Bella Burrows counted her ninth burp of the afternoon and watched another man walk past the fence without slowing. He had looked at her belly. He had looked at her face. Then he kept walking, because nothing along the road told him what he was looking at. Two summers since the last one stayed, and she was tired of standing in the south field hoping a stranger would guess. Her belly had rounded out by noon, the way it did every day. She pressed a hand to it and felt the next burp climb. It came out loud enough to turn a cow's head. Tenth. She had wanted to be proud of that sound since she was a girl, and no one had ever taught her how. She had taught herself. The trouble was teaching anyone else in time to matter. She walked to the roadside with a hammer and the lumber she had cut the night before. First she nailed up the painted board she had finished by lamplight, big letters calling for belly lovers to stop. Beside it she set the kiosk she had bought off a peddler last spring, the one with the glass screens that lit up and held text. She loaded it with plain facts. Flat belly at sunrise. Round by noon. Roughly twenty burps a day. Hands welcome. She read it twice and fixed one word. Then she dragged out the gear box. It was a heavy thing in a brass frame, the kind of clockwork a man uses to count cattle. She had rewired the counter to advance on her say-so. She set it on a post where the road bent and clicked it forward to ten. Eleven came before she stepped back. Twelve while she tested the latch. She clicked both in. The gears turned and the numbers flipped where anyone passing could read them. A wagon slowed within the hour. Then a rider. By suppertime four men had stopped at the kiosk and read it through. Two kept walking. One laughed and asked if it was a joke, and she sent him off. The fourth was older, quiet, with dirt on his sleeves. He stood at the fence and waited. She burped. He did not flinch. She burped again. He put a hand on the rail and asked if he could come closer. She went still and closed her eyes and waited for the next one. He stayed through it. Then through the one after. She walked to the house and came back with the letter she had written months ago and never had cause to give. Thin parchment, sealed with ink that glowed faint in the dusk. She put it in his hand. "Come back tomorrow," she said. "Read it tonight." He nodded once and went. She watched the road until he was gone, and the gear box clicked to fifteen behind her.

Bella came back to the roadside at noon the next day with the letter still on her mind. The older man had taken it, nodded, and walked into the dusk. She had asked him to return. She watched the bend in the road where he had gone and counted the wagons that were not his. Her belly was already round by the time the sun hit the fence rail. It was rounder than yesterday. The burps came closer together, three before she sat down, two more before she could decide where to wait. She settled against the flat-topped stone at the edge of the field, the one veined through with metal that caught the light. It was cool against her back. She pressed both hands under her belly and let it rest on her thighs. Burp six. Burp seven. She had stopped tallying out loud. The road stayed empty. By the time the shadow of the fence post crossed her boot, she knew the older man was not coming. Her throat worked again and another burp pushed out, loud enough to startle a sparrow off the rail. She almost went back to the house. She had her hand on the stone to push up when a man stopped at the crystal-studded post where the road bent. He was younger than yesterday's. Half-elf, by the ears. He read the painted board. He read the kiosk. Then he looked at her, and he did not look away. He crossed the grass with a soda bottle in his hand. He held it out before he spoke. "Saw the sign," he said. "Thought you might want this. I'm not in a hurry." Bella took the bottle. It was cold. She set it on the stone beside her hip and waited for him to flinch or laugh. Another burp came up. He grinned. "How many's that today?" "Eight," she said. He sat down on the grass at her feet without asking. He put one hand on the side of her belly, light, the way you'd touch a sleeping animal. She went still and closed her eyes. The next one came. He laughed, not at her. He said, "That's a good one." Burp nine. He kept his hand where it was. Burp ten. He said it again. By twelve she had lost the count, and he was still counting for her, out loud, like it was something worth saying. She opened her eyes. He was looking at her belly the way the older man never had — not waiting it out, but watching for the next one. She did not tell him about the letter. She did not tell him she had given it to someone else. She picked up the cold bottle and twisted the cap. The hiss made him laugh again. "Tomorrow," she said. "Come back tomorrow." He said he would. She believed him, and that was the new trouble.

