or "Cloud's Big Surprise" A Final Fantasy VII Alterniverse Fanfiction by The Cloaked Ghost
Three Years Ago... Tifa awoke one morning, dressed quickly, and bounded down the stairs to her apron, now aged and splattered with stains. "Experience marks" she called them, and the entire town praised her skill not only in battle, but in the kitchen. Every week, someone would appear at her door and ask for her latest stew, or pie, or salad. She was flattered by the attention, but never saw what was so particularly attractive about the food she cooked. She tasted little bits of what she made, but most of it she sold or donated, not truly enjoying her product. She thanked Cid and his new airship, the Highwind II, for eliminating the Mako reactor in the mountains. Soon after, the tide of monsters ceased, and she found herself in the kitchen for most of her day, pausing for lunch, or her favorite shows on the TransVision. That day, she had decided to cook herself a small banquet, to see why people lavished praise on her kettle. She made herself a small roast, a bowl of the local vegetable stew, some fresh sourdough bread, a pitcher of iced tea, a small cake and redberry pie. She lovingly crafted these, and her trimmings, dressings, whips, and a custard to top it off. By midafternoon, she laid out all she had made on the table, impressed with the volume of her efforts, despite the fact she had intended to make much less. She patted her firm, muscular stomach, hoping her digestion was up to the task. She scooped herself a bowl of salad, smothered it in a creamy cheese dressing, then plopped down on the couch to watch TransVee while she ate. Before she knew it, the bowl was empty, and her stomach growled for more. She cut herself several slices of bread and filled a large bowl to the brim with the thick stew, then sat again, absorbed in food and TV, when she soon finished that too. Her stomach, which by logic should have been full long ago, roared and demanded the rest of her feast. Soon, time became a blur. She did not know how many trips she made back and forth, how many times she refilled her plate, or heeded her stomach's requests for more. At nightfall, she dimly became aware again. She as sitting next to the table, the food gone except for a small dollop of whipped cream, a slice of cake, and a bit of the roast. Her stomach jiggled and emitted a low groan. As if on reflex, her fork jerked forward and shoveled the cake into her moist mouth, then followed by the whip and some milk. As she picked at the last bits of roast, she felt dizzy and faint. After gnawing the last bits of meat from the bone, and surveying the table to make sure there was none left, she leaned back and laid her hands on her lap... only to be intercepted by flesh. Reclining in a chair, her head dropped and she discovered how much she truly had eaten. Her stomach was stretched tight, rolling into her lap over her undone belt. She stood, and felt the weight of her feast drag her stomach down. Hazily, she pulled herself up the stairs, and stood in front of the mirror. She hefted the bowling ball at her waist, impressed with its density and toughness. She dropped heavily onto the bed, feeling her bloated stomach pull her onto her side, just realizing she had eaten enough for six people in the course of a few hours. But there was a warm glow in her stomach. A satisfaction from her food, her work, residing within *her*. She realized not only how much she enjoyed to cook, but to eat what she cooked. Fat and happy, Tifa dozed off. The next morning, she woke again, her stomach empty and growling. This time, though, when she patted it to soothe the hunger, she no longer felt the firm abdomen she had worked to maintain, but a slight softness. A small layer of flesh before she could feel the hard muscle below. She parted her breasts to look at her stomach. She saw that, where once had been a tough-as-nails six-pack, a smooth, soft stomach had developed. She frowned. She didn't want to be fat when Cloud returned. She resolved to take up jogging to slim back down. Slipping into a less-revealing tee-shirt and sweatpants, she ran outside into the crisp morning air, ignoring her stomach's audible protests. She ran, quickly, around the town's perimeter four times before stopping to catch her breath. Waving to the slowly awakening town, she walked back inside to cook breakfast, famished. In twenty minutes, she had lost herself to the smells and tastes of the kitchen, cooking bacon and biscuits and pancakes and coffee and crullers and other tasty delicacies. For days, she ran and ran around New Nibelhiem, then returning home late in the morning to cook and cook for the local restaurants which had begun to put in orders. And the days turned into weeks, which dragged into months. And Tifa tried to ignore the inexorable hunger within her, tried to counter herself with running. But running made the hunger grow fiercer. Tifa ran and ran, then returned to her kitchen, and ate and ate. Near the end of the year, Barrett had announced he would be passing through the area, looking into better schools for Marlene, and Tifa