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The sound of the oven rang through the small cockpit. Oswin straightened up and ran over towards the oven, her larger body forgotten. She knelt down and pulled out her soufflés. They didn't look very appetising but they would do. She walked over to the couch, her hands filled with soufflés and- unknown to her-, her butt jiggling profusely.
Oswin sat down on the couch, the cushions flattening under her considerable bulk. She cut into a soufflé and brought it up to her mouth. She moaned in delight as the taste cascaded over he taste-buds. She grabbed her knife and fork and began to spear more slices, until she discarded the cutlery and just grabbed it with her hands, stuffing it into her mouth.
Hours later, Oswin groaned and rubbed her large belly. The cream-coloured dome had become taut with food. She looked extremely pregnant and couldn't even get up from the couch. She sat back, massaging her stomach and felt her eyes begin to close. She fell asleep to the sounds of her stomach digesting all the food and converting it into soft fat.
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