a novella by Melanie Bell
Emma was talking and chewing with no signs of slowing, but Lisha
had gotten about halfway through her massive second helping and was
obviously having trouble continuing. Finally, she put down her fork and
leaned back in her chair, rubbing the swollen mound of her stomach. "I
think I've about had it," she said, a slight drunken slurring evident in
her speech. "There's this voice -- I think it's my belly talking -- and
he's saying, 'Stand back! I think it's gonna blow!'" "Quitter!" Emma said.
"I am not a quitter! It's just that -- believe it or not -- there ARE some
physical limits to this sort of thing! My arms are tired, my jaw is tired
-- even my throat is tired!" "Nah... I think you just need a little
inspiration." "What kind of inspiration?" Emma reached over and softly ran
her fingers through Lisha's hair, saying, "You need me to feed you." A
fingernail barely scratched against her scalp and Lisha felt a warming and
involuntary shudder rush through her body; her eyes closed and her
shoulders scrunched up and reservations seemed to melt away as she said in
a dreamy voice, "Okay..."
She heard the sound of the fork cutting a bite from her plate,
felt the small movements of air as the fork approached her mouth, smelled
the richness of the sauce, opening her mouth in time to receive the food.
With her eyes still closed, she chewed the offering, tasting all the
complexity of its flavor: the sweetness of the tender meat, the tartness
of the tomato, the dark mintiness of the basil, the bite of garlic, the
saltiness of the mozzarella. As she swallowed the morsel, she felt it
making its way down toward her overfilled stomach, but as it approached,
she felt something else, too -- an awareness, rather than a sensation --
that some movement or re-arranging was occurring inside her. Something
shifted or something stretched and suddenly, there was room for more food.
The next bite was easy, and the next and the next, Emma's free hand
stroking her thigh as she fed her.
She took too long savoring one mouthful, and she heard Emma,
saying, "C'mon: here comes the car into the garage." Lisha giggled,
managing to open her mouth and say, "Vrrrooom, vrrooom" before Emma had
deposited another bite of dinner on her tongue. Lisha placed Emma's free
hand on her gorged belly, and Emma took the hint, gently stroking and
caressing the taut flesh. Lisha, still leaning back in the chair, picked
her feet up off the floor, lifted her knees as high as she could and
clasped her arms around her ankles; she enjoyed the slightly torturous
pressure on her squashed stomach and the cool air against her exposed
pussy, opening her mouth eagerly for the next taste. "Here comes the train
into the tunnel," Emma said, and Lisha replied with, "Oooh. How Freudian!"
"Here comes the plane into the hangar," Emma said with the next forkful.
"Mmmmm," Lisha answered that time, "You know what Sigmund said flying
symbolizes..." "All right: how about this one? Here comes the hot dog into
the donut!" "Lisha laughed, saying in between swallows, "Gee, I wonder
what that one could mean?" She ate another forkful, then asked, "How come
you didn't say 'the donut into the donut'?" "Not as easy to picture," Emma
replied, feeding her another mouthful. "Hey," Lisha protested, "I didn't
even finish the last mouthful yet!" "That's 'cause you're talking too
much. Eat now, talk later."
Lisha complied, and two rounds later, Emma put down the fork,
triumphantly, saying, "See, I knew you could do it!" "Oh, yeah? Well what
if I said I wanted some more?" "I'd say you were lying!" Lisha laughed,
letting go of her legs, then took a deep breath at the sudden freedom,
saying, "You'd be absolutely right!" She beat a little rhythm on her
balloon-like gut, then said, "I can't remember being this stuffed
since...since that birthday party we had for me in the eighth grade!
Remember that?" "How could I forget it? I still can't believe that nobody
knew that we didn't really invite anyone over and we ate the entire sheet
cake and two half-gallons of ice cream between the two of us!" "Those last
few inches of the cake were agonizing, but -- you kept saying, 'We're so
close. It would be so pitiful if we gave up now!'" "And it would've been
-- just like tonight, if I hadn't kept you from abandoning your plate."
"Well, you saved me from pitifulness, and for your reward, you may do as
you wish with me! Only... I think you're gonna have to help me upstairs,
because, even if I wasn't drunk, I don't think my legs would be sturdy
enough to support this incredible load!"
Emma helped her friend up from her chair, saying, "I'm just as
stuffed as you are, girl, so I think we're gonna have to help each other."
They stood for a moment, gently pressing incredible belly to incredible
belly, then, as if with one mind, they leaned into an embrace and a kiss.
