There was a parcel tightly wedged in the mailbox when Bill got home from work. It wasn't all that big, but damn, it was heavy for its size. Priority mail, and insured, too. Very mysterious. He couldn't remember having ordered any merchandise recently.
Bubble wrap and plastic peanuts littered the floor under his kitchen table. And there, up on the shelf above the stereo, there it stood. The contents of the package. A statuette. An five-inch tall highly detailed rendering of a nude woman. A very plump nude woman. And it was solid metal, shiny, silvery metal. Silver? Nah, it couldn't be.
It was. A friend of his who worked at a jeweler's shop verified it. Solid sterling silver. Four pounds of silver, worth something like $300 melted down. But Bill wouldn't be selling the silver statuette any time soon. It was just too strange. Too fascinating. The exquisitely rendered details. The erect nipples. Even the genital area, anatomically correct right down to... lust-engorged labia, the clitoris, and the vaginal opening itself. The jutting, pear-shaped buttocks, the inviting valley between them, and the enticingly puckered little anus. It was a classically voluptuous body -- quite a fat body by modern standards -- rendered in miniature, in a precious metal. And the facial features reminded him of someone he used to know. Someone he hadn't thought about for years. Someone he would have preferred to forget.
Brenda. Big-butt Brenda. His girlfriend for those two unforgettable months back when he was a sophomore at East Hampton U. She was the hottest, lustiest woman he had ever taken to bed. The problem was that she had fallen for him... hard. He had lusted for her, but hadn't really loved her. How could he? She was fat. Grossly fat. So fat people made fun of her to her face. In public. Fat! And that huge ass of hers. That ass he had so enjoyed bouncing against when he took her from behind. That ass that he had wanted so badly to fuck, and that, on one memorable night she had opened to him... that ass that made his face burn with embarrassment when his buddies made jokes about it. Being with her was damaging his rep. So he really hadn't had much choice. He had dumped her, of course.
Fifteen years and a dozen girlfriends later, Bill still missed Brenda. Missed her warmth and... the joy it brought him just to be near her. Missed her laughter and her squeals of pleasure when she came. Missed her. Ached for her.
The statuette ended up on the pillow next to him that night when he drifted off to sleep. Somehow, it felt like it belonged there. And he had such vivid dreams. He was making love to Brenda. She was stretched full length on top of him, and he relished the feel of her 260 pounds enveloping him in her yielding, fleshy warmth, grinding him deeply into the mattress. (Damn, that was a sensation none of his later girlfriends had been able to give him!) He awakened gasping for breath as his body let loose its built-up tensions in a prolonged, throbbing gush. The bedsheet reeked of sex... his sperm and something else. What? It smelled of Brenda. He remembered her particular odor, that body smell that meant she was horny, that she wanted him inside her. The smell hung heavily in the air. There were tears in his eyes.
The statuette. Where was it? There! That lump under the covers. It was... it wasn't quite the same. Its limbs seemed to have changed position, to have stretched out. And its face... The eyes were closed now, and there was that expression of ecstatic abandon he had become accustomed to seeing on Brenda's face after she'd had an especially powerful orgasm. What the hell was going on here?
This was way too weird for him. He'd have to get to the bottom of this or... Or what? Well, one way to find out. He'd get a hold of Brenda herself and clear up the mystery.
He managed to get her parents' phone number from Directory Assistance. They still lived in the same town, though at a different address. Her mother was not at all pleased to hear from him.
"Bill? Bill Hillyard? Yes, certainly I remember you. You were the one who hurt Brenda so badly back when she was in school. She had told us how much she loved you and how she hoped you might marry her some day. Then you went and brutally trampled on her feelings. She was never the same after that."
"Ma'am, I'm sorry. If I could only take back some of the things I said to her... I realize, I realize now that she was, she could have been the woman I've been looking for, the soulmate I've never found in all these years. What I want, I think, is another chance, or at least for her to hear me tell her how much I regret -- "
"It's a little late for that, Bill. Brenda, our Brenda, my little baby... Brenda is no longer with us."
"She's -- she went away? Tell me she's all right. Please!"
"I'm afraid she's gone. Dead. And I lay a large part of the blame at your door, Bill. Brenda went through two broken marriages, always haunted by your memory. She would tell me how she used to wake up at night crying out your name. You, only you could have saved her, I think. But, as unhappy as she was, at least she -- she was still alive until last month."
"What -- what happened?"