Culinary Arts 2: Electric Boogaloo (Patreon)

Note: This is a story-prompt for Iluvfoodbabies.

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They were trying something different that day. It was supposed to help Amy really appreciate the flavors.

“Now tell me what you think of this one,” Sarah said is she lifted another pastry.

They were back in the student lounge, Amy sitting on the carpeted floor, perched on her heels, blindfolded with her wrists tied behind her back. In this position, her huge belly was resting against her thighs, her chest heaving as her swollen breasts rose and fell with her heavy breathing.

“It’s like, sensory deprivation,” Sarah explained again. “It should help you taste all the nuances of the recipe.”

Amy trusted Sarah. “Sounds — right —” she stammered, just before another fat eclair was shoved into her mouth. She tried not to groan as her belly gave another powerful quiver, lest some of the pastry go down the wrong pipe again.

-

After the second trimester, it had been hard to give Amy proper checkups. Sedatives were too dangerous to the babies. Sarah would do vague physical exams when she could, feeling the bump on the guise of a playful part, or cupping Amy’s belly while marveling about her surprising (but clearly innocuous) “weight gain.”

Sarah was dying to do a sonogram. She finally came up with a workable solution.

They spent all day in the kitchen, preparing a variety of foods for an upcoming International Cuisine seminar. There were pasta dishes, smoked meats, every form of potatoes: mashed, roasted, scalloped, and pureed. They made savory and sweet pies, a massive Asian seafood dish, and a huge rice dish loaded with ground meat, beans, sour cream, and cheese. Everything was greasy, decadent, and heavy. And it was all loaded with extra appetite-enhancing drugs to ensure it was all consumed.

Sarah stood back and watched Amy feast. Any always helped prepare the food, unknowingly facilitating her own experimentation. Amy ate and ate, even looking daunted, and overwhelmed, yet she just ate more. She stuffed food down until she looked physical ill, but just kept at it. By the time she finished the last morsel, she was hardly conscious. Then she wasn’t. Amy passed out right there at the table in a veritable food coma.

And Sarah finally got the sonogram she needed. She was delighted to see that the babies were not only big and plump, but they were still rapidly growing.

-

“Oh godd, they’re so full,” Amy groaned as she fidgeted. “I—I have to—” She reached out to cup her breasts but Sarah lightly slapped her hands aside.

“It’s actually a good thing,” Sarah informed. “Human breast milk. We can use it in the cuisine. We’ll have the most unique ingredient.”

“S-Sarah,” Amy whimpered. Her breasts were swollen GG-cups, each round, fat, and tight with milk. Her nipples were big as coke caps, bulging hard in Amy’s ill-fitting dress.

“If you ask politely, we can use this,” Sarah held up a device. “Do you know what these are?”

Amy gulped. “B-breast pumps.”

“Exactly. We don’t want to waste a drop, so you’re not allowed to leak unless I give you these pumps. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” Amy moaned, and Sarah swore, her breasts were pulsating, just throbbing with tension. “P-please Sarah.” She arched, her nipples bulging harder in her dress. They desperately wanted release.

“Okay…” said Sarah reluctantly. “But I want you to be able to store it up longer in the future. It’s better to keep it fresh in your body.”

Amy nodded desperately. She shoved down her dress, revealing the true dimensions of her outrageously swollen body. Tears were forming at the corners of Amy eyes, and with great reluctance and clumsy hands, Sarah handed over the pumps. She licked her lips as Amy got started.

-

Sarah had increased Amy’s dosage of the labor delaying-drugs as much as she could, but it had its limits.

After a whole month of her belly suffering increasingly forceful braxton hicks with eight babies desperate to push their way out of Amy’s momentous body, the college freshman went into true labor.

And it happened in the middle of Spanish Cuisine.

The class had gotten used to Amy’s constant grunting and moaning by then, while still giving her baffled looks throughout the lecture. Last week, one girl had even timidly approached and asked if Amy needed a ride to the hospital. Amy had been completely perplexed, responded, “W-what for?”

But naïve as she was, maybe Amy was finally getting an inkling of what was going on. She grunted and strained, barely managing to grip onto the counter with her fingertips. Her belly was a huge boulder of a mass, packed with babies, just massive. It dominated her body as it quaked and contracted, Amy crying out as the mound heaved and leapt. She clutched her side, her face twisting and back arching. Her belly sunk slightly, shifting lower on her pelvis.

“Oh god,” Amy cried, sinking to her knees, sweat pouring down her forehead. Her hands desperately rubbed her mound. “Oh god, oh god…” She dropped back, thighs spreading. The labor was progressing rapidly. Amy gave a strangled cry as another contraction wracked her body.

Sarah hurried to her side. “Amy, you’re doing fine. I need you to give a big push with the next contraction.” Their classmates floundered around, several on their phones, calling emergency services, as others just stood there in numb shock and horror, as though they couldn’t comprehend how Amy would be able to give birth to what seemed like a small elephant inside of her. Her belly was practically bigger than the rest of her, jolting and quivering as she writhed and squealed.

“What’s…nnnghhhh…hhappening!?” Amy cried through a face full of tears. This wasn’t going to be easy. She had at eight, past term, overgrown babies to squeeze out, after all.

Her thighs spread wider. “Nrrrrrgghhhh!” she roared and struggled, and Sarah could see the first infant straining to crown.

Experiment a success, Sarah thought in glee, as Amy pushed, and strained, and the first of her eight babies came into being.