had invited him to stay with her for the night instead of spending gil on the inn. She had decided to surprise him with her improved cooking skills, and planned out an elaborate, yet tasty dinner. Tifa awoke that day the same as many others in the last few weeks. Rolling to the edge of the bed, and patting her slowly growing waist. She watched herself dress for her morning jog, sucking in her still-little but developing gut as if it would make a difference. She ran quickly out the door, stopping only to lock it, and began her laps around New Nibelhiem in the misty air, which had began to take on the late-autumn chill. Normally, she liked to do fifteen laps at full speed. She had pushed herself as of late, and was increasingly exhausted when she returned. Today, she found herself unable to push a full run past thirteen laps, and took up a moderate jog, determined to finish the last two. A little bit later, she slumped in the door of her house, famished and worn out. She was breathing heavily, and felt dizzy with exertion. She knew she couldn't push her body like that, the illness in her throat told her that. After a brisk shower, where her probing hands skirted quickly over the suppleness developing on her stomach, she dressed in loose clothing, gobbled down a few low-fat slices of toast, and set to work on the welcoming dinner. She put a large lamb's leg in the oven, began to hand-whip the cream to make a topping for the cinnamon-apple pie, chopped the vegetables into crisp bits for the salad, and blended the mayonnaise and herbs personally for the thick dressing. For hours, she labored over the stove, and the sun rose, peaked, and began its descent. Hours later, with the food prepared and stored in an oven, she climbed upstairs to dress. Noticing the clock, she panicked. Barrett was scheduled to arrive in twenty minutes! She decided to go with her old adventuring outfit, the white halter top, leather belt and suspenders, and the black shorts. After picking it out of her closet, and shaken off the dust, she stood naked in front of her mirror, and began the task. The halter top went on first. Although it stretched a little thinner and bulged a little more in the chest, thanks to her mysteriously large breasts, it fit fine. She pulled the shorts up her thighs were thick with muscle, now that the constant running had built them up. However, it posed no problem, even though the top of the waistband rolled forward just the slightest amount as her abdomen pressed forward, and peeked over the lip of her shorts. She pulled the crude belt through the loops and tried to make it meet across her hips. She breathed out and sucked in her stomach, and was just able to fit into the second-from-the-last hole in it. When she relaxed, her stomach rolled forward over the belt, forming a little wave of flesh across the top of the crude leather. After slipping the straps over her arms, she admired herself in the mirror. Her hair sparkled, perfect as always, and the inches on her bustline were not so obvious from the front. The weight on her waist was visible, but only to close scrutiny. She resolved to keep that part under the table while she could. Suddenly, a loud, rough knock issued from the wooden front door. "Tifa! Hey! Open up! It's me! Barrett!" called a voice. Tifa ran down the stairs, breasts bouncing merrily, and threw open the front door. Barrett, imposing as ever, towered over her in a ragged grey vest and green pants. "Hey Tifa! How are ya?!?" Barrett cried, smiling down at the pretty lass before him. "Barrett! Good to see you again!" Tifa grinned back, then beckoned for him to enter. "C'mon, I just got dinner ready!" Barrett stepped into the house and inhaled the fragrance. "Wow, Tifa! Smells better than anything you ever made for us at the Seventh Heaven! I guess Cloud must be a demanding man when it comes to food!" He looked about the room. "Nice place you guys got here!" Tifa smiled softly and walked towards the kitchen. "Siddown, and I'll get us some food.." Barrett nodded and followed her into the adjacent room. Upon entering, he peered into the oven, glanced at the salads and drink that stood on the counter and inhaled again. "God almighty, Tifa.. You didn't have to do this! It looks so good.." He looked at her in the corner of his eye, and gently cocked his left, real, hand slightly backwards. "But I'll have to taste it. Ya know what they say! Never trust a thin chef!" He threw back his head in laughter. Tifa flinched at the joke, and tried to laugh, but just fingered the fat on her stomach when he looked away. "So.. Barrett, just sit yerself down and we can eat.." Tifa said, quietly, staring at the food and the floor. Barrett looked over at her, then walked to her side. "Som'thin' eatin' ya, Tif?" he smiled. "Ain't ya happy to see yer old pal?" He let his hand fly towards her stomach, in a playful manner, like they did occasionally when they were ribbing each other. His hand connected, and the little softness didn't register with his brain. Tifa, however, felt like a battering ram had shot through her. She fell backwards, clutching her stomach in