The Size Anthology

by KT Morrison

  She was a pathetic humiliated mess. Sitting on the tile floor sobbing her heart out. She could feel Chad's semen dribbling out of her. She got to her hands and knees and she went to the toilet paper and grabbed handfuls off the roll. She scrubbed herself raw between her legs, pushing with her insides to force it out. This was the absolute lowest moment in her life. She looked at the wad of paper in her hands, glistening wet evidence on it. She threw the paper in the toilet and got herself to the sink. She avoided the mirror, knew how devastating it would be to look into her own eyes in this moment. She ran hot water and dabbed a facecloth in it and put it between her legs and clutched it there.

  She heard her name through the door. It was Troy but she couldn't bear to face him. She couldn't see his face. She didn't answer him. The thought of him mad, yelling, or hurt and crying, was too much. She wanted to do the whole day over, bring her pretty torte, skip the alcohol, and be on the road by six, home and cuddled on the couch with her beautiful Troy right now.

  He tried the door, she saw the doorknob jiggle. “C’mon, Emma, are you okay?”

  She said, “I’m sorry,” through the tears and she really wanted to be left alone. Didn’t even know if he could hear her. She just never, ever wanted to deal with what she had just done.

  “Emma, please, please open the door.”

  She stood at the sink, leaned on her elbows with her hands clutching her mane of ginger hair wrapped around her. She stayed there a moment or two and he was quiet, but she could tell he was still there. Standing on the other side of the door. She couldn’t ignore him.

  She opened the door for him.

  He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. She covered herself, an arm over her breasts and a hand between her legs. He stepped towards her and she recoiled from him. She turned so he couldn't see her face.

  Emma didn’t know what to do, but she didn’t like the quiet. It felt like it could get filled up at any moment with words like, Get out of my life, don’t come home tonight, how could you do this to me? She said, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry, kept repeating it. Her little voice was a whisper.

  Then she felt his arms go around her and he just held her. And she wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d squeezed the life out of her, crushed her against him til her eyes bulged out of her head. They stood like that for a while in the unlit bathroom

  He said, Are you okay? She said she was. Being in his arms made her cry even harder then, and she felt so small and useless. He held her tighter for a few minutes until she couldn't cry any more.

  When she was quiet for a while he said, “I’m sorry. I never want you to do something you don’t want to do. You didn’t have to do any of that if you didn’t want.”

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  “Mad at you? My gosh, Emma, I think I’ve never loved you more.”

  “How can you love me after what you just watched me do?”

  “Baby, I know you did it for me. Cause you thought I wanted you to.”

  “Troy, I feel like the lowest animal on earth right now. I can’t believe you’d even want to look at me again. Maybe ever.”

  “Oh, Emma, I swear I love you. I won’t ever stop, baby.” He squeezed her tight to him, and she melted; he made her so weak.

  She held his big arm and stared off. There was a lot to think about. She knew she wasn’t really forgiven unless she was honest.

  “What if I did want to? What if I did it because in the moment I wanted to feel...that...thing. That I hate myself for wanting that.”

  “You wanted to have sex with him? Put his thing inside you?”

  “No, not at all. I mean, not until the very moment I did it. Up until then I was acting. For you. I just...something came over me—I don’t know why I did that. I told myself it was for you—”

  “Oh, Emma,” he hugged her, “It’s all right, baby.”

  “Even though there was a piece of me that wasn’t doing it all for you? There was a part of me that was...curious.”

  He said, “It’s me, Emma, it’s my fault. I put you there. Don’t feel any shame...don’t blame yourself. I’m so sorry, baby.”

  They looked into each other's eyes and everything fell back into place. They looked at each other plain-faced and open, she could see that nothing had changed. She knew it was okay, and she knew he really did still love her. She couldn't stop the tears from coming again.

  “C’mon, Emma, it's okay, please, don't cry.”

  She wiped her eyes and sniffled, then looked at him in his eyes, and bit her lip.

  “I’m crying because my little pussy is so sore, sweet pea.”

  “You are?” he smiled.

  “I think he mighta been too big, daddy.”

  “He probably was, we both know how small you are down there. Why’d you think you could fit that in you?”

  “What if I'm not tight anymore? He couldn't even get it all the way in me but I feel like I'm dying,” she said, and her hands went down his rock hard waist. Her thumbs hooked into his trunks, pushing them down.

  He got to his knees and his trunks came down. He crawled over her, laying her back so she was flat on the floor. His familiar little boner stuck straight up between his legs.

  Her hand found it while they kissed, then she whispered to him, “I don’t know what I was thinkin when this little thing’s what I’m used to.”

  “I hope you can still feel it.”

  “It feels so small in my tiny hand now I’ve held a real one.”

  She felt him enter her and she said, “Okay, tell me when you're in.”

  He said, “Baby, I’m all the way in.”

  She whispered in his ear, “That boy ruined me with his big cock. I can’t even feel your little pecker, Troy baby. What have I done?”

