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Borrowed Time - Chapter 1 Part 3
🕑 Added 2019-12-31 05:47:39 +0000 UTC
Continuing the new collaboration between myself, and my dear friend Firefox!
Written by Firefox
Illustrated by Me
Full story here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/31918817
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Loretta had only just completed this thought when she heard her mother coming down the hall. A soft knocking followed.
“Are you awake, sweetie?” her mother gently inquired.
“Yeah,” Loretta answered. “Hey, were you cooking bacon?”
Loretta’s mother giggled softly. “I sure was! Do you know what day it is?”
Truthfully, she didn’t. “Uh… Saturday?”
Another giggle made it through the door. “Close! Try again.”
“Sunday?”
“No, no sweetie. It’s a very special day.”
Loretta took a few heavy steps closer to the door. “Is it another holiday already?”
“Sweetie, no!” Her mother paused dramatically, then shouted, “It’s your birthday!”
Loretta’s eyes widened. “Oh! Right!”
“Lorrie, did you forget your own birthday?” There was the slightest tone of disappointment in her mother’s voice.
“N-no! I didn’t!” She waddled up to the door and turned the knob with a soft click. “Honest!”
The door opened to reveal her mother; a raven of ample —but comparatively smaller— proportions, holding a big plate of burnt bacon and very greasy looking fried eggs. There were sausage links and hashbrowns, too. Loretta began to salivate immediately. She swallowed and smiled.
“Oh! Mom, you didn’t have to.” She reached out to accept the plate, eyeing it hungrily.
“It’s your eighteenth birthday, sweetie.” Her mother outstretched her arms, gesturing for a hug. “I wanted to do something special for my beautiful little girl now that she’s all grown up.”
Loretta looked up from the plate and smiled. She reached over and set the plate down in a nest of crumpled wrappers on top of her dresser, then opened her arms to her mother’s embrace. Her mother couldn’t get her arms all the way around Loretta, but that didn’t seem to matter. Loretta rested her beak in the crook of her mother’s shoulder and sighed happily. Something began to nag her in the back of her mind, but she debated whether or not she should voice her concern.
“So,” her mother began, buying her more time to think it over. “I know Christmas was just a few days ago, but is there anything special you’d like for your birthday?”
Loretta decided to keep it to herself. She shook her head. “No… not really.”
Her mother leaned a little closer, smiling. “Oh, sweetie, you can’t think of anything?”
The first thing on her mind was not what came to her lips. “Well… I guess I could use some more new clothes.” She looked down at the heap of laundry on the other side of the room, avoiding her mother’s eyes. “And… maybe they have a new series in at the bookstore.”
“Just clothes and comics—”
“Manga,” Loretta swiftly corrected.
Her mother chuckled. “Clothes and man-ga. Is that really all you want, Lorrie? There’s nothing special you’d like to see or do?”
Loretta took a deep breath. “Well… I, um… Mom do you think—” She looked down at the floor again. “Well, since I’m eighteen.” She took another deep breath and tried to smile. “Maybe… maybe dad will call?”
There seemed to be a few seconds of delay between the question being asked and the spark of joy leaving her mother’s eyes. They stood in silence for several long, awkward seconds as her mother visibly struggled to find something reassuring to say.
“Oh, Lorrie—” Her mother took a breath, but the words didn’t come. Another span of silence followed before she said, “You know, maybe he will! Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Loretta sighed with disappointment. “Yeah.” She forced herself to smile, and her mother did the same. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Of course, sweetie.”
Loretta closed the door as her mother turned away.
A feeling like emptiness had taken residence inside her. A feeling that was uglier than hunger, but just as familiar, and just like her rumbling stomach, this hole could be filled with food. She grabbed the plate off her dresser, waddled herself around, and flopped back onto her bed. The springs creaked and pinged under her wide backside as her weight settled, while her knees and ankles felt immediate relief. She was still quivering from abruptly plopping down when she began to attack her meal. Bacon and sausage and eggs were hastily speared and stuffed into her mouth, just as quickly swallowed, barely chewed and hardly savored. Her cheeks maintained a constantly swollen appearance as she packed her mouth with food between swallows.
