Amarie stood in front of her mirror, gazing into the eyes of her reflection with a shaky smile. Her brow was heavily knit and a thin sheen of sweat had formed across her forehead, several pangs of anxiety running up and down her spine like power through a wire. Why am I like this? She thought to herself, her breathing hitching slightly in her throat as slowly… agonizingly lets her eyes drift lower across her body. Her thin, willowy shoulders were bare save for two blue spaghetti straps, one casually left to hang loose against her upper bicep. Her collarbone was sharp, well defined, and trailed almost seamlessly into her bust… her unfortunately lacking bust. Two small, barely palmable breasts rested beneath the cornflower colored cloth. The only indication they existed at all, and were not some illusion formed by bunching fabric, were two stiff bulbs that gently tented her top.
She argued to herself that it wasn't anything more than the cold agitating them. The feeling of heat on her cheeks and a deep, almost uncomfortable warmth in-between her legs was a sign of an oncoming fever, surely. It was impossible to think that, as her eyes slowly moved from her petite bosom downward, that she was getting aroused over… Over… Oh fuck… She thought, biting her bottom lip. There it was, the source of it all; All of her fears, her anxieties, and yet also her wants and desires. A paradox unto itself as the great heaving mass of flesh that she called her stomach bobbed up and down with her shallow, near panic ridden breathing. It was huge. Compared to her waifish frame, the ball of blubber attached to her middle jutted out nearly a foot and a half! It was almost perfect in how smooth and round it was. The only indication it wasn't the result of a prolonged and heavy pregnancy was the crease it formed as the abundance of fat met her hips, the whole weighty orb pulled down by gravity. Staring at it made Amarie sick… and yet, she found herself salivating at the thought of watching it swell. Like a great balloon, destined to distend further and further, yet never reach a bursting point. She dreamed of seeing herself become ever smaller in comparison to her own belly, swollen with food and yet aching without satisfaction.
So lost in her fantasies that she hadn't even realized what her hands were doing, having slid up across the exposed, pallid boulder and firmly sunk their fingers into it. Despite how it looked, it was clear that it was almost entirely adipose. Every little push and pull, pinch and prod made it wobble and deform like an erotic gelatin mould. The Elven woman let out a sound, like a cross between a distressed gasp and a brief cry of pleasure. Why am I like this?! She reiterated to herself.
Feeling herself reach a boiling point, Amarie forced herself to focus if only for a brief moment. She needed to sate this ungodly appetite, this forsaken need for such exotic eroticism. Thankfully (or perhaps not), she had just the thing to help with that.
Once again facing the mirror, the scholarly Elven woman sat in her computer chair. While her gut had laid claim to most of her body's fat stores, her lower half was runner up. Thick, pillowy thighs supported her ball belly while her surprisingly developed rear kept her comfy. On the table beside her sat three objects; two large bottles of her favorite cola, each measuring out to about 2 litres of fluid, and a single roll of breath mints. She had seen many videos of men and women alike performing something similar; The mints caused a reaction in the cola that made it produce vast amounts of gas, leaving those who attempt it looking much like Amarie… albeit much more temporary.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for the first bottle and hefted it to her chest. Seeing as she had no lap to rest it upon, she instead let it sit atop her massive middle, shivering slightly from the cool plastic against her skin. "...I can't believe I'm actually going to do this." She muttered, pointed ears drooping towards the floor. She was simultaneously mortified and deeply turned on by this. "No time like the present?" She said, more questioning herself than stating a fact as she pushed herself to open the bottle, lift it to her lips, and drink.
Drink… Drink… Drink…
At first, it was nice. The cold soda quenched her dry throat well, the taste of sweet syrupy goodness of her tongue bringing her a form of solace. Food and drink was always an escape for her. But, as more and more cola poured down her throat, she began to feel the distinct burn of carbonation. Her sinuses flared and her esophagus felt like it was on fire! On the one hand, Amarie wanted to stop, to pull back and breathe… but another part of her only wanted it to keep going. A stronger, more demanding part as despite her body practically begging her to stop she continued. A third sensation made itself known, one that she was all too intimately familiar with: The sensation of fullness.
It wasn't much, at least for what she was used to. Amarie had conquered whole gallon containers of ice cream before, a little soda wasn't going to do her in just yet. Still, she could feel her globular gut slowly fill with each long, painful gulp. Before she knew it, she was done with the first bottle. Tossed aside without a care, Amarie panted and gasped for air that her lungs so desperately needed. A hand reached down to rub the top half of her stomach, both to ease what tension was there and further entice the girl to keep going. Something occurred to her as she sat there, a pressure building in her chest; She was going to need to burp quite a lot during this. No. She thought. I want… I need to feel as full as possible! Any burps will only keep me from getting there. Gritting her teeth, the Elf focused on slowing her breathing and keeping the settling carbonation in. It was uncomfortable to say the least… but that feeling only spurned her ever forward in her pursuit of gluttony.
Swiftly, the next bottle was uncapped. Once more she began to drain its contents into her expanding stomach, although she was taking it much slower this time. Every few gulps would be punctuated with a quick breath through her nose and an equally brief moan of pain and pleasure. All the carbonation in her stomach was starting to make her feel quite warm, a heavy blush painting her cheeks. Her thighs clenched together, rubbing against one another impatiently. She wanted desperately to satisfy herself, to ease this burden of arousal… but she needed to do it right.
Another bottle down, another thrown to the ground in what Amarie told herself was disgust. Her titanic tummy was beginning to look even more cartoonishly rounded than it already was, quietly gurgling away as the soda within burbled with gas. It was good, but not nearly enough. Amarie needed more. Laboured breathing escaped her as she looked down at the roll of mints beside her, reaching to grab it when several thoughts crossed her mind; What if this is too much? What if I've finally crossed the line? What if… I explode? "...I… I-I don't care anymore!" She declared to no one in particular. "If I explode, then at least I can stop dealing with this gross fucking gut!"
She tore the packing open, eagerly squeezing the small tube into her mouth and swallowing whole each of the mints.
By the time all of them had hit her stomach, Amarie felt the effects almost immediately. A surge of gas welled up in her throat, the carbonation once again burning her nose and throat. Clasping her hand over her mouth, she was determined to see this through! Before her very eyes, she could see herself blowing up! Whether it was in the mirror, which was slowly being eclipsed from view, or down at herself, all she could see was her turgid tum steadily billowing up and out like bread dough in the oven. A distinct red color had begun to creep across her skin from the internal pressure, a sheen of sweat forming across the surface of her belly. It was so much, almost too much! This was it! It was now or never!
Deftly, Amarie slid her free hand under her bloat and plunged into that nagging warmth below. A long, punctuated gasp of pleasure leapt out from her throat, releasing a brief mote of gas with it. She didn't care about keeping it all in at this point, she needed release. NOW! Rocking back and forth in her chair, she continued to edge closer and closer to her climax, whether that be a sudden and deserved burst or a well earned reprieve from her exhausting fetishism. The sound of creaking skin and groaning guts sounded in her ears as tears formed at the corners of her eyes, reaching a head until finally she couldn't take it anymore!
!
Like a great volcano erupting, an almost unending gout of gas escaped from her throat and into the air, finally relieving her stomach of its near explosive contents. Now left a panting, groaning, belching mess, Amarie slumped into her chair and sighed. Her hands drifted lazily across the still swollen sphere in her lap, feeling the stretched, sensitive skin as much as they could. She loathed to admit it to herself, but as a small, weak smile crept onto her face she gently affirmed to herself. "That… was… amazing~"