Melanie Bell's Story Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I woke up next to Jess on Friday morning feeling warm, happy and FAT! The scale couldn't confirm warm and happy, but -- since I'd weighed myself in at 159 pounds the previous morning -- 168 pounds was definitely fat! And, since my stomach was hiding my toes and rumbling as if I hadn't eaten in days, it looked as if the fat train was gonna keep on rolling.

Jess was still sleeping when I got out of the shower; she'd kicked the covers off and was laying on her stomach, her wide, pink ass tempting me with memories of its softness. Jess was very soft and I was getting softer -- women in general made me think "soft". But, I knew that I liked "hard", too. And Andy Sansome -- the man whom "Faces & Places" magazine called, "the most desirable man in the world" -- was hard AND he was coming to pick me up for dinner on Saturday night.

Hard and soft. I kissed Jess hard on her soft lips, waking her up. She smiled, groggily and asked: "Last night wasn't just an incredible dream, was it?" "Not unless you found a way to give yourself hickeys on your own ass." We laughed and then I told her I was going to make breakfast while she showered. I threw on a t-shirt and headed downstairs; my nipples were sensitive from the previous night's licking and sucking and I felt them getting hard as they rubbed against the soft cotton.

By the time Jess came down, dressed in a loose sundress which showed off her deep, creamy cleavage, the food was ready. I brought our plates to the table, loaded with four pancakes, three eggs, hash browns, biscuits with white gravy
and five strips of bacon. "Its a truckstop breakfast," I said. "But neither one of us are truckers," she reminded me.

"No," I said, dropping a couple of pats of butter on both of our pancake stacks, "but we've gotta eat like truckers so we can accomplish our goals." "What goals are those?" "Me -- I've got to stretch my stomach so that when I fast tomorrow before going out with Andy Sansome, the guy who wants to make me pig out, I'll be able to give him a great show because I'll be as hungry as a trucker who just did 600 miles without a stop. And you -- you've gotta make your ass as big as Genice's so next time we sleep together I won't need a mattress, let alone a pillow!"

"Well," Jess laughed, "I don't know about that goal, but I AM definitely hungry and these pancakes do look VERY good, so..." We dug in, making silly comments as we ate, giving each other those morning-after-lovers looks, and in
no time at all we had plowed through those platefuls, seconds on hashbrowns and biscuits and the rest of the pound of bacon I'd cooked. After cleaning up, we plopped down on the living room couches and moaned a little bit about how stuffed we were. It was 10:00 and Jess had to be in work at 11:30. She asked what I was doing for the rest of the day.

"Eating," I said. "Stretching my stomach, preparing for tomorrow night. I think I made a pretty good start so far. "What do you think?"

"I think," she said, "that no matter what Andrew Sansome expects from his date tomorrow night, he's bought himself an unforgettable night."

I thought about it and started laughing. "Can you imagine if I'm dead wrong about him wanting to feed me? I can just see it: Andy picks me up, expecting that maybe I've dropped a couple of pounds in the past week, and here I come
waddling out to his limo with my belly threatening to bust some buttons on my dress. Then, we're sitting in some posh restaurant, and I'm starving to death because I've been eating like an elephant pregnant with sextuplets for the past
week and now I haven't eaten all day. The waiter asks what I'll have and I order two appetizers, soup, salad, three entrees, and four desserts. Andy's jaw drops and stays dropped while I finish everything I've ordered, and -- since he's been too shocked to pick up his fork -- I finish everything on his plate, too. Meanwhile, my dress has exploded off of me, but, on the way home, I insist we stop at Ted & Marty's for a quart of David Gooey ice cream. And he's too shocked to say a word when I can't put on the seatbelt because it isn't long enough to reach over my gut!" We were both picturing the scene, holding our bellies and laughing near-hysterically. Jess was laying on her back and kicking her feet in the air and I could feel all the food sloshing around in my stomach as I gasped to get the words out.

Jess calmed down enough after a while to say, "But imagine if you were right about his attraction to you." I thought for a second, then said, "Well -- then I'm going to be so fat so soon that you're going to look like an anorectic!"

After some passionate kisses and a couple of talk shows, Jess left for work and I tried to get dressed. "Tried" because nothing fit me. The sun dress I'd worn the day before was too clingy against my stomach, my stretch pants were in the laundry and my jeans would've laughed at me if they could've gotten over my thighs. I paced around my parents' bedroom, then opened my Dad's closet and -- eureka! His 36-waist jeans hung on me like a pair of baggies. I tied the waist -- what waist? -- with a piece of rope, pulled on one of his t-shirts and one of his tall-man button-downs, put on a pair of sandals, a big ridiculous straw hat with a matching beach-sized straw bag, blue eye-shadow and a pair of tiny, round granny glasses, and --voila! -- I was just another suburban fashion victim! I was ready to explore the boundaries of gastronomic excess!

