Content Warning; Copious amounts of stuffing, burping, farting, and just a general focus on gassiness.

She had been composing it in her head the entire drive over. First, she'd knock on the door. Then she'd greet whomever opened it with her brightest, most cheerful smile. Then she'd desperately try to explain herself to her mother and hope that she would accept her daughter's meager excuses. Her mother had tried to teach her children the utmost importance of diet and exercise, and at the beginning of the year Olivia had been as fit and trim as the rest of her family. She had gone for jogs every morning and ate lean meals, her mother had never been overly strict but Olivia just never had the appetite for cheaper, fattier foods.

But It was hard to keep the weight off in college. You get so caught up in lessons and studying that you just don't have time to make healthy dinners, so instead you buy some ramen noodles and heat them up. After a while they actually start to taste really nice and you find your healthy taste buds slipping into greedy hedonism. When you're up into the dead of night working on assignments you just don't have the energy to go on an early morning run, so you decide to sleep in. After a while you begin to feel winded sooner and sooner. When you're invited to a party and the beer is free... when your room mate is absolutely fantastic at making the tastiest, unhealthiest snacks...

Ohh, she's going to flip her shit... Olivia thought, feeling her paunch wobble with every bump and bounce with the occasional potholes.

Every minute that ticked by meant she was closer to home, every street she turned down was bringing her closer to the reckoning. Soon it loomed, off in the distance. Her family home. Never before had a white picket fence looked so intimidating. The path from to the front door felt so much longer, as caution made her hesitate with every step. She brushed the creases from her jeans, flicked an errant lock of her shoulder-length blonde hair behind an ear. The front of her baggy blouse, worn to hide as much of Olivia's pot belly as possible was trussed up further to  ensure its secret was kept. The red timber door stood before her and she had to work up the courage before she knocked.

She almost leaped into the air when it swung open prematurely, before being pulled into a tight hug.

"Olivia! How was the drive down!" Her mother gushed, squeezing her daughter tightly for the first time in month. Her happiness to see her daughter again lasted roughly three seconds before Maternal Love felt something peculiar and became Sneaking Suspicion. Her fingers poked softly into Olivia's back, before suddenly seizing Olivia by her supple shoulders and gently, but firmly separating the two so as to get a better look.

Olivia hastily sucked in her gut when she realized what was happening, but her mother's surprisingly unyielding grip held her in place. A stalemate developed, a silent waiting game as her mother waited for her to take another breath. Her mother's stare became a glare when Olivia finally breathed, her paunch jutting forwards rapidly enough to send a flutter through her blouse.

"Olivia..." The air stilled, "What is that?"

"What's uh... what's what?"

"That." Her mother spat the word hatefully.

"Oh um... I got a haircut," Olivia tittered nervously, "You don't like it?"

"You know damn well I'm not talking about your hair." Her mother's eyes locked back onto her own, her expression was turning darker by the second.

"I... well... it's-" She was interrupted with a raised finger, and an expression that boded no tolerance for her excuses.

"I thought I raised you better than that. I thought I raised you to actually care about yourself, to take pride in yourself, but as soon as you're on your own you turn yourself into a pig."

"Wow, Jesus mom, that's a really nice way to say hi to your daughter. It's just the Freshman fifteen-"

"Fifteen kilos maybe, if we were living in Canada."

"Ok, so it's a Freshman thirty-"

"It's disgusting, I don't care what you call it." The older woman shook her head, her eyes never leaving the paunch that angered her so. "So this is where the money your father and I have been sending you ended up?"

"For Christ's sake mom, if it's that bad I'll diet again!"

"No, I don't want to hear it. If you want to stuff your face Olivia, then let's stuff your face."

Olivia opened her mouth to argue, getting as far as the first inhalation before she stopped, realizing what her mother had said. "Wait, what?"

"I'm going to make you the biggest Thanksgiving dinner anyone has ever seen, and if you don't eat every last bite you can say goodbye to the money."

"That's right!" Her mother continued when Olivia's eyes widened in understanding, "You can pay for your own board, your own gas, and your own groceries. You'll fend for yourself, because I'm not paying you to eat your way into obesity."

That was the end of it. Her mother explained to relatives that were already there about the upcoming unconventionality that would be taking place this Thanksgiving, her father explained it to latecomers as her mother remained in the kitchen, creating a din of angry cooking, the sounds of knives chopping unfortunate vegetables and crockery clattering as she prepared the "Biggest Thanksgiving Dinner Ever."

