Chapter 7 - just a business lunch part 1

I woke up after that dream with a groan. I felt near sick, I was bloated and my stomach felt so stretched it was in pain. I thought at first it was just my mind still being in the dream, that soon the feeling would clear as my head slowly came back to reality. However, as I batted my eyes sleepily and looked down at myself, I discovered that my stomach was a tight mound under my covers.

I tore them away to find my bare belly reaching toward my ceiling, my shirt having ridden up in the night. I touched it to find it tender and hard, though there was a doughy feeling around it thanks to weeks of seemingly constant weight gain.

I tried to sit up, but with a moan I flopped back down; my engorged belly didn't want to bend. It pinned me to the bed.

I called into the office and said I was sick. Then I simply lay in bed, waiting for this feeling of overwhelming fullness to subside.

It was another two hours before I was able to pull myself up, with plenty of grunting, and shuffle over to the bathroom. I gasped as I looked in the mirror. I was now used to seeing body growing seemingly every day, but drinking in the sight of such a sudden change was utterly unexpected. My flannel pajama pants were stretching to their limits; the elastic top digging into my soft back and dipping in the front to accommodate my swollen midsection. My shirt could no longer cover my belly. It was tight around my most expanded part, but it left several inches of flesh uncovered below. My breasts were pushing out, causing the fabric to look pulled between them and the image of a jogging bear that sat on front of the shirt was stretched and distorted.

I absentmindedly rubbed my still aching stomach as I took in the sight of myself.

How was this happening? How is it that the very night I dreamed of eating until I burst, I would wake up so swollen? Yesterday had been a normal day, I hadn't eaten any more than usual. Was it possible I was eating in my sleep, going along with the dream?

Something tugged at the back of my mind, something I had thought in the dream the night before.

However, even just standing at the sink was starting to make me feel tired. I shuffled out of my bathroom and into my living room where I sank with a huff into my couch. I lay there, turning netflix on to pass the time, laying like a beached whale, my stomach once again reaching towards my ceiling and my shirt riding up so it was on full display to the fan above.

I remember eating nothing that day, feeling like I couldn't fit any more in if I wanted to. Yet, as I got up once to get a glass of water (grunting as I got up off the couch) I did note that nothing in my kitchen seemed to be missing, and so there went the sleep eating theory.

I think about that long, odd day of laying on my couch, watching endless hours of television, and, at times, idly rubbing my bloated belly. Everything that has been happening has been so confusing, so impossible. As I dipped a carrot into some ranch dressing at my desk another month and a half (not to mention another 23 pounds) later, I wondered if I should see a doctor, perhaps go in overnight so they could observe me sleeping and tell me if I'm, perhaps, sleep walking to my car, driving to the closest grocery store and eating a meal meant for a family of five each night.

"Jessica!" Miranda poked her head in. "We have a new potential client here to talk about opening an account. This could be a big one, so be on you're A-game, ok? PLEASE, pay attention. You are fantastic with clients, I need you to not be spacing out today."

"Of course, Miranda. I'm ready whenever the receptionist wants to send them in."

"And, for goodness sake, wipe that ranch dressing off your face."

As she cleared the doorway, I signed and wished I could just go home. I sank down in my chair, feeling my size 16s protesting my body's movements. If my trend continued, I might need to go up another size in the next week or so. I patted my round belly that now rested on my lap just a touch when I sat.

I reached over to my desk to grab a napkin and was dabbing at my lips when I heard someone come to my door.

"Hello, Ms. Mackley?"

"Yes, that's me. Please come in and take a-" I froze mid-sentence. There before me, my mistress stood. She was dressed sharp in a grey suit. Not the suit I usually saw her in, not a tuxedo, but a formal business one, and this time with her legs in pants. Her red hair was still up in a bun, it looked soft and shiny in the full light without a hat covering it.

What most gave me pause, however, was her eyes. Blue and blazing, twinkling at me like they did every night in my dreams.

"... take a seat do you mean?"

"Yes, Miss- I mean, yes, please sit down."

I watched her as she walked, gracefully in heels just as in my sleep, to one of the chairs before my desk. She sat down just as delicately as if she were settling on a wooden chest or bench, preparing to watch me gorge.

