Five minutes later, Bella raised her sticky, powdered face from the pastry box. "Oh...oh, God..." she said, dreamily, eyes still closed. She had always known she was beautiful. But now she really felt it. For the first time, she was tasting, digesting the beauty itself with which she was clothed. The warm glow sang inside of her, a tune of many colors, as stomach, heart and lungs provided rhythm and harmony. "Oh, wow..." She had never liked being full before. It had always made her feel uncomfortable. Now, it felt right. It all felt right, and beautiful, and she had a sense that, no matter what happened from here on out, everything in the world was right...everything was ordered, and surely, pleasure was at the center of the earth, of the universe, and nothing could ever...
Part of her brain woke up, and realized that the other part was babbling. It also realized that, every time she breathed in, harmonizing with the universe and what-not, she was hurting herself, somehow, as if there was a stitch in her side. She opened her eyes, and began to steady herself as she stood. Suddenly, she screamed, for someone's hand, on her right, reached past her, and touched the ground. She had locked the door. Had someone broken in? The barista, perhaps? But the hand was too plump to be Alaina's. She looked behind her, and screamed again, seeing no one. Someone must have come in, though, perhaps a meta-human with invisibility or teleportation, or...
"Is everything all right in there?" came the real barista's voice, from behind the door.
"Oh...fine..." called Bella, staggering to her feet. Her voice did not sound normal to her. It sounded....larger?
"Oh. My. God," said the voice, now, as emerald eyes opened wide with astonishment and a full, full mouth, caked with powdered sugar, hung open. Dimpled hands clasped full, round cheeks, which concealed any trace of once-austere cheekbones, and pulled at the chins that ran smoothly into a plump neck. In the mirror, the hands of the fat, surprised-looking blonde with the powdery face did the same.
"Oh. My. God," said Bella again, as the hands tremblingly continued their descent into hell, green eyes following. Abandon all hope, ye who enter...
The hands grabbed two overripe and floppy grapefruit, which pushed mercilessly against the inside of the tiny green shirt. The hands pulled them up, then let them drop again, against a belly which now hung entirely out of the shirt. The hands reached below the swollen gut to unfasten a pair of too-tight jeans, but realized, tremblingly, that they were too late. There was no button there any longer. It had flown off into some dingy corner of the bathroom while the think in the mirror was filling its mouth, grunting in ecstasy. The zipper had broken, as well. The hands traveled downward, downward, as the heart of the ringleted whale-maid in the mirror correspondingly sank. She thought of the Greek sailor in the next room, who could not now love her, ever. Everything--everything--had betrayed her. She did not turn to see her backside, but she could guess enough from the huge legs, which turned denim into spandex...
"A shape," the perfect pink tongue tapped against straight white teeth, barely above a whisper,"A shape with shapeless body and the head of a woman...A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun...Is moving its slow thighs, while all about... Oh God. What is that thing in there?"
With effort--it was suddenly so hard to move!--she stepped toward the heavy shape in the mirror, which, of course, did the same, its stupid face, which might have been beautiful in another age, still covered with powder. Bella bent down--as did the reflection, its belly folding into four neat ripples of golden flab--under the sink faucet, splashing her globular cheeks with water until sugar, honey, syrup, crumbs and makeup were washed out of her hair, out of every dimple, off every chin. Bella again looked at the image in the mirror.
"And what rough beast, its hour come round at last...Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
The fat girl in the mirror ran her fingers through the mass of wet golden hair, cleared tears and water from a Bella's puffed cheeks and bright eyes, and answered herself, soberly.
"It's me."
There was a knock at the door. "Miss, are you all right?" Came the voice of Alaina.
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