FREAK

Chapter 1 – Pizza Party

God I’m bored, I thought to myself.  I sat waiting on a giant table like Frank had told me to.  Frank was a good guy really, just doing his job.  I hated him at the same time though.  How could you do this for a living?

I got up and walked over to the pile of papers.  The print was so big it was hard to read.  Not that it mattered.  Those papers were a way for society to get rid of me, the problem kid. 

The Department of Justice and the Association for the Protection of the Digestively Impaired have partnered to bring a unique opportunity that will change your life!

Ha! Change their life?  Their life wasn’t worth living . . . freaks.  And who is the government to decide they’re so worth saving?  They don’t kill poor kids to give their pancreases away to rich diabetic kids, do they?

“No yet they don’t,” I murmured.  Well, they weren’t killing me, but they might as well be.  My life would now consist of aiding some old dude with his “digestive issues.”

Whatever.  As soon as I could figure out how to grow back to normal size I was getting’ the fuck out.  Maybe I’d go some place cool, like Arizona.  I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon before.  Or was it in New Mexico?  I never did study very hard in school.  Gram always said that was my problem; that I never studied hard enough.  Well knowing the capital of Vermont sure as hell wasn’t going to get me out of this, was it??

The door opened.  Frank walked in, that smirk he wore on his face was now a half smile since he was around a “customer.”  Behind him followed what I assumed would be the freak.  The freak with the weird ass body problem. 

“Hi,” he said to me as he smiled.  I’ll give him that he wasn’t ugly.  Late twenties or early thirties, nice jaw line, killer smile, eyes that cut through you like . . . oh what was I thinking.  He was still a freak.  I mean, he was here. 

I shot him a glare that would make baby seals cry.  This was already going to be an awkward conversation; why not make him squirm even more? 

“Ok then, I guess we’ll just get right on down to business,” Frank practically sighed as he remembered all the paperwork that had yet to be done.  Frank hated filling out paperwork.  Almost as much as he hated giving “tours.”  Who the hell wants to take a “tour” of a place like this?  It’s like taking a tour of a morgue.  Freaks . . .

“Jason this is Rick, he’ll be your assignment for the foreseeable future--”

Rick cut in, “Jason I want you to know how much I appreciate you doing this.  It means so much to me and-”

“I’m not doing this because I want to, asshole.  They’re forcing me to do this since I’m such a ‘lost cause.’”

“Jason, that’s enough,” Frank said with his ‘stern’ tone.  Frank was about as intimidating as a Wal-Mart door greeter. 

“Now your scores on the compatibility test were surprisingly good, given Jason’s very bizarre answer patterns,” Frank raised his eyebrow in my direction. 

In reality I had just bubbled in the responses so it spelled “FREAK” on the answer sheet.

“Now, Rick, Jason has undergone extensive training with our practice manikin and--”

“Wait,” Rick interjected. “You guys haven’t actually tried this before?” he said wide-eyed.

“Prepared to be the guinea pig, freak?” I said with a menacing tone in my voice.

“Shut up!” Frank finally half-yelled.  Frank didn’t yell.  I don’t think his vocal cords could even vibrate that fast. 

“Rick, this therapy is being used in thousands of cases worldwide, and has exhibited a very high success rate.”

“Are you sure?” Rick asked, glancing at me, still unsure who to believe. 

“Absolutely,” Frank said.  “Now let’s get started on these forms.”

Eventually I blocked out their conversations and amused myself by trying to decipher the graffiti scratched on the surface of the table.  I wished I’d had a paperclip so that I could finish the ‘k’ where someone had started to write the word “freak.” 

“All set?” I heard Frank ask Rick.

“I think so,” Rick sighed as he shoved the stack of brochures and instruction sheets into his briefcase.  Who carries a briefcase these days anyway?  He must be a total dweeb.

Reluctantly I stepped into the Tupperware container he had been ever so kind to line with a wash cloth.  I felt like a hamster being brought home from the pet store. 

As Rick shut the door on his SUV he leaned over and asked if I wanted to ride on the dashboard.  I continued to stare ahead at the Tupperware logo, hoping he would eventually give up and set me free in the back yard like kids do with most unwanted pets. 

