GITJ, Post 365: That was Then, This is Now, p17

“Do we really have to do this?” I asked. At her insistence I was buckling myself in to the passenger seat of her BMW that Monday afternoon. We’d just finished work.

“Yes, we do,” Melissa replied, checking to make sure her seat was back as far as it could go. It was. And she’d already adjusted mine, upwards. “Sheryl was nice enough to not throw away the extra clothes of yours she found,”

“They’re not going to fit me anyway…”

“Regardless,” she continued, starting the ignition and scooting herself down as much as she could; her head still brushed the ceiling, “she texted me. I told her I’d come by and pick them up.”

“And she’s home?” I asked, the discomfort of the idea of seeing my ex-wife like creeping spiders over my skin, “tonight?”

“Yep.” I could tell Melissa was a little annoyed at my continued complaints. She pulled out of her reserved parking space.  “We’re going to go get your clothes so I can keep some at my place-“

“They’re not going to fit…”

“…and then I’m going to make you dinner at home. Okay?”

“And then…?”

“Yes, fine,"  she sighed in an exaggeratedly exasperated voice, "I’ll take you back to your apartment. The locksmiths should be done by then, and Lakshmi was going to clean for you.” She was looking both ways, to pull out into traffic.

“Okay, thank you.” I knew I was being annoying, but I’d had a tough - uh - day I suppose. There’d been the near-assault by Morgan thing, the video-chat stuff with Gianna, and the shock of the virtual walk-through of the new offices. Then, of course, finding my apartment had been broken into by some unknown assailant. God, I didn't even want to think about that, not to mention the bizarre dream-thing I’d had when I passed out from all the stress I’d been under. And, that was just today!  All before lunch!

I didn’t even know where to begin with the blur of humiliation that was this past weekend, not like I could remember most of it. The whole weekend was shrouded in this weird pink fog when I tried to recall it, and I could only bring up bits and pieces of it. Honestly I’m not sure I even wanted to remember.

It was all too much. These recent elections, losing a full foot in height, and being so anxious, tired, and constantly, unbearably horny. What was happening to me? Would it ever stop? And, the scariest thought, one that I didn’t even like to consider myself was: did I even want it to stop?

I glanced at Melissa, who was peering down the road to her left, waiting for her chance to pull out. My eyes settled on the profile of her big right tit, which was stretching the top of her white dress thin. I could just make out the outline of her blue bra below it, and it really made me appreciate how big she’d become. I bit my lip, shifted my thin hips in my seat.

I took a deep breath.

Looking at her always made me feel better. My god my girlfriend was gorgeous. Even without the massiveness of the marvels that were her breasts, her waist was tiny, arms athletically strong, legs outrageously long and thick with shapely muscle. They were all perfect, she was absolutely, utterly physically perfect. Her skin was flawless, neck long and elegant, her waves of dark hair thick and luscious, made for a shampoo commercial. It was all…perfect.

I tore my eyes away just as she turned back. I’d, unconsciously, nearly started stroking myself, through my scrubs. No time for that. Focus, buddy.

Finally, she drove the car out of the lot, and started heading for the highway. “Now, remind me, Jay sweetie, how do we get there again?”

“I’m, uh, it’s North on 82…” I began, suddenly feeling strangely disoriented, “…I think.” I blinked, three times, and tried to remember…

Twenty minutes later we were finally in the right neighborhood. I’d told her the wrong exit, having strangely forgotten it myself, and now I’d, um…gotten us lost. How could I forget the way back to my own (former) home?? I’d driven that route nearly every day for the better part of a decade! I tried, I really did, to direct us, to recognize landmarks, take the right turns onto the right streets, but it was like it’d been erased from my brain! I blamed it on stress. I mean what else could it be? Thankfully she’d been patient with me, actually laughing a bit, amused by my confusion and consternation with myself. You actually like this, don’t you? That my life before you is disappearing?

It was really upsetting to me, but she was getting a kick out of it. Finally, though, she pulled over and plugged everything into her car’s GPS and allowed its confident female voice to direct us to my-…I mean to Sheryl’s house.

And so that’s how I found myself hunkered down in my seat as we pulled in the front of the house, parking on the street. I didn’t want my old neighbors or, even worse, Sheryl to see me in this diminished, pathetic state with this enormous, bosomy girl.

To my left Melissa rose up out of the car and, standing, asked me one last time if I wanted to come with. I shook my head in an emphatic “no” and scooted even further down in my seat. She gave me a look, a wry little smile, and closed her door. I watched her come around the front of the car, to the curb, and head up the front walk. Seeing her Amazonic figure - fluidly striding, hips swinging in her taut sheath of a white dress -  in my ex-front yard was unnerving, strange. It brought back memories of early on: her bike-ride visit, when we barely knew one another. How long ago was that? I’d been out raking, right? Tending to my yard. My house. Where I’d lived.

I stopped to remind myself: That was then, buddy, this is now. Something told me it was important that I accept that.