My first stop was the Dippity Donut, where I picked up a box of 48 Pop 'Ems and started poppin' 'em as I headed for Harry Ho's Oriental Express -- home of the all-you-can-eat Oriental Lunch Buffet. It was only 11:30, so there was hardly anyone in the place besides me and a table of five lady senior citizens. They put me at a small table for two in the corner -- I was kind of glad, because, although it was a bit of a walk to the buffet table, I had to parade past almost every table in the place to get my food. The thought of all those strangers seeing me stuff my face was giving me this additional thrill.

Harry's buffet was famous for it's selection of "entree quality" buffet dishes -- usually more than 75 different dishes for only $6.95! My first plateful was a sampling of Asian appetizers -- spring rolls, eggrolls, dumplings, shrimp toast,
fried wontons, chicken satay and vegetable tempura. The old people smiled at me as I walked back to my table, opened my book and started eating as I read. The second trip was chicken dishes from Korea, Japan, Thailand and China; the
old ladies smiled again. The third trip was beef dishes -- Orange Beef, negimaki, a beef-coconut-peanut curry and a couple of others; the old ladies whispered among themselves as I passed. The fourth trip was seafood -- shrimp and scallops in lobster sauce, crab tempura, a Vietnamese spicy-fish-and-cauliflower dish and several rolls of assorted tuna sushi. The old ladies were at the counter paying, so I waved at them -- several of them looked somewhat shocked and the others shook their heads.

The place was getting pretty busy; almost every table I walked by was occupied now -- mostly middle-aged men in suits, but an occasional group of women or a woman with kids. I sat down and realized that the rope belt was starting
to feel like a noose around my expanding stomach. I loosened it so it left a little room for expansion, but not so loose that the jeans would slide off of me. The bus-girl came over to clear my table. She was Asian -- very thin and very pretty, with long, black hair and ink-black eyes. "The food is great," I said. "I just can't stop eating until I've tried everything! How do you stay so thin?" She just smiled and asked if I needed the check. I told her that I wasn't quite done yet, but I'd let her know.

By 2:30, I must've made twelve trips to the buffet; my belly was so inflated that -- while the 36-waist jeans weren't even close to tight -- the rope belt wasn't necessary to keep the pants from falling down. I'd been feeling really hot and
a little dizzy after about the eighth trip, so I'd taken off the button-down shirt, exposing to everyone present the curve of my swollen stomach under the thin material. The bus-girl had come by two more times, asking very politely if I was done yet.

I'd just finished the fried rice, lo mein and moo shu mixture I'd created on my plate, when an irate-looking Oriental man came to my table with the bus-girl. "You done," he said. I stifled a belch, smiled and said, "No, thank you. I think
there's still a few dishes I haven't tried." He shook his head, saying, "No, you done." The restaurant was still pretty full and I could see a few people waiting for seats, so it didn't take much to figure out what he was getting at; I decided
to play dumb. "No, really, I'm not." He got a little angrier. "You eat so much. So much is no good." "Oh, no," I said, innocently, "everything is wonderful, although I still haven't tried the Mongolian Beef."

He was getting louder and there were a lot of people looking our way. I thought he was getting ready to start jumping up and down, when he said, "You like pig! Just like pig!" I smiled and shook my head, "Yes, I like pork very much, but I love the tofu dishes and the vegetable dishes -- everything! In fact, I think I'm still a little hungry." I picked up my pocketbook, stood up and said, "Excuse me." He was practically screaming now: "No, you stealing. You stealing! Where you put food?" He looked under the table, on the seats, then grabbed my pocket book and opened it up. "Where you put food?" he yelled, grabbing my upper arms.

I could feel every eye in the restaurant was watching what was going on. "I don't like these accusations AT ALL," I said, brushing his hands from me. "You want to know where I put the food? Well -- I put it all here!" With that, I pulled up my t-shirt and pulled the waistband of the jeans down to the top of my bikini panties, leaving my hugely swollen pink belly exposed to everyone. He stepped back, jaw dropped; throughout the dining room, I could see heads shaking. There was an enjoyable little tingle that was starting inbetween my thighs, so I put one hand under my belly, lifting the gorged blubber and dropping it several times. "Here's where I put your food! All twelve platefuls!" There were murmurs all through the restaurant: "God, what a pig!" "Can you believe she ate that much!" "She looks
pregnant!" "It's almost like she's proud of being that fat!" "If she eats any more, she's going to explode!"

