#xjanx

"Oh, come on now, darling," insisted Thaddeus with that fretful look on his sharp face, taking an arm around his young friend. "Surely you'd like to have a little something."

"Really, I'm fine," said Jan, and seeing the old man's skeptical look, they added: "They don't really have anything I can eat, anyway."

"Oh--! Oh, Jan!" Thaddeus exclaimed, a look of true horror on his face. "Why didn't you say something when they were planning the food? I'm sure they would have sorted something out for you."

"I didn't want to make any trouble," Jan said quietly.

"But you have made trouble, my dear, you've made it for yourself! You are just as much a guest at this event as anybody else, are you not?" Jan thought about that, but Thaddeus didn't give them time to respond. "Now, here's what we're going to do," he went on, patting Jan's shoulder. "You come join Calloway and me for dinner tonight and we'll see that you get a proper meal."

"You don't have to--"

"Ah-ah-- No buts! You're coming over, darling, and that's that. I will not see a friend of mine miss out on a nice dinner when everybody else gets to enjoy one. Now, will I see you at seven?"

It was no use trying to argue; Thaddeus was a kind, lovely, stubborn man and he wouldn't even think of taking no for an answer. Jan supposed that was alright. They liked Thaddeus and Calloway, and spending an evening with the pair was always a pleasure. Knowing Thaddeus would likely have everything planned out down to the very last pea on the platter, they supposed they shouldn't make anything too involved to bring along, but, not wanting to show up empty-handed, they put together a batch of cranberry orange cookies, more intended to be a gift than part of the meal. 

"Jan! Come on in," said Calloway with a warm smile, inviting Jan inside with a hand on their shoulder.

"I brought..." Jan trailed off, holding up the cookies.

"Hey, you didn't have to bring anything! Those look great," said Calloway. He peered back over his shoulder, then, slightly quieter: "Mind if I swipe one?"

"Don't go spoiling your dinner, darling," Thaddeus called out from the kitchen, and Calloway gazed up at the ceiling with a weary grin. Smiling in their subtle way that only a friend could notice, Jan pried the container open and slipped him a cookie.

Jan loved visiting Thaddeus and Calloway, not only because they were lovely people and great hosts, but also because their home was like a fairytale house. The entire place seemed to be decorated with pure whimsy in mind, with themes of nature and fantasy worked into everything, attractive antique furniture and playful knickknacks, lively florals and rich warm earth tones and swirling Art Nouveau embellishments. It was classy and elegant but hardly pretentious, well-kept and tidy but not uninviting. It was, as Calloway often clarified to guests, largely Thaddeus' aesthetic eye that made it so; his own tastes were far more simple, and he left most of the decorating to his more theatrical husband. The result was positively magical.

"Heard you didn't get much to eat earlier," said Calloway as he led Jan to the kitchen. He'd been at the party as well, but unlike Thaddeus and more like Jan, he'd spent most of it off to the side somewhere, albeit doing his own share of socializing with his fellow sideliners.

"I had a little something when I got home."

"Well, I hope you didn't have too much, because Thad's got a whole vegan Thanksgiving dinner going on in there," Calloway chuckled. Jan had no doubt about that. Even before they joined Thaddeus in the kitchen, a whirlwind of wonderful smells wafted over them, swirling idly around the lamps and vases to let them know in no uncertain terms that something good was in store.

"Oh, come in, come in," Thaddeus beckoned eagerly as the two came into the cozy kitchen. It was fairly small, but not cramped in the slightest, and beside it was a lovely little dining area, the table set with a green floral cloth and a vase of flowers. Thaddeus greeted Jan with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then ushered them into a seat. 

