Faking, Part 3

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Summary: Olivia is faking a pregnancy, and it has to be convincing. She  proceeds to  continuously stuff herself with food to keep up the  appearance. Contains: Female: weight gain, belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, possibly pregnancy.

Previous Chapter 

-

Turner asked Olivia to interview for the promotion.

Olivia thought she was dreaming. If anything, the quality of her work had only declined in recent months. "Oh wow, this is an honor," she said in her airiest voice. "The extra money will sure come in handy when the little one arrives.” Olivia rubbed her bulging belly.

Turner smiled fondly at her. "I think you'll be a great fit for this job, Olivia."

–

"And the only reason they’re really considering me is because I’m pregnant," Olivia told Mike a few days later over dinner. One of her hands idly stroked her bulging abdomen as had become her wont. It just added to the image.

Mike looked appalled. “Don't sell yourself so short, Olivia. You've been working so hard these past few weeks. They're lucky to have you."

It just went to show how poorly Mike actually knew her. Olivia hardly worked at all, continually doing the bare minimum at the office. And on the days she informed Mike that she was staying late at the office, she was at the movies sipping sodas, or exploring some new restaurant or bakery, keen to indulge in all the new flavors. She had really taken a liking to food. It unnerved her a little. She had even gone to that store Peggy had told her about — Mommy Madness — and bought more of those weird biscuits with the odd but pleasant aftertaste. Olivia ate them all the time now. It was just shameless.

"I guess you have a point," Olivia said with a cool edge to her voice. There was no point in arguing with Mike. He was an idiot.

"You're damn right I am," Mike smiled at her as he took another mouthful of salad.

Olivia sighed and directed her attention back to her own meal. It was odd how dad-like Mike already was, from the way he spoke to his mannerisms. He was so dorky but she supposed it could be charming at times.

"I wonder how many other people they’re interviewing." Olivia stabbed a sausage with her fork, then took a large bite. Salty oil gushed into her mouth before she chewed. Her free hand continued to idly rub her gut. Her belly was a bit softer now, as it usually got towards the end of the day when it wasn't completely stuffed and aching from her early morning binge before work.

"You've got this Liv," Mike assured.

"Yeah…" said Olivia vaguely. She would get this job. She just had to remind Turner why he had offered it to her in the first place.

After a dinner of plump sausages, mashed potatoes, and green salad (all of which Olivia had indulged in seconds of), Olivia had bidden Mike good night. He had wanted to stay, but Olivia wasn't feeling particularly…sexual, lately. On the contrary, she felt awkward and unattractive with her weight gain. Perhaps Mike detected it a little, but he just smiled and respected her reservations.
Besides, Olivia was anticipating a busy night. If Turner wanted a pregnant person promoted, that's what he was going to get. She was going to be as pregnant as possible.

She watched Mike's minivan drive off, but she was looking out for another car. She had already made her decision midway through dinner, and had ordered herself a late night snack. A few of them.

The first delivery driver pulled up. After parking, he came up to her door carrying three pizza boxes. Olivia walked out to meet him.

"Three extra large meat lovers pizzas? Triple cheese?"

"How much?" Said Olivia, pulling out her wallet.

"That'll be $37.50."

It wasn't cheap, but if Olivia got this promotion, money would be the least of her worries.

She paid the deliveryman and took the boxes, balancing them carefully as she brought them back to the kitchen. Usually the smell of pizza disgusted her, but this time the aroma just made her mouth water, even after her generous dinner portions. Olivia open the box. "Fuck," she whispered. It was just so much, sausage, chicken, pepperoni, extra mozzarella, bacon, and black olives, all piled atop the cheesy pizza pie. She didn't think she could possibly fit all of this inside of her. But she would at least try. She needed this job, desperately. If all she had to do was look fat, it was the least she could attempt.

Olivia lifted a slice, the hot, thick cheese creating melted strings as it pulled off from the rest of the pizza. She took a large bite, and was surprised that it was as delicious as it smelled. She chewed and swallowed, then took her second bite, eating quickly and efficiently, almost too fast to properly register how full she was getting. This wasn't for pleasure, it was purely a professional strategy. So rather than wasting time thinking, appreciating, or hesitating, she ate as quickly as she could, before she could stop herself, and before her belly could start feeling the abuse.

Midway through the second pizza, the doorbell rang again. Olivia quickly finished her latest slice, her jaw tired from so much chewing. But she gulped and swallowed and even forced down another slice, before gasping for breath, her face sweaty.

The doorbell rang several more times.

A belch tore up Olivia's throat. She covered her mouth in mortification, but she did feel a little better; a little less tight and achy. She gingerly made her way towards the door, feeling the food fatigue already. She opened it to the second deliveryman, this one carrying a large box of Chinese food.

"Hi," Olivia managed, pulling out her wallet.

"$45," he said curtly.

Olivia paid him then took the box. She closed the door and brought it over to the table, setting it down beside the pizzas. "Oh God." What had she been thinking?

But there was no time for thinking or hesitating; rationalizing and losing her wits. Instead she directed her attention back to the pizza, and quickly resumed eating, somehow finishing off the three boxes without hurling. Then she was just gasping and groaning, her right hand cupping her firm belly. She dragged herself to the wall and leaned back against it, just needing a moment, but not wanting to sit down. She was just so tight, so uncomfortable.

Before she had fully gathered her composure, Olivia pushed herself off the wall. Just the sight of the Chinese food waiting on the table made her groan, so instead she aimed herself for the fridge and wrenched open, still panting and sweaty.

