"Hey mom, did you make any dessert?" Timmy asked, curious, as he eased himself back from the dining room table.
His mother paused, looking shocked, and stopped clearing the table. Even Timmy's baby sister gasped in a really exaggerated way (brat).
"Are you...are you still hungry, hun?" His mom looked worried, Timmy noticed with distress.
"No, no!" He waved his hands in front of his face. "I mean..."
Timmy frowned, wondering. He felt like he was full, but...
"Maybe a little?" He half-asked. "Not a lot! But maybe a tiny snack or something?"
As his mom stepped away, Timmy's little sister hopped out of her chair and ambled over. Wide-eyed, she reached out with a tiny finger and poked Timmy in the stomach. Where usually Timmy's stomach was pretty flat, with maybe a hint of abs, right now he was definitely sporting a small tummy from eating... four? Four and a half helpings of pot roast?
"Big brother gonna' splode." She said in a serious voice, looking up at him wide-eyed.
"I am, huh?" Timmy cocked an eyebrow down at the little gremlin, who just nodded slowly.
"Yup. Boom!" She said quietly, while waving her own hands around, mimicking her big brother but making it look 'explody'.
"Nobody's exploding, dear," his mom sighed as she carried in a small plate of cookies and a glass of milk. "Your brother was just hungry."
"He ate lots!"
Timmy's mother started to get his sister settled down and worked to clear the table. Timmy rose to help, but winced a bit as he felt the tightness around his middle. His mom just passed him the plate and told him to go rest a bit. Nodding, Timmy ducked out of the room and slouched his way off to bed.
Leaning back in his room, Timmy decided to hold off on the cookies for now. But, as his eye caught the Dragon supplement canister, he did spoon about a third of a cup into the milk and drank it down. No sense letting it spoil after all.
Asleep, Timmy's dreams were hazy and strange. He was in his basketball jersey, but it seemed to be tight on him. He was in the gym, and the clock was running. But instead of a different team, between him and the basketball hoop was a long table loaded down with food. Hams, chicken, casserole, potatoes, cakes, jugs of tea, milk, juice.
Timmy took a step toward the table, and froze as he saw the water in the jugs ripple, and the food jump on the plates.
Overhead, he heard a great ROAR, and when he looked up he saw a winged shadow against the sky, turning and diving toward him and bellowing.
Timmy woke abruptly to a strange noise. Still half-asleep, he startled and looked up for the dragon. Then he heard it again, a loud guuuurgle.
Coming awake, Timmy felt a slight pang in his stomach, and then a rumble as he felt it clench. His middle growled as it poked out into the blanket; he could almost see the cloth ripple like the water in his dream.
He was hungry?
Another cramp confirmed that yes, yes he was. He was starving.
Timmy reached over to his desk and grabbed the cookies he'd left there, cramming them into his mouth. They hardly made a difference. The entire small pile his mother had left him fit into just one handful. Timmy had bigger hands than average, being almost seven feet tall, but the snack just felt so tiny and inadequate that he was on his feet and frowning before he'd even swallowed.
Determined, Timmy strode out of his room with a purpose. If he was going to have a cookie snack it was going to be a properly-sized one!
In the kitchen, he quickly pulled out a tall glass and topped it off with milk, took a big gulp, topped it off again, and then poked around for the cookies. He found them on top of the refrigerator - of course, mom wouldn't want the little kiddies to sneak cookies. Well, Timmy was hardly a 'little kiddie'. He was six feet, seven inches tall and the fridge barely came up to his chin, if that. So, clearly it was fine if he had two or three or a dozen or so.
Timmy set to, greedily chomping down on the desserts, stopping only to take another swig of milk. After gobbling a handful or two, he took a moment to pluck up a single cookie between his thumb and forefinger. He looked at it curiously; had mom's cookies always been so small? He remembered when he was much younger, that she'd only let him snack on one or two so he didn't ruin his appetite. That had seemed like so much then. Now, three cookies wasn't even a mouthful. The one cookie he had would fit inside the palm of his hand, hardly covering anything at all.
Timmy shrugged and tossed it back, with four or five more for good measure. Half aware, he casually scooched his chair back a tiny bit as he felt his tummy bump just a bit against the table. Finding his glass empty, Timmy eyed the mostly empty milk jug and took a swig straight from the container. Reaching out once more, Timmy frowned when his hand touched nothing but empty plate.
Well, his mom must not have baked too many this batch then. Timmy frowned as he finished off the milk. He was still a little hungry. Slowly, he stood up, wincing as he felt his back pop a bit an the table bump against his middle. Darn low furniture anyway; Timmy had been bumping his knees, legs, and hips against the stuff ever since he jumped past six feet.
Letting out a light, sweet-tasting burp, Timmy scratched at his stomach before bending down to check the freezer, and oof maybe he had snacked a bit as he felt his tummy bunch up from the motion. Rustling around in the freezer, Timmy grinned when he found a quart container of "Cookies and Milk" ice cream. Maybe there were enough cookies for a proper snack after all!
Timmy grabbed a teaspoon before looking at it, snorting, and tossing it in the sink in favor of a serving spoon. Weapon in hand, he slouched back into the chair with a loud creak and started spooning icecream into his mouth. Smiling, Timmy groaned at the wonderfully sweet taste, and spooned even faster! Ice cream really was the best, the way it half-melted in his mouth, and ran down the back of his throat. The way the cool temperature hit his belly, soothing and comforting.
The sound of his spoon hitting cardboard brought Timmy out of it. He'd finished the ice cream too.
And he was still a bit hungry.
Timmy decided enough was enough. Sure, he'd just burn it all off at practice, but he'd probably eaten as much now as at dinner, if not more. He winced as he felt out taut his belly felt, like his skin couldn't quite fit it but was determined to try. Looking down, he saw his dinner tummy had expanded further, pushing out from him like a half globe with his t-shirt riding up around the middle. The cool night air brushed against his exposed skin.
Suddenly, Timmy felt a bit sore, tired, and... well, sticky. He quickly washed the melted ice cream off at the sink, put away the trash and dishes, and slowly walked back to bed.
Lying down took a bit more care than he'd expected. Even sitting, Timmy's stomach poked out enough to very lightly brush the top of his thighs as it sagged under the weight of the food he had eaten. Each tug of the weight sent a very slight cramping feeling through Timmy's middle. Gently, he carefully leaned back until he was laying down, feeling and almost hearing the large midnight snack slosh up toward his chest before settling back down at his middle. Looking down, there was a visible mound poking up over his belly, tenting up the sheets. A quiet gurgle came from the bump, his stomach setting to work. It almost sounded like purring.
Timmy's eyelids started to droop, the teen running out of energy completely now that his appetite was satisfied. With one last quiet belch, Timmy slowly drifted off to sleep, his large hands slowly caressing the sides of his tummy.
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