Later that evening I heard him on the phone ordering pizza.  There was nothing on T.V. tonight.  Not that I would know since I wasn’t strong enough to even push the buttons on the remote.  He came back to the living room and sat on the couch.  We stared at the T.V. watching some cops show, neither of us saying a word.  Thirty long minutes later, right on time, the doorbell rang. 

Rick hopped up off the couch sending me bouncing into the air only to come crashing down between the cushions.

“Sorry about that, dude!” Rick yelled back as he ran toward the door.  He hastily paid the delivery guy and brought the pizza and Pepsi back to the living room and set it on the coffee table, eyeing it like a little kid eyes presents on Christmas Eve.

He rubbed both hands together, practically drooling when he opened the box. 

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to eat solid food?!” he squealed.

I rolled my eyes.  I had come to find out Rick had a disease that prevented his stomach from churning to food after he ate it.  He could only eat food in liquid form which greatly reduced the variety of food choices he had.

“Two large pizzas?”  I said with disbelief. 

“Ya, man.”  I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. 

“If you say so,” I continued to stare at the T.V. as some lady in go-go boots and a bad weave fought to get away from the arresting officers. 

He grabbed four slices of pizza onto a paper plate.

There is no way he can eat all that pizza, I thought to myself. 

He pulled off his hoodie and threw it behind the couch, leaving just the wife beater t-shirt underneath.  Rick kind of had a beer belly that poked out under the white shirt, but was pretty built too.  I was sort of jealous as I looked down at my scrawny frame. 

Not bad arms or chest either.  I wonder why he doesn’t have a girlfriend?  Must be his freaky condition, I rolled my eyes.

Rick began to eat the first piece, cheese dripping down his mouth.  He shoved the whole piece inside his mouth and practically swallowed it whole.  He coughed as the half-chewed piece went down his throat. 
“Easy there, granny.  Don’t get too excited with your first bite,” I said as he pounded on his chest.  “I’m good,” he said, still coughing up cheese bits.

After a while I became less and less interested in the bimbos on T.V. and more amazed at how fast Rick was cramming this pizza.  He was already done with the first pie and didn’t show any signs of slowing down.  Half way through the second pizza I stopped watching the television all together and stared in awe as Rick’s stomach began to expand from the ball of pizza inside.  Eventually he gave up on the buckle and jeans and let his stomach have the full amount of real estate.  As he unzipped his pants he let out a moan that sounded both pleasurable and painful at the same time.  He slowly rubbed his white t-shirt, now covered in pizza sauce. 

At some point he remembered that I was still there and repositioned himself. 

The last piece seemed harder for him to take in.  He set it on top of his stomach and stared at it for a while, as if imagining it being about 3 inches lower.  With a smile he lifted the piece up to his mouth and stuffed it inside using both hands.  After a big swig of Pepsi he sent it down in one big gulp until it came to rest with the rest of the mass of food. 

At this point my jaw was hanging in the air and I didn’t even try to not make it obvious I was staring.  Realizing he had a show, Rick stood up and lifted the two liter of Pepsi above his head.  Methodically he sucked down the remaining liquid, one hand on his stomach.  He stared at me, eyes drunk with fullness and let out a long, satisfying belch, slapping his stomach afterward. 

He waddled toward me and sat back on the couch. 

“Now what?” he said with a grin. 

I didn’t even know what to say.  “Uh..uh..um well-”

“Don’t I swallow you now?” he asked me, blinking.

“Well, maybe we should check the manual,” I said as I started to get up.

“No I think that’s what happens now.  If I don’t get you in there soon my stomach will start to cramp up.”

Again I stared at his extended t-shirt.  Smiling, he lifted up his shirt exposing his gut underneath.  The muscle remained on the outside but the belly button was stretched from the strain.  He ran his finger along the small amount of hair. 

“Ok, well I don’t think we should delay any longer,” he said, giving me a hopeful look. 

He reached over and put his hand out for me.  I was frozen. 

