A Hobsons Choice Pt 01

Thank you to those of you who opted to follow me, I'm sorry it took so long to post. This is a two parter but part one can stand alone. Trigger warning for PAIL and emotional abuse.

Inspired by the song: Resentment by Kesha, Sturgill Simpson, Brian Wilson and Wrabel

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Meghan's Choice

Pulling the snug strap over her shoulder, Meghan fluffed her chest in her new bra and then gazed at herself for a long moment feeling self-conscious. She'd felt confident in the change room at LaSenza three hours ago. Now though? Now she felt like a beached whale stuffed in a sausage casing. Scowling, she attempted to give herself a pep talk. At five foot eight and a hundred and eighty-five pounds, she was far from fat, maybe a tad pudgy, but her friends assured her she looked good.

Turning to the side, Meghan gnawed her lip insecurely. She supposed the baby and depression weight she'd put on over the last two years wasn't utterly terrible. She wore it well, the swell in her breasts caused them to spill together in her bra giving her ample cleavage; she figured that was appealing enough. Rotating further, Meghan contemplated her own ass, thinking it might be a tad wider than it had been two years ago before she and Dixon had begun trying to start a family.

Sighing, she faced the mirror once more, studying her own face. She was still pretty, the new plumpness in her cheeks making her look youthful despite the lines only now beginning to make themselves apparent on her forehead and the corners of her blue eyes. Fingering her bangs, Meghan attempted to muss her chestnut, shoulder length hair into what she hoped was an attractive look before she dropped her eyes to her belly.

Scowling in disgust, she pinched at her waist, mental self-flagellations running through her head as she wondered how she'd managed to let herself go so much in only a few years. She'd been athletic before her pregnancy. She'd always had a flat stomach, and despite her attempt to bolster her confidence by examining the rest of her body first, her midsection was a constant source of upset for her.

Meghan was contemplating ripping the navy-blue lace from her body when she heard the garage door mechanism kick in downstairs and Hobson started barking. Dixon was home. It was now or never. Licking her lips, she grabbed her phone off the counter and snapped a few pictures in the bathroom mirror. "Here goes nothing," she whispered, "you look good," Meghan reassured herself.

She'd tried on eight different lingerie sets that afternoon at the mall trying to find one she felt looked flattering on her. The high-waisted panties covered her belly stretch marks, cinching in just above her belly button, flattering and sliming her waistline.

Setting down her phone, she pulled on her knit sweater dress, ruffled her bangs one last time, and sent the picture before wandering to the top of the stairs to greet her husband. She paused at the first step and held her breath as Dixon's phone dinged. Meghan watched from above him as he reached into his pocket for his phone. Her hard-won confidence crumpling as his brows narrowed at the photo, the sides of his mouth curling downwards ever so slightly in distaste before he returned his phone to his pocket and continued striding towards the kitchen.

Hand gripping the railing, Meghan lowered herself so she could sit on the top step and bury her face in her hands, her heart heavy with his rejection. Dixon hadn't touched her in over a year. She knew he didn't like the way her miscarriage and the ensuing depression had ravaged her body. Dixon had never been particularly good with words of affirmation, but he used to call her beautiful from time to time. Now though, she felt lucky if he tossed her a small, backhanded compliment on her make up.

The sinking feeling in her chest continued as she grew cold, silent tears escaping the corners of her eyes as she berated herself for ever thinking sending him a picture like that was a good idea. He was right, she was ugly, and stupid and god she wanted to claw the lace from her body and burn it. Maybe even hide herself in an oversized hoodie. Pushing herself