"Ough, goodness..." Mercedes found herself moaning in discomfort first thing in the morning. She couldn't remember what had happened last night, but she seemed to have eaten... a lot. Her tummy was a thick, hot pillow sitting on her lap, gurgling and popping as it was.
 
Goodness, indeed! She hadn't had a gut like this since- well- a memory slipped from her grasp and back into one of the many corners of her brain where bad thoughts ended up; the kind of place kept under lock and key, and, presumably, the place where last night's memories ended up.
 
Still, she had to get up and get ready for class! She couldn't let dear, pretty Professor Byleth down after all. Laboriously she hefted herself off the bed and tried her best to put on her uniform. Her skirt wrapped itself under the fat, jiggly layer of pudge she was hefting around, but her shirt ended up mostly unbuttoned, and her panties... well, they wouldn't have fit even if she had remembered them.
 
First up was the morning run. The students assembled outside the dorms, most still groggy and a few hungover, but Mercedes was a morning girl- usually, that is. This morning her snap to attention was interrupted by the wobble and burble of her roiling gut, and her cheery smile was split by a low, hissing belch. For his part, Professor Jeritza seemed not to notice.
 
Sylvain, on the other hand, was less considerate. As the pack of students began their jog around the court, Mercedes found herself quickly falling behind, and Sylvain slowed his pace to catch up.
 
"Gee Mercedes, you'll never find a good husband with a gut like that!" He chuckled. "Maybe the farmer's market is more appropriate for a piggy like you." He roughly pinched the side of Mercie's swaying midriff as he ran.
 
Mercedes opened her mouth to protest, but instead of words, what came out was a loud, echoing belch that reeked of meat. Sylvain seemed to take the hint (or was simply shocked enough by the act) and picked up the pace to avoid Mercedes. She smacked her lips a few times and pulled out a short, yellow-blonde string of hair, which she tossed aside. Don't think about it. It's fine.
 
Next was class. Byleth took attendance, one student at a time, and each student Mercedes found herself passing a bit of gas.
 
"Annette?" prrft "Ingrid?" prrft "Dimitri?" prrft "Has anyone seen Dimitri?" At each name, another head turned towards the back of the class to look at Mercedes, but try as she might she couldn't control herself. As Byleth asked one last time where Dimitri was, a particularly loud fart burst past her cheeks, stinking up the room and causing Mercedes to hide her face in her books. Ashe coughed and Felix began visibly fanning his face. This was too much!
 
Thankfully the gas stopped soon after class began, but Mercedes found herself oddly sweaty. She dabbed her face with a kerchief, delicately at first, but something about what she ate just didn't sit right with her. She had heard of meat sweats before, but it had been a while since she- she had never before- she was sweaty. Her stomach was hot to touch, too. She burped again.
 
Eventually class ended. Mercedes had not ended up paying much attention to Byleth's lecture, unfortunately, too distracted by the insane process that her body was undergoing, digesting whatever heavy meal she had eaten the day before. It was smaller now, denser; the soft fluids had condensed into well... something else, she thought. Proper young women don't discuss such things.
 
After class was combat practice with Professor Jeritza. Mercedes didn't much enjoy combat practice- she was here to be a medic- but Byleth had insisted she practice with a bow, and Mercedes found herself getting the hang of it. Today, though, she lacked the coordination and determination to wield such a weapon. The bowstring slipped over her tummy, creating a smooth crease that flew over the plush gut, and unbeknownst to her pushing its contents down lower than her body had expected.
 
An ominous gurgle crept from the lowest part of her bowels as he remains of last night's meal reached the last stop on their journey, and unfortunately for Mercedes, with far more force than that muscle was used to.
 
A few unfortunate things happened in very quick succession.
 
First, Mercedes let out a moan as something began to force itself out of her bottom.
 
Second, everyone's attention snapped to the girl who had let out the kind of sound most people don't make during combat training (bar Jeritza of course).
 
And third, Mercedes realized she had forgotten to put on underpants that day.
 
To the confusion and horror of everyone involved, the entirety of Mercedes' previous meal began to force it's way out her fattened ass. Steaming hot logs nearly as wide around as Mercedes' thigh dropped from her skirt directly onto the dusty floor of the training yard. The logs quickly formed a pile that quickly grew one wet plop at a time, soon clearing Mercedes' knees. All the while her face grew beet red with embarrassment and high pitched moans and wails slipped one after the other through her lips. Gasses sputtered past her cheeks in between each logs, creating a grotesque experience in sight, sound, and scent.
 
Eventually the pile of shit seemed to have stopped. Mercedes could have been flustered, horrified even, by the slack jawed looks at her classmates, but she was more concerned with recovering from the most intense physical experience of her life.
 
Before she could collect herself and run off with her face between her hands, though, another quiet gurgle heralded one last drop, and with a loud brap the skull of Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd dropped from her rump and sank into the warm abyss below.