The early morning light crept through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the quiet apartment. Everything was still. A mug on the table. A notebook half open. The soft whirr of the fridge, distant and low.
Jennifer stirred first.
Her body felt different—again. Not in the sharp, unbearable way she’d grown used to, but in a slower, duller heaviness. She shifted beneath the blanket, her hand automatically going to her belly.
Her eyes snapped open.
The firmness—the fullness—was gone.
She sat up abruptly, pulling the blanket away and looking down at herself. Her belly had shrunk, no longer the tight, pregnant swell it had been just hours ago. But it hadn’t gone flat. Not even close. Instead, it had settled into a soft, hanging roundness—loose and heavy, marked with stretch marks and faint creases. There were new rolls at her waist, folds that hadn’t been there before. Her navel was deeper now, surrounded by the aftermath of something her body had clearly carried to term.
Her breasts were still huge—no change there. They sat lower, heavy with fullness, the skin taut and veined, the large, dark areolae exposed beneath her sleep shirt. Her nipples were already damp with milk, pressure returning faster now.
She shifted again and felt the change in her lower body too—her thighs were thicker, heavier, brushing together more obviously. Her hips had widened a little more, and her ass had grown rounder, softer, now with visible cellulite at the tops of her thighs and beneath the curve of her cheeks.
Maya stirred beside her, rubbing her eyes. “Mm… what time is it?”
Jennifer didn’t answer at first. She was staring down at her body, hands resting on the soft curve of her midsection.
Maya sat up slowly and followed her gaze. Her breath caught. “Jen… you’re not pregnant anymore.”
Jennifer turned to her, voice low, disbelieving. “No. I’m not.”
She looked back down again. “But I was.”
They sat there in silence, the weight of that truth sinking in.
Maya finally broke it. “Do you feel okay?”
Jennifer shrugged, then nodded. “I’m not in pain. Just… heavy. Tired. Different.” She ran a hand over the soft folds of her belly. “Like someone hit fast-forward and forgot to press stop.”
Maya reached out, placing a gentle hand over Jennifer’s. “We still don’t know what she did—or why she stopped. But this? This means it can change. Be undone.”
Jennifer looked up, her eyes sharp despite her exhaustion. “Yeah. But she’s not done with me. Not yet.”
Maya nodded. “Then neither are we.”
And for the first time since this began, Jennifer didn’t feel powerless.