In the crisper drawer at the bottom was a twelve-pack of beer, hidden there where Mike would not be able to see it. Olivia twisted her face as she gingerly leaned down, managing to grab three of the beer cans before bringing them to the counter. She opened one and started to chug.

Olivia finished it rapidly. She was becoming an expert, after all. Once the beer was done, she made her way back over to the kitchen table. But the sight of the Chinese food was just daunting, her belly on the cusp of aching. Maybe this could work if she slowed down. She needed a distraction. Her heart was racing. Olivia turned to one of her cabinets and pulled out a large tray. She put it on the kitchen table and started loading the Chinese food cartons onto it, adding some utensils and napkins as well. She got the beer and placed them on the tray as well, before lifting up the whole thing and balancing it carefully as she moved to the living room. She settled the tray onto the coffee table in front of the couch.

Olivia eased herself down, whimpering but then sighing as she stretched her back to give her belly more space. She turned on the television and allowed herself to get absorbed in some generic adventure movie. About ten minutes in, her hands moved to the tray, slowly opening cartons; lifting a fork.

Olivia started to feed herself lo mein, twisting her face as she ate, but swallowing despite it, diligently feeding herself more and more food. When she finished the lo mein she worked her way through to quartz of fried rice, a bag of fried chicken, a container of egg foo young with greasy gravy, a mountain of sesame chicken, six shrimp egg rolls, some fried wontons, and aside of beef and broccoli.

It was a lot. She got through the movie before she finished it, and when she did, she was leaned back, flushed and gasping. Her clothing was damp with sweat and grease stains, her fingers sticky from the food she had handled barehanded. She couldn't believe she had eaten all that. Olivia dazedly regarded herself as the TV continued to murmur in the background. Her belly was firm, full and round. She had gone from looking as though she was four or five months pregnant to at least six. And it couldn't possibly pass as fat anymore. She looked distinctly pregnant.

But she could do better. She knew she could. Olivia made to get up, but moaned as she felt a spike of pain in her gut. Her belly whined angrily, and she found herself slumping back, whimpering.

Olivia slumped and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. She just needed a little break, then she could make herself look even more pregnant than she did now.

–

The TV was still on, and an enthusiastic man was now raving about some obscure products that hardly seemed necessary or practical.

Olivia jolted up with a gasp. She wildly looked around. She was still slumped on her living room couch, only now the room was bright, illuminated by sunlight. She had fallen asleep and it was morning time. "Dammit," she hissed. She could have done better.

Olivia paused and looked down at herself. She felt a strange mix of relief and dejection at the sight of herself. Dejected, because she was getting so out of shape, it was gross. But relieved, because she was seeing the physical effects of her binge the night before.

Her belly had not shrunk, but it had certainly softened. It looked pudgier, more malleable. But she indeed did look as though she was around six months pregnant.

All she had to do now was firm it up a little, get it to push out even more. Olivia threw a glance at her clock. She still had two hours before work.

She heaved herself up from the couch and teetered a little, acquainting herself with her shifting center of gravity. But she wasn't that big. She was being dramatic. Olivia walked towards the kitchen, idly cupping her belly, her fingers sinking into the softened flesh. She opened the fridge where she found a large bag of bagels she had stashed there a few days earlier. Heavy starches usually served her well in the mornings before she went to work.

Olivia grabbed the bag and brought it with her to the kitchen table, where she sat down and opened it. She counted about a dozen bagels. Usually she managed to cram down five or even six in the mornings, but today she felt inspired.

Olivia lifted a bagel and bit into it, knowing that she was going to give her jaw a true workout this morning. After the first one, a thought struck her, and she went back to the fridge. She withdrew the tub of butter, as well as a large container of cream cheese. She returned to her seat at the table with the toppings, but didn't bother to butter her bagels properly. She ripped the bagels apart, dipping the chunks into the thick spreads, alternating between better and cream cheese. She scooped up as much as she could, moaning as the liquefied fat melted in her mouth.

Olivia had gorged her way through four bagels before things started finally getting hard. But she ate slow and diligently, still rather fatigued from her binge the night before. By the seventh bagel she laid her head on the table, as she continued to stuff food into her mouth, filling her cheeks, chewing and swallowing. Her stomach was tightly packed and pressurized, perhaps on the cusp of being in pain, but she forged on. Each time she stuffed herself, the process became a little less hard.

The ninth beagle had her pausing to moan and fidget, one of her hands cupping her swell which was firm by now, heaving out and in with her gasping breaths. "God," she moaned. But it was okay, it didn't hurt, it just felt like it could, like it was about to. But there was still space. She would make space.

As she ate the eleventh bagel, her eyes started watering. She sniffed as she chewed, her stomach starting up with a fitful gurgling again. At one point she stood, but that felt terrible, so she sat back down. There wasn't a position that was comfortable. Her belly was finally beginning to ache. “Nghhhh…mmmhhhh…” she hummed, rocking slightly.

Finally, she was eating the twelvth bagel, more so just stuffing it into her mouth and holding it in her cheeks. It sat there for moments, during which she was reluctant, almost too weary to chew, and too scared to swallow. But then she was gulping against the ball select of dough, her face hot, her lungs feeling compressed from the exertion. She could barely catch her breath. She swallowed, and her belly ached, tensing a tiny bit more. She was finished, her belly looking round and firm, her body stretched and bulging and pushing out as she whimpered quietly, leaning back in her seat. She didn't move an inch except with her panting, as she tried to adapt to the continual discomfort. She had done it.