No Questions Asked - Chapter 2: The First Bite (Carlotta Montelli Stuffing)

Chapter 2: The First Bite

(This story contains plenty of stuffing and messy overeating!)

The doorbell rang signaling the first delivery arrived faster than expected. Luca got up to answer it, returning with two large pizza boxes and a bag of breadsticks. The smell of cheese, garlic and herbs filled the apartment immediately.

When he left the room, Carlotta's stomach rumbled again, louder this time. Her hand shook a little with barely disguised anticipation as she took a sip of her wine.

“It’s fine… the longer I maintain this contrast, the sweeter the reward. Poor outfit. I’ll miss you… Not.”

Luca set the boxes on the coffee table and immediately opened them. "The first batch is here, little glutton."

For a moment, Carlotta just stood there in her perfect outfit - the red blazer hanging open, the white blouse pristine, those black skinny jeans showing off every line of her slim figure. Her silver-white hair fell perfectly straight. Her small red earrings caught the light when she tilted her head slightly.

“Don’t I look like I should be at a gallery opening. At a family business dinner. Anywhere but here, about to demolish multiple pizzas in your apartment?”

“Should I get changed?”

“Absolutely not. Your sweatpants are a perfect foil to… this.” She gestured at herself.

Carlotta sat down on the couch with controlled precision, reached for a slice of pizza, and with fork and knife cut off a bit then took a bite. She took a moment to enjoy the taste.

Then immediately grabbed the rest with her bare hand, rolled the slice in half and somehow fit it whole inside her mouth.

Luca watched as she ate the first slice quickly, then reached for a second without pause. The controlled facade had dropped immediately. She probably haven’t eaten all day, waiting for this moment.

She was already on her third slice, eating with increasing speed, and Luca could see it starting. How she behaved increasingly voraciously. As if the pizza was an enemy that needed to be executed with precision.

The second delivery arrived. In which the pasta, rich and heavy with cream sauce, and a basket of garlic knots. Carlotta eyed it while finishing her fourth slice of pizza.

"Keep going," Luca said. "Montelli piggy shall be fed good tonight. Maybe too well."

She shot him a look - half annoyance, half something else - but reached for the pasta container. Started eating that too, alternating between pizza and pasta, building layers of heaviness in her stomach.

“Hmph. Too much for a Montelli piggy? We’ll see. I intend to not stop until everything is polished clean.”

Luca watched the way her free hand drifted to her midsection occasionally, pressing slightly against the flat plane of her stomach through the white blouse.

The red blazer hung open on either side, framing her torso perfectly. The high-waisted jeans sat snug against her narrow hips, the slim waistband a clean line across her still-flat stomach.

And she indeed had found already the difference she craved so much. With a barely stifled moan she pressed the hand harder to her lower belly. Her insides had warmed instantly as the first hints of filling up had appeared.

“Got your dick in a twist, Luca? You’re staring so much at my belly already.”

“More like I want to feed you with my own two hands until your guts twist.”

“Not yet, not yet. All in order, until… there’s no more order.”

She ate the garlic bread and reached for more pizza. Her stomach was definitely rounding now subtly but visibly. The white blouse was starting to pull slightly across her midsection. The waistband of her jeans was beginning to create a cute indentation as her belly expanded against it.

Carlotta shifted on the couch, her gray eyes getting slightly unfocused, and Luca recognized that look. The one where the fullness was starting to feel good. Where the discomfort was translating into arousal.

"How's it feel?" he asked.

"A little fuller." Her voice was louder now, less poised. "But not enough to feel tight anywhere."

The third delivery arrived - the pastries, cream-filled and decadent. Carlotta looked at the box, then at her stomach, visible now as a gentle swell pressing against her blouse. Her pose was becoming increasingly slouched too as she kept speeding her feast up.

Carlotta's breathing was heavier now. She reached for a pastry with slightly less control than before, bit into it, cream filling spilling slightly. She caught it with her finger, licked it clean - an undignified gesture she'd never make in public.

But they weren't in public.

She was in his apartment, in her carefully chosen outfit, eating herself into a state of uncomfortable fullness while he watched.

And from the way her thighs pressed together slightly, from the flush spreading down her neck to her collarbone, from the way her gray eyes kept losing focus, that’s exactly where she wanted to be now.

She didn’t wait for Luca’s approval or comments and grabbed the very first item close by. A little pastry with cream filling. Her dirty mind immediately stood in the opposition to her looks. She felt intense heat spreading from her core. Just the mere act of consuming food combined with the anticipation of what’s coming soon was enough to cause that reaction.