I scooted down further still when, after Melissa had rang the bell, the front door began to open. Sheryl! I could just barely make her out in the doorframe, her lithe figure appearing to greet Melissa leaving both women silhouetted by the light from inside the house. It was already late afternoon, early evening really, and the sun was half-set. Sheryl had a box behind her - likely my clothes - and the two women were chatting away. Despite their complicated relationship - my ex-wife was technically the employer of my new, statuesquely bosomy, too-young girlfriend - their body language was easy, relaxed. They’d even hugged in greeting and were laughing now about something.

It was then that I saw Sheryl - shorter than Melissa by over a foot - look around her to glance out towards the car, towards me.

Agh! I scooted down even further, sliding deep into my seat, absolutely mortified. I did not want to be seen, especially by her. My face washed hot, my heart racing, and I could feel my anxiety overtake me.

I-I’ll just sit here. I won't move. I’ll just stare straight, and wait it out. They can’t talk TOO long, can they? What would they have to talk about?? I’ll just wait until Melissa comes back and-

<rap rap rap!>

My heart leapt, I looked up. Sheryl!! Tapping on my window!!

Sheepishly, I looked up at her from the passenger's seat. I was so short - less than five feet tall, now - and felt even smaller still in my ignominy, scrunched down like I was. I remained very still. Maybe if I didn’t move she would go-

<tap tap tap!>

From the other side of the window she tapped the glass again as she  waved down at me, lit up by a smile which beamed an atypical warmth. Sheryl always had a big, big smile but holy crap what’s happened to her chest?!? She was dressed casually, in jeans and an old red college tee I recognized, but I’d never seen the white V-A-S-S-A-R across the chest stretched like that across her chest. She’d had implants, modest ones, all throughout our marriage. They’d originally been a commiserative nod to my, uh, proclivities. But…had she had them recently replaced? Now she had knockers! And they were, well, not nearly in league with my new girlfriend’s but - really big!

Paralyzed by my abject embarrassment, I waved up at her and managed a mortified little smile. What was I supposed to do?? Open the door? Say hi? Oh my god I couldn’t let her see me like this! Well, my decision was made for me when the window, under its own power, began to come down.

“Hi down there!” Sheryl immediately beamed. It incited me to sit up a bit and I now saw Melissa, box of clothes in her arms, playing with her key-fob and heading towards the trunk. She’d obviously lowered the window for Sheryl, so we could chat. Great.

“H-hi, Sheryl,” I stammered. Jesus lord fuck this was weird, but I was going to do my best. I sat up straighter still, but not all the way; with the window now fully down that would have put my face right at the underside of my ex-wife’s new breasts. So, I stayed half-scrunched for modesty, but I did manage a smile. And, goddammit, the beginnings of a new erection.

“How’ve you been?” she asked, as I heard the car’s trunk pop behind us. She was peering down, and now leaned forward to rest her hands in the frame, so she could better see me - and I could better see her tits.

My gut roiled, knowing how small and pathetic I must look to her, squirming here in the passenger seat of my Office Manager’s luxury car, shrunken and pale and weak. Humiliated by the events, the divorce, the election results, I knew my ex-wife was looking down at a man whose life had crumbled and was now being run entirely by the women around him. I don’t know how much satisfaction she was getting out of it, but in comparison to her new life of growing wealth, power and influence mine had become a small, piteous thing, still sinking and shriveling by the day. I’d wronged her, and now I was paying for it. Somehow, though, I managed a brave answer.

“I’m okay,” I said. I glanced past her hips. She was wearing an old pair of faded jeans, the ones she’d usually use for housework. They looked especially nice on her today. “The yard looks good.”

<slam> The trunk closed behind me.

“Yeah without you around I’ve had to hire someone for the gardens. Fall clean-up and all,” she answered, turning back to look over her shoulder at the front yard for a moment, but then back down towards me. “So, how’s the apartment working out?”

Again, the coils of humiliation tightened in my gut. Despite her easy smile, Sheryl was reminding me that I was still dependent on her, living on her property for free, still working at her company by her good graces. I was her parasite, clinging to its powerful ex-wife for life. She knew it, and she wanted to see that I knew it, too.

The driver’s side door opened again and Melissa got back in. Suddenly I was trapped between two most powerful women in my life. My erection, under Sheryl’s presence, had grown only harder but now it surged up, nearly making me double over as it obviously wanted the attention of them both.

“Omigosh Sheryl! I didn't tell you, he got broken into! Here, Jay sweetie, sit up,” Melissa answered for me as she sat me back up and refastened my seatbelt, which had come undone with all my wriggling. If she noticed my boner down the left thigh of my thin pants (how could she not, especially with her chest squashing into my shoulder and causing it to absolutely heave) she made no reaction. “Over the weekend! They broke right in!”

“Oh that’s terrible!” Sheryl exclaimed, sounding honestly sympathetic but speaking now directly to Melissa, right over me, “Do you know who did it?”

“No, not yet,” she answered, “I have the girls looking into it.”

“Are you alright?” Sheryl said, her attention now back on me as she placed her hand onto my right shoulder. She was looking down at me, head cocked, nothing but sincere concern in her voice. “Were you hurt?”

