The Bismarck was a proud ship. In it's storied career fighting for Eugen & Bergen's Three Hundred and Sixty Five Flavors, it bested entire little league teams and their coaches. Against its fearsome array of bristling strawberry and vanilla wafer cookie armaments, no man could hope for victory; until the day the unthinkable happened. The day that four score brave scoops of ice cream lost their lives.
"Ooh, I want that." Stephanie hopped up and down, pointing to a picture of a gargantuan dreadnought themed sundae. The hopping set her chest heaving like the deck of a ship in high seas. She knew this maneuver greatly increased her chances of getting what she desired.
"Holy shit! That thing is a hundred and twenty dollars."
"No silly, look," she pointed to smaller text. "It says its free if you're able to finish it."
"Jeez Steph, I'm not that hungry."
"Who says I feel like sharing?" She hopped some more and batted her eyes hopefully. "Pweeeeze?"
It was a lot of money, especially on his budget, but he really thought this girl was special. In any case, it'd be worth a laugh. He fished out his debit card.
Later the Bismarck arrived at their table, a trough-like white stoneware vessel carried by two struggling Eugen & Bergen's employees. He laughed when he saw it, but Steph seemed entranced. There was an audible stomach growl from her side of the booth. Before it was even set down she plucked off a maraschino cherry, licked it clean of whipped cream, and popped into her mouth. Then a miniature licorice anti-aircraft emplacement vanished. A banana lifeboat: gone in a rather suggestive manner. Soon the whole superstructure was set upon. Big chunks were missing, simulating wounds from 15" naval guns.
The speed at which this all happened was alarming. His own pathetic turtle sundae was melty and neglected as he watched. Then something small and hard struck him on the cheek. He blinked. There was a button on the table before him. He looked back up in search of its origin. Alarmingly, there was a bulbous flesh colored blob attacking his girlfriend. It was busy destroying her blouse from below. There was a brief moment of panic before he realized what was happening. Stephanie's belly was turning into Davey Jones' Locker. And the Bismarck was sinking with all hands on deck. "But... but, your stomach," he stammered.
"I've got a metabolism like a runaway freight train." She rested her spoon down on the table. It was spotless, matching the state of the enormous bowl. "Whatever doesn't get burned up will probably end up with the girls." She ran her hand over the taut fabric of her blouse, gave her boob a squeeze and her boyfriend a naughty wink. She hooked her arm over the back of the booth and looked away sheepishly. "Hey, I was wondering. Are you going to finish that?"
He scooted the turtle sundae over. "Be my guest. I'm full just looking at you."
I like how her belly is pressed into the table like that, and the short-stories you add to every image really add a lot, truly greater than the sum of of it's parts.
"I've got a metabolism like a runaway freight train." That is so asking for a sequel that proves her wrong. Metabolisms cant stay intact for ever. Epic win woot if you ever do sequel
Very nice. I agree with the sequel, but I'd prefer if you just showed what she looked like after her metabolism kicked in. Ya know, like she said most of what didn't burn off would go to the twins? Well, she's got a lot on her, and I'd love to see a new, bustier her.
"Ooh, I want that." Stephanie hopped up and down, pointing to a picture of a gargantuan dreadnought themed sundae. The hopping set her chest heaving like the deck of a ship in high seas. She knew this maneuver greatly increased her chances of getting what she desired.
"Holy shit! That thing is a hundred and twenty dollars."
"No silly, look," she pointed to smaller text. "It says its free if you're able to finish it."
"Jeez Steph, I'm not that hungry."
"Who says I feel like sharing?" She hopped some more and batted her eyes hopefully. "Pweeeeze?"
It was a lot of money, especially on his budget, but he really thought this girl was special. In any case, it'd be worth a laugh. He fished out his debit card.
Later the Bismarck arrived at their table, a trough-like white stoneware vessel carried by two struggling Eugen & Bergen's employees. He laughed when he saw it, but Steph seemed entranced. There was an audible stomach growl from her side of the booth. Before it was even set down she plucked off a maraschino cherry, licked it clean of whipped cream, and popped into her mouth. Then a miniature licorice anti-aircraft emplacement vanished. A banana lifeboat: gone in a rather suggestive manner. Soon the whole superstructure was set upon. Big chunks were missing, simulating wounds from 15" naval guns.
The speed at which this all happened was alarming. His own pathetic turtle sundae was melty and neglected as he watched. Then something small and hard struck him on the cheek. He blinked. There was a button on the table before him. He looked back up in search of its origin. Alarmingly, there was a bulbous flesh colored blob attacking his girlfriend. It was busy destroying her blouse from below. There was a brief moment of panic before he realized what was happening. Stephanie's belly was turning into Davey Jones' Locker. And the Bismarck was sinking with all hands on deck. "But... but, your stomach," he stammered.
"I've got a metabolism like a runaway freight train." She rested her spoon down on the table. It was spotless, matching the state of the enormous bowl. "Whatever doesn't get burned up will probably end up with the girls." She ran her hand over the taut fabric of her blouse, gave her boob a squeeze and her boyfriend a naughty wink. She hooked her arm over the back of the booth and looked away sheepishly. "Hey, I was wondering. Are you going to finish that?"
He scooted the turtle sundae over. "Be my guest. I'm full just looking at you."
"Yum!"