"Now, I couldn't decide on a main course," Thaddeus explained, "so I made a few different things, I'm sure you won't mind, will you, darling?" Jan saw then the source of one of the lovely aromas floating around in the air as the old man ladled steaming soup into hollowed out pumpkins--little ones, about the size of small bowls. They smiled fondly. Thaddeus was all about presentation; of course he would serve pumpkin soup in an actual pumpkin. They were attractive pumpkins, too, bright orange and symmetrical, and Jan could imagine him hurrying out to find the perfect ones for the occasion, fretting and nitpicking over little bumps and blemishes.

"This," Thaddeus went on, "shall be our starter, hm? Now, I know you're not a fan of alcohol, so I've got some sparkling cider. Here we are--oh, shoo, sit down, sit down," he insisted, herding Jan back to the table as they stood to help. He set out a serving of soup for each of them while Calloway poured the cider, and finally they were all seated together. 

It seemed unfair that Thaddeus should be such an excellent cook on top of all his other talents, but an excellent cook he was, and tonight was no exception. The soup smelled heavenly, and it tasted just as good. It was thick and creamy but not overwhelmingly so, elegantly flavored with fragrant spices and garnished with fresh herbs and toasted seeds. It was smooth, rich, and pleasant, and the warmth of it was comforting on a cool autumn evening like this one.

"This is really good," said Jan. They weren't a huge fan of chatting over dinner--or chatting at all, really--and they knew their friends didn't mind, but it seemed right to say something, and, after all, they meant it. 

"I gotta say, I didn't think I was gonna love it, but it is nice," Calloway agreed.

"See, now, didn't I tell you," teased Thaddeus, giving his husband a playfully smug smile before turning back to Jan. "Thank you, darling, I thought it seemed fitting for the season."

Knowing the soup was only the beginning, Jan ate slowly and carefully. While they were always glad to enjoy Thaddeus' cooking, they didn't quite have the capacity for multiple courses--in fact, the little pumpkin of soup alone would have been plenty for them. They paced themself, not wanting to scare their stomach off too quickly, and savored the soup as they ate, enjoying the pleasant, mellow flavors and the indulgent texture. As they finished, their spoon scraping the tender floor of the pumpkin, they realized that it was a perfect serving size--they were full, comfortably so, but not so full that they were dreading whatever else their kind hosts had in store. They weren't sure what it was, but there was a pot simmering away on the stove which Thaddeus had momentarily left the table to tend to--you must forgive me, dear, he'd said, as though anybody would have held it against him--and it smelled cozy and inviting, like a soft, savory hug.

As the three of them finished up their soup, Thaddeus left the table once more, this time to plate the next dish. Jan almost got up to see if he wanted help, but Calloway, who'd been married to the man long enough to know better, waved them back down with a fond smile. When there was company over, Thaddeus absolutely would not have his guests lift a finger, and if they tried, he'd flutter over them like a disgruntled mother hen until they sat down and relaxed. That was something Jan had never been able to get used to. It seemed strange not to be up helping while somebody else was doing all the work, but if it was what the old man preferred, they supposed they could play along. Calloway, at least, was allowed to help while he put together the plates, so he wasn't doing it all entirely alone.

When Thaddeus and Calloway returned to the table, it was with three dishes of homemade pasta in a creamy mushroom sauce. That explained the pleasant smell. Jan loved mushrooms, and the silky sauce was richly flavored with them and filled with them, not just portobellos, but a mixture of different types. Accompanying the pasta was a colorful salad topped with diced apples, roasted sweet potatoes and beets, toasted walnuts and pumpkin seeds, and a tangy vinaigrette. 

"Wow, this looks beautiful," said Jan, impressed by the attractive presentation of the dishes.

"Oh, you're sweet," beamed Thaddeus, pulling Calloway's chair out for him and sitting down beside him. "You know, I've just been dying to make something with mushrooms, and I know how much you like them, isn't it funny the way things work out?"

