Game 2Game 2 Outline| Game 2 |
Game 2 Outline |
As soon as the vodka hits the aspirin, they begin to dissolve and fizz.
"That can't be good." You look at their empty bottles and realise that no, they weren't meant to do that. You look down at the bubbling brew and shrug.
"I've eaten worse at college." You bravely dip your ice-cream scoop into the mixture and bring it to your mouth, bubbles popping just under your nose. With a final nod, you open your trap wide enough for the scoop and feel the mixture pass your teeth, down your gums. As soon as a drop hit your tongue, you swallow and begin to gag.
"Thweeeeph, the hell was I thinking?" Funnily enough your culinary creation didn't quite agree with you. You walk to the sink, and spit a few times. Even though you managed to swallow the ersatz chocolate milkshake (only crunchie), the after taste is enough to make you think twice before reattempting such an endeavour.
"Oh man," you clutch your stomach as it begins to protest, "I don't think that milk was too good either."
You walk into the lounge room as your tummy rumbles loudly and notice that another sound has joined in the chorus. It sounds almost like a cross between someone inflating a balloon and a squeaky, high-pitched fart. The grumbling dies down and you notice a distinct pressure building up in your belly.
You look down and see that it is slowly inflating!
"What's happening?" You run back into your bedroom and stand in front of your full-length mirror. Your reflection shows that your stomach is indeed swelling. You watch, frozen, as a dome rises and begins to press against your shirt, lifting the bottom of it up and away from your pants. You begin to see your tanned flesh peek out above your sweat's waistband and that this bloating is beginning to stretch the elastic. It stops abruptly and all noises fade.
Your white shirt is now stretched and emphasises a curve around about the same size as a basketball. Lifting it up, you see that this really is your gut, your abs now replaced by a taut, pregnant looking sphere. It begins just under your pecs and ends beneath your pants waist. A gentle prodding reveals that it is soft like fat, but looks firm and doesn't sag.
When you try to pull your shirt back down, you realise that it can't stretch over your bloated gut. "How did this happen?" You ask yourself as you remember your dream.
"That freak must have done this!" The possibilities run through your head- a weird fattening serum or male pregnancy experiment? These thoughts are disturbed as you fell the pressure return and rise up to your mouth, resulting in a loud foghorn-like belch.
"Or it could just be gas." You say, slightly embarrassed at your over reaction. Looking down you see that your gut still looks like it's suffering from a major case of beer bloat.
"Well there's only one way to fix that." You say to your reflection as you try to belch up a storm. Unfortunately, nothing comes out. You decide it's time for drastic measures.
You squat slightly and clench your fists and jaw.
*phhhhhhhhhhhht*
"Ah that's more like it," you say and your stomach grumbles loudly as you stifle another belch, "This should be a *burp* big one now." You frown however when you realise your gut hasn't deflate any and that the pressure is still there, if not stronger.
Written by an anonymous author
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