His big fingers reached behind me and grabbed the scruff of my t-shirt and lifted me slowly into the air.  The room was spinning and then all of a sudden I was in front of his face, those giant, blue eyes staring right back at me.  He opened his mouth and inside I could see a giant wet tongue, motionless between teeth so white they could have been on a Colgate commercial.  As he placed me inside I was hit by wall of hot, moist air.  His tongue came to life as I was placed on the tip.  He sat there, eyes darting around, not sure what to do.  He tried to speak but I couldn’t make out what he was trying to say.  Besides, my eyes were fixated on the giant black hole at the back of his throat.  This was nothing like the manikin at the clinic. 

Not sure what to do, Rick closed his mouth, careful not to crush me between as teeth.  As I sat up, I felt the rough surface of the roof of his mouth and reality set in.

HOLY FUCK, I began to panic.  I was inside a guy’s mouth!  And he was about to swallow me!  I had to get out of here.

As I began pounding on his teeth and yelling for him to let me out, I felt him tip his head back and push me towards the darkness with his tongue.  His mouth filled with saliva and I began to slide backward, trying desperately to find something to grasp onto.  As he felt me sliding backwards, he lifted his tongue up, making me slide even faster.  His tongue was hot, and I could feel the blood pulsating quickly underneath.  He was as scared as I was. 

When I reached the uvula I felt my body being dragged down into his esophagus and with one last desperate attempt to break free, I was completely engulfed into darkness and sent downward.

Rick took a long, deep breath.  He felt the small, hard mass traveling through his chest and winced at the slight pain.  Eventually he felt a plop inside of him and realized that I had finally reached his stomach.  Confused and still throbbing in pain from the large amount of food that sat motionless within him, he started to tap on his belly, unsure what to do. 

“Who’s there?” I said sarcastically.

Relieved, Rick smiled and shut off the T.V. so he could hear me better.

“How as the ride?”

“Oh it was great.  Would be a total hit in Disney World.”

“Great.  So, are you gonna get started?”

“Yes, master.” I yelled toward what I thought was his abdomen, but could have been his back for all I knew. 

As I began to go to work churning up the pizza, Rick started to feel better and stood up to admire his now protruding gut.  He lifted up the white t-shirt and tightened his abs around the ball of food. 

“Hey you idiot! I’m still in here!”

“Sorry, man.” He said half giggling.

“I can tell you’re laughing.  I can feel it, remember?”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he said, still grinning.

After letting his abs loosen, I felt him stretch his back, trying to poke his stomach out in front of the stainless steel door of the fridge.  He put his arms behind his head and began to shake his stomach, watching it jiggle back and forth.

Thinking that the hot tub might not be a bad way to end the night, Rick climbed the steps, careful not to lean over too far so as not to crush me.  After several failed attempts to remove his jeans, he descended into the warm water, clothes and all, feeling the water give relief to his heavy stomach.

“Jason?” Rick spoke to his abdomen.  I pounded on the side of his stomach in acknowledgement.

“That was the best meal ever.  Thank you.”

I didn’t know what to say.  On one hand I felt really happy for the guy.  He’d been eating tomato soup and applesauce for so long it was hard to blame him for going to the extremes to find a solution.  On the other hand I was stuck inside some dude’s stomach, while he enjoyed the cool night air and a hot tub.  Freak . . .

Chapter 2 - Oops

Later that evening after I had finally finished processing all that freakin’ pizza, I began pounded on Rick’s stomach walls. 

“Rick God damn it I know you can hear me!”

At some point Rick woke up from after feeling an itch inside his belly he couldn’t quite reach. 

“Ohhh! Sorry about that man! I forgot you were in there! So, uh, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know Rick. Why don’t you consult the manual?”

Ignoring my sarcasm, Rick heaved himself up out of the hot tub and made his way inside, looking back to see the neighbor kid peering out the blinds.

Rick began going through the instruction booklets Frank had given him earlier that day.

Upon completion of the manual digestion process, proceed to letting subject out of stomach by way of induced vomiting.

Rick stared at the page for a few moments.  “Induced vomiting?” he mumbled.

“That’s right!” I yelled toward the outside world.  “You have to THROW ME UP! Not so enjoyable now, is it?” I felt Rick give a disapproving sigh that radiated throughout his body.  Rick walked slowly over to the sink and began to put his fingers to the back of his mouth, stopping half way. 