Her younger sister enjoyed it far too much when she told their cousins, snickering as she pointed out the little bulge around Olivia's hips and waist. One year from college herself, Olivia took solace from Andrea's scorn in the fact that her sister was prone to a sweet tooth that would, come college, pack its own unignorable poundage to the limber blonde stick. That'd be a good day, Olivia thought to herself. She wondered if Andrea would be as boastful about being able to do the splits when it was just her ass splitting her pants.

It was almost two hours after Olivia arrived that her mother called out to announce dinner. The family migrated from living room to dining, everyone keeping a wary stance around Olivia as they eyed her plumpness like it was a wild animal. The table was full of Thanksgiving courses, a respectable, but sensible amount. If this was the "Largest Thanksgiving Ever" Olivia was mildly unimpressed. Every seat but one had plates and cutlery, Olivia sat herself at the empty spot and Andrea took the next, stifling a smirk when Olivia's thighs spread out wide against the seat.

A minute later her mother appeared, swiftly skirting her way around the table and making her way to Olivia. She was armed with a pot, one that she quickly sat in front of her doughy daughter, whose look of confusion she responded with a nod.

"Um... do I get a bowl?"

"What would be the point? It's all yours." With that, her mother turned on her heel and marched back into the kitchen, resuming the gentle harmony of cooking once more.

The pot her mother had so indelicately placed in front of her was the largest they had. It held enough for everyone at the table, twice over. What it was filled with Olivia sought to find out, it's spicy smell luring her by the nose to peer over the rim, and grin in surprise.

Chili. An entire pot of chili. Warm enough to release the occasional bubble, spicy enough to sting her eyes from the aroma alone. Warm hues spread and mingled across the top, bending around half submerged beef and beans, the occasional whole chili floating around. Her uncertainty about the pots size was dropped for mouthwatering anticipation. Olivia's mother was a champion of the con carne, and a master of measuring just how much she needed to make to ensure no leftovers, no second helpings for dinner, no excess to ruin the perfect diets of her family. Getting a whole pot to herself didn't feel like a punishment at all.

She had to stand to reach her spoon inside the pot, leaning over into the rising heat to get that first delicious scoop. The first mouthful was the best, that familiar explosion of spice and zest that almost overwhelmed the taste buds before they could prepare themselves for the next. She ate greedily, swiftly downing spoonful after spoonful and savouring each tender chunk of beef as spicy juices seeped out with every hungry chew.

Her family watched her with mixed expressions, some pausing mid-mouthful to watch her shovel spoonful after spoonful in zealous gluttony, feeling less hungry as they watched the slight quivering of her upper arms, and her faintly pudgy face chewing and swallowing, Olivia's satisfied, smile unhidden.

"Wow, now we know how you got that gut."

"Andrea, please don't make fun of Olive," their father chastised. Olivia smiled wider, a snide grin that she interrupted with another spoonful. "Olive, don't be smug."

Dinner continued in a relative normalcy as conversations bloomed around her, with only the occasional joke or insult. Nobody spoke to her however, an unspoken agreement with her mother to allow Olivia to focus solely on her food, on the constant eating that was beginning to, halfway through the pot, overwhelm her.

Olivia's zeal was failing. Her stomach, even with her recent foray into gluttony, couldn't handle so much meat. Her blouse couldn't have hid her stomach now, not with the pale band of skin that was slipping out from beneath its hemline.

She wasn't feeling smug anymore. She was feeling full. She was feeling a little queasy. She was feeling... gassy. Too many beans, too much chili, she was beginning to sweat a little from the pressure in her stomach and the pressure in her bowels, a sudden surge of gas rumbling inside their prison of colon. Olivia threw her head back and sighed, her blonde locks spilling over her face when she leaned forward again and stared in dismay into the unending well of chili. It was beginning to look as much like lava as it tasted.

"Ughh... Mom, I need a drink. Can you get me a glass of water?"

The clatter of cooking paused. A few seconds later her mother was hurrying back out, a bottle of soda in each hand. They weren't small. Two two-liters that were unceremoniously dumped on the table beside the chili pot.

"There. Unhealthy drinks for my unhealthy daughter. They were supposed to be for the whole family, but you can help yourself."

"I... just wanted a glass of water though."

"I don't care what you wanted," her mother snapped in response, her hands placed on her hips as she stared disapprovingly at her daughter. "This is a punishment, not a reward."

"Can I at least ge-"

"Drink it from the bottle. It's all yours, what'd be the point?" Her mother responded, echoing her earlier sentiments. "In fact, just drink that entire bottle right now. Go on, chug it like all those college party beers."