pain, and groaning loudly. "OWWWW!! Ooooh.. my stomach.. owww.." Barrett looked at his fist. He hadn't hit her harder than usual. Was he getting stronger? No, he hadn't done anything to strengthen his left arm in the last few years.. If anything, the punch should've been weaker... But if he hadn't gotten strong, then... "Tifa-chan.. You getting soft on me?!?" Tifa pulled her knees to her ample chest, then pulled herself to a crouch, then she stood, and brushed a stray tear away from her eye. "I dunno." she mumbled. "Siddown, I'll get us some food." Barrett sat and stared at his host. He never could figure women out, but noted not to punch Tifa like that again. Perhaps he'd hit her a lot softer, but not like that. Shouldn't've done that though. He puzzled over his new strength as Tifa laid the salad bowl, the dressing, and some beers on the table in front of them. In a moment, the girl sat down across from him and slid a little down in her seat. "So, how's Marlene getting along?" Tifa asked, serving Barrett some salad. "Doin' okay in school?" "She's a bit of a rascal, y'know.. Takes after her ol' man. But, yeah, as good as any kid could do. It's just..." Barrett paused, then scooped some creamy dressing onto his salad. "What?" Tifa dumped the other half of the salad onto her plate, then took the dressing from Barrett and scraped it all onto the leafy mounds. "The high schools in Midgar ain't so hot, y'know, Tif.. Lookin' aroun' for some better ones. I'd like it if New Nibelhiem, here, had one, so I'd be near someone I knew..." "I heard Wutai has a good school." Tifa plowed into her salad, realizing she hadn't eaten since the toast that morning. The creamy dressing caressed her lips, and she licked them. "Good, eh?" Barrett looked down at his plate, and took another mouthful. "Yeh." he smiled, then tried to keep himself from staring at Tifa. Despite the disparity in heights, she had downed nearly half her salad in the time he had eaten maybe three bites. To top it off, hers was smothered in the heavy, creamy dressing. A germ of a thought stirred in his mind, but he pushed it back down and returned to eating, hoping that Tifa wouldn't outrun him so she wouldn't have to wait for such a slowpoke. "Yeah, but *gulp* y'know Yuffie's there *chew* and I'd hate to think *gulp* what the little klepto has been up to *gulp* by now. She's probably crime lord of the city or something." Barrett raced his food down to keep up with Tifa. Tifa looked up and watched him wolfing down the salad, then smiled softly. "Oh, Barrett, you don't have to eat so fast just to show me you like it.." She laughed. "Enjoy it. I know you don't get a meal like this often, right?" Barrett grunted in acknowledgement and polished off the last of the leafy greens. To his surprise, Tifa had already taken her plate up and was laying out the next course. "I really hope you like this Shepherd's pie... The local butcher recommended this meat from the farmers on the north side of town." She cut out a big chunk of the creamy, meaty mound of potato, vegetable, and beef, then laid it down in front of Barrett, then cut herself an equally large hunk and plopped it on her own plate. Barrett had barely put his fork to his lips when Tifa began to devour the pie. He could just barely make out the outline of the fork as it flashed from lips to plate and back. In minutes, the little woman was cutting out another quarter of the large pie, then began to devour that too, making little moaning noises and smacking her lips occasionally. Just as he finished on his first piece, she looked up, eyes slightly clouded, and grinning a silly grin from ear to ear, with bits of potato smeared across her chin. "Good, no?" she said, finishing the last bite off her plate. "Want some more?" Barrett nodded dumbly, then shook his head. "Just a half-slice.." Tifa cleaved the remaining quarter in half, and served it to Barrett. He dug in with his fork, and noticed Tifa taking the last bit of what had been an enormous, thick pie and setting her fork to work at the last bit. Their utensils clattered to a halt almost simultaneously, and Barrett tried to keep from staring at Tifa. She looked almost drunk with happiness, smiling broadly. "Mmm.. it's all so good, isn't it, Barrett-kun? Hope you have room for more.. I made plenty." Barrett forced a smile. "Sure, bring on da grub." Tifa surged from her seat, retrieved the plates, and pulled a large leg of lamb, perfectly roasted and *very* aromatic, onto the table. Barrett tried to keep from gaping. As Tifa walked, he could see the effects of all the food inside of the little girl. Her stomach was rolling well over her belt, swaying slightly with the exertion of carrying such a large lamb's leg, like Tifa had swallowed a large balloon, and the food was inflating it. "So, how much do you want?" "Uhm.. Gimme a good amount, Tifa.." Barrett's mind was racing in on itself. Tifa had never let herself go like that back in AVALANCHE. She'd always kept her eating down, exercised regularly, and all that. She'd always expressed disgust at the notion of getting fat, or even moderately overweight, like she