“I don’t wanna lose all the food,” he yelled, feeling quite strange to be talking to his stomach.

I tried to tell him he had no other choice but I don’t think he heard me. 

I felt my whole world shake as he attempted to throw up.  After a few moments, Rick sat down on the kitchen stool, feeling less hopeful and contemplating calling Frank for advice.

Rick tried to think of something that made him queasy but he couldn’t think of anything good enough.  Then it hit him.  Having sex with his ex girlfriend for the first time.  That thought sent Rick running over to the bowl in the sink and before I knew it, I was being forced out of his stomach and into the bright light.  I hit the small amount of water in the bowl and looked up to see a half sick Rick standing over me. 

“You okay?” he said as vomit continued to drip out of his mouth.

“Peachy.” I said standing up out of the saliva.  Rick turned on the water so that a light stream trickled from faucet.  The water was cold but after a few minutes I felt decently clean. 

Rick handed me small strips of paper towels to dry off with.  It felt like trying to sop up a spill with a giant piece of paper. 

I stared at Rick’s stomach which had somewhat gone down in size over the past couple of hours.  Realizing what I was staring at, he grabbed the t-shirt and put it on, mumbling something about not knowing whether it was worth it or not.

Sleeping arrangements were meager. The feeling of being like a hamster came back when Rick eased me into a Kleenex box he had lined with cotton balls. 

“Night,” Rick whispered as he turned over on his side.

Then I began to realize I hadn’t eaten all day.  Rick had offered me some frozen pizza from the fridge (he was seriously all about this pizza deal), but pizza was the last thing I craved after that evening. 

The next morning I woke up before he did, sitting motionless upon my giant mound of organic fuzz that was to be my dormitory for the time being.  When he finally woke up, he rolled over, stretched, and looked in my direction, smiling from ear to ear. 

Thinking that I might not be as much of a morning person, he got up without saying a word and went into the bathroom.  Hearing the toilet flush twice, I knew I had done my job correctly. 

Rick exited the bathroom, whistling and slipping on his house shoes as he walked over to my box of rodent fluff.  Instead of risking crushing me in his hands, he grabbed the whole tissue box and spun around toward the kitchen – my favorite room of the house.

Rick opted to leave me out of his digestive system until at least lunch time, for which I was extremely grateful.  Rick fixed me crushed pieces of corn flakes and a thimble of grapefruit juice. 

“Breakfast in bed,” I said as he handed me the small vessel of liquid.  “How lovely.”

Ignoring my cynicism, Rick began to read the paper and drink his disgusting -looking shake. 

“Gotta go to work today,” he said as he winced from the foul-tasting drink.

Rick worked at an architect firm.  He mainly designed new housing developments but sometimes they got a big project when other firms had their hands full.

“What do your conpadres at the office think of your newfound regimen?”

“I haven’t told them.  Don’t think I will.  Not so sure it’s as sweet a story as telling people you’ve just adopted an orphan from Africa.”

“And they never ask about your lack of eating solid food?”

“Oh I eat.  But I pay for it later,” he complained. “I always hated having to purge food from a five star restaurant.  It just doesn’t seem right.”

I sort of felt sorry for him.  I could only imagine what it would be like to not be able to do something so basic. 

“But now that I have you…” he said with a sly grin.

“That’s me, the eating disorder cure-all,” I said with an exaggerated sigh.

Riding to work was a much bumpier ride than I had remembered it being the day before.  I no longer had my snuggle-box shock absorber and instead was upgraded to the dirty cup holder.  After experiencing near g-forces at every stoplight, Rick moved me into his shirt pocket as we prepared to land at home base, Young and Bradford Architects and Designs. 

“Ok, quiet time for now,” he mumbled.

Through the fabric of Rick’s shirt I could make out other figures dressed in the same cheap-ass suits Rick was wearing.  I heard his heart began to beat slightly faster as he approached another colleague and shook his hand.

“Hey, Rick.  How was the weekend?”