Bella came to the roadside before the sun was high. She wanted her belly full and loud before the half-elf turned the bend. She had hauled a picnic table out at dawn and dragged it under the fence post where he could not miss it. On the boards she stacked plates of cheeseburgers from the kitchen, double patties, melted cheese, buns piled three deep. Beside the table she set up a metal rack she had bought off a peddler last spring, the kind with baskets that held dripping tubed plants and curled tentacle pods. The pods leaked salt water onto the grass. She had heard they swelled a stomach faster than anything else on the farm. She sat on the bench and started with a burger. She chewed fast and washed it down with a long pull from a fat bottle of burp soda. The label was bright and silly. The fizz hit the back of her throat and her belly answered before she set the bottle down. Burp one. She had not even started counting yet today and already she was loud. By the third burger her belt was tight. She loosened it a notch and kept eating. She bit into a tentacle pod and the brine made her eyes water. The pod went down in two swallows and her stomach pushed against the table edge. She drank again, this time from a darker bottle with a red cap she had been saving. The bubbles climbed harder. Burp four came up so sharp it rattled the plates. Burp five followed before she could close her mouth. She ran a hand under her belly and felt it sit heavy on her thighs. It was rounder than it had ever been by midmorning. She pictured the half-elf walking up the road. She pictured his hand on the side of it the way he had set it yesterday, light, waiting. She wanted the next burp ready for him before he could even sit down. She drank the rest of the dark bottle and started on another burger. By the time the sun cleared the high field she had eaten six burgers and three pods and emptied both bottles. Her belly stuck out past her knees when she sat straight. The burps came every minute now, some short, some long enough to make the sparrows lift off the rail. She lost count somewhere past fifteen. She did not try to catch it again. She leaned back against the post and let her hands rest on the curve of her stomach and waited. The bend in the road stayed empty. Then it did not. A figure stepped around it with the sun behind him, tall and lean, ears showing through his hair. Bella felt the next burp build before he had taken three steps. She let it come. It rolled out across the grass and he heard it and he smiled, and he started walking faster.

The half-elf reached the picnic table while another burp was still climbing out of her. He did not sit on the bench. He held out a hand and waited for her to take it. Bella set down her bottle and let him pull her up. Her belly swung forward and she caught it with her free arm. He smiled and led her off the road toward the field behind the fence post. A pavilion stood at the edge of the pasture. Bella had walked past it a hundred times and never stepped inside. Curved metal beams arched over panels that glowed soft green and pink in the morning light. The half-elf had dragged a metal chair under the dome. Green vines twisted around the armrests. He sat down and patted his thighs. Bella lowered herself sideways onto his lap. The chair held them both without a sound. Her belly settled across his legs like a sack of grain. He pulled a small bottle from his coat pocket. Warm amber oil sloshed inside the glass. He unscrewed the cap and poured a slow stream into his palm. The smell came up sweet and clean. He rubbed his hands together and lifted her shirt to the bottom of her ribs. Bella sucked in a breath. Her stomach was tight as a drum and she felt every bubble move when he laid his hands on her skin. He rubbed slow circles from her ribs down to her hips. His fingers pressed in and out along the curve. A burp climbed her throat and she went still and closed her eyes the way she always did. It came out long and loud and shook the panels above them. He did not flinch. He said good girl in a low voice and kept rubbing. Another burp followed right behind it. He moved his thumb to the top of her belly and pushed gentle until a third one broke free. He laughed once, soft, and told her to let them all out. Bella opened her eyes. Two summers back a man had sat through six burps with both hands on her belly and then never come back. This one was on the seventh burp already and his hands were still working oil into her skin. He was counting under his breath. She heard him say eight when the next one rolled up. He said nine a minute later. He kept count for her so she did not have to. She leaned her head against his shoulder. Her belly kept giving and he kept rubbing and counting. She did not ask him to come back tomorrow. She did not have to. He had brought the oil in his pocket. He had planned to stay.

The morning after the pavilion, Bella walked back to the pasture before sunrise. She wanted the half-elf to find more than he had left. She wanted him to find the biggest belly and the loudest burps she had ever made. She set up at the edge of the field where he would see her first. She wheeled a long banquet cart out from the shed and parked it beside the metal chair with the vines on its arms. The shelves held everything she could carry. Cheeseburgers stacked four high. Brine pods in glass bowls. Fizzing drinks in tall glasses. Cold soda bottles lined up like soldiers along the bottom rail. Next to the cart she set a ribbed metal podium she had dragged from the barn loft. Her father had used it once for auctioning bulls. The panels along its sides hummed when she touched them. She set a trophy cup on top, a tall thing of pink and green crystal her uncle had won at a county fair. She meant to drink from it when she beat her own record. She started eating at first light. She worked through three burgers before her belly began to push against her shirt. She drank a full soda bottle and felt the gas climb. The first burp came up loud enough to startle a crow off the fence. She kept count out loud. Four burgers. Two bottles. Her belly rounded out past where it had been the day before. By the eighth burp she was tugging her shirt up to give the skin room. She heard footsteps on the road and did not turn. She picked up another bottle and drank it down in one go. Her stomach groaned. She gripped the edge of the cart and let a burp rip out that bent her forward. She lost the count there. She tried to pick it up again and another came right after, then another. She could not stop them. They rolled out one on top of the next, each louder than the last. The metal podium picked up the sound and threw it back across the pasture. The half-elf came around the cart and stopped. His mouth opened. Bella reached for the crystal cup and could not get a word out before the biggest burp of her life climbed her throat. She let it go. It shook the cup in her hand. He laughed and crossed the grass in three steps. He put both hands on her belly without asking and pressed up under her ribs to coax the next one out. He told her to keep going. He told her she was the loudest thing in the county. Bella beat every count she had ever kept. The half-elf stayed at her side through all of it, hands on her belly, calling out each number. When she finally sat down in the vine chair, he knelt in front of her and asked what she would eat tomorrow.