To say the pasta was lovely would have been an understatement. The sauce was comforting and delicious, the mushrooms tender and flavorful, and the salad was bright and refreshing, the medley of sweet, tangy flavors and the crispness of the greens and apples creating a pleasant contrast to the richness of the pasta. Despite their full belly, each bite drew Jan right back in for another. As they ate, though, they were aware of a definite snug feeling beginning to bloom in their stomach. It wasn't unpleasant in the slightest, but it was only growing, and they knew they'd be feeling stuffed before long. Right now, though, with the velvety sauce melting on their tongue, they couldn't even bring themself to care; they were simply focused on enjoying the food.

"I am so glad you came over, my dear," said Thaddeus, delicately topping off Jan's glass of cider. "It's so nice to make dinner a special occasion. Isn't it nice, darling?" He turned to Calloway, twirling up a forkful of pasta.

"It is nice," Calloway nodded.

"I appreciate you havin' me over," said Jan with a shy smile.

Jan grew steadily fuller as they ate, and they began to slow down. While the meal wasn't sitting uncomfortably in their stomach, it was bulky and heavy, though the warm weight of it filling out their belly was pleasant. Still, the pasta took up a lot of space, and the soup filled in all the tiny gaps, leaving their belly feeling very tight. They doubted they'd be able to eat much more. They hoped to at least finish what was in front of them, but even that seemed like a daunting task; they'd already passed their typical stopping point.

The three chatted over the meal--Thaddeus and Calloway, mostly; Jan was more of a listener--and as their plate grew lighter, Jan found themself having to put a conscious effort into eating. The food was still delicious, but each bite made them increasingly aware of the growing pressure distending their belly. They were well past what they'd normally eat in a single sitting now, and their stomach felt stretched taut, pressing out firmly against the tight hug of their pants. They were almost finished, though. There were only a few bites of pasta left, and even less of their salad, which they'd been nibbling at continuously to avoid being overtaken by the rich sauce.

Set on cleaning their plate, Jan ate another bite of pasta, enjoying the flavor as they chewed slowly, putting off the act of squeezing it into their overcrammed stomach. They followed it with a small sip of bubbly cider, and they hoped nobody heard the soft gurgling of their belly as they swallowed. They alternated between pasta, salad, and cider, taking care not to eat too quickly; failing to finish their food was one thing, making themself sick would be another entirely. With Thaddeus and Calloway going to such lengths to take care of them, the last thing they wanted was to be a poor guest. Fortunately, they didn't feel ill in the slightest, only very, very full. Their belly felt like a drum, pushing itself out as though they'd filled it with a deep breath that could not be exhaled. Their pants were beginning to feel far too snug, but there was nothing they could do about that; they'd have liked to try and inch the waist a little lower under the curve of their tummy to take some of the pressure off, but they didn't think they could do it without being too conspicuous. 

Slowly, finally, bit by bit, Jan finished their food. They wanted to lean back in the comfortable chair and hold their distended tummy, and they knew neither Thaddeus nor Calloway would think any less of them if they did, but, wanting to maintain the same grace their hosts did, they held their composure. They were just thankful that eating so much hadn't left them feeling sick. That must have been Thaddeus' design as well; the old man knew Jan's stomach was sensitive, and he'd likely taken care to use lighter ingredients in the meal. While the result had still been wonderfully indulgent, nothing had been oily or overwhelming.

"Have some more cider, darling," said Thaddeus, pouring Jan another glass. Jan didn't think they could fit another sip, but they thanked him regardless. He seemed very pleased that Jan had cleaned their plate, a sure sign that they'd enjoyed the meal, which they certainly had. They sat and chatted a little while longer over the rest of the cider. Jan sipped theirs cautiously, not wanting to fill their already-stuffed belly with bubbles. Fortunately, the carbonation helped coax up a little bit of trapped air, which they took care to let out silently. It didn't do much to ease the bloated feeling in their stomach, but it didn't hurt, either. Under the table, they rested a subtle hand on their belly. Even the lower half felt tight and firm, and while they would have liked to rub their strained upper belly, the feeling was still soothing.

