Binge (5)
Ralph chatted lightly with Derek as they waited for the first round of food to come out. The young man found it slightly difficult to focus. Ralph had silently instructed Medhi to keep Derek’s plate full with appetizers, and as Derek brought food to his mouth, his brain would jump from whatever Ralph was saying to the food being brought to this mouth. From time to time, Derek would shake his head trying to regain his concentration but without much success.
In his few seconds of lucidity, the sensation that his clothes were tightening also was becoming tighter, prompting him to scream inside his head, “What is happening to me?!” Which he would forget instantly his mind focused on the food he was about to consume. However, even in his state, Derek could tell the food was taking longer than what felt should be usual. And as he picked up his beer after cleaning his plate, he looked out at the table and realized all the appetizer plates had an almost licked-clean look to them. And he looked down at his stomach and it dawned on him that much of them were now inside stomach, which was rounding out the white dress shirt he wore.
He had intended to only take one swig of his beer, but after what felt like a few moments of that recurring sensation, he put his beer down and heard the clank of an empty glass. All three men were looking at him, grinning.
“Spice got you thirsty?” Asked Ralph.
“I…uh…it’s…” Derek stuttered. He felt as if he had walked into a room naked.
“He can handle it,” said coach, smiling widely. “Just getting used to it.”
Suddenly within reach, the blond man placed down a full pitcher of beer and from another refilled Derek’s glass and topped off Ralph and Coach. Derek blurt out suddenly, “I can’t drink all that” soliciting a hearty laugh from his dining companions.
“I think it’s for the table,” said Mehdi, who patted Derek’s thigh under the table. Derek looked at him, embarrassed. “Sorry, I just meant…I…I don’t want to seem…”
Ralph chimed in. “You’re nervous, Derek. Don’t be. You know, let me tell you about my first interview for an exec position…” Ralph launched into an amusing anecdote, and although Derek caught almost the first minute of how Ralph, paranoid, had brought two suits with him just in case but he should have brought three because that day…he found himself seeking out his beer and started slowly sipping it. His mind immediately forgot his embarrassment, and he abandoned himself to the relief of being aware of nothing of the cool stream of beer flowing into a gut that felt vast and waiting. As he sipped, the sips became swallows, the swallow turned to chugging and before Ralph had finished he had finished his beer, and before he could realize what he had done, there was suddenly the blond man and Ray coming in with the first round of food.
Derek could not believe the amount of food he saw. It was as if they had twice as many people at the table. The lazy Susan filled up so quickly that the blond man was forced to put a plate of noodles, piled quite high Derek thought, in front of him, and some others in front of the others.
Mehdi turned the table and generously served himself what Derek took to be a vegetable dish. Ralph and Coach served themselves, and Derek stood frozen for a second, unsure of what to do.
“Derek, just take a bite of those noodles,” said Coach. “It’s a house specialty. Spiciest thing they got. See if you like it.”
Derek lifted up his chopsticks and bit into the noodles. While they were delicious, they did not seem so spicy. He enjoyed the chewing, and for that alone was going to get more, when suddenly, as was picking up his chopsticks a second time, an intense sensation of burning numbness flooded his mouth. Derek had never felt anything like it. He audibly yelped, making the three other men look up, but he did not notice them. He wanted to get rid of the pain, but he could also feel the dopamine rush and, compounded with that sense of escape, he wanted it to never end.
He dropped his chopsticks, grabbed his beer, chugged it, loving the intense contrast between the cool liquid and the burning, numbing sensation that covered his entire jaw. He did not even think to wonder who had refilled it. With a darting motion, he picked up his chopsticks and shoveled in some more noodles.
Something about the bite was too small; so Derek took his hand, grabbed a handful of noodles and shoved them into his jaw, as wide open as he could. For a brief second, as he saw the other men look at him, expressionless, a little voice in his head cried out, “What the fuck am I doing?”
For a while, Derek lost all sense of time. The burning sensation did not subside and it was all he could do to keep it going while also trying to escape it. As he devoured plate after plate, put in front of him as the men talked amongst each other, it was all he could do to occasionally wonder what was wrong with him. At one point, finding his beer glass empty, he picked up the pitcher (which seemed always full) and slugged the whole thing down.
He did not notice when his stomach burst through his shirt, ruined and covered in food, and he did not notice that his gut was pressing into his belt so fiercely it would leave a bruise, or that his ass was testing the seams of his pants, and that the rounding of his features was giving him a sort of boyish air.
Although Derek could not realize it, it was around the point where he had eaten the equivalent of what he had eaten at Las Alas that afternoon where he started to feel that sharp pain in his stomach. The pain was just sharp enough to draw him out of his trance; he noticed that all three men seemed not to be noticing, chatting casually amongst themselves, as the blond man in the back tinkered with the steam trays, which had been turned on and from the smells of various foods emanated. The table was still piled high with dishes, as if nobody, had eaten.
Derek look at his hands and down at his food-covered shirt and saw that his gut, now covered in a substantial layer of flab was rounding out, bowing out, having broken through the buttons. Before he could shout from surprise, he realized how hard his gut was pushing into his belt, and he raced to undo it. “What the fuck is happening to me?!” He shouted but the only reaction he got was a head turn from the blond man.
Then suddenly he felt the sharp pain in his stomach again. It was intolerable, and, as if his body knew the only way to escape the pain was to keep eating, he dived into the full plate of food that had found its way in front of him.
As he ate, his stomach pushed outward, taking on the proportions of an inflating exercise ball. As he ate, he noticed distantly that it was the blond man who kept food in front of him, and that Ray, the owner of the restaurant, had taken a seat next to coach, joining the men in conversation. Nobody seemed to notice him.
When he saw that the pitcher of beer was empty, he looked around for something to drink, which is when he felt the blond man put a keg pump to his mouth. “What the…” was all Derek could think before he started drinking the wonderfully cool, sweet beer. The steady glug, glug, glug carried high above the pains of his stomach, which at each step was further stretched to its limits.
At one point, Derek’s stomach had ballooned so large that it impeded him reaching food. Barely able to coordinate his movements, he let the men help him down from his chair and put him against a wall so he could sit up. The blond man brought Derek food, which he ate, until finally, as had happened that afternoon, the pain from his expanding stomach was too much, and he let out a cry of pure pain.
Although he had plumped up since the afternoon, he cut a surreal figure as his stomach seemed to dwarf him, round and coming higher than his head as it sat against the floor, a kind mutant monstrosity, smooth, taut but for the soft layer of fat that had retained its bit of give. His arms could barely reach around it and his legs were split as far apart as they could go. His clothes were in tatters, covered in food. He continued to moan, as if injured.
Then suddenly, he felt someone rub his stomach. It brought such relief to the spot, even in the intense pain, and it reminded him of Peter, who he wished was there to do the same. Instantly, he felt the intense shudder and pleasure of an orgasm.
He blacked out shortly after he could make out Raymond saying, “I’ll bring you the check.”
