#like the fact that sourdough starter just RISES. and expands. other similar words. etc.

[barfygutcheck]

sourdough starter snack

/recently found out that live yeast might ferment in the stomach for a while if large quantities of it are eaten. think noises, think expansion. so this fic happened. uhh/

Jackie’s dorm room was quiet, save for the hum of the AC and the rustle of pages turning as she sat in the living room, reviewing her notes. She had a tendency to stay up late cramming. It was just past midnight, and the dim glow of the kitchen light spilled into the living room.

Jackie had been so wrapped up in her studying, she hadn’t noticed the soft sounds of someone moving around in the kitchenette until she heard the faint scraping of a spoon against a bowl. She glanced up from her notebook, frowning slightly. An hour ago, Sawyer had settled on the couch (trying to be considerate of Jackie’s roommate), but it looked like her stomach decided otherwise — a thought Jackie couldn’t help but find stimulating.

It wasn’t unusual for Sawyer to raid the fridge late at night, considering her appetite, but checking on her anyways couldn’t hurt.

Jackie slipped out of bed, quietly padding down the hall. As she approached the kitchen, the sound of the spoon grew clearer. Jackie had a pretty good idea what she was about to find.

“Sully?” she called out, folding her arms over her chest.

“Hmm?” came a muffled response from the kitchen.

When Jackie turned the corner into the kitchen, her suspicion was confirmed. There, standing at the counter with a big mixing bowl clutched in one hand and a spoon halfway to her mouth, was Sawyer. Her eyes were glued to the bowl, completely oblivious to Jackie’s presence.

Jackie’s eyes widened when she saw the unmistakable texture and bubbles of leavening. The bowl wasn’t just any bowl. It was her sourdough starter — weeks of careful fermentation and feeding, gone, or at least half gone, if the looks of it were anything to go by.

“Oh my God, Sully. What are you doing?” Jackie blurted out, rushing forward.

Sawyer looked up, mid-chew, her cheeks full. She swallowed slowly, then grinned sheepishly, as if she hadn’t just committed what Jackie considered to be the culinary equivalent of a felony.

“Uh… hey, babe. Eating cookie dough… duh,” she mumbled through another bite, lifting the spoon and gesturing toward the bowl. “I didn’t know you made some. It’s pretty good, but kind of tangy. Want a bite?”

Jackie’s heart skipped a beat. Her brain stumbled over itself, trying to process what she was seeing as Sawyer scooped up another spoonful into her mouth. Cookie dough?

“That’s not cookie dough, that’s—” she said, her voice pitching higher with every word. She raked a hand through her hair, trying to figure out how to break the news. “That’s sourdough starter, Sully!”

Sawyer froze, spoon hovering halfway to her mouth, and blinked at Jackie. “Uh… what?”

Jackie rubbed a hand over her face, groaning. “It’s sourdough starter. It’s fermented! Not something you just eat… raw!”

Sawyer’s eyes darted to the bowl, then to the spoon, which she’d been licking, then back to Jackie. The confusion was clear on her face, but slowly, ever so slowly, it began to dawn on her that she might’ve seriously messed up.

“Wait…” Sawyer furrowed her brow. “So, it’s… not edible?”

“No! Well, I mean, not like that!” Jackie threw her hands up. “You don’t just eat it! It’s used to make bread rise. It’s filled with live cultures and bacteria—”

Sawyer flinched at the word “bacteria,” her gaze flicking to the bowl in her hands. “It’s alive?”

“Yeah, as in yeast! You’re supposed to let it ferment for days to make bread.” Jackie pressed a hand to her forehead. “How much did you eat?”

Sawyer placed the bowl down on the counter, eyeing the near-empty contents. She hesitated, then shrugged. “I dunno. Like, a lot?”

“A lot? Sully, that’s—” Jackie cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “Sully, that stuff expands when it’s heated up. Who knows how much of that is sitting in — in your stomach right now!”

Sawyer’s eyes shifted down to her stomach, which now seemed even more ominous with the knowledge of what was inside. She gulped, eyes widening. “It expands?”

“Yes. And I’m fairly sure it’s going to make you really sick if you’ve eaten as much as it looks like you have.”

Sawyer’s expression began to falter. A hand instinctively moved to rest on her abdomen, and for the first time that night, she looked genuinely worried. Her belly felt like a rock had dropped inside, pressing against her insides as it expanded.