Olivia brought the top of the bottle to her mouth, tipping it upwards till soda lapped delicately against her pink lips and no further. She looked to her mother who simply responded with a curt nod, and tipped it vertical. Soda burbled in the bottle as she began to drink, air bubbles gurgling as soda rushed down into her mouth. Carbonation tickled against her throat as she swallowed and swallowed, breathing through her nose between each.

"Faster."

She breathed between every second, the soda flowing quicker down her throat as the bottle began to compress itself in her grip.

"Faster!"

She forced herself to drink the soda as quickly as she could, her throat racing to gulp it down and finish the bottle as her lungs began to burn.

"That's enough."

There were three more gulps before what her mother said registered. The bottle was slammed onto the table, the last fifth of soda fizzing angrily at the sudden upset, and Olivia began gulping once more. Air. Precious, wonderful, lung-filling air. She took it in and released it in great heaves that bloated her middle out almost as much as the carbonation in her gut.

"So you've practiced doing that?" Her mother sneered, shaking her head in disappointment.

"I- UUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrp! ughh..."

"For God's sake Olivia, do you have no concept of table manners!?" snapped her aunt. She stared at Olivia with an open hostility, regarding her from head to belly, and would have continued further down had the table not been in the way, with the utmost disgust.

The chili and the soda were playing a horrible hell with Olivia's insides. A strange reaction was beginning to build inside her, the carbonation pushing gas upwards while chili sent it down below. The digesting liquid inside her began to bubble and boil like a concoction inside a witches cauldron, brewing a potency inside her that yearned noisily for release. Other family members around the tabled had politely scooted their chairs as far away from her as they could, continuing their conversations as if nothing was amiss. Her sister was trying to explain the plot of a new TV show she had gotten into as of late, only occasionally stopping to glance at Olivia's stomach from the corner of her eye.

The churning gas being produced inside her was beginning to build up to an almost painful pressure, but she couldn't. She couldn't do that in front of her family. Especially when, from the blorps and groans coming from her swollen midsection, she just knew it would be horrible. One hand rubbed her stomach to try and settle it down, the other continued its shaky journey from her bowl to her mouth, with a spoon laden with chili that was going from her bowl straight to her bowels.

The decreasing level in the chili didn't match how she was feeling. When half the chili was in her gut Olivia felt like she had eating a pots worth. When there was only a third left, she felt like she had eaten three. She didn't touch the soda, but its impact still made itself felt with burps that she tried blocking with the back of her hand, still rumbling noisily through her throat, and still filling the air with the stink of digesting chili when she exhaled. Her aunt kept making snide comments, her cousins tittered happily at her, and now Andrea's due to her unfortunate proximity, misfortune from the safety of the far side of the table.

"Oh my God, can you just shut your belly up?" Andrea finally snapped after a particularly loud, interruptive gurgle.

"Mom's making me eat an Uuuurrp! entire pot of chili, what do you expect?" She slouched over the pot, staring into the last dregs of chili, "At least I'm almost done."

"Almost done?" Olivia spun at her mother's laugh, a regrettable action as the ensuing slosh of carbonated chili in her belly sent a wave of nausea through her.

She was standing behind her with another bottle, another two liters of soda that she placed besides the other two and a bit. The And-A-Bit she grabbed and handed to Olivia, pressing it against her daughter's distressed belly until Olivia snatched it from her.
"You're nowhere near done. First, finish this. Then, finish that." She pointed to the chili pot before turning on her heel and striding back to the kitchen. "You better finish both by the time your main course arrives."

M... Main course?

Terror gripped her tightly, and in turn she gripped the cola bottle hard enough to flatten the plastic. The sound of it crumpling in her hands snapped her out of a quagmire of dread long enough to hastily tip the bottle into her mouth and gulp down the last of the soda. Carbonation burned at her throat and she belched mid-exhale before grabbing her spoon once more and leaning over the chili pot.

The last inches of chili beckoned, its smell filling her nose and reminding her just how full she actually was. The front of her tight blouse brushed against the tablecloth as it struggled to keep her chili-stuffed gut from flopping ungracefully onto the table top.

"Still going strong Olivia?" Andrea snickered, leaning over to jab her in the side. "Maybe you should quit college and become a competitive eater."

"She'd probably eat the competition's food as well as her own," muttered her aunt, pushing her own plate far away  as her appetite failed at the sight of Olivia's glutting.

