"Status report," Nikki said, mid-Cheeto. "I feel… dense. Like a bread bowl." Felicity unclasped the top button of her leggings. The sigh of relief was audible. "You?" Nikki lifted her hoodie. Her stomach, usually flat, now showed a soft, rounded curve pushing against the seam of her leggings. The fabric was tight. "Level two," Nikki said. "But I’m not stopping until I see pleats."
Nikki had prepared the car. She folded down the back seats of the Civic to create a flat cargo space. She laid out a faded beach towel and propped her phone up to play a playlist of heavy bass music. The vibe was intentional: chaos fueling chaos. Nikki And Felicity Belly Stuffing -Part 1- Target