“Great!” Rick said with a little too much enthusiasm, still nervous about me suddenly exposing his secret.  “Well, back to the grind!” he said in a high pitched voice.

He made his way through a sea of cubicles into an office near the back of the building. 

“An office with a door?  Nice.” I said as he closed the door.

“Be quiet!” he hushed as he took a seat behind his desk. 

I began to entertain myself by slowly dismantling the fibers of a weak point in the fabric of his shirt.  Eventually I was able to see out enough to make out the giant graphics on his computer screen, not that there was much worth watching.  Rick’s eyes moved back and forth between the black and white plans on his desk and the CAD program on his screen for what seemed like an eternity.

Around 11 a.m. Rick shifted his weight and I heard noises coming from his stomach.  Rick looked down at me, chuckled slightly, and began to type another email.  At noon employees began to hustle toward the door and Rick followed suit. 

When we got into the car and Rick had shut the door he removed me from his pocket and placed me on the center console.

“Finally!” I exclaimed, happy to be out of my clothing tomb.

“What are we doing for lunch?” I asked, not exactly satisfied from that morning’s flake dust. 

“You like Chinese?” Rick looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure.” Rick placed me back into his shirt pocket, but this time I was able to peer out the top and watch as we pulled out the parking lot.  Seeing where we were going made me a lot less dizzy. 

We approached a restaurant with a sign featuring a dragon and the name “Tsu Chang All-You-Can-Eat Chinese Buffet.”

Rick sat down at a booth and began going over the menu.  After telling the waitress he’d just be having the buffet that day Rick moved quickly toward the line of steaming food.  Not wanting to stand out, Rick only put food on the two plates he could carry.

He began to quickly dig into the chicken, not even stopping to chew.  I felt every lump as he practically pushed every piece down his throat.  I was nearly crushed as he pounded his chest to break free some crab ran goons that became lodged in his esophagus.  Eight plates and 4 tall glasses of Dr. Pepper later, Rick shoved the table toward the other side of the booth to make room for his distended middle.  He lifted the last glass of soda to his lips and finished off the remaining liquid. 

He slowly heaved himself up from and steadied himself on the table.  Trying to walk as normal as possible Rick finally reached the one-room bathroom and locked the door behind him.  “Fuuuck,” rick moaned as he leaned his back against the wall. 

Thankfully this was a single stall bathroom or he may have caused a small scene.  Rick removed me from his pocket and placed me on the sink.  He then began to unbutton his shirt, revealing a very swollen belly.  Unable to unbutton his pants, Rick sucked in slightly, wincing from the pain, just long enough until he could break the button free and let his gut finally fall out into the cold air.  Rick breathed heavily for a few moments and began to run his finger over his stomach. 

“It’s so huge,” he said, admiring himself in the mirror.  He began to rub his belly, pushing the food from one side to the other as strange squirting noises came from within. 

Hardly having the energy to speak, Rick looked in my direction, eyes dead, pointed to me, and then at his stomach.

“Let’s go,” he said calmly as he walked towards me. 

Breaking free from the hypnotic state I had fallen into while watching him, I ran to the edge of the sink, preparing to jump ship, not yet ready to be in that monstrous gut of his. 

Rick grabbed me and held me firmly within his fingers.  He lifted me above his mouth and placed me on his tongue.  He began to coat me with saliva, hoping that I would go down easier, resorting to gulping water from the sink in an attempt to send me downward.  Unable to persuade me otherwise, he began to swallow as hard as he could again and again until I grew tired from gripping the side of his gums.  As a last effort, Rick pulled me from his mouth, covered in saliva, and stuck out his tongue, opening the back of his throat as much as possible before plopping me straight into his esophagus where he easily send me sliding down slowly into his now huge belly. 

Rick smiled at himself in the mirror and began to admire his new shape.  He wobbled over to the toilet and leaned back as his gut fell on top of his legs, observing the slight movement beneath his skin as I struggled to move within the mass of food. 

He then let out a massive belch that echoed in the small room and shook my entire pitch black world.  He padded the top of his belly and poked the sides as I attempted to find a steady place to work. 