Olivia ignored them, her mind in a frightened haze as she ate. She didn't notice she was done until her spoon was scraping along the pot's bottom, the harsh tone startling her. All there was were ocher puddles. She sighed, slumped backwards, and sat with an ungraceful, and regrettable from the way it shifted the contents of her body, thump into her seat as she rubbed and stroked her belly, trying to stifle her belches and clench her cheeks.

"Can someone help me with these?" Her mother called from the kitchen.

Just how much is she making? Olivia thought to herself in horror, she thought it would just be the chili and the soda, she had already eaten more for herself out of that entire pot than the rest of the family would be expected to eat from multiple Thanksgiving dishes. Her father, her uncle and her aunt made their way to the kitchen, each one returned holding baking dishes or glass bowls, each one overflowing. Her aunt placed in front of her a bowl of egg salad, with more eggs than salad. Her uncle placed another bowl next to it, mashed potato and gravy. The mashed potato was mountainous in shape and size, given a volcanic appearance by the gravy ladled generously over it.

When her father placed an entire baking dish filled with a creamy, cheesy cauliflower bake she stared up at him in confusion.

Olivia was lactose intolerant. It wasn't a secret, everyone at the table knew she was lactose intolerant. Everyone knew what happened when she ate even the slightest bit of dairy. But her father simply matched her stare with one of his own, and gave her an impassive nod.

"But-"

"No buts. Your mother worked hard on making all this for you Olive."

She went for egg salad first, while it was a large bowl the sheer height of the mashed potato was almost as terrifying as the cauliflower. It was a refreshing coolness after the chili, but an unwanted one. Her eating became sluggish as she continued to force it down, packing more into an overstuffed belly that groaned in feeble protest, joined by the creaking of her increasingly snug top. Before long the fermenting eggs in her stomach were filling her with a new tumult of gasses she bore the brunt of as she tried to keep them inside.

The button at the summit of her belly gave out, shooting across the table and pinging off the wall. Bewilderment turned everyone's heads towards the sound, people craned and leaned, the furthest even standing up to look over the heads of the rest, before they turned to look at Olivia.

The mash! Something that shouldn't make her want to fart, Olivia thought frantically. She slid the eggs away and dragged the pale mountain closer, and began a slow excavation into the side as she bored her way through one mouthful at a time. It was easier, surprisingly easier, to force it down when she didn't need to chew. The snide remarks returned in full force as her family watched her swallow a third of the mash in a second wind that surprised herself.

Another button shot off, the next one up as her bulging belly forced her shirt to part like a curtain. A dull pop rang out under the table, her zipper gave way. Below the jean button as well as above tight lard was trying to fight for escape, pushing the hem of her panties to rest snugly under her compressed gut. Olivia's face flushed as her outfit continued to fail in front of her family.

The cauliflower bake was worse than the chili. Far worse. Olivia's lactose intolerance reacted to the cheese violently, every mouthful she swallowed sent out a deep grumble as her digestive acids seethed. Her already distended bowels distended further, pushing her globular stomach outwards against the remaining buttons of her clothing. The button of her jeans was fighting back, pressing against the most tender, gas bloated area of the thick gut filling them. Denim creaked loudly against her ballooning belly, bowels groaned in response, an argument developing between the two that began to, like all arguments at Thanksgiving, leave everyone else avoiding eye contact with each other as cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

Olivia's hands went to the front of her pants and reached for the button of her jeans, but the tightness of her pants had wedged her button tightly. She grabbed the front of her jeans, forcing her thumbs into the tight press of flesh against denim and tried to press the denim together to loosen the button and allow it to be undone.

The sudden constriction of denim around her gut pushed down on her bowels even more, the unexpected shift forcing a sudden fart from her. The wind pealed out with enough force to quiver her cheeks, cut off mid bellow as she clenched her entire body, her hands clenching, toes curling and calves pressing into the underside of her chair as every muscle was sent into damage control. Her eyes were as wide as her mouth and she stared into nothing, not daring to look another person in the face, her own flushed a solid crimson. Tears welled in her eyes, from humiliation and from the pungent smell that began to develop and spread throughout the room.

"Did something die inside you!?" cried Andrea past her muffling hand, now deeply regretting her choice of seats. The others responded in kind, gagging and complaining as the smell continued to waft. She couldn't understand why they were blaming her for this, they had SEEN what her mother was doing to her and they acted like it was her fault that beans made people fart.

"I- it's the button of my jeans," Olivia excused hastily, "I can't undo it."

