“Don't want to lose my job,” I said, playing it safe to start with. If I was misreading Amber's looks it would become clear soon enough and things wouldn't have become weird between us. And if she was interested... We were going to be spending a lot of time together in the coming weeks. One thing at a time. “Let's do this.”
“Awesome!” Amber enthused. “Let's get started.”
Our pizza only had a few slices missing, more than half still there. Separating the remainder into two equal portions, she slid one to me and the other to her. Four slices apiece.
“Let's clear this out and then grab some ice cream.”
I picked up a slice, the thing seeming to grow bigger and thicker in my hand. I must have digested a lot from my work binge, but I could still feel the weight in my belly getting heavier as I ate the slice, then another.
I was slowing down on the third slice, and it looked like Amber was finding her own limits. But clearly we had different approaches to this new direction we were taking; as she chewed a bite of pizza she slid the waistband of her pants down, letting the bulge of belly she was developing free. Meanwhile, my pants were constricting my waist.
Amber saw my gaze, saw my discomfort, and put two and two together.
“Why not unbutton your pants?” she asked. “You'll feel more comfortable.”
I gave a noncommittal 'Enhhh' noise, the best answer I could think of, focusing on my last slice. Pain over embarrassment.
Amber finished before me, scooping up the bits of sausage and sauce that dotted the pan while I caught up. I sat back as I gnawed at my last bite of crust, breathing heavily, but my respite was dead on arrival.
“Dessert!” Amber said, sliding out of the booth and standing up. She grabbed my upper arm, tugging at me. “Come on. No stopping while we have room.”
Standing up, Amber's belly was poking out of the bottom of her shirt, rivaling her boobs for attention. Guess I hadn't been paying attention to her overeating – with a chest like hers who could blame me? – but it wouldn't be long before her chest was overshadowed by her belly.
I let myself get pulled along to Vanilla Village, an ice cream parlor near Luigi's, and Amber seized upon her initiative and my complacency by ordering for me.
“Two of the usual, today, Kathleen. Got a friend here joining me in blimping out.” She hadn't let go of my arm while we were walking, making me too nervous to speak up.
The wideset blonde behind the counter smiled knowingly at Amber before dutifully dishing out two lava cakes the size of hubcaps and piling a mountain of assorted flavors of ice cream on top of each, garnished with whip cream, sprinkles, Oreo crumbles and three kinds of syrup.
I offered to pay for both, but Amber refused.
“I enjoy spending my money on food,” she said, handling her own bill. “Makes it feel even more rebellious.”
We took our dishes to a pair of chaise lounge seats, Amber balancing her dish on her belly and me following suit. I started with the whip cream and toppings, figuring the lightest stuff would go the fastest, then worked slow by scooping up the melted runoff of the ice cream until forced to start digging spoonfuls of the creamy confection.
Amber, meanwhile, was plowing steadily through the entire thing, starting at the front and working her way to the back. This monstrosity must have been her 'usual,' the way she fearlessly attacked what to me was an Everest of sugar and milk.
As with the pizza she was done before I was, significantly so this time. The pain in my waist was only growing harder the more I ate, while Amber's belly – free to the world – had all the room it needed to grow rounder and bigger. When she was done she placed the empty dish on a table and turned onto her side, watching me chip away at my dessert. Still two-thirds to go.
Being watched made me more self-conscious, made me eat slower, made the pain sharper. Finally I could take no more. Balancing the dish with one hand on my lap, my other hand slid to my waistband and, after a little fumbling, unbuttoned my pants. My belly, pushing forward, undid the zipper halfway, but my only concern was that I could breathe again.
“There you go,” said Amber, smiling devilishly at me, “We'll have you outgrowing these pants in no time. Maybe you should invest in some sweatpants, or something with a drawstring.”
She was enjoying this, no escaping that, but I was more concerned with finishing the food before me than figuring out how I felt about this. The pain eased, I dove back into the food, eating as fast as I could before the discomfort of a packed belly returned and slowed me down. I managed to clear all the ice cream and start on the cake itself before I started to feel full, but by that point so much of the ice cream had melted and softened the cake that I could feel it sliding down my throat as I swallowed. It all went quickly, the shrinking remains fueling my need to finish.
“You did it!” Amber applauded when I almost threw the dish aside. Technically there was a fair amount of ice cream soup and bits of cake still there, which Amber, not wanting to let go to waste, finished herself. But I had eaten virtually all if it after eating half a pizza ON TOP OF all the gorging I did at work. It was like a triathlon of food, and like any one who had just completed an intense physical feat I did not want to move, did not want to think, did not want to do anything except lie there and breathe.
My belly was swollen and packed like a sausage casing filled with too much meat. I almost whimpered as I touched it, but Amber was amazed.
“I actually didn't expect you to finish all of it,” she said, coming to kneel next to me and stroking my belly. “I guess at heart you're a real fatty, just like me.”
I wheezed.
“Don't worry,” she said. “This is just a start. Once we get you eating like this all the time you'll get used to it. Your belly will stretch out and get bigger, and then you can eat more, and then your belly will get even bigger. Soon you'll forget what it was like to not be gorging all the time. We've only begun.”
She was aroused. Turning my head, looking at her looking at my belly, I could see the gears turning in her head. I don't know how excited she was to get fat herself, but there was a clear yearning to fatten me up.
Some time later, when I could stand and move without fearing I would throw up everything I had eaten, we shuffled out of the parlor. It was dark now, the evening getting on, so we said our goodbyes.
“Be sure to come in bright and early tomorrow,” she said. “Kenny said our only obligation now is to get to the Polyburger ideal, so we're going to show up every day and take advantage of the free food offer. I'm not letting this chance slip by, and I'm not letting you let it go, either.”
'Seems like she's in charge,' I thought to myself as I made my way home, but truth be told I was kind of excited looking forward to whatever she had planned for me tomorrow.
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