  “Ah, Emma,” she was getting him good, his little thing felt like it was made of steel inside her. He got urgent, thrusting himself inside her, she felt the power in him. She ran her hands over the hard peaks and valleys of his back as he made love to her. Her sweet husband and his beautiful body. She arched her head back and gasped, overwhelmed in the moment with how much she loved him. Loved him so much she would do anything for him. Even cheat on him, have sex with another man right in front of him.

  “What did it look like goin in me, baby?”

  “He was turning you inside out, Emma. Baby, you’re so bad.”

  He pounded himself into her and his breaths were short and raspy, she thought it was almost like he was sobbing. She hugged him tight to her, like putting her arms around a charging bull. He pounded and pounded, and when she knew it was close she whispered, “Come inside me, Troy, I need you to wash out that other boy’s sperm.”

  He shuddered when she said it, felt him tighten up, then as he was about to ejaculate she said, “You can try but you’re probably not gonna get anywhere deep enough and that boy went off inside me like a firehose.”

  Troy roared in her ear while he came, she could feel his back turn to stone and he trembled under her fingers. He sputtered and choked, and she felt him shooting his seed inside her, stream after stream, before collapsing on top of her.

  She put her arms around him and kissed him. “Baby, I couldn’t love a man more’n I love you,” she said.

  “Emma, I’m the one that’s lucky. There’s not words to tell you how much you are to me.”

  He rolled off her and they both lay naked on their backs in the little bathroom, staring in the dark at the ceiling. They were both exhausted. Emotionally and physically they’d been drained, but she knew somehow they hadn’t been changed, hadn’t been damaged. It was unbelievable. She listened to him breathing for a long while.

  Troy put his hand up on his forehead, still looking up, said, “Baby...” then hesitated.

  She turned her head to him. “What is it, Troy?”

  “Did you...did you really come from his thing being inside you?”

  She put both her hands up and covered her face. She didn’t want to reply, but
she couldn’t lie to him. She felt ashamed, but she answered him through her hands, said, “Yes, I really did.”

  They turned and looked at each other, their eyes wet and gleaming in the dim room. She said it again, “Yes, I really did.”

  She thought he might be struggling with that because he didn’t say anything and they lay there for a good moment longer. Finally he said, “Does that worry you, that you came from a huge cock inside you?”

  “A little, I guess,” she said, “Does it worry you?”

  “Yeah, a little,” he agreed. “Hey, Emma? Baby, we should probably go. I could lay with you here forever, but...I threw that guy off the deck, and I...somebody might call the cops, so maybe we should—”

  “You did what?”

  “I threw him in the hedges, but I’m worried now he could have hit his head or something...”

  She kissed him on the lips and she looked in his eyes; she ran her fingers through his hair. He took a towel off the rack on the wall and he wrapped her up in it and then carried her in his arms out to the car.

  10

  Troy spied her coming out of the Citizen’s National Bank. She had her mane of ginger hair tied back in a loose ponytail and she’d dressed for errands. She had a plaid dress that was like a long shirt with a matching belt tied around her waist. It was short, clinging to her slim hips, but she had black leggings. Keeping her long legs warm in the Texas winter. He watched her feet make quick little steps along the sidewalk. She was urgent. Moving her little black ballerinas as quick as she could make them without running. She looked like she had important things to do.

  He turned the key, started up the Hyundai. He’d be following her again in a moment. He was parked on the east side of North Main Street, 4PM on a Saturday. He told her at lunch he was going to go out to the gym, get a squat session in. A light recovery day then he was going to go run the steps at the stadium over at the high school. He volunteered some time there with the football team. Ran them through some strength and conditioning one evening a week. A guy at his work lived in Tyler too, and his kid went to Tyler High. He’d asked him at lunch one day before the school year had started. It was about a week after he’d watched his wife climb onto that guy in the hot tub. He winced, clenched the steering wheel in his big fists, heard it squeak under his grip.

  Emma stopped at her car; a Chevy Spark they leased last Spring, getting it in the metallic lime because it complemented her hair. He still had the sales lady's pen in his briefcase. Emma got it open and threw her purse into the passenger seat and sat down. He watched her while he was hunkered down in his SUV. She was going through her purse. What was she up to?

  He’d found the messages she’d been exchanging with another man on the computer. He’d seen the name of a hookup site auto-complete in the address bar one evening while he was looking up football scores. It made him concerned. He clicked through to the site and found he was logged into an active account. Emma’s account. He checked the history on the browser and saw that it had been dumped. She’d cleared her search history, everything. But she’d not logged herself out on her last visit to the site. He felt electrified. It was an invasion of her privacy, he thought. But he could see she had pending messages flashing up in the corner of the screen. Clicked it—he just had to know. There were new messages but he also found there was a whole archive of communications with other men going back a whole month. It took him about forty-five minutes to read through them all. Emma had been talking with about a dozen guys. Some of the message chains were really short. Like she didn’t feel any chemistry with them. Some of them went deeper. Some of them got pretty dirty. His hands shook while he read them. She was flirting with them. She was letting some of them know it was just a hookup—that she just wanted a little fling behind her husband’s back. Four of them went deep enough that she managed to talk about penis size. All of them but one alluded to being average. The other guy was confident. He played her little game by letting her know he was pretty hung. She’d got giggly with him, and he returned intrepid, putting a digital arm over the back of the couch getting in close to her. She’d been playful—asked him to prove it. There was no picture in the message string but she’d seen whatever he’d sent to her and she was impressed. Wow, she had written, I don’t know if I can handle all that. It’s not like my husband’s at all. Craig122 had assured her she’d be fine since he was so gentle.