Andrea's fingers jammed into the waistband of her pants, her sister wincing from the pain of denim cutting into her digits. With one movement Andrea pulled, jerking one side of Olivia's pants away from the other. There was a sudden flare of pain and then a sense of incredible relief. The button burst off easily, its bullet-like acceleration slamming it into the table and leaving a dent deep and defined enough to leave the button's logo legible. Olivia's gut, now freed, sagged forward with a nauseating lurch, resting heavily between her pudgy thighs. A thin belt of red skin wrapped around it, cutting the peach dome in two.

"These were uurgh my favourite pair of pants!"

"Yeah, like you were going to be fitting in them much longer anyway." Andrea sneered.

"She's not going to fit in anything if she keeps going," a cousin replied, a younger one giggled. "Are we going to have to push her into the sea?"

Her aunt was muttering to her uncle, Olivia caught the occasional fragment of a sentence such as  "...stripping off at the table..." and "...going to need to roll her out of here..."

She was about to defend herself before her mother interrupted her budding anger. "Olivia, you've barely touched the cauliflower bake."

"It's- I- lactose intolerant..." Her argument faltered, there was not a single sympathetic face around her. Her aunt's quiet complaints to her uncle now included the word 'inconsiderate', and Andrea pushed the cheesy dish in front of her and sent the salad to the side.

The fork descended on the cauliflower, lifting into the air with the trails of cheese. It hovered in front of her mouth, Olivia staring at it like it was a cobra ready to strike. A throat was cleared, heads nodded. She bit down, chewed slowly, hesitated once more, and then swallowed. It was amazing how her stomach seemed to time its deepest gurgle with the descent of cauliflower down her throat. It echoed throughout the silent room, hissing burbles and the creaking of belly skin, her bowels squirming as her body seemed to anticipate more. Discussion resumed after that swallow, and the more to follow as her fork descended on the cauliflower once more.

Lactose intolerance began to creep her stomach forward visibly, the last buttons across her incredible gut straining as they tried to dig into the unyielding tautness of her tummy. Jittery hands grabbed at the corner of her blouse and yanked it further apart, flinging its buttons wildly across the table as family members ducked from the unexpected salvo.

They glanced at her engorged paunch, lips turning up in disgusted sneers at the incredible amount of skin she had put on display. Her belly's sudden lurch forward into comfortably uncomfortable lap-filling heaviness sent a sloshing inside her stomach, acid and chili slapping at the inner walls of her stomach like ocean waves. The resulting sensation made her hand clench tighter on her fork, her face greening as she struggled not to vomit. Her other hand was placed against the farthest end of her belly, now halfway to her knees in some vague attempt to calm the turbulent sea inside her.

"Mary, don't you think she's had enough?" Her grandmother asked, "I mean, the poor girl looks worse than pregnant."

"Mom, I'm doing this because I love her. It's like when you made me smoke an entire packet of cigarettes when I was fourteen, I never touched them again after that."

"Yes, I know, but I also made you smoke them outside. That way we didn't have to suffer the smell."

Et tu Grandma? Olivia thought sadly, her hopes of reprieve from her fetid torment dashed.

That seemed to be the end of it, the family simply went back to their casual discussions as if her punishment was the most normal thing in the world. She idly picked at the egg salad in front of her, swallowing a forkful when her mother stared at her intensely after a few seconds of not eating.

Her bowels felt painfully taut, the gas inside her making her intestines feel like writhing, obese snakes that crowded in on each other. The rumbles of digestion only signified more foul gasses being brewed in her body, putting more pressure on her already straining bowels as she tried to keep them in, for the family's sake, if not her own. She was beyond caring about being embarrassed by farting at this point, the sensation of feeling like she was about to rise from the table and into the air like a balloon if she didn't let some of her hot air rip soon was enough to make Olivia rethink her stance on what it meant to be a lady in public.

But the smell. The chili and eggs were combining with the cauliflower bake, creating a gastrointestinal chain reaction that brought into being farts that were almost visible in the air when she accidentally released them. Each unintentional slip was met with baleful glares and snide remarks, or plain insults from Andrea.

Why was her mother doing this to her, Olivia wondered as she idly picked at the dairy riddled bake. So she put on a few pounds, did that really warrant this? She groaned and struggled against the building pressure, holding back what seemed like an unstoppable force, one she was only making stronger with every hesitant bite. Every time she slowed down her mother would simply stare indifferently, looking past the horrifically distended stomach she'd forced upon her daughter, ignoring every windy belch or the occasional noxious fart that squeaked its way past her defenses. She ignored the rest of the family as they complained about Olivia's increasingly worse stenches, and their demands that Olivia at least be made to eat her dinner somewhere else since she clearly didn't have the manners to eat at the table.