Loretta could feel little globs of egg and yolk and greasy meat spilling over edges of her beak, oozing and tumbling from her jowls, decorating her shirt as she savagely pounded down breakfast, but she didn’t care. At that moment, she craved the feeling of fullness more than the food itself, more than anything. She was desperate to rid herself of the aching pit in her chest.
The pain subsided after a few minutes of frantic binging, and she began to slow down and actually enjoy what remained of her massive breakfast. Her mouthfuls were just as eager and enormous, but now she took the time necessary to appreciate the slurry of greasy eggs and meat on her tongue as she went through the motions of chewing. She had inadvertently surpassed fullness by the time her fork came to a rest on an empty plate. The delayed signals her stomach sent to her brain registered as bloated, on the threshold of being painfully overstuffed, but just mild enough that she was able to deeply enjoy the sensation. One hand began a slow pass over the uppermost swell of her middle, the other wiping bits of food and yolk away from her face and off of her shirt, sent to join the rest in her stomach as she sucked her fingertips clean.
Seconds into stroking her belly, she felt and heard a rumble from within. The feeling of pressure inched into the range of discomfort. She clenched her middle and her chest in a rolling motion, fingertips lightly squeezing into the sides of her belly. A pocket of air rose from her depths, climbing through her throat like a bubble on its way to the surface. Her beak parted and a small, dainty burp escaped across her tongue. She swallowed, still cradling her belly, and realized that the pressure was deeper than that. Another muffled gurgle reached her ears as she felt gas creeping through her guts. Her tail feathers flicked and lifted impulsively while she shifted her weight forward, tensing her middle again.
A quick series of knocks made Loretta glance up in shock, eyes wide, tail feathers swishing back down against the mattress.
“Sweetie,” her mother called from the hall, “May I come in?”
“Y-yeah, sure,” Loretta answered, though the pressure in her gurgling guts argued otherwise.
The door opened, and her mother cautiously stepped into the garbage strewn room, clearly trying to avoid standing in trash. Loretta forced a smile, ignoring her bubbling indigestion. Her mother continued to glance around the room, the look of dismay on her face spreading to Loretta as well.
“Well, Lorrie, I was going to offer to take you to the mall, but I have a better idea.” Her mother donned a smile, but stayed by the door. “Why don’t you call up your friends and ask them to take you, and while you’re out, I’ll give your room a real good cleaning.”
Immediately, Loretta began to think of an excuse. “I um… mom, I don’t have any money.”
Loretta’s mother flashed a bright smile and produced her wallet, pulling a silver card from its sleeves. “I doubt you’re going to max this out. Buy whatever you like.” She chuckled softly and set the card on the edge Loretta’s dresser. “I’m sure you’ll spot something you’d love to buy if you look.”
Loretta’s surprise was short lived. She resumed trying to find a way to stay home. “Oh, they’re probably busy. I wouldn’t want to bother them.”
“It’s winter break, sweetie.” Her mother shook her head, chuckling. “It’ll only take me a few hours. Go on, you’ll have fun.”
“Can’t I just hang out in the living room while you clean?” she asked desperately. “I don’t mind waiting until tomorrow to go shopping.”
Loretta’s mother began to laugh. “Lorrie, sweetie, you’ve got to be the only eighteen year old on the planet that would turn down a shopping spree!” She shook her head again, leaning against the doorframe. “I won’t throw away any of your posters or your little toy horses, I promise.”
It occurred to Loretta that she could very easily refuse by staying in her room. She was far too big and heavy for her mother to move, but she dared not make her mother unhappy by disobeying. More importantly, the strain under her tail feathers was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. With a quiet sigh, Loretta nodded, glancing more at the floor than her mother.
“Okay… and can you do my laundry too?”
Her mother chuckled. “Of course, sweetie.”
They exchanged smiles, and then her mother departed once more, closing the door behind her.