"Are we ready for dessert?" Thaddeus stood to take the plates. Jan felt a dash of panic.

"I think they might be a little full, Thad," Calloway chuckled. The panic was quickly replaced with relief, and Calloway gave them an understanding smile. 

"Oh! Of course, darling, dessert can wait," said Thaddeus, sweeping the dishes away gracefully. Jan hesitated for a moment, then followed him.

"Can I wash? Please," they said, gesturing to the dishes. "It's the least I could do."

"Oh, Jan..."

"Aw, let 'em wash," said Calloway, joining them by the sink. "People like to help. Here, I'll dry. Why don't you go sit your pretty self down?" He gave Thaddeus a peck on the cheek as he leaned past him to grab a towel.

"Oh, alright," he relented with a weary smile.

Jan was glad to finally be of some use. They knew Thaddeus was perfectly happy to put on the whole dinner himself--he took pride in being a good host, and he enjoyed all the little tasks that came with cooking and cleaning up--but they hated sitting by and watching while somebody else did all the work. They were thankful that Calloway seemed to understand. He'd been with Thaddeus long enough to know when he wanted help and when he didn't, but he'd also been with him long enough to have the special privilege of shooing him away.

Between the two of them working, the dishes went along quickly. Jan's tummy bumped out against the fabric of their loose-fitting sweater, and they hoped it wasn't too noticeable, though it didn't really matter if it was. Once everything was dried and put away, they joined Thaddeus, who was looking rather antsy, back at the table to relax for a moment.

"Sorry, Thad," grinned Calloway, patting his arm as he sat down beside him.

"You're a menace, darling," said Thaddeus, and he leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

They sat around the table for a little while, chatting and digesting. Jan kept their hand on their lower belly under the table. The feeling of overwhelming pressure gradually eased up a little, but they still felt unbelievably stuffed, their belly round and taut in their hand. They did manage to discreetly nudge the snug waist of their pants a little lower, and while that didn't make them feel any less bloated, it did make them feel a little more comfortable.

"So, what do you think, Jan?" Calloway asked finally, taking his elbow off the table to sit more upright. "Feel like dessert?" Jan nodded meekly. They weren't entirely confident in that answer, but they were at least more ready than they had been before. Smiling, Thaddeus rose from his seat to retrieve something from the little green retro-style fridge.

"Now, you certainly don't have to eat the whole thing if you don't have any room," he assured them, seeming to have caught on to the fact that he'd stuffed Jan like a turkey. He set a small tart at each spot, an elegant roselike swirl of pear slices topping each.

"It's pretty," said Jan, and Thaddeus smiled brightly.

The tart was about six inches across, and fairly shallow. Jan wasn't sure whether they'd be able to finish it, but it didn't seem terribly intimidating. In fact, it was pretty alluring. Jan loved fruit even more than they loved mushrooms, and even on a very full stomach, they were happy to dig into the tart. It was sweet and mellow, the tender pears and jam filling practically melting in their mouth, and the cool fruitiness was refreshing and welcome after the heavy dinner. They ate slowly, very conscious of how full they felt, but they didn't have to put any effort into enjoying it.

Well, he tried not to think about that. Instead, as the heavy liquid streamed down his throat, he wondered why the hell he hadn't suggested using something oat or almond-based instead. He'd be incapacitated for the rest of the day with this much dairy in his system. Although, he supposed, if water wasn't convincing enough, the picky director likely wouldn't have approved an alternative creamer either. The man seemed to have something against Jan anyway; he'd probably have denied him just on principle.

The script called for him to polish off the bottle quickly, and that was something Jan was struggling to do, much to the director's visible annoyance. At least his stone-faced exterior didn't falter at the sickeningly sweet taste or the growing discomfort in his belly as it filled up. One had to give him credit for that. He badly needed to burp, the pressure in his stomach building too fast for comfort, but he couldn't take the bottle from his lips until it was empty, and so he pushed on, swallowing the air bubbles back down with the creamer. He could feel his stomach growing tighter and tighter, and he silently prayed that he'd be able to finish before the painful cramps set in.

