This choice: Quit now, leaving you uncomfortably full but not too noticable • Go Back... It turned out even Melanie was left exhausted by such ravenous binging. They agreed it was a good first effort, and Lindsey reiterated her threat to Melanie that if any of those showed up on her waistline she would kick her ass. The three parted ways for the night, and went to be peacefully.
It was fortunate for you that they didn't continue. As it was, you soon passed out in what you were unaware was a heavy food coma. Had they kept eating, you might have been up all night in discomfort. Instead, you slept fitfully. When the morning did arise, you did not awake fully and well rested as you always did. You were lethargic and slow. You nearly slept through your alarm. By the time you dragged your way down to breakfast your parents were finished eating and your sister was almost done.
"You feeling okay, sweetie?" your mom asked right off. "You don't usually sleep in."
"Uhg, not so great, mom, but I'll be fine. I think I got a little stomach bug."
"Aw, think you'll need to stay home and rest today? You really should if you're feeling that bad."
You must really look sick, you realized, if even your mom was telling you it'd be okay to stay home. Of course you could afford to. Your grades were fantastic and no teacher would blame you if you missed a day. But no, you hated breaking your routine, especially during your senior year. You missed perfect attendance before and would like to have at least one perfectly attended year of high school. Anyways, this would pass. Your stomach still felt sore and swollen as it did last night. You sat down for breakfast, and discovered you had absolutely no appetite. You attempted to take a bite of toast, but you had to force it down. Even a single bite felt like you shoving too much food into an already far too full stomach.
"Uhg," you repeated, holding your middle in your arms.
Your dad gave some sympathy, but then rushed off to work. Your mom followed next. Your sister looked hopefully at you.
"Hey, can you give me a ride today?" she asked.
"What? Oh, yeah, sure," you said. Your sister Ellen usually rode the bus. She was fifteen now, and a lot like you in some ways. She could be openly friendly but was usually quiet. She lacked your discipline, though. She was a little soft, and gaining weight slowly but steady every year. You had once brought up the virtues of a healthy diet, but she was instantly offended, so you held off. Anyways, she had yours and your parents' genes. Even if she was a little heavier she'd be unlikely to ever be fat.
"Dad says they might be getting me my own car when I turn sixteen . . . ," she said. You weren't feeling well enough to listen with your usual interest, though, and the conversation slowly died. In fact, it seemed like you were feeling worse. You leaned forward holding your stomach in your arms, occasionally burping a little, although those seemed to be getting harder to mask. You nursed your stomach, still so full, and hard as a rock. You felt your insides shifting and groaning, and thought that some of the discomfort was from your skin stretching.
Across town, in three separate locations, your enemies were each having their own breakfast. Lindsey ate normally, still not entirely believing in the thing. Amber too ate a mostly normal breakfast, but splurged with some bacon. Melanie, of course, stuffed herself far more than she usually would. And as the half a dozen eggs, pile of french toast, and an entire bottle of syrup slid down her throat you felt every bite. As they finished up in their own time you could swear it felt like your stomach really was filling up and struggling to cope with an inhuman load of rich, fatty foods.
You went up to get dressed and do your hair and make-up. None of this was complicated, since you had a system. Your hair you always wore down. Your make-up was an artfully applied natural look with minimal products. Looking in the mirror you couldn't help but struck that you did actually look swollen, at least your stomach did. It puffed up just slightly. It was hard and heavy, making it difficult to bend in the middle. Part of you dreaded somebody noticing this, but you reasoned that nobody would be able to tell. Sure, the skinny jeans you always wore were a little snug up front, but they always fit comfortably rather than form-fitting and tight on you. You picked one of your less form-fitting t-shirts, though, making sure it was just long enough to prevent any midriff from accidentally showing. A feeling of distaste fell across you as you had to tug at it a few times. It was definitely just a little too tight around the middle, although nowhere near indecently so.
The more depressing thing for you was that even though you gave your appearance a lot of attention, it was automatic and you didn't give it a lot of thought. You knew with a confidence you were beautiful, that your petite figure would look good in anything, but today this awful bloating was making you self-conscious and uncomfortable. It was a feeling you didn't like and wanted to go away as soon as you got rid of this stomach bug.
You took some pepto to ease your tummy. It helped, but even swallowing it was a chore. You met your sister, bubbly and happy for not having to ride the bus for a change. You didn't mind driving her, it's just that she usually rode the bus to ride with her friends. But many of them have since turned sixteen and were driving to school now, while for her that day wouldn't come until next school year. You didn't resent the ease and cheerfulness she radiated, but you were not in a good enough mood to reciprocate. She detected this and acted even happier, partly to cheer you up, partly to annoy you.
As sisters you both loved each other, but since she became a teenager Ellen had gotten something of a mean streak, and a passive-aggressive one at that. You thought it was a faze that would pass. You certainly didn't enjoy hearing her talk with her friends, saying nasty things about fellow classmates, plotting lame nothings of revenge for equally lame nothing slights. You never understood why some teenagers could be like that, although you've seen it as much as anyone.
At school, you braced yourself for a day of discomfort. You didn't want to take it out on anyone so vowed that today would be one of your generally alone days where you avoided your friends and didn't talk much. Tugging at your shirt, you set out to class.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024 Rubarbstreet (UN: rubarbstreet at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Feorath has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author