chapter 2

One morning I awoke to an emergency at the Berlin office and had to take the first fight over. I hugged my wife kissed her passionately and said goodbye. She begged me one last time to tell her what made that magical first bowl of pasta taste so good. I told I wasn’t sure. “It was just some recipe I found online.”


The morning I was flying home, I received 2 phone calls that forever change my life.


The first was from the farmer that had sent me the sample mushrooms. He was calling because there was a mix up with my wife’s order and they’d accidently sent a case instead of a box. Before I could recover from what he’d just said, the man added, “a box has 10 mushrooms and case has 100, so let me know if you’re going to keep them all or.....”


Click. I hung up before he could finish. I was just about to call my wife when my phone rang again. It was her. “Hey baby guess what?” she asked. “I was trying to find the pasta recipe on the computer, and I found the farmer that sold the mushrooms. I ordered a box and they just got here.” I could hear her tearing open the box. “Oh wow. There’s a ton of them.”


“Wait! don’t eat them!” I screamed.


“Why?” She asked.


At that moment I knew what I had to do. I confessed everything. And then begged her to not eat any more. Throw them all away before it’s too late.


I braced myself for the rage after what I’d done. But instead, I heard, “ ....mmmm oooohhhhh goddddd they’re even better than I remember.” Click.


It was the longest day of my life. I called and called at every layover. Berlin, London, New York but she never picked up. Finally, after 16 long painful hours I arrived at home.


I opened the front door, and the smell was overpowering. I mix of a fast food and earthy mushrooms. The air was hot and humid. “Hello?” I called out.


From upstairs I heard “MMM....Ah baby I’m upstairs and so hungry and horny......mmmmm... more food.....please bring food and your big cock. MmmmmmMMmmmm.” I sprinted up the stairs and into our bedroom. Laying on our bed atop a pile of pillows up was my naked wife. Her stomach was absolutely enormous. A terrifying dome riddled with angry red stretch marks. Like an extra-large exercise ball attached to my chubby wife.


Sitting atop her massive guy almost obscuring her view was a gallon of ½ melted ice cream. Next to her was the box of mushrooms the farmer had sent. Nearly empty. Surrounding her was piles of empty fast-food containers, pizza boxes and the wrappers and boxes of literally every piece of food we had in the house.


With her right hand, she was shoving handful after handful of ice cream like Winnie the Pooh eating honey. Her other hand was popping mushroom after mushroom from the box into her ice cream filled mouth. “OOOOOooooooo....sooooo.....goooood.” she moaned.


“NO!” I yelled and lunged for the box, but she snatched the last few mushrooms and shoved them in her mouth. Then she plunged both hands into the rest of the ice cream and inhaled it like an animal. When she finished she tossed the container aside. Ice cream streamed her face, arms and chest.


She looked at me longingly. “Please? More? Me want more.” Tears streamed her face. She curled into the fetal position, arms wrapped around her insanely large stomach and whimpered. “pleasepleasepleaseplease.”


Seeing her there so desperate for another taste was killing me. This was all my fault, and I knew I what I had to do. “I’ll be right back.” I said.