Jan wondered as he drank whether the director would take issue with his steadily distending belly. It was undoubtedly visible; he could feel his sweater pulling tighter over the uncomfortable curve as his stomach puffed out. A loud gurgle bubbled up from it, and he wondered whether the director would take issue with that. Too bad if he did; none of it could be helped. He was beginning to wonder, as his stomach grew painfully tight, whether the director would take issue with it if he exploded.

The creamer seemed endless, and Jan barely managed to stifle a moan as he swallowed another gulp, his stomach stretching and straining to hold it all. He was so bloated that he couldn't suck in his belly at all, and the waist of his pants hugged it tightly. There was another gurgle, and he felt this one--fortunately not cramping, not yet, but an uneasy, bubbly vibration trembling through his tummy. He could feel himself swelling up as he drank, both liquid and gas blowing his belly up like a balloon, tighter and tighter, impossibly tight, the pressure so great that he was certain he'd burst if he took one more gulp--but at last, mercifully, it was done.

He moved slowly as he changed into his miniature outfit, his bloated tummy sloshing softly as he leaned down to pull on his pants. They were difficult to button, as they always were at first, and he leaned back against the table leg, fly still open, hands resting on his belly. It would settle soon enough, he'd learned, but right now that stretched feeling in his middle was a little overwhelming. He rested a moment, forcing up a small burp, then, finally, he tugged the fly of his pants together and made his way outside.

Going out could be treacherous at such a small size, but the garden was safe enough. It had just rained the night before, and Jan was eager to enjoy the cool, damp morning from a new perspective. Walking was difficult on the wet, marshy ground, but he didn't mind. The world glittered around him with raindrops reflecting the new morning light, and the fresh air felt heavenly on his face. He wandered through the grass, brushing his hand over the fluffy petals of a dandelion as he passed by it, taking in the smell of the rain and the leaves and the flowers, the ache in his tummy forgotten. Everything seemed so green and vibrant, even more so than usual as the sunlight filtered through the leafy bushes towering over him.

Jan wandered that little area for some time, lost in the beauty of it, when, to his great delight, he came across a mushroom. It was too small to sit under, which he would have liked to do, but it was just the right size to sit on top of. He placed himself carefully, testing the strength of the stout little toadstool, and, determining that it would hold his weight, sat himself down. It would make a lovely spot to sit and enjoy a cup of tea, if he only had one. He thought for a moment, then hopped up and scampered off, nearly slipping in a small puddle.

He returned to the toadstool with a freshly-picked raspberry, the cavity where the stem had been now filled with rainwater, a single drop he'd carefully shaken from a leaf. He sat once again with his drink, gazing out at the world around him, marveling at the way the wet leaves sparkled as a gentle breeze passed through them. He sipped the water, then, looking down at his cup, took a little nibble at the berry. His appetite was beginning to perk back up, a sign that his return to full size was on the horizon, although not just yet. He still had some time to enjoy the morning. The sun was higher in the sky now, and he hadn't realized how chilled he'd felt until he noticed the warmth of its rays falling over him. He sighed softly, feeling comfortable and content.

Jan's belly rumbled, and he reluctantly stood up, taking the berry with him. Feeling hungry meant he'd soon be back to normal, and he'd need to change out of his small clothes. He began the trek back indoors, nibbling at the berry as he walked, pausing for just a moment to smell a clover flower on the way. By the time he crept through the just-cracked-open door, the berry was gone and his tummy was puffed out once again, but that wouldn't last. While anything he ate before taking the potion shrank with him, the contents of his stomach would remain tiny after it wore off, lacking whatever it was a living creature had that allowed the magic to run its course. It was hard to imagine, full as he felt now, that he'd be absolutely starving in a few minutes' time.