Bella came back to the pasture the next morning expecting the half-elf to be waiting at the fence. He was not. A note sat folded on the vine chair. It said he had walked down the road to see what the noise was. Bella read it twice. She heard the noise herself then, a low rumble coming from past the tree line, like a crowd settling into seats. She followed the sound across two fields. A theater stood where the empty lot used to be. It had curved tiers of seats wrapped around a long runway, and a single spotlight cut down the middle of the stage. Bella had never seen the building go up. People filled the seats already. At the end of the runway stood a purple-skinned woman in a short dress, belly out in front of her like a prize melon. The half-elf sat in the front row with his hands on his knees. Bella climbed the side steps. The woman turned and looked her over without hurry. "You must be Bella," she said. "I'm Sara. I heard you from my kitchen yesterday." She lifted a polished medal off a velvet stand beside her. The crystal in the center pulsed once. "Loudest belly in the county gets this. I had it made this morning." She held it out toward the half-elf, not Bella. He leaned forward in his seat. Behind Sara, a stone pit burned with something that wasn't wood. Strange mushrooms grew right out of the coals and gave off orange sparks. A long table beside the pit held roasted gourds, jugs of dark broth, and a row of soda bottles taller than the ones Bella used. Sara picked up a bottle, popped the cap with her thumb, and drank half of it standing. Her belly pushed forward another inch. She burped without warning. The sound rolled through the theater and came back doubled off the curved walls. The crowd clapped. The half-elf clapped with them. Bella stepped onto the runway. Her belly was still tight from yesterday and she had not eaten yet. She took the bottle Sara offered and drank it down. She waited. Nothing came. She drank a second one. A small burp climbed out, then nothing. Sara watched her, then drank again and let out a burp longer than her first. The medal in her hand caught the spotlight. The half-elf stood up from his seat to see better. He did not look at Bella. He looked at Sara. Bella set the empty bottle on the stage and walked off the runway the way she had come. Behind her, Sara was already lining up the next bottle. Bella did not turn around. She knew the count would keep going without her, and she knew who was counting.

Bella walked home from the theater with the count still ringing in her head. Sara had pulled twelve burps before Bella managed three. Her own diet wasn't enough. Cheeseburgers and brine pods had carried her this far, but Sara drank something stronger and burped like the ground was moving. Bella needed help. She knew one woman who might give it. Scarlett Gorman worked out of a building no one else on the road would go near. It stood at the edge of the marsh, walls made of clear panels with glowing tubes running across them like vines. Pink and green liquid moved through the tubes in slow pulses. Bella had heard Scarlett brewed her own drinks in there, the kind that kept a belly full past supper. Out front sat a smooth stone seat with a worn hollow in the middle, lit from inside with a soft blue glow. Scarlett sat in it, hands folded on her bare belly, waiting like she had known Bella would come. "You lost," Scarlett said. "I know." "To Sara." "I know." Scarlett didn't move. "Sit down." Bella sat on the grass. Scarlett looked her over once, then pushed up from the stone and walked into the lab. Bella heard glass clinking. When Scarlett came back, she held a small bottle. The liquid inside was purple and full of bright bubbles that drifted up against the cork on their own. Scarlett held it out. "One swallow before you drink anything else," Scarlett said. "Two if you want her to cry." Bella took the bottle. The glass was warm. "Sara drinks the same thing," Scarlett added. "I sold her the first batch. I made yours stronger." Bella looked up. "Why help me?" "She rubbed my belly once on a signed contract. I rubbed hers after she won. I'm done rubbing." Scarlett sat back down on the stone seat and closed her eyes. "Don't waste it on a crowd. Wait until he's watching you alone." Bella tucked the bottle inside her shirt and stood. Her belly was already starting to round out for the day. She felt the bottle warm against it. She walked home knowing the next burp she let out for the half-elf would not be one Sara could match.

