Belinda Burpwell's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

Belinda took the tray of fried dough off the contest table and set it on the slope of her belly. The crowd watched her chew through the first piece without interrupting. She walked off the field with the plate balanced and the tray on top, burping every few steps. The grass thinned into a paved walk that led between low buildings. Halfway down, an elf boy in a green coat stepped out of a doorway and into her path. He had pointed ears and brown hair past his shoulders. He looked at her belly first and her face second. "You're the one from the contest," he said. "I watched. You eat like you mean it." He nodded at a building behind him with wide glass windows. A sign above the door read pet care. Inside, glowing pods lined the walls. "It's empty after hours. I work the back. Come sit and I'll rub your stomach while you eat. No tricks." Belinda burped at him. He grinned. Outside the door stood a ring of stone pedestals topped with bright crystals, the kind of setup people built when they took a craft seriously. Beside it sat a woven basket packed with bottles and wrapped parcels. "Mine," he said. "For you. If you sit." Belinda looked at the basket. She looked at the boy. "Aldric," he said. She told him her name and walked past him into the clinic. He shut the door and pulled a padded bench out from between two pods. She lowered herself onto it. He set the basket at her feet, uncorked a bottle, and handed her a meat pastry. Then he put both hands on her belly and pressed slow circles into the side. She ate. He rubbed. A burp came up and he counted it out loud. She finished the pastry and reached for another. He shifted his hands lower, kneading under the curve, and a longer burp rolled out of her. He counted that one too. She drained the bottle. He passed her a second. The plate from the contest sat forgotten on the floor. Her belly grew tighter under his palms and he kept working it, pushing the gas up in steady waves. She burped, ate, burped, ate. He did not tell her to slow down once. Through the front window, a woman stood on the walk and watched. Dark hair, white dress, a round belly of her own pushed out in front of her. She did not move. She did not knock. She watched Aldric's hands on Belinda's stomach and counted along with him, her lips moving with each burp. Belinda saw her and did not stop eating. Aldric had not noticed yet. Belinda swallowed the last of the pastry and let out a burp that fogged the glass. The woman outside flinched, then set her jaw and started toward the door.