Carlotta finished the pastry, cream still at the corner of her mouth, and reached for another without wiping it away. Her stomach was visibly rounded now, pressing against the white blouse, creating a curve that hadn't been there twenty minutes ago. The high-waisted jeans were perfectly doing their job of holding everything in, creating pressure, the slim waistband cutting a line across her expanding middle.

She bit into the second pastry and this time the cream filling burst out more dramatically, splattering across her fingers. Some landed on her blouse - a small beige smear just below her collarbone.

"Ah-" She looked down at it, then back at the pastry in her hand, and made no move to clean either. Instead she took another bite.

More cream fell down as she kept taking those large bites. This time it dripped down onto her lap, landing on the black jeans right at the top of her thigh.

Luca leaned forward, grabbed a slice of pizza - one loaded with extra grease - and held it out to her. "Here comes the load~"

Carlotta took it without question, bit in, and the grease immediately ran down her chin. She caught some with her hand but the rest dripped onto her blouse, leaving a translucent stain on the white fabric.

"Clumsy," he commented, clearly amused.

The pizza slice was too big, too messy. Cheese stretched between her mouth and the slice, broke, landed on her chest. A piece of pepperoni fell and stuck to the red blazer, leaving a grease mark on the expensive fabric.

Carlotta shifted on the couch, her stomach pressing harder against her jeans now. She could feel it. All of the tightness, the fullness, the way the waistband was digging in. Her breathing was getting heavier, shorter. She had to lean back with her legs spread to keep any semblance of comfort.

She reached for the pasta container, scooped up a forkful of the cream sauce, and brought it to her mouth. It was too much. Sauce dripped off the fork before she could get it all in, running down her chin, her neck, landing on the white blouse and the black ribbon bow at her throat.

"Fuck," she breathed, but she took another forkful immediately.

Luca picked up a piece of garlic bread, broke it, and the butter ran over his fingers. He held it out to her and she leaned forward to take a bite. The movement made her stomach press even harder against her jeans. She could feel the button straining.

The bread was soaked with butter. It ran down her chin as she chewed, dripped onto her collarbone, slid down between her breasts. The white blouse was getting progressively more stained, now a display of cream, grease, butter, sauce.

She grabbed another pastry herself, bit in too aggressively, and the entire cream center exploded out. It hit her face, her hair, her blazer. Covered her fingers completely.

"Sorry," she said automatically, the word meaningless, and licked cream off her thumb while reaching for more pizza with her other hand. The thought to clean it up haven’t appeared in her head for even one second. Not tonight.

“Carlotta Montelli, what a messy animal you are.”

“Luca Fisalia, just shut up. You’ll be the one to clean this mess up anyway.”

“You won’t help?”

“It’s your apartment.”

“Sly fox…”

Luca smirked and handed her a glass of soda. She drank half of it in one go, the bubbles hitting her already full stomach, making it expand even more instantly. She gasped slightly at the pressure, one hand quickly going to her midsection.

Her stomach was definitely round now. It was undeniable. Stretching out from her thin frame. The buttons of the blouse were pulling tight across it, revealing the curve. The jeans were begging for mercy.

“You did it on purpose, you-”

Carbonated drink had worked in tandem with the pressurized belly and a short, loud burp escaped the woman mid-sentence.

"What? Couldn’t hear you. Somebody’s belching too loudly so all the neighbours can hear," Luca said with a dismissive tone, and picked up another pizza slice, dipping it with extra oil.

Carlotta took it with a pleasured moan, bit in, and the oil ran everywhere. Down her hands, her wrists, onto her blazer sleeves. She didn't care. She was too full, too turned on, too far gone into the feeling of her belly expanding by the second.

"How does it feel right now?" Luca asked, settling back to actually watch her. "Tell me. I want the whole report, Montelli-style."

"Mm." Carlotta took a moment, eyes half-closed, like she was actually checking in with her own body before answering. "Tight. Everywhere. Like there's a fist pushing out from the inside, except it's not painful, it's-" She stopped, searching for the word, one hand splaying flat against the lower curve of her stomach. "It's thick. Heavy. Like I swallowed a stone and the stone is warm."

"Romantic."

"You asked." She shifted, trying to find a position that worked, and ended up sliding lower into the cushions, legs falling open slightly, knees bent, heels braced against the floor like she needed the leverage just to stay upright. "When I lean back like this I can feel it settle. All of it. Like it's deciding where to live."

"And where's it decided?"

"Everywhere." A small laugh, breathless. "I'm running out of room to put anything else and that's-" She pressed her palm flatter, fingers spreading. "You know. That's the part I like. The part where there shouldn't be more room and there is anyway."

“Of course, when the always-dignified Carlotta Montelli drowns her dignity in a gutter.”