When she did speak, it was to goad her, to remind her what was at stake if Olivia couldn't finish everything she was provided. The only time she let Olivia stop eating was when she wanted her to chug some more soda, leaving the suffering student unable to speak past the rushing burps as carbonation refused to settle inside her, a volatile reaction with the gasses already swirling in her belly.
She focused on the mashed potato, the mountain was already reduced to half its size and despite the inherent starchiness of the potatoes themselves, they would strain her stomach with excessive gas far less than anything else. Olivia developed a slow rhythm of scooping and swallowing, swirling the mash and gravy together to make it easier to slide down her tired throat. Her hands trembled with the effort of continuing, sending errant drops of gravy to splatter against the food-flecked top of her reddened stomach, another crime her family commented on, amazed that a woman in her twenties could eat as messily as a child.

Olivia ignored them, continuing to scoop and swallow, scoop and swallow, and clench her ass as tightly as possible against the flatulence pounding against her for freedom. She finished the potato, her fork descended upon the salad. Her mother cleared her throat audibly, shaking her head until Olivia positioned it above the cauliflower.The creaking of her strained skin was beginning to drown out the burbling of her stomach as well as any attempt at table discussion.

"So Mary, I heard that you were-"

crrrrrck, over-taut skin groaned against the gas bubble building inside.

Her aunt paused, glaring at Olivia's stomach hatefully. "I heard that-"

Grrrrrrrrrooooooooooooargle, digestive juices picked up as gooey cheese sent them frothing. Her aunt inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, her upper lip twitching into a half-sneer.

"Mary." Her aunt's voice was strained. "I heard that you and-"

"BRRrrrrrrruuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrp!... 'scuse me."

"That's it." Her aunt dropped her knife and fork onto her plate, before sliding out of her chair and grabbing her handbag."Mary, Evan, I'm sure this would have been a lovely evening, but I just can't deal with..." Her free hand waved towards Olivia, waving in a rounded gesture to indicate the gargantuan gut that continued its mournful bellowing.

"If we're doing Christmas, don't invite me if Olivia is here."

The table sat in stunned silence as they listened to the clacking of heels on tiles echoing towards the front door, even Olivia's stomach seemed to patiently wait for the angry slam. Her uncle followed briskly, ferrying his snickering children, only stopping to give Olivia's father a quick handshake and say a swift farewell.

They sat in silence until the sound of an engine started from outside. Her father turned to her, his face unreadable but his voice filled with disappointment. "I hope you're happy Olive."

She wasn't. With her belly beginning to hang over the edge of her seat, her legs spread wide as it pushed its way down between them, Olivia was far from happy. She was far from anything, really, her mind otherwise occupied with attempting to eat another mouthful and holding everything in. She stared at a piece of cauliflower she had speared, cheese dangling from it like pale vines on an albino tree. Her mouth opened but her hand refused to move forward. Olivia was done. Unless she could release some form of the swirling, churning and still compounding pressure inside her body refused to take in any more.

She must have been trapped in her stalemate for over a minute before her mom finally spoke.

"You're not eating your food Olivia. Don't tell me you're done."

She couldn't hold it in anymore. Olivia curled in on her stomach, clutching it and trying to settle the storm inside her, but she couldn't hold it in. The groaning of her belly, the sickly burbles from within were picking up in fervor as rumbling gasses shifted and pushed downwards more with every passing second. Family discussions died as everyone cringed away, looking at her bared stomach in quiet terror. Only her mother remained unperturbed by the noises coming from her daughter's engorged stomach. She stared across the table at her grossly distended daughter, unflinching in the face of what was beginning to seem like a nuclear warhead.

"Mo-UUUUuuurrrrrp-Mom... hic!... please..."

"Finish your plate Olivia."

It was too much. Despite her effort to hold it inside the gas forced its way out. It rushed from her behind, announcing itself with a loud trumpeting, a thunderous rolling against her chair as it ripped its way past her cheeks. They wobbled with the excess flab she was being so cruelly punished for, lard quivering in the storm of wind that filled the air with its choking presence. It flowed from her mouth, a series of increasingly long, pungent belches that grew in volume as they grew in size. The floodgates of her body had been opened, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Now that the horrible pressure was being released, she didn't want to stop.

