Summoning Rain

Chapter 7

Andrew woke with a discomforted groan. Automatically, his hand massaged his enlarged belly while he smacked his lips against a thick residue in his mouth. He swallowed, there was an echo of something delicious but he couldn't identify it. He couldn't remember any part of dinner that tasted like that.

Slowly, he pushed himself up. The contents of his belly shuffled like he was a sack of tapioca pudding. With tapioca balls the size of his fist. He released a heavy breath as he put his feet on the floor, gravity pulling things away from his diaphragm so he could breathe more easily.

Swallowing again, he looked down as he rubbed the pale mass protruding from his rumpled t-shirt. His flesh seemed to bubble as he took large breaths, the increase in pressure pushing the giant tapioca balls into the outer layer of flesh.

He didn't know what else to call them. Globs, balls, nodules, swollen pieces of his insides: he had no idea. Vaguely, he again thought he should be alarmed, but he wasn't. Not by their presence and not by the growth that again occurred over night.

Taking a few preparatory breaths, he massaged his belly. And then he pushed himself up off the bed. Andrew grunted as the gravid mass settled over his pelvis, the lumps inside of him pinching at various points. Too, everything seemed to settle on top of his bladder.

Andrew started across the room toward the bathroom, holding and rubbing his belly to try to ease the discomfort. Relieving himself helped some points of discomfort but not others. He washed his hands and took a long drink of water. The cool liquid felt good flowing down his throat. It kind of reminded him of something, but he had no idea what.

Walking sent tremors through his abdomen, eliciting echoes in the floor of his pelvis that were a confusing mix of uncomfortable and enticing. Groaning, he rubbed and cradled as he went to the door of his bedroom. That helped control the internal motion a little.

Opening the door, he entered the oxymoron - the little great room. Andrew's brow crinkled as he took in the odd angle of the coffee table, the disrupted couch cushions and the partly smashed end table. A cheap particle board item, putting in the screws too vigorously threatened to crack it, but still. What happened?

The scene invoked dread in the pit of his stomach. His breath rose to panting without realizing it and now he swallowed hard against a lump in his throat. His eyes flicked to the clock on the microwave: 9:54 AM.

It was Saturday. Jason wasn't in class and it was too late for him to still be out running. Andrew's hazel eyes shifted to his roommate's closed door. He rarely worked in his room, which was the smaller of the two bedrooms.

Moving to the door, Andrew rapped with his knuckles. "Jay? You here?" His other arm continued to hold his belly.

Somehow the silence seemed heavy rather than empty.

"Jay?" Andrew questioned again, switching to slap the door several times. "Hey, you okay?"

There was a slight creak or squeak from the bed. He lowered his hand to the doorknob and tried it; it wasn't locked. The latch clicked and he pushed open the door, tilting his head to see into the room.

The bed was across from the door and Jason was on it, lying on his stomach with his pillows shoved out of the way so his laptop could occupy their usual spot. He was looking at the door, at Andrew's intrusion. His expression was hardened, but he didn't look angry. Maybe a little scared, like a frozen rabbit, but trying to pretend he wasn't.

"Hey," Andrew's brow crinkled again, "You okay?" He started to move through the door.

Pushing up immediately, Jason stared at him. Because the room was only lit by gloomy daylight coming in through the window, Andrew didn't see it immediately. As he got closer however, he could see Jason had a livid bruise over his cheek, like he narrowly avoided a black eye, and a gash that was probably the only reason it wasn't terribly swollen.