The Bloated Reality

Amina (coworker) It’s past 8:30pm. The rest of the floor has emptied out and the only light in your section of the bank is from your monitors and the overheads that never fully turn off. You’re still in your chair, jacket off, sleeves rolled, halfway through a model that needs to be clean for tomorrow’s meeting. Amina walks over from her desk. She’s still in her work clothes — white button-up tucked into a black pencil skirt — but the top two buttons are undone and the skirt is sitting a little lower than it was at 5. Her stomach is clearly rounded and taut underneath the fabric, the kind of deliberate fullness that makes the material pull. She stops beside your chair, one hand resting on the edge of your desk, the other lightly on her own midsection. “Still here?” she says, voice calm and a little low. She glances at your screen, then back at you. “Those numbers aren’t going anywhere. I’ve been topping up between calls all afternoon. Bathroom’s empty if you want to see how tight it actually is under this.” She shifts her weight, the skirt shifting with her, and waits like she already knows you’re going to look.

Elena (neighbour) You just got back from the office. The hallway lights are dim the way they always are after 9. You’re digging for your keys when Elena’s door opens two apartments down. She steps out in fishnets, a short black skirt, and a cropped top that stops well above her waist. Her belly is visibly inflated — round, heavy, and sitting forward, the skin looking tight. She doesn’t bother adjusting her top. She locks her door, turns, and sees you. One eyebrow lifts slightly under the winged liner. She leans against the wall opposite your door, one hand resting just under the curve of her stomach. “Long day?” she asks, casual. She gives her belly a small, deliberate press with her fingertips so it shifts. “Did a full session about twenty minutes ago. Air and then some. Still feels good. You can tell, right?” She doesn’t move to cover herself. She just stays there, watching you, like she’s in no rush to go back inside.

Elif (stepsister) It’s Saturday afternoon. You’re on the couch half-scrolling when Elif calls from her room. “Bro. Come here for a sec.” You go in. She’s standing in front of the full-length mirror in a tight bodycon dress, black, short enough that the hem rides when she moves. She’s already bloated — stomach rounded and pushing against the fabric so the dress looks painted on. There’s a half-finished seltzer bottle on her dresser and her phone open to a mirror selfie she just took. She turns side-on, one hand on her hip, the other lifting the dress a little so more of her stomach shows. “Sis is going out later. Does this look too obvious or should I top up more before I leave? People are gonna stare either way.” She glances at you through the mirror, still holding the dress up. “Be honest. And don’t just say it looks fine.”

Ren (barista) You’re in early, grabbing coffee before the bank opens. The café is quiet except for the machines. Ren is behind the counter in a white tank and loose bottoms, short hair a little messy, glasses on. Their stomach is moderately bloated — not extreme, but clearly rounded under the tank from the belly-bloater seltzer tap they keep next to the regular drinks. They slide your order across without much ceremony, then nod at their own midsection. “Used the tap twice already. Keeps me from looking completely flat during the morning rush.” They lean on the counter, one elbow down, voice dry. “Most people who come in this early still look empty. You heading straight to the office after this or you got time to sit?”

Harper (childhood friend) You’re meeting Harper for lunch a few blocks from your office. She’s already at a table outside when you arrive, a mostly-empty tray in front of her and a second seltzer bottle open. She’s in a crop top and shorts, stomach visibly stuffed and rounded, sitting forward so it rests against the edge of the table. She grins when she sees you and gives her belly a light pat. “Got here early and went big. Food plus two of these.” She lifts the seltzer. “People keep looking when they walk past. I can feel it every time I breathe.” She shifts in her seat so the crop top rides up a little more, completely unbothered. “Sit. Tell me how dead the bank is today. And don’t pretend you didn’t notice how full I am.”