Everyone was beginning to gag, choke, and from behind the hands they pressed to their noses in futile desperation, glare at her in disgust. The clatter of knives and forks on cutlery fell silent as her family began to feel too sick to eat. Olivia didn't care. They could think she was the most disgusting person in the world, she sagged happily, sighing in unfathomable relief as her body pushed out all the pressure that had been building.

Through half lidded eyes she glanced over to her sister, her mouth turning up in a satisfied smile when she saw Andrea's look of utter revulsion. Olivia gave her a meaningful nod, the skinny sibling responding with a look of confusion that soon became one of terrified understanding. Andrea shook her head desperately, and braced herself with both hands clamped over her nose and eyes squeezed shut.

Olivia sagged her body away from her sister, her fat suppled ass lifting to the side and allowing Andrea to bare the fullest brunt of the flatulence she was releasing. Her sister's eyes watered immediately from the stench, gagging on a pungency so thick that it settled like a blanket. The stench oozed ghost-like into her plugged nose, giving Andrea no mercy. It might have been a trick of the light, of her exhaustion, or just her imagination running wild after being subjected to its pressure for so long but Olivia thought she could see a dirty green tint in the air.

It went on for over a minute, her stomach slowly shrinking down into something less ridiculously large as she expelled the excess fumes. It was still swollen to a pseudo pregnancy with all the food her mother had stuffed her with, and the roiling churn of digestion still plagued it, but the rumbles were lost underneath the sounds of gassy expulsions and her stomach no longer looked and felt like a pale weather balloon.

The room was becoming more uninhabitable the longer Olivia farted, the eye watering stench flowing out to fill every corner of the room with the reek of hot chili, and the sickly rotten smell of badly digested dairy. She sighed in relief, throwing her head back and releasing a torrid belch of cola carbonation, her hands rubbing her stomach as she tried to help push out the last of the gas from both ends. The room fell almost silent when she did, the only noise the continuous groaning of her overtaxed stomach as it began to brew more fumes.

When the relief of release had finally passed, Olivia was left with a growing sensation of horrified shame. She couldn't believe that she had done that, her eyes were wide in humiliated shock, her mouth open as she tried feebly to apologize to her revolted family. Instead of a mortified sorry she finished off her fetid show with a belch that echoed in the silence.

Her family sat in amazed disgust, before some stood up to quickly excuse themselves from the room. Only Andrea wasn't busy glaring at her, the tortured teen struggling to fan away the thick, hot stench she had been bombarded with, hot tears on her face from the almost painfully bad smell. Her father was shaking his head with his hand clamped over his nose, giving her a look of disappointment.

"What the cough-cough FUCK Olivia!?" Andrea shouted when she could breathe well enough to speak again. "We were trying to eat, and you decide to blow the fucking table away!?"

"Andrea! Language!" Her mother snapped. She turned to her other daughter, the social pariah in her foul miasma, shaking her head. "You see what your eating habits are doing to your family Olivia?"

"Now finish your plate."

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When Olivia had finally finished her creaking stomach hung off the edge of her seat, its heavy, red-tinted bottom resting freely in the air. She was slumped over it, her arms dangling limp and her head lolling above her food flecked chest as long, low belches slid out unrestrained. Her father had, with significant assistance, had carried his distended daughter to the furthest room in the house. Windows had been hurriedly thrown open and Olivia carefully, yet quickly, dumped onto a couch to deal with her dinner on her own. Had she not been as per-occupied with her own stomach as she was, she might have been a little offended at how quickly they sought to get away from her, slamming the door behind them as if their lives depended on it.

She lay, weakly rubbing a stomach bloated beyond the appearance of pregnancy, huffing and heaving as she tried to fight for breath against the pressure of food in her gut. The one thing Olivia was glad to have was privacy, unashamedly letting loose with a torrent of flatulence from her squirming intestines as they worked to force out every compressed ounce of gas. Her body was working like a bellows, pumping air from both ends as her stomach rose and fell, falling more with each noxious blast.

Ooh yeah... oh yesssss...Olivia thought, unable to comprehend anything more than the pleasure of release. Hours of building pressure were being released in minutes and she couldn't be happier. Her stomach was deflating down to a late-term food pregnancy. While the beans eggs and the horrible dairy were still fermenting, in her little sanctuary she was free to let it free as she wished, a privilege she abused as she shivered giddily and smiled in immense satisfaction as a belch rumbled past her teeth. So caught up in a repellent reverie of farting, burping, sighing, rubbing and squirming that it wasn't until a lull in between burps and brassy toots that Olivia heard the knocking at the door, a tentative rapping as the person outside waited for her to be empty enough to speak.