Bella walked the long path past the marsh the next morning with the purple bottle warm against her ribs. She meant to find the half-elf alone, the way Scarlett told her. The road bent past a stand of pale trees and opened onto a clearing she had not seen before. A stone cottage sat in the middle of it, walls rounded smooth, windows full of blue crystal glass. Bella stopped at the edge of the trees. Smoke rose from the chimney. Someone was already living there. She stepped closer and heard a slow burp roll out from behind the cottage. Not hers. She knew the sound. Sara. Bella followed the wall around and found a corroded fountain spilling glowing water into a wide basin. Sara lay back against the rim of it, purple skin shining in the morning light, her huge belly bare to the sun. Aldric knelt beside her with both hands flat on her stomach, moving them in slow circles. He smiled at every gurgle. Sara burped again and he laughed. Bella's hand went to the bottle. Her own belly was still flat from the night's sleep, soft and quiet. She pulled the cork with her teeth. She drank the whole thing. The potion hit her like a kicked bucket. Her stomach pushed out against her shirt in one long heave. The skin went tight. She felt the pressure climb up her ribs and stop at the base of her throat, waiting. She walked out from the trees with her belly leading the way. Aldric looked up first. His hands stayed on Sara, but his eyes dropped straight to Bella's gut and stuck there. Sara turned her head and saw what he was looking at. Her mouth went flat. "Move," Bella said. She did not wait. She stepped between them, planted her boots, and shoved her round belly two inches from Aldric's face. He let go of Sara. Both his hands came up on their own and pressed flat against Bella's stomach. The first burp tore out of her so loud it bounced off the cottage wall. She did not aim it at him. She turned her head and aimed it straight down at Sara, who was still flat on her back against the fountain. The burp hit Sara in the face and blew her hair back. Bella burped again before Sara could close her mouth. Then a third. She lost count after six. Sara sat up coughing. Aldric stayed on his knees with his hands locked to Bella's belly, counting under his breath the way he had at the pavilion. He did not look at Sara once. Bella looked down at the top of his head and felt the next burp building. She did not swallow it back. Sara stood up, wiped her face, and walked into the cottage alone. The door shut hard. Aldric kept counting.

The cottage door banged open. Sara walked back out with a crate on her hip and a flat look on her face. She set the crate down hard between Bella and the fountain. Bottles of fizzy soda clinked inside it, bright labels showing through the slats. A plate of salted bread sat on top. Sara pulled a bottle free, popped the cap on the fountain rim, and drank half of it standing up. She did not look at Aldric. She looked at Bella. "Again," Sara said. "Properly this time." Aldric stood up between them. He pulled a flat metal disc from his pack and set it on the grass. Rings of soft light bloomed across its face. He stepped onto it, faced both women, and folded his arms. "Judge," he said. "No cheating. No potions left. Just bellies." He pointed at the crate. "Drink from there. Burp at me. Loudest count wins." Then he lifted a tall crystal spike from beside the fountain and planted it at the edge of his platform. Purple veins pulsed inside the glass. "Winner takes the trophy. Loser walks home." Bella's belly was already huge from the potion. Sara's was bigger from whatever Aldric had been feeding her all morning. They squared up on either side of the half-elf with the lit disc humming under his boots. Bella grabbed a bottle and drank it down in four swallows. Sara matched her, then took a second. Bella tore into the bread, chewed twice, swallowed thick. Her stomach pushed harder against her shirt. The first burp ripped out of her low and long. Aldric ticked his finger in the air. One. Sara fired back, louder. He ticked again. One. They traded burps across him for what felt like an hour. Bella lost count somewhere past twenty, the way she did on her best afternoons at home. Sara's purple skin shone with sweat. Aldric kept ticking, eyes moving from one belly to the other, hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for both at once. Bella drank another bottle. Her belly hurt now, tight and hot. She braced her hands under it, closed her eyes, and waited. The burp came up slow and broke out of her so loud the crystal trophy rang. Aldric flinched. Sara opened her mouth and nothing came. She swallowed. Tried again. A small sound, thin as a child's. "Bella," Aldric said. He stepped off the disc. He picked up the trophy and put it in her hands. The glass was warm. The veins pulsed against her palms. Sara wiped her mouth and looked at the crate. "Keep it," she said. She walked past Bella toward the trees. At the edge of the clearing she stopped and turned. "He counts," she said. "He doesn't stay. Ask the last one." Then she was gone. Aldric was already kneeling, both hands flat on Bella's belly, waiting for the next one.