Lisha's hands explored the expansive landscape of Emma's broad ass, while
Emma gently caressed Lisha's hair and her still-slim back. When they
separated a moment later, Emma said, "I'm amazed we can reach each other
-- I thought our stomachs would keep us apart." "I don't think anything
could keep us apart," Lisha said, serious for a second, before the two of
them burst out laughing at the corniness of the phrase.
They made their way up the stairs slowly, thanking Stephen for
letting them have the house, but cursing him at the same time for not
having an elevator. "He should have known that someday two beautiful young
women with army-sized appetites would need to haul their bloated bodies up
to the bedroom and would be in no condition to trek up the stairs!" "Just
take it slowly," Emma said. "Pretend that you're pregnant. Pregnant women
have to go through this every day." "I don't know -- are there many
fourteen-month pregnancies?" They made it up to the bedroom after several
rest-stops, and promptly plopped down on the bed, stretching out on their
"It feels wonderful to lie down," Lisha said, "except for this
50-pound sack of flour that someone put on my stomach. Wow! I can only see
the tips of my toes anymore!" "Really?" Emma replied. "I've heard rumors
that I have some toes, but I haven't seen 'em in years." Lisha rolled on
her side, her stomach so swollen that gravity didn't seem to have any
effect on it's dimensions. Emma rolled toward her, reaching out and softly
stroking the curve of her hip, then traced the underside of her belly with
the backof her hand; Lisha closed her eyes and inched toward her partner,
stroking her hair and the back of her neck.
Their lips met and their tongues, and their arms and thighs
entwined as if their flesh yearned to become one. They tasted each other's
hot mouths, breathed each other's hot breaths, felt each other's hot
bodies as if they were the same person. Nipples pressed against sensitive
nipples, navel pressed against navel, their wet pussies slid along each
other's thighs, setting off frictional sparks with each motion. They lost
track of whose body was whose as they kissed and sucked and nibbled at
each other's tender flesh, echoing each other's movements and passions and
delights, anticipating each other's thoughts and desires and melding them
with their own. Years of intimacy washed over them, inspiring them,
captivating them. Their tongues and their fingers roamed over each other's
bodies as if they had been the first to discover them, had claimed them
for their own, and were now returning to inhabit them. They were thrilled
as their secret desires were fulfilled, and surprised when sensations
they'd never known took over their consciousness. Their excitement rose as
they buried their faces between each other's thighs, their tongues and
their hands in frenzied motion; they curled into one another, the soft
flesh of each swollen belly molding against it's partner, pressing tighter
and tighter until neither one knew where Self ended and Other began.
Slowly but surely, their hearts began beating in unison, and they felt the
temperature rising inside them, outside them, in their bellies, on their
skin, and then... they felt themselves burst into fire, beginning to burn
terribly and joyously with a white flame that consumed them and cleansed
them; they died and they were born a million times -- a billion times --
crying out with each first breath, each iteration as intense as the
The next thing either of them knew, the sun was well over the
horizon, and they were entwined in an embrace that was new, yet strangely
familiar. They cuddled and nuzzled each other into wakefulness, neither
one with any thought of separating themselves from the tangle of arms and
legs. Emma was the first to speak, saying, "My heart was right. My mind --
last night -- was saying, 'Be careful. She won't be there in the morning.'
But my heart knew... it knew that you're always going to be here." A small
tear ran down her cheek and down to the tip of her nose; Lisha moved close
and caught the droplet on her tongue as it cast itself into space. "Your
heart WAS right," she said, feeling the moisture welling up in her own
eyes. "I love you. I've always loved you. And I'm never going to be
They embraced even tighter, and when they relaxed just a little,
Lisha said, "One small correction: I'm never gonna be anywhere else --
after I pee!" She rolled over quickly and jumped out of bed, suddenly
reminded of how full she still was, but ignoring the weight of her stomach
and running to the bathroom. Emma was still smiling when Lisha crawled
back in the bed, and kissed each of her nipples roughly and wetly. "Oh,
god, they're sore!" she said. "They're going to be hard all day!" Lisha
blew gently across one of the nipples and Emma shuddered and moaned
softly. "They're going to be very sensitive all day, too," Lisha said,
"and I'm going to have to torture you at every opportunity." "Don't
threaten if you're not able to carry it out," Emma said.
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You can find Parts 1a-6b & 7b-10a on this newsgroup, and they'll be
appearing soon on my Web Site at:
Please post any comments or criticisms here on the newsgroup or e-mail me