After paying the wide-eyed cashier Rick began to apologize to me (still inside) for having to force me down.  “Dude, I’m sorry that you don’t like your job, but if it’s any consolation I just want you to know that I love the feeling of you inside my stomach.  It’s pretty powerful, man.”

Ignoring his pleas for forgiveness, I continued to break down the endless amount of food he had consumed.  Around 3 ‘o clock I had finally finished and Rick’s stomach started to move the food toward the intestines, which was my cue to get the hell out of there.  I began to pound on the side of his stomach, wondering why he hadn’t get gone to the bathroom to set me free. 

Then my heart stopped.  I heard snoring.  Rick had fallen asleep at his desk, no doubt thanks to the giant meal mixed with boring office politics and frequent trips to the water fountain to keep up his distended stomach, which surprisingly was not all that noticeable under his sport coat. 

I began to pound harder, starting to panic as I remembered what Frank had told me what would happen if I was not purged prior to digestion. 

Slowly the mound of food began to funnel into the small intestine and I felt his stomach contract as it attempted to push me in as well. 

Thirty minutes later Rick woke up from his nap and looked at the clock.

“Holy. Shit.” He whispered as he looked at his stomach, remembering what the handbook had said about falling asleep after eating.  He walked quickly, nearly sprinted to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. 

“Jason? Jason? Are you okay?” He said, his voice trembling.

“I’m fine,” he managed to hear as I yelled through the many layers of intestine I was now in the middle of. 

Rick leaned back on the pot with a sigh of relief, beginning to unbutton his pants.  Not sure what to do at this point (this scenario wasn’t even considered in the handbook) Rick pulled down his pants, ready to let nature take its course.  Although he was still very worried about my safety, he couldn’t help but admire how his lower stomach had now bulged out as well from the large amount of matter inside. 

At some point that afternoon, it happened. 

After countless apologies, much washing in the sink and a surprisingly refreshing experience with the air dryer, it was nearly 6 p.m. and everyone had left the office. 

“That will not happen again,” Rick said as we again got into his car. 

Chapter 3 –

That evening was much less eventful and by the time our favorite cops show came on, Rick’s stomach had reduced back to a normal size.  Wanting to lie down, he picked me up and gently set me on top of his chest.  As I lay I down I feel the heat emanating from his body and his heart thud rhythmically.  As I drifted off to sleep I heard Rick’s stomach growl from the lack of a meal since lunch time.

“I think it knows you’re near,” Rick smiled, pointing to his stomach.

Early the next morning both of us were woken up by the sound of Rick’s roaring stomach.  He sucked in; revealing a large cavity, then suddenly sent me into the air as he pushed up his stomach muscles all at once.

“Good morning!” he said as I came back down.

Slowly I scaled the side of his abdomen until I reached the couch. 

“What do you say about pancakes this morning?” he asked in the same tone a child does when begging to go out for ice cream.

“Sure…” I said, quickly remembering my role during meal time.

Rick began to measure out the necessary ingredients, starting with an entire box of Aunt Jemima pancake mix.  Couldn’t he just eat normally? Just for once?  Did he always have to pig out?  There was no way I could finish even a fourth of one, let alone half of what he was whipping together right now.

“It’s been FOREVER since I’ve been able to have pancakes,” Rick smiled in my direction.

Then I remembered.  Rick had been eating so much because he had never been able to.  Well, almost never.  The problem started when Rick was 22 and took some prescription drugs that had some pretty severe side effects, including inhibiting the first process of digestion where the stomach breaks down food. 

After placing the last cake on his towering pile, Rick sat down in the chair which creaked, almost as if it were moaning, knowing that things were only going to get heavier.  He began to douse them with melted butter and syrup, which actually smelled really good. 

Then, the eating began.  Rick didn’t even bother cutting them up.  One by one, sometimes two by two the pancakes were shoved into his mouth before they quickly disappeared along with a few swigs of milk or orange juice.  Half way through the pile Rick stopped and attempted to carry on a conversation, as if he wanted to somehow normalize his behavior.

“So, what exactly got you into so much trouble,” he asked, coughing up a piece of hotcake. 

“What?” I asked, trying to deflect where I saw this conversation was going.

