
Well, I suppose I have to start right now, she commented accepting her fate.
She raised her fork and start eating the pasta: it was very tasty, but really spicy and she had to drink several glasses of water, in order to put off the fire in her mouth. When the plate was empty, she took a deep breath and relaxed waiting for more. Her hand crept down to the skirt that was becoming really tight and lowered it below her rapidly growing waistline, confident that the sweater could still cover her girth.
It has not been that hard, has it? she questioned her sloshing belly, caressing it.
Sure, it felt rounder and firmer than only a few minutes ago, but it still had some free room for more. Or at least that is what she hoped, as she would have died rather than quitting a family lunch. Then, the second course was ready in the kitchen. She was starting to enjoy and her relatives paid little attention to anything else but their own plate. This gave her the chance to belch a few times expelling some air and easing a little the pressure in her stomach.
The second course arrived after a few minutes: it was a huge tray piled with different kinds of meat and a number of assorted vegetables. She took beef and potatoes, followed by pork and peas, immediately topped by chicken and beans. Everything tasted wonderful and she was savouring any bite, paying little or no attention to her expanding waistline.
After all, I have three hundred and sixty four more days to diet and get back in shape, she told herself trying to rationalize her gluttony.
It took all the guests much time, but eventually the tray was empty. Bianca tried to sit up straight but her bloated belly prevented any further movement in that direction, forcing her to lean again backwards. She caught a glimpse of some relatives loosening belts and undoing buttons and smiled, aware that she was not the only one running straight towards a stomach ache. Her eyelids were starting to get heavy, as all the blood in her body was attracted to her stomach that was just trying to digest the first massive intake of food.
Man, how could I get so full? she thought pretending to be still fine in front of her assembled relatives (luckily for her nobody was really caring about anything but his or her own stomach).
I do not think I can even stand up, she panicked for a minute.
Carefully, she slid a hand under her sweater and caressed her bulging tummy. At first she was surprised to find her nude skin: where had her shirt gone? Then she realized that, while the sweater was still covering her torso, the small shirt had folded up as her belly had swelled outward and now her navel was completely bare. Her abdomen was now nearly spherical, taut and warm. She could hear it grumbling and sloshing weakly, as her stomach was struggling to digest the massive amount of food she had ingested.
Come on, my friend, a little effort! she patted lightly her gut, then turned her attention to the plate.
In front of her there was still a huge slice of chocolate cake, all covered with whipped cream and some more chocolate sauce. She lifted her spoon and took a bite. She savoured the small morsel trying to melt it in her mouth, in order to swallow it without too much effort: it was heavenly. She gulped it, felt it slid down her throat and eventually hit her already overstuffed belly. It was like a brick, and it had only been the first bite.
With renewed determination she dug into the cake, taking many small chips and letting them melt under her tongue for a while. When she was finished, she felt her mouth really dry, so she poured herself a full glass of wine, followed shortly after by two more. Yes, that felt good and she deliberately broke her proposition of not drinking. A shy smile slowly crept on her pretty face, as the alcohol started circulating in her.
A sharp pain awoke her by her food induced stupor. One of her cousins had elbowed her in the ribs, sending a wave of pain in her taut gut. Another elbow hit her in the opposite side, making her yelp. Both kids seated beside her were arguing over another piece of cake: the slice was on a dish and the guys were struggling to pull it on their side.
Stop it! Biancas father stern voice froze the boys and they dropped the plate without saying a word. That is better. Bianca, darling, you can have it, if you want.
The bloated girl opened her mouth to protest, but some air rising from her gurgling gut prevented her from speaking. She gave her father a pained expression, that he failed to notice, then started the second slice of cake for that lunch. This time eating was really harder and she had to force down her throat every morsel. The pleasure of eating was mixed with the unpleasant sensation that her skirt was nearly splitting her in two; she tried to slide a finger between her belly and the waistband, but there was no room.
Ok, I have to do it, she decided when half of her second slice was still on the plate.
She tried to focus her attention on an argument between her uncle and her father, resting her right elbow on the table, while her left hand was undoing the buttons of the skirt. It took her a while, since they were so tight, but eventually her belly was free. As soon as the last button was undone, Biancas gut moved quickly forward filling the sweater and threatening to drop out of it at any time.
Ah, that is much better, she thought, as her stomach was gurgling approvingly.
With more room to grow, the remaining cake was soon disposed of and Bianca finished her dinner licking both fork and knife with an exstatic expression on her flushed face. Shifting on her seat, she found a good position to rest her belly on her thighs and pulled the sweater all the way down to cover the unbuttoned skirt.
Now, as soon as possible, I have to lay down, she thought feeling her head becoming heavier.