Carlotta laughed warmly “Ahahah, stop that! And better keep those arms occupied with food.”

He passed her another garlic knot. Carlotta took it without looking, too focused on the feeling of her belly and the warmth overtaking her inner thighs, and brought it to her mouth almost lazily now. Slower than before. Each bite required more decision-making, more negotiation with a body that was beginning to push back.

"My chest. It's pressing up under my ribs now." She laughed again, this one shakier. "I should’ve worn a more stretchy shirt."

“And kill your own fantasy?”

Carlotta giggled “Yes, you’re right. What’s the point of eating myself silly if I can’t feel the tightness?”

Her free hand drifted down to rest just below her navel, fingers spread wide as if trying to map the entire shape of herself, and her face did something complicated - pleasure and disbelief and something close to awe, all happening at once across features that were usually so carefully arranged.

"Tell me, Carlotta," Luca said, voice low now, watching her hand move. "What's it doing right now? This second."

"It's-" She swallowed, and her hand pressed in, testing, and her hips rolled slightly against the cushion, an involuntary thing. She spoke with a much looser and less articulated tone. "It's pleasantly full. Getting into that ticklish territory. From the inside. Every time something shifts I feel a wave of warmth washing over me. My own skin. It's like being touched from behind a wall. I feel so tired even though I’m just sitting here."

"Of course. Don’t you like that exact feeling?"

"Like? I love that." No hesitation this time. Her gray eyes had gone glassy, pupils wide, and when she looked at him there was nothing strategic left in the expression at all. "I've been thinking about this feeling for six months, Luca. Do you know how disappointing normal meals have been? A salad doesn't brush against anything. A regular piece of meat just sits there being virtuous and small."

"Poor meals."

"Poor me," she corrected, and reached for the pasta container again, scooping a forkful with hands that were noticeably less steady now. "Luca. I've been starving. Not for food. For this. For the part where I abandon reason and stop being able to tell where my body ends. Do you know how it feels when you have to pretend not ot be fucked up?"

She ate the forkful, and her whole face displayed a complicated expression. A small sound escaped her, half groan, half something needier.

"There it is," Luca grinned, watching her throat work as she swallowed.

"There what is?"

"The sound. The one you make when you’re going from filled to expanding."

"Hmph. I don't make sounds like that."

"Mhm, sure, sure. And you certainly haven’t moaned at food even once tonight."

Carlotta's cheeks colored, but she didn't deny it again. Instead she shifted her hips, trying to relieve some pressure against the waistband that was now cutting a visible line across her middle, and the movement made her gasp. Short and sharp. The jeans looked glued tightly to her legs and as if they were stretched everywhere. She definitely chose this pair for a reason.

"These pants," she said, breath catching. "I can feel my own pulse against them. Oh how I missed that ahahaha. Is that normal?"

"Nothing about tonight is normal, piccola."

"Don't call me that while I'm… doing… this!" She gestured vaguely to her body and sprawled legs.

"Why not? You liked being called that."

"I like being called that when I have dignity to protect," she shot back, but there was no real fight in it, just reflexive sparring while her hand kept moving slow circles against the tight curve of her stomach.

Luca sat next to her and ran his hand over her thigh, which made Carlotta inhale sharply. "Are these your tightest pants? Such a sorry sight. I love it. They most likely didn’t expect what they’ll have to go through tonight."

"I know." She said it almost dreamily, eyes drifting half-shut again. "I can feel every stitch of it. Every seam. It's like wearing a hand that won't stop holding on."

She reached for a piece of pizza. She was already past ‘pleasantly full’ but nowhere near what she considers ‘satisfied’. And tonight it was further than ever. She bit in slowly this time, chewed with her eyes closed, and when she swallowed her whole body shuddered.

"Are you still hungry?"

"Yes, of course! What is that question?" she said finally, sounding almost offended. "I’m such an idiot for leaving myself unguarded like that, yet that idiot part of me still wants more."

"That idiot part of you is the part I like best."

"Of course it is." She reached for the breadsticks, took one, and held it for a moment before eating it. "You always did prefer me unreasonable. With… all of my preferences rather than without."

"I prefer you like this," he said simply, and reached out to rest his palm flat against the side of her belly, feeling the heat radiating through the soaked, stretched fabric of her blouse. "Dressed impeccably. Yet messy, gluttonous… big."

Carlotta's breath hitched at the contact, her hips shifting again, and this time the movement pulled a small, helpless sound out of her that she didn't bother disguising.

"Keep your hand there," she said.

Luca nodded. He knew exactly what to do, the past memories flooding him and directing his hand movement.

Her voice had dropped, gone rough at the edges. "I want to feel everything tonight. Every single thing. The belly, the food. Everything. Including you."