I was enjoying the scene I was making and the comments I was hearing, so I decided to take it to another level. I walked over to the next table -- four businessmen -- and said, "What are you looking at? Do you have a personal
problem with how much I eat?" I didn't wait for him to answer, but grabbed an eggroll from his plate and swallowed it down in three bites. I grabbed a dumpling from the next table, fried wontons from the next -- something from each table and a couple of handfuls from the buffet, then I went right out the front door. The Asian man followed me, saying, "You no come back! You no come back!"

I just walked to my car, still swallowing and trying not to laugh. I unzippered the jeans and slid in, feeling the weight of my gorged gut spreading my legs apart. I was exhilarated, knowing that the entire restaurant was still watching me
drive away, still making comments, still shaking their heads. My pussy was on fire so one hand quickly left the steering wheel and started massaging and rubbing, starting all those little fires again, until I had to pull over. I couldn't
believe how a lot of eating could turn me from a sedate, self-hating, somewhat shy girl into a sexually insatiable, fat-loving, bi-sexual exhibitionist!

When the doorbell rang at 7:30, I quickly threw the button-down shirt over my naked body, grabbed the profusion of burger wrappers from the family-room coffee-table, crumbled them up, tossed them in the garbage and peered through
the peephole. It was Jess, smiling and waving and carrying her overnight bag. I gave her a big hug and then we kissed. "You wouldn't mind some company tonight, would you? Especially not some company who just called in an order for
two pizza pies delivered here, right?" "Well, sure," I answered, "but what are you going to eat?"

She came in and I told her about my Asian experience; she was properly shocked, and then totally blown away when I told her that over the past five hours I'd also polished off a half-dozen cheeseburgers and two jumbo milkshakes from
Burger World. She moved behind me, reached around, put her hand on my belly and rubbed firmly, sensually, round and round; my knees got a little weak, then the doorbell rang again.

Jess answered -- I couldn't move. It was the pizza delivery guy. He was young and pretty cute, with a round face and a somewhat soft body; I suddenly wondered what he'd look like if he was fat. "Having a party?" he asked me, as
Jess got the money out of her purse. "No," I said, pulling the shirt tight over my distended belly and walking close enough to read "Jason" from his nametag, "I'm just REAL hungry!" Jess laughed as she paid him, saying, "She's a little crazy -- and a little drunk." She closed the door behind him and said, "I've got to keep an eye on you. You really are getting out of control!" "Shut up," I said, "and let's get naked!"

We spent the next hour-and-a-half touching and kissing and laughing and feeding each other slice after slice of the delicious pizza. We licked the sauce from each other's lips, smeared sauce on each other's breasts and sucked them clean; I put the last slice on Jess's body -- the crust on her fat belly and the tip just touching her pussy. I crawled on top of her -- my crotch in her face -- ans started slowly eating the slice of pizza, crust-first, moving slowly but surely towards the heat of her pussy, wriggling with waves of excitement as her hands caressed my soft round ass and her tongue dove deeper and deeper into me. She was thrusting her hips and her belly into my face as I kept eating my way down her soft, blubbery body. I could feel the weight of all the food in my belly as I lifted my ass in rhythm with her hungry tongue, keeping that same rhythm with my biting and chewing and my inexorable progress toward the last bite of the pizza.

With the last bite still in my mouth, and Jess's thrusting hips insistent, my tongue found its way to her clitoris. She moaned and sighed and her excitement and the fullness of my belly and the vibrations of her voice on my overstimulated clitoris sent me into paroxysms of pleasure, which sent my tongue into a frenzy which sent her over the edge, which took me to new heights... We were like some perpetual orgasm machine, each twitch and quake and quiver translated through our tongues into the other's particular pleasure...

When it finally stopped, we turned around and clung to each other, sweaty and exhausted; it was several minutes before we could do any more than stroke each other's hair and back and ass, belly against damp belly, enjoying the tiny tingles and larger aftershocks of our earthquakes of pleasure. "That was the best piece of pizza I ever had!" I said, finally. Jess laughed for a minute, then said, "Hey, it's not fair: I didn't get to have a slice like that!" She grabbed the cordless phone from the coffee table and pressed the buttons quickly. She asked for two pies, then gave the address. "Yes," she said. "we did get the other two earlier, but we need two more.."

"How did you know the number so well?" I asked when she hung up. "Because, my newly fat friend, you are not the inventor of pigging out!" "No," I said, between hungry kisses, "but I AM going to perfect it!"