“You know, what did you do that was so bad you were put into this program?”  He stared at me blankly, glancing down at his heaving stomach.

“Well, I stole some things,” I lied.

“Ah, ok.” He didn’t believe me.  He went for another bite, now cutting them up into pieces so as not to choke again.  Only one piece remained on the plate, and Rick grimaced as he rubbed the side of his stomach, still slightly hidden by his undershirt.  He pierced the last piece with his fork and brought it slowly to his mouth, hands trembling.  He held it in his mouth, unsure if he could get it down.  Rick used the last of his milk glasses to finally send to piece easily down his throat where it topped off an already very full belly. 

Not saying anything, Rick fell over onto the kitchen floor and lay motionless.

“Rick? Are you okay?” I was worried he might get sick.  That was definitely not part of the job description.

Afraid he might actually be ill, I jumped down off the table and ran over to him. 

“Rick?” I asked softly.  His eyes were still closed.  I breathed a sigh of relief as he rolled over onto his side and opened his eyes.  He didn’t say anything, only opened his gaping mouth wide and lifting his shirt, revealing his bloated paunch.  I’m not exactly sure why, but I walked slowly toward his mouth, which smelled of sweet maple syrup.  The hot air from his breath hit me like a wall of fire, but I continued to crawl inside as he sealed my fate by closing his mouth.  Gravity shifted as Rick rolled over onto his back, rubbing his stomach and moaning. 

At that point I felt truly sorry for Rick.  I wasn’t just doing this because I had to, I was doing it because I wanted to help him.  I wanted him to feel better.  Shaking off the pain, he began to concentrate his efforts on opening up his throat muscles. 

I slowly began to slide backwards towards the darkness as his tongue gently helped me along.  I became enveloped inside his throat and slid down methodically through his chest, eventually landing in his abdomen. 

After confidentially knowing I had reached my destination, Rick hoisted himself up off the cool kitchen floor, cringing from the strain the new weight put on his back.  He walked unsteadily to the bathroom where he looked proudly into the mirror.  He slapped his stomach which threw me off balance as I made an audible yelp.

“Sorry, dude.” Rick spoke to his stomach.

I heard the shower creak on as Rick removed his clothing.  He let the warm water trickle down his belly as it warmed the environment around me.  The soap glided of his stomach which was so tender it hurt even when he barely touched it.  At the same time it was exhilarating for Rick, knowing that he had consumed such a large meal made him feel like a lion that had finally caught his first gazelle.  But that gazelle was now squirming inside of him, which was even more erotic as it made Rick feel like a man again.  There was someone inside his stomach – alive.  He couldn’t get over the image of me struggling within his belly. 

After a relaxing shower Rick pulled on a warm towel and sat down in the living room.  He wasn’t a fat guy by any means, but all of this food sent his stomach over the crease in the towel making him look like he had a serious beer belly.  Using a kitchen timer this time, Rick stayed awake long enough to let me back out.

“You’re amazing,” he said as I dried off.

“Thanks,” I said, actually smiling for the first time since the whole ordeal.  Maybe this job wouldn’t be as horrible as I had thought. 

 

The next few days were great.  Rick ate, I processed, and we had a pretty good time.  Rick usually skipped breakfast or lunch to give me a break in the day too, which he wasn’t really required to do.  We were getting along like real friends.

Rick came home from the grocery store, which was like Christmas every week for Rick, whose shopping list had been fairly limited prior to my arrival. 

“What do you think about lasagna for dinner tonight?” he yelled from the kitchen while putting things away.

“Sounds good,” I said, trying to make out the large print in a Time Magazine.

“I got two,” Rick said, grinning and holding the boxed meals up for me to see.

I nodded my head.

“They’re both for tonight!” he said, excited.

“No way,” I said, not looking up from the page.

“Oh come on!” he begged like a little kid.

I ignored him. 

Rick preheated the oven anyway and removed both pans of past from the boxes.

“You’re not eating both those boxes,” I told him sternly.

Rick just smiled.  “We’ll see.”

The aroma of lasagna cooking soon filled the house and Rick’s stomach growled loudly next to me on the couch.

When the timer went off, Rick jumped up from the couch, sending me into the air as he rushed toward the kitchen. 