  When her brake lights lit up he put his vehicle in drive. He watched over his shoulder, pulled out and followed her north up Main. She was headed home, maybe. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she would get cold feet and bail on this guy. She was supposed to meet Craig122 for dinner this evening.

  She pulled into their subdivision and he slowed, let her get ahead so she wouldn’t spot him. He saw her turn way up ahead at the feet of the Tyler water tower. She was going home. He went through his neighbourhood at a crawl. Got up close to their home and pulled over. Parked so he could see her, but he got his neighbour’s big black Suburban in between them, keeping him out of her view. She got out and then made her way into the house speedily.

  Troy met Emma while he was at Georgia Southern. She was a little cutie-pie who was the roommate of a girl his friend was dating. They got set up. She was at Agnes Scott up in Atlanta. A well-mannered girl’s college that had a lot of rules about behaviour. It was love at first sight for him. The day after their first date he’d called his Mom and told her he’d met the girl he was going to marry. He’d seen her or talked to her every day of his life since then. He drove the three and a half hours to Atlanta from Statesboro twice a week to see her in that last year of University.

  Six years later now, he’d ruined every little sweet thing about her. All the things that made him fall in love with her, he’d tainted. He’d gripped her too tightly, squeezed that innocence out of her, and turned her into the little slut he was watching cheat on him. Pushing her to fall for the one thing that he couldn’t provide.

  She came out and he was shocked at how she was. Where had she hidden these clothes? Had she bought this outfit just for tonight? She was wearing a tight black dress, shorter than anything he’d ever seen her wear. He didn’t recognize her. Her pure white legs were absolutely bare, and she was wearing black high heel shoes. He’d never seen her in heels like that before. She looked like she was six feet tall. He squinted, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She must have been freezing. It was only sixty-two degrees today. She fluffed her hair in the reflection in the passenger side window. Her hair was full and thick, she’d been in there styling it he guessed. She smoothed the dress then lowered herself carefully into her car. Before the door slammed shut he saw the dress had come up to her hip and revealed every bit of her long, milky legs. His stomach tightened. This was happening.

  She’d said he would be on his own for dinner tonight. She’d cooked him up three plain chicken breasts and a couple of potatoes and some broccoli. She left it in the fridge, told him to re-heat it when he got back from running stairs. She said she had a book club meeting tonight. Some World War One love story in the Appalachian South that everyone had been reading for the last two weeks. Took everyone about a month to catch up reading it, and tonight they’d finally talk about it and Emma had a lot to say. She made herself sound so excited about it. She was a little liar. He watched her taillights head down the lonely stretch out of the subdivision alongside the huge field kids played on during the day. The sun was almost down now.

  He let her get up ahead, he knew where she was going. He’d read it in her messages. A new place opened up just in the summer. Everyone said it was so great and he and Emma kept swearing they would get there but it just hadn't happened yet. He drove past it just last week before he knew any of this and had thought, Boy, they really got to get in there. It was a Peruvian family that had moved to town and opened up a little bistro. It was Peruvian and Creole or something and they were supposed to have these fried yucca sticks that Emma had told him all about. Now she was going to try them tonigh
t without him. Try them with another man.

  That feeling came over him again and his whole stomach tightened and he felt himself hunch forward with it. It was a physical pain. His eyes felt watery.

  He saw her car in the parking lot up ahead. He went past the place and pulled into the little pharmacy next door. He nosed in to a parking space that pointed him straight at the restaurant. Emma was still sitting in the Spark, he could see her face lit up in there by her iPhone. Was she texting Craig122?

  The restaurant was a low bungalow that had been styled and stuccoed to look like an adobe. It had a wooden gate entrance that was painted a dark green and galvanized metal awnings over the square windows. The place was lit up inside and he could see it was romantic, dimly lit with wrought iron chandeliers over every table. He should be the one taking her there.

  A pickup truck pulled in to the restaurant's parking lot. It drew up near hers at a right angle to her, headlights pointing right at Troy. He was lit up by them. He was the only car at the pharmacy, he must have stood out. But he wasn’t going to duck down. That would be suspicious. That would attract attention. So he stayed still—if they saw him, they saw him.

  What would he do if they did? How would he handle it? Would he pick up Craig122 right there in front of the place and hip toss him onto his face? He probably would. He could almost hear that hollow, wet sound of flesh and skull when it hit concrete. What was stopping him from doing it right now? Just stepping out and striding the thirty feet over there. Picking him up and putting him to sleep in the crook of his arm while Emma screamed and his legs kicked frantically as he struggled for his last breath. Then he’d grab that little slut and take her home and remind her who was the boss.

  The headlights turned off and the guy got out of his car. He had to be thirty-something. He looked much older than Emma. So her only criterion was whatever he’d shown her in the picture he’d sent her. Troy turned his wife into something he hated.