The Reunion [part Three]

Chapter 11

I juggled the bags of takeout, nudging the door closed with my foot as I stepped into my apartment. “Baby, I’m home!” I called out, my voice echoing in the quiet. There was a moment of silence before I heard the familiar creak of footsteps, heavier and slower than I remembered.

Ashley appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, waddling toward me with a smile that was both mischievous and inviting. She had chocolate smeared around her mouth and on her hands, with a few pieces clutched tightly in each fist. Her face lit up as she saw me.

“Oh, Marcus! You’re finally here,” she said, her voice breathy and playful. “I’m so -HICCUP!- hungry!”

I could only stare for a moment, taking in her wide, rounded frame, her gigantic bare belly stretching outward beyond the fabric of her tight fitting shirt. She seemed even bigger than the last time I saw her, softer and fuller, and there was a gleam in her eyes that was both tender and insatiable. She licked a smudge of chocolate off her thumb, not breaking eye contact for even a moment.

I felt a strange mix of emotions swirling inside of me—surprise, attraction, something deeper. “Well,” I managed, holding up the bags, “I brought enough food to last us a week, though I suspect you’ll be able to gobble down all of it in less than an hour!” 

She giggled playfully, reaching out to take a bag, chocolate-sticky fingers brushing against mine. “Oh, Marcus, you know I will!”My heart raced as I followed Ashley into the bedroom, where mountains of wrappers, empty takeout containers, and half-eaten treats lay scattered all about. It was clear to me that she'd been here all day, indulging, letting herself grow even softer and rounder. She plopped down onto the bed, the mattress groaning under her weight. She stretched her arms toward me, her eyes wide and pleading.

“Feed me!” she begged, her voice almost a growl. “Feed me and make me into the fat piggy of your dreams!”

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I reached into the bag, pulling out fries, burgers, pastries, pressing each bite into her eager mouth. She chewed and swallowed greedily, making soft “oink, oink” noises, which thrilled me all the more. As if by magic, her belly started to grow, rounding out and filling up, stretching the waistline of her tightly fitted jeans to its limits, the button soon popping and ricocheting across the room. Her body expanded faster than would seem humanly possible, her thighs thickening, her face rounding, her belly ballooning until I was almost sure she’d burst.

Then something strange happened; as I reached for her face, I realized the features were no longer Ashley’s, but rather it was Maureen staring up at me. My heart drops in my chest and I shake my head, unsure if what I was seeing was actually real or if I was having some sort of fevered hallucination.

“It’s you,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper.

“Of course it’s me,” she replied, smiling softly. “It’s always been me.”

Just then, I jolted awake, heart pounding, my hand reaching out to the empty space beside me. It was the same dream that I have had every single night since Maureen left me to join her ex-boyfriend Raul out in Los Angeles. I’d gone out with my ex-girlfriend Ashley a few times after running into her at the city shopping center that afternoon and seeing how much she had changed, but no matter how much her body now matched the ideal that I thought that I wanted, things were just never right with her and I. We had nothing to talk about, nothing in common at all. The paths that Ashley and I had each taken since college had grown even further apart and more divergent over the years—and frankly, I found her to be even more boring than I had remembered her to be.

As I lay alone in my bed staring at the ceiling, trying once again to forget the dream that I’d had, the sound of Maureen’s voice speaking those words that I so longed to hear her say to me once again began echoing over and over  in my mind. Every night I’d wake up from that dream with the same feeling of emptiness, the same ache in my chest that I could never quite shake. I hated that she was still there, in my thoughts, even when I tried so hard to move on. She was in every dream, every corner of my mind, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t forget her.

Naturally I wanted to reach out and call her, to tell her everything that I was thinking and feeling. I wanted to let her know that I still loved her, that I still thought about her every minute of every day and beg her to come home, to come back to me. The feelings of rejection I felt when she chose Raul over me was too real and too painful for me to bear. Call me vain, call me prideful, call me what you will—I knew that one day I would have to face her once again, but not today.