He pulled both steaming pans out of the oven and set them on the kitchen table.  Deciding I shouldn’t miss this event, I climbed up on the kitchen table and sat cross legged across from him.

Rick poured himself a large glass of milk, leaving the jug on the table for easy refills.

He rubbed his hands together and went to work.

It was amazing to watch him eat.  Serving after serving disappeared from the pan along with the occasional piece of bread or swig of cold milk. 

The first pan (which was supposed to serve a family of 4, mind you) vanished within minutes, but he seemed to have some trouble with the second. 

He leaned back and moaned.

“I told you not to cook more than one.  You’re going to waste food now.”

Rick gave me a dazed look, then leaned forward and began to cut the remaining amount into smaller pieces. 

15 minutes passed and there was only one serving left.  Rick was shaking now, and his fork trembled as he attempted to force the last bit into his mouth.

“You just need to stop,” I said, hoping he’d come to his senses.

But my cynicism seemed to give him the last bit of willpower needed to consume the last portion.

After swallowing the last bite, Rick dropped his fork and let his arms fall beside him.

He groaned loudly and made the same face you make when you a bright light is shone into your eyes in the middle of the night. 

“I did hit,” he heaved.  “It’s all gone.”

Why did he do this to himself?  He knew he was going to be miserable.  I’ll never understand why he continues to torture himself with so much food when he can be perfectly satisfied with a normal amount. 

Rick used both hands on the table to support himself as he stood up.  His dress shirt was riding up and his jeans looked as though they would explode if he moved too fast.

After trying for almost a minute to undue the button on his pants the poor piece of metal finally gave up and broke off the fabric, shooting across the room like a rocket and landing underneath the refrigerator.

Rick smiled slightly and let the zipper come undone, which made some room for all the extra weight fighting against gravity.  He pulled his shirt over his head and sighed as his now distended gut fell into place.  He leaned his back against the kitchen counter and began to rub his hand along his full belly.

“You’re crazy,” I said, still sitting on the table, feeling like a fly on the wall.

“Yeah,” was all he said, still in awe of his own shape.

Ricked eyed himself in the reflection on the stainless steel refrigerator door, standing in more poses than the girls on America’s Next Top Model. 

“Well, you ready?” he asked softly.

“Ya I think I’ll pass tonight,” I said flatly. 

Rick chuckled and walked toward me.

“No seriously,” I said, backing toward the edge of the table.  “You need to throw some of that stuff up before I go in there.”
“Not a chance,” he said, rolling his eyes.

As I made an attempt to leap of the table he gently caught me between his hand and brought me level with his face.

His eyes were so blue.  They stood out among the scruffiness of the rest of his face.  I looked over the side of his fingers and watched as his stomach swayed slowly from side to side. 

Rick, seeing that I really didn’t want to do this at the moment, sat me down on the table. 

He pulled up the chair and leaned back, letting his stomach hang between his legs.  He eyed me lazily and winced as his belly started to contract.  If Rick didn’t do something soon, the cramps would get worse, much worse. 

“You know something,” he said as he looked out the window.  “I know I’m being unreasonable.”

My face contorted with confusion.

“That’s right, I know that making you go down there every night is ridiculous.  It’s crazy.  It just isn’t right.”

Ok, we’re agreeing on one thing, I thought to myself.

“But you know what else is ridiculous?  The fact that I can’t eat what I want anymore just because of some pharmaceutical company’s dumbass mistake.  And now I can’t eat without some sort of help?  Now THAT’S unreasonable.”

Oh boy, here come the tears.

“So I’ll ask you for your permission.  Will you please let me swallow you?”

I sighed.  “Fine, but we can’t do this this often.  You’re wearing me out.”

Rick just smiled.  He didn’t hear anything after fine.

He plucked me off the table, and to my surprise, didn’t immediately pop me into his mouth like an everlasting gobstopper.  Instead he laid me onto his stomach which no formed a kind of semi-horizontal shelf off of his abdomen.  Beneath his skin I could hear his belly moaning, groaning, pancakes squirming and mixing.  Poor flap jacks never saw it comin’.