This happened when I was about 11. My first real sleepoverparty, not to mention the discovery of my belly fetish. Seems like all the goodbelly stories I have are a result of slumber parties. I guess it’s because somuch junk food is eaten, which leads to lots of belly noises. No problems withthat! =D It’s long, but worth it. Hope you all enjoy!

We were 11. We were excited. It was late. And we were prettydamn hungry. There were two pizzas for the five of us to split, with theintention of there being leftovers for later. The pizza place the pizzas camefrom wasn’t the best, but it was close and fast, which was what mattered mostto our empty, rumbling bellies. When the doorbell rang, we bolted to the front door to take the foodwhile mom paid the laughing delivery man. 

We didn’t even bother going to the table. We went straightto the living room and open the boxes. It was a free-for-all. I can’t rememberhow many slices we had each, but between idle chatter and the occasional joke,we demolished those pizzas. There was nothing left when we were finished, andthe only evidence were the greasy cardboard boxes, along with the occasionalburp. Our eyes turned to the soda next, the four liters quickly flowing firstinto cups, then into our waiting stomachs, which were just beginning to showthe signs of fullness. I remember putting a hand to my rounding belly andnoticing a little flutter in my chest. The feeling of having the food churningaround in my stomach was blissful, and the little gurgles and grumbles my bellymade delighted me. My friends were focused on pouring cup after cup of soda,and didn’t notice the slight blush on my face when one of our bellies eruptedin a long, deep gurgle.

We watched chick flicks right after, eyes filling with tearsduring Moulin Rouge, stomachs loading up on ice cream and popcorn.  By this point, there was no hiding ourbellies…they were bulging from beneath the blanket we shared, and were rumblingaway as they struggled to make sense of all the junk they were forced toprocess. We topped it all off by sneaking into the fridge when the movie wasover and eating a few spoonfuls of cookie dough each, while tearfullydiscussing why we thought it was so hard for directors to come up with happyendings to romantic movies like the one we had just watched.  We then set up for the night, andtalked quietly after hiding our dirty cookie dough spoons in the dishwasher.

One by one, all of my friends fell asleep. I was too filledup with sugar, and the newfound desire, rather than a simple fascination, withmy belly and its various gurglings and burblings kept me awake. It became clearto me that the noises echoing through the room weren’t just mine. All of thegirls in the room with me had eaten just as much, if not more, than I had.Their digestive systems had drained them of their energy and were working fullforce on everything we had crammed into ourselves.  This was a very audible process. I had never heard so manybelly noises in my life before. Every rumble I could’ve imagined erupted fromthose swollen stomachs, and each belly sounded different in its own distinctway. One of them yelled out with very deep, gassy rumbles that ended in littlesloshes whenever its owner shifted. Another gurgled almost constantly, a seriesof high-pitched, watery rumbles echoing from one corner of her belly to thenext. There was another girl whose stomach sounded almost as if it was beggingfor more food, (as if it could possibly hold any more,) and seemed to reminditself of its fullness with gigantic, bubbly churning noises.  My favorite belly was one that soundeda bit upset, and happened to be the closest to me, judging by its volume andthe clarity of each gurgle. This belly bubbled, rumbled, and sloshed, its ownergiving the occasional soft groan when her stomach would contract violentlyaround its contents, erupting in long, drawn out gurgles that started very deepand rose in pitch before diving back down into a gassy growl. When she breathedin, her stomach would burble in even higher pitches, the strain of gettingbigger causing it to complain heartily. When she breathed out again, a strange,drawn out gurgle would cut through the night.

The full moon that filtered through the windows of theliving room provided visual evidence of our rounded stomachs, as if the noisesthat filled the air weren’t enough.

I couldn’t see their bellies moving with anything other thanbreathing, but there were very noticeable bulges in the sleeping bags.  My eyes traveled from one belly to thenext. Only one belly peeked back at me, and it wasn’t my own. One girl hadkicked off the blanket she slept under on the couch, and her nightshirt hadrisen up to expose her pale, perfectly curved belly. This happened to be theclosest girl to me. The perfect belly noises were matched with the ideal belly.I was fascinated, and would’ve put my ear to her moon-like stomach if I hadn’tbeen scared of waking her up. Her sleep was troubled enough by the stomachacheshe must’ve been dealing with…she would shift from time to time and moanquietly, almost drowned out by her massive belly.

I didn’t want to fall asleep, but my own stomach wasgurgling angrily, demanding that I devote my energy to its massive task ratherthan listen to the noisy process of the others. Sadly, when I woke up, the roomwas fairly quiet, though everyone’s bellies still protruded just the slightest.

From that night on, I knew that I was addicted to bellynoises, stuffed, aching, hungry, or not, and there’d be no turning back.