"Uuuurrp!... Yeah?" She didn't care about the burps anymore. Burping was great, burping was the best. If anyone had a problem with it, she thought with a tired smugness, they could come in here and tell her to her face.

"Mom told me to get you a tums or something," Andrea answered from behind the safety of the door, open windows had done nothing to prevent the build-up of flatulence that settled in a hot heaviness over everything."I found these, I think they'll work."

The door opened enough to allow Andrea's slender arm through, a white pill bottle in her hand. She tossed it with incredible accuracy considering she didn't dare stick her face into the fetid room for a look, Andrea's throw landed the bottle on the couch by her gassy sister's head. Olivia wasted no time reading recommended dosages, the most she saw was the word GAS on the bottle before popping the top off and dry swallowing a small handful.

Her hands pressed into her abdomen, fingers sinking in an inch into her slurry-stuffed gut as she tried to help her innards force the remaining gas out. The door was knocked on once more, Andrea giving it three curt raps.

"Don't I even get a thanks? Or how about a sorry?"

"A sorry!? For wha-Uuurp!"

"For, I dunno, maybe for trying to kill me with your ass!?"

"You were a bitch to Uuurp me since I Huurrorrp got home. I'm Uurrrrruurrrp not sor-Hhrruuuuuuuuurrrrp oohhhhgh..." Olivia moaned, clutching her arms around her stomach as it began to feel painfully taut once more. A hollow bubbling began to echo inside her stomach and the gasses began to froth and churn and ferment once more.

"... Olivia?"

Olivia's belly was feeling tighter underneath her kneading hands. Fraction by fraction her fingers sank in less, a hand was placed fearfully against the side of her softly frothing stomach and Olivia begged it to just be her imagination. The soft bubbling inside her grew as the tablets continued to fizz, beginning to seethe worse than the soda had. Bubbles began to form and burst further through her digestive tract, loudest in her cavernous stomach but gaining power in the hollow, windy tubes of her intestines as the tablets reacted with, seemingly, her entire body.

She grabbed the bottle, its unhelpful label stating GAS, Take two. No ingredients, no potential side effects, no manufacturer. Just GAS, Take two. Olivia didn't take two. Olivia didn't even remember how many she had taken.

"An... Andrea what the fu-UUuuuuuuuurrrp, what did Bruuuuuuuuuurrrrrp did you give-UUUurrrrruuurrp!" Her question fizzled off into a series of rasping belches, bringing back the flavours of dinner and a strange powdery taste from the tablets. Olivia groaned and belched, wincing as her stomach began to burble and boil as the tablets fizzed inside her. Her innards churned as they began swelling once more, filling faster than it could let it out. Olivia's belly was slowly beginning to regain its lost size even with the continual torrent of hot burps and fetid gasses. Each one was longer than the last, louder than the last as the pills continued their unstoppable reaction.

Despite the hazardous cacophony echoing from beyond the door, Andrea braced herself to see what she had done. She peered, one hand over her nose, past the door enough so that only her eyes would be exposed to what she wrought. Olivia's belly shook and shimmied as she writhed beneath it, moving with a tautness that made it seem unreal, as if Olivia had attached a peach beach ball to her middle and was continuing to inflate it. She could only see its massive underside, sitting vertical above Olivia, and her sisters legs flailing as she struggled to force out every uninterrupted emission. Along its sides dainty hands pressed hopelessly against taut swell to force it back down, or force everything out.

Olivia was moaning between the belches, whines of pain and sighs of pleasure. The bubbles inside her almost tickled as they burst, the churning lake of stomach acids and digesting food frothing busily. Swirling gas plumped up her intestines thick and sausage-like, the constant press of her bowels against themselves pushing farts out with a consistent low hiss that increased in power and treble with bursts that shook her wobbly cheeks down to the last excess pound as increasingly airy flatulence forced its way out. If she felt like a hot air balloon during dinner, now she felt like the Hindenburg.

The air seemed visibly thicker, the methanic gusts filling the room as readily as they filled Olivia. The door pushed back in Andrea's hand, the difference in air pressure trying to force it shut. She watched awestruck as Olivia's stomach grew larger than it had during dinner, and slowly retreated back to the safety of the hall as flatulence lazed its way through.

"I... I think I got the wrong ones!" Andrea shouted to be heard over the putrid clamor, and from behind the safety of the hastily slammed door.

"Sorry!"