Why was she here? Was it actually her? Was the women in my dream my imagination, or is what was happening... real?

No, it couldn't be. That was impossible. And it's impossible that she's sitting here in front of me now.

I sat down with a plop and a huff. I had been doing that a lot lately, not use to my new heaviness.

"Uh, well," I began, trying to collect my thoughts, reaching into my head to remember how to do the job I'd been doing for years. "What... what can I do for you today?"

She smirked at me. Her eyes twinkled again before she looked down to open the business portfolio she had been holding in her lap.

"My name is Rebecca Simmons. I am looking for a new insurance plan for my company. I am the president of Lumens, I'm guessing you are familiar?" She smiled.

Of course I was. Lumens was a local chocolatier, and they were a large one servicing fine chocolate shops all over Illinois and most of Indiana and Missouri. It was a pretty large company, one of the biggest in our small town. If they switched to using our insurance, it would be a huge windfall for the company. I saw why Miranda wanted me on my A-game, though I wondered why she hadn't spoken with Rebecca herself.

"Why, yes. I am, Ms. Simmons." Was it just me, or did her lips twitch in a small smile when I said 'Ms?' "In fact, my friends and I just recently took a tour of your facilities a few months back."

"Actually, I remember you. I came out and met you on the tour. It's why I decided to look into this company when I needed to consider insurance options. And why I requested you when I came in." Again, she smirked at me.

I narrowed my eyes at her, tipping my head, trying to work through the fuzz that had seemed to fill my mind to reach the memory of my trip with Heather, Trevor, Trish, and Chad all those months ago... before I had began dreaming of the dungeon even. I remembered being led down a hanging walkway over the factory and watching the workers mill about the big machinery. I remembered watching through windows as spouts pour chocolate onto trays on a conveyer belt. I remembered laughing with my friends when Heather took some of the melted chocolate we were allowed to taste and slathered it on Chad's nose with her finger.

Then I remembered the gift shop where we all bought some chocolate as gifts and some for ourselves. I remembered a woman coming out as we milled around and introducing herself as the president of the company and how much she had hoped we had enjoyed the tour.

There was a major difference between the woman I had seen in the gift shop and the one that sat before me.

If I were to guess, I'd say the difference was nearly 200 pounds.

"You've lost weight!" I exclaimed before blushing and clapping a hand over my mouth. What a stupid thing to say to a client.

My mistr- Rebecca only laughed good naturedly. "That I have! Working in a chocolate factory has its downfalls! But I've... learned new tricks." Her eyes twinkled. "I remembered you, I remembered you testing the peanut butter chocolate balls we had out as samples. You took two pieces, it must have been good!"

I blushed again. "It was. I brought some home just for myself. I never bring home chocolate, it was a special treat." Then I remembered I needed to be buttering up the client and so I smiled. "It proves your company is just as fantastic as everyone says! Maybe even more."

She chuckled again and my mind flashed back to that day. She didn't seem like the put together woman that was now sitting in my office. No, when she was in the gift shop she had seemed harried, distracted, weighed down. She had bumped into me, that's how we met. Her round belly hitting my back when she was lumbering heavily through the store. Her walk had been labored, as if she was uneven on her feet. She had apologized, a look of embarrassment briefly flitting across her face. She then seemed to remember herself and said she hopped I had enjoyed the tour. She mentioned that she was the president and chuckled when she said the best part of working there was the very shop we were standing in. That's when I had admitted I had two peanut butter balls and I was about to buy myself some more. She had licked her lips, her eyes suddenly distant, and told me good choice. As she waddled away towards the back door I could have sworn she grabbed two display boxes of chocolates.

What a difference only a few months had made.

She now stood thin, collected, and strong before me. Nothing like that lumbering, distracted woman I had met that day in the shop.

"Well, I'm so glad you enjoyed your visit. All we want to do is make good chocolate after all!" With another smile at me, she reached into her portfolio and took out a sheet and handed it to me. I glanced over it to learn it was explaining the size of the company and the goals for their new insurance.

I scooted the small bag of carrots and ranch that was sitting on my desk to the side so I could lay the paper down.