“No, he was with me,” Melissa answered candidly, her right hand coming to rest on my left shoulder, her left hand on my left knee, “So he’s fine. Some of his furniture was broken, plates and things too. The door was broken, a few cabinets too. But they really didn’t take much.”

From what I heard, they just took my pillow, and my toothbrush…and all of my, uh, underwear.

“Well, we’ll get the repairs done right away, right?” Sheryl assured, and then softened her voice for me. “Do you need money?” she asked, pulling in closer. I recognized the scent of her shampoo. .

My face flushed. Yes, I was broke. Yes, without the help of others I would have trouble recovering from what had happened to my apartment. But the thought of taking money from Sheryl was-

“No, thank you that’s so kind but he’s fine,” Melissa answered, squeezing my knee possessively, “I give him an allowance.”

Oh jesus. I was too chastened, too humiliated to even argue. And goddamnit my cock - the sick fuck - loved it, surging again, loved having a six-foot-seven sugar-mama.

“Oh, well that’s good,” Sheryl conceded, “but please please please reach out to me if he needs anything, okay Melissa?”

Sheryl, my ex-wife, was a trained attorney, a skilled negotiator and could - for as long as I’d known her -  remove herself emotionally from whatever it was when it served her purpose. I had, to be truthful, wronged her all throughout our nearly thirteen years of marriage with various affairs. So, despite the sympathetic tone in her voice I couldn’t help but think: you love this don’t you? Though I may have actually heard a little honest sincerity in her voice.

The girls bonded as they chatted for a bit, specifics of my ‘care’. It was frankly emasculating as they talked right over me, each moment becoming more humbling than the last.  Melissa assured Sheryl that I was, in fact, eating, that I was sleeping okay, and that I was drinking enough water. All things I could easily tell her myself.

Sheryl, for her part, somehow seemed to know quite a bit about what I’d been up to. The Halloween party, my fall in the pool, our last few dates. Maybe she was stalking us all on social media? That didn’t seem quite like her. But…

“So, I saw the videos from this weekend of you online,” she said, now deigning to speak directly to me. Her question pulled me from my irritation. “You’re famous now, huh?”

Wait what?

“Wait what?” I asked. What did she mean? “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Oh, haha, yes!” Melissa laughed, shaking my leg again by the knee, “He’s broken his phone, and maybe hasn’t seen all that…”

What the hell is she talking about?

“wh-what the hell are you talking about??” I stammered, now actually getting nervous.

“...but it’s pretty funny…” Melissa continued, moving her hand to squeeze my thigh and - nnnnngh! - my erection at the same time.

Stars danced in front of my eyes.

“...I’ll show you later, hun,” she concluded, now sitting back straight up and - “ow haha!” -- bumping her head on the car’s ceiling.

I’d started to roll up the window, but Sheryl’s hand came to it to stop it, about a third of the way up.

“Omigosh haha Melissa this car’s too small for you!” Sheryl exclaimed, stating the obvious. She saw how my girlfriend’s legs were long, her torso barely folding into this little 2-series coupe. “You should just buy another,” she added, “Go ahead and use the company card.”

Ugh, crap, whhhuttt…?

“Oh! WOw! Thank You!!” Melissa laughed, turning back toward her, pinning my cock once again to my thigh with her hand in the process. Nngh!! Her pretty mouth was agape at my ex-wife’s cunning generosity. “Are you sure??”

Yes, I’d said Sheryl was maybe showing her sympathetic side today, but apparently she could still be an asshole. “Haha yes of course no problem, you deserve it, I know how hard you’ve been working,” she continued, her smile gleaming white now in the sunset’s developing dusk, “plus it’s you, I guess, that partly I have to thank for these new boobs.”

At that, Sheryl straightened up, standing just enough so that her big breasts squished into the partly-raised car window. “V-A-S-S-A-R” spread across the glass.

urk!

I felt my cock nearly burst through my scrub pants, In Melissa’s hand.

The two girls started laughing sharing a moment together as they said their goodbyes over my new mortification. Melissa mercifully lifted her hand off my erection as I thanked the gods that she turned the car on and after a few more niceties we were on our way.

I squirmed in my seat, even as we pulled off down my old street. That whole scene had been a bit much for me.

Melissa saw I was uncomfortable, and pulled over near a group of old pines. “Omigod Sheryl’s so nice, isn’t she?” she asked, unclipping her seat belt and turning back towards me. Immediately her hands went down and started untying my scrub bottoms.

“Uh- M-Melissa?”

“Shhh its okay…let me do this for you…”

I shuddered, as she pulled me out. We could easily get caught by a passerby, an ex-neighbor, but despite that I closed my eyes and let the moment take me. Just like she wanted. Times like this, usually, my mind would fade to blank, and my anxieties would start to fade, but one thought stuck with me…

What did Sheryl mean? I mused silently, even as Melissa leaned down across the center console, her huge head of hair slowly engulfing my lap, ‘I have you to thank for these new boobs...?

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thanks oodles to TopographicSociety for helping me with the Sheryl image, and of course my editor-in-residence and co-conspirator ResistanceIsFutile on the copy