obviously was now. In front of him laid a large white slab of lamb. Barrett assembled his thoughts, and filed them away for "Ponder Later." As Tifa sliced herself a slab of meat at least twice as big as his, Barrett dug in, resigned to enjoying her tasty cooking. In ten minutes, the entire leg had disappeared between the two of them, disproportionately more into Tifa than Barrett, given her speed, The chubby girl arched her back. Barrett could just see a hint of stretched, pink flesh behind the tablecloth. There was a sudden _pop_, and Tifa turned red with embarrassment. Barrett had already ducked onto the floor and was aiming his arm-gun from one window to the next. Tifa giggled. "Get up.. Sorry about that.." Barrett slid back into his chair. "What WAS that?" Tifa turned four shades redder, then rubbed her engorged stomach. "My belt popped off." Then she giggled again. "My, I'm making a pig out of myself, aren't I?" Suddenly, a tear rolled down her cheek, and she laid her head on the table, emitting soft sobs. Barrett slowly reached over and patted the back of her head. "Wha's wrong, Tif..?" Tifa looked up at him. "I'm getting fat. You know it. I know it. It's disgusting. I just can't help myself." She brandished the bulge at her waistline. "I hate this. I hate _myself_ for letting myself get like this!" She started crying again. Barrett cleared the table of plates, then sat next to the distraught woman. "Tif.. it's ok.. it's just a little food.. you'll jus' digest it, and it'll go on its way.. You're not getting fat.." Barrett choked out the last few words. He hated lying to her, but it was the best thing he could do to comfort her. Something clicked inside Tifa. Her mind resonated. "You're not getting fat.. not getting fat... not fat.. not.." She brightened visibly, then turned sideways and gave Barrett a tight hug, her stomach pressing into him. "Thanks Barrett.. Now, how about finishing off this dinner?" Barrett winced, wondering how much more her small frame could handle, but only sighed, nodded and scooted his chair back around the table. Tifa stood slowly, her stomach preceding her by a few inches, and wobbled over to the oven. Barrett was simply in a daze. He did not know how long the march of calories continued. He ceased to eat significantly after the sixth course or so, feeling full, but simply accepted tiny bits of each portion, then slowly chewing while Tifa continued to pack away everything she laid before them. After what seemed like several hours, Tifa pulled a large, brown cake oozing with fudge out of the oven. After she half-waddled, half-walked back to the table. and had cut Barrett what amounted to two forkfuls. She shoved a large slice into her mouth and grinned a fudgy grin at him. "Enjoy dessert, Barr-kun." she smiled, eyes clouded over, wobbling slightly in her seat, drunk with pleasure. After Barrett had downed his two bits of cake, and the obligatory glass of milk, he leaned back, belched softly and stretched. Tifa was just ramming the last slice of chocolate cake down her throat as he looked back at her. Even though she was sitting all the way back in her seat, her enlarged belly was just scraping the edge of the table, and had numerous spots and stains from food that had lost its way. After licking her fingers thoroughly, Tifa scraped the bits off herself, and sucked them down as well. She gazed over at him. "Barr-kun.. I.. I feel dizzy.." She tried to stand, and barely managed to get upright, almost tipping the table with her heaving midsection. Barrett rushed over to the little woman, and grabbed her shoulders. He could feel the immense weight of the food pulling her forward. "Le's get you to bed, Tifa.. chan.." Barrett mumbled, boosting the gorged girl up the staircase. "You better sleep this off tomorrow." He laid her on her side, and pulled the sheets over her robust form. She turned her head to him. "Barrett.. There's some blankets downstairs.. on the couch... You can sleep there... there's some waffles in the freezer if you have to go.... early... but if you can wait... I can make us some pancakes." Tifa forced the words out, breathing heavily. "Goodnight, Tifa.." Barrett turned and headed downstairs, shaking his head and wondering at how the Tifa he had known, and almost loved, had changed her mind so deeply. Barrett awoke early the next morning. He checked upstairs, Tifa was still sleeping, but her bulging waist was losing the swell, and returning, somewhat, more towards normal. He toasted himself a bagel, still quite full from the night before, and let himself out, leaving Tifa a note, saying goodbye, thanking her for the food, and the "wonderful" dinner. Tifa awoke hours later, just as the sun reached apex, with an intense backache. She stood and stretched, then let her hands roam over her soft stomach. The meal had digested itself, and where it had gone, Tifa did not know. All she cared was that the bulb on her waist had departed, and that was that. She donned her morning jogging clothes and set to running her laps, reduced by fatigue to 11.
"JEMS : Tifa's Awakening P.2" is © its
creator, The Cloaked Ghost. |