Her belly was indeed like a boulder, dragging her down even when she was sitting. Eventually the dinner was over and all the guests started standing up: many of them (expacially male) were complaining loud about how much they had been eating and quite a few had to be helped up in order to leave the table. Bianca saw a chance and went for it: holding her skirt with one hand, she excused herself and headed for the stairs.
She was well used to the feeling of being full, but she had never been so swollen in her entire life. Walking was very difficult now, as she had to arch her back in order to avoid falling flat on her face. Face? Well, had she fallen forward, her pretty face would never touch the floor. She would probably land on her belly, but that would not be pleasant, either. She soon found herself exhausted, even after a few tentative steps, sweat beads forming on her forehead.
Oh boy, this stuff is really hard to carry around. She looked down, trying not to lose balance and found that her round belly was still there, obscuring her feet. I sure hope both my shoes are laced.
She sighed, then resumed her slow walk towards the stairs, wondering why she ever picked a room upstairs. Both her hands were busy: the left one was supporting the weight of her gut, the right one was holding her unbuttoned skirt, preventing it from falling on the floor. Slowly she put a hand on the railing and tried to climb on the first step. It took her two attempts, but she was eventually successful. Her belly growled disapprovingly.
Sorry, my friend, I do not want to jostle you, but we have to go upstairs, she apologized muttering under her breath.
Trying to be as delicate as possible, she climbed another step: this one was a little easier. She paused to catch her breath, then resumed her climbing. By the time she had gotten upstairs, she was literally dripping with sweat. She could feel it flowing down her modest cleavage, soaking her stuffed belly. The muscles in her legs had been able to carry her enlarged girth all the way upstairs, but now her knees were shaking.
Ok, here we are, she thought waddling slowly towards her bedroom.
Once the door was locked behind her, she eventually dropped the skirt that fell on the floor around her ankles. Walking carefully, not to trip on it, she took a few steps towards the bed, then she removed her sweater, soaked with sweat and dropped it as well. She took a look in the mirror and held her breath; or, at least, that is what she would had done had not been so full. She was standing there, with a wet shirt whose buttons showed some portions of flesh between each other and a pair of panties obscured by her huge bloated gut, taut and firm.
And I was feeling too round only a few hours ago, she shook her head, trying not to look in the mirror, even though she felt somehow fascinated.
I must look really pregnant! she thought stifling another belch.
Carefully, she sat on the bed trying not to compress her stomach and then lowered herself in laying position. Without moving her torso, she kicked away her shoes letting them fall on the carpet and put both feet on the bed. She laid there for a while, listening to the ominous sounds coming from her digesting stomach and breathing heavily. She was feeling a little better.
Now it is only you and me, she continued her imaginary dialogue stroking her swollen belly. You have grown since I last saw you, but I am still in charge. So, now you are going to digest all and let me sleep as I deserve.
Her stomach let out a loud gurgle as an answer and Bianca made a face. Fine, I am going to lend you a hand... or two.
Unaware of how ridiculous it was to be speaking with her belly, she started to massage the huge mound of flesh with both hands: it had become very sensitive and each single stroke sent waves of pleasure through her body. The shirt, though still buttoned, bunched slowly up and folded under her breasts, as Biancas fingers ran several times over the smooth surface or her gut, sliding on the small layer of sweat that was still covering it. The plump girl closed her eyes and relaxed as the soothing action of the massage was relieving some of the pressure inside her.
I do not have to be skinny, I do not have to diet, she thought without opening her eyes. Eating is a real pleasure and I feel so damn sexy.
Poke. Something sharp was stabbing her. Poke, poke. Again. The pain was in her left love handle. Poke, poke, poke. Bianca opened her eyes and tried to sit up; when it proved to be impossible, she just turned her head to the left and saw a little girl standing beside the bed, with big puppy eyes and a huge jar of cookies in her hand. She was Biancas little cousin and looked really frightened.
You awake? she asked softly.
I thought you were going to sleep forever, she explained with a naive tone.
No, sweetheart, no, Bianca groaned remembering that she was nearly naked and pulling her shirt down to cover her distended midsection,
I am awake. Whats wrong with you? She asked still laying down.
These cookies, the baby answered pouting. I took them, but unca did not want me to. He going to be mad if he finds out. And I am too little to eat them all.
She held the jar with both hands and offered it to the bloated girl on the bed. You help me. You eat before he finds...
Bianca could not believe her ears. That little rascal had stolen a whole jar of home made dry chocolate cookies without any chance of eating them all and now she was thinking of her older (and bigger) cousin to finish it in order to avoid some well deserved spanking from her cousins strict father. It sounded too weird to be true, but it was reality.
Listen, darling, she answered patiently as the little girl was slowly climbing on the bed, I dont really think Im able to...
She could not finish her speech because her cousin had opened the jar and stuffed one of the cookies in her mouth as she was still speaking. Bianca tried hard to swallow the dry cookie without choking on the crumbs and right after she was fed another by the evil little girl. She was too stuffed to react and, to say the truth, she did not really mind an extra treat. Her laying stance gave her belly more room to expand, so she had little difficulty devouring a good amount of delicious cookies. Suddenly, both girls heard heavy footsteps in the corridor and Bianca recognized her fathers voice.
Uncas coming! squealed the little baby. Quick! Quick! You finish cookies!
The child renewed her efforts and was able to stuff all the remaining sweets into Bianca opens mouth. The bloated girl, on her part, made her best to swallow everything without spitting any revealing crumb or simply passing out. When her father entered the room she was sitting on the bed with an even fuller belly and the girl was running to the door holding an empty jar.
Wait a minute, the man said, and let me see... No, it is empty. Ok, I thought you had taken the one with our chocolate cookies. Sorry dear!
He apologized to his niece, then turned to her daughter, failing to notice how stuffed she was. Sleep lightly, honey. Granma is coming soon to bring you something.
He waved goodbye then shut the door and exited.
Bianca groaned again, trying to pull down the shirt one more time. This time the buttons were straining the fabric and two or three of them were about to pop. She decided that she might need that shirt for some more days and resolved not to test it to the max. It was not much later that the door swung open one more time and her grandmother entered slowly, carrying with both hands a steaming mug.
Your father told me you were going to sleep, darling, she told Bianca with her low voice. I thought my favourite granddaughter could use some chocolate milk before laying down her sleepy head.
She put the cup on the nightstand beside the bed and headed for the door. Goodnight Bianca!
So it was chocolate milk what the fate had decided to give her as last trial in her Christmas food ordeal. She was literally stuffed to the gills, with her clothes lost or on the verge of bursting at the seam, and her doom decided to finish her with a steaming mug of sweet, sweet milk. There were far worse ways to die, she was sure about it, and chocolate milk had been her breakfast companion since childhood.
Ok, one last effort, she thought reaching for the mug and lifting a little her head. Here goes nothing!
She lifted the cup to her lips and started to sip it. The milk was thick, creamy and hot but not boiling and went down her throat easily. She felt it slide down to her already warm stomach slowly increasing the temperature. As the mug was emptied she was forced to recline her head more and more backwards and, when she eventually licked the last drops, she was laying down on the pillow. Her arm fell on the bed and the empty container was dropped on the carpet with a muffled sound.
Then it happened. It started with a little gurgling noise in her belly, then it became louder and more costant. She opened her eyes in disbelief as she saw her already massive belly slowly expanding: the milk had eventually reached all the dry cookies stuffed in her stomach only a few minutes before and, soaking the crumbs, had swollen them to a bigger size, expanding the stomach that contained them, too. Bianca closed her eyes as the pressure built up and prepared to burst like an overfull balloon. She heard a series of popping sounds and, for a second, she thought her time had come, before she realized it was only the buttons of her shirt, finally giving up the battle of holding her obscenely swollen midriff.
I... I am still alive, she realized after the swelling had ended with no victim other than her poor shirt. And my belly is...
There were no possible words to define it. It looked nearly fake, as if she had become pregnant in the last trimester with a couple of twins in a matter of minutes. Laying down, she could only see the top shelf of its gut, without spotting her feet or her legs. Bianca ran a hand on the spherical surface and discovered that her cute belly button was now completely popped out; she patted her belly and felt it was like thumping on a bag full of wet sand... with the only difference that sand usually does not gurgle and slosh to complain. If standing up was difficult before, now it was nearly impossible; feeling really exhausted she reached behind her head and pulled away the remains of her poor shirt.
Carefully twisting her torso, she managed to undo the bed and slid slowly in the safe haven under the covers. She was there. Nobody could harm her, nothing could interrupt her pleasure. Hidden under the blankets, like a baby in a maternal womb, she felt really at ease. Muffled voices came from the lower floor, but they did not quit reach her. There nothing to disturb her, no confining clothes, no skinny role models: it was only her. Slowly her hands crept on her chest and started fondling her nipples, erected even in that warmth: it was beautiful, but not enough.
One more time, she rested both hands on top of her gut feeling its firmness and the low rumbling sounds it made. She tried to press it, but it was like a boulder compressing her lungs and she immediately gave up. She resumed her massage with slow circular movements, thus soothing the sensation of fullness and slowly drifted away to sleep.