“Uh… now that you mention it…” she said, her fingers prodding lightly against her belly. “I do feel kinda weird…”

Jackie watched. Typically, this kind of situation would have her blushing; Sawyer had a habit of overindulging and feeling the consequences. But this time, what she’d eaten wasn’t just a bad call — it could really upset her stomach. Jackie wasn’t aroused in the slightest, only concerned. “What kind of weird? Stomachache?”

Sawyer paused, her face scrunching up as she tried to gauge how she was feeling. “It’s not, like, painful. But it’s definitely feeling�� off. Like, kinda tight. Heavy.”

As if her belly was starting to rise like dough. Like bread in an oven. Live yeast thrives in warm environments, and the human stomach is warm. Particularly Sawyer’s gut, since Sawyer was like a living, walking furnace, always overheating.

Jackie was already thinking through their options. Nothing in her two years of medical studies equipped her for a girlfriend who had mistaken sourdough starter for cookie dough, and she was unsure of what to do when that sourdough decided to fight back in her girlfriend’s belly. “Okay. Well, your body’s probably trying to process all that yeast. You just ate half a bowl of fermented dough, I mean, we need to keep an eye on this.”

Sawyer stared down at her stomach again, a flash of panic crossing her face. “Oh, crap. I thought it was cookie dough,” she pitifully blurted, as if saying it louder would make it somehow less of an issue.

Jackie shook her head, reaching out to gently push Sawyer into one of the kitchen chairs. “Alright, alright. Just sit down. You’ll wake Willow up.”

Sawyer plopped down into the chair, slowly rubbing circles over the front of her tank top. “I just saw food, and I thought—”

“You just saw food and thought, ‘must eat now,’” Jackie put in playfully.

Sawyer cracked a weak smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

Jackie stood up, fetching a glass of water and placing it in front of Sawyer. Even though Jackie had never seen Sawyer do anything this stupid before, she knew Sawyer had pulled some dumb stunts in the past. Jackie realized that all Sawyer needed was a little patience and attention, and she would bounce back like new. “Drink this. It might help a little.”

Sawyer obediently took the glass and sipped it slowly. She grimaced, glancing down at her stomach. It churned, making thick, sloshy sounds, and she could swear she felt it expand just a little more with each passing second. “Uh, Jackie, I think it’s getting worse.”

At this, Jackie’s eyes snapped to Sawyer’s midsection. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but Sawyer’s usually flat stomach did seem a little bloated, like it was already reacting to the mass of sourdough starter she had so thoughtlessly consumed. The sourdough starter wasn’t exactly the villain here — it was just doing its thing. And it must’ve been having a field day in Sawyer’s stomach, bubbling, fermenting the sugars and starches it could find.

It had taken weeks to build it up, feeding it daily, watching it grow into a thriving colony of yeast and bacteria, preparing it to make bread. And now, more than half of it was gone, sitting inside Sawyer’s stomach instead of turning into a fresh loaf.

“We need to get you to the bathroom,” Jackie said firmly, moving to her side.

Sully gave her a wide-eyed look. “You think I’m gonna be sick or something?”

“We’re not taking any chances.” Jackie grabbed her by the arm, pulling her gently toward the door — no easy feat when Sawyer had both the weight and height advantage at a full head taller.

A deep gurgle came from the depth of Sawyer’s stomach, echoing in the dim-lit hallway. “Oh man… I don’t feel so good…”

“Well,” Jackie muttered, helping her girlfriend out of the kitchen, “you did just eat a half gallon of live bacteria and flour — perhaps more.”

They hurried the rest of the way to the bathroom, where Jackie eased Sawyer down onto the floor beside the toilet.

Sawyer leaned against the cool tile, looking utterly miserable. Her face had lost its color, and her curls, damp with sweat, stuck to her forehead. She groaned softly, rubbing her taut belly. “I can’t believe I’m gonna throw up bread before it’s even bread.”

Jackie snorted despite herself. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Next time,” Sawyer said, her voice weak, “just label your bowls.” She could feel the heavy, bloated weight pressing against her insides, sluggish, bubbling uncomfortably as if everything inside was expanding and shifting, trying to find a way out.

It was only a matter of time before it all came rushing back up.

Jackie patted her girlfriend’s knee. “I will. But next time, just ask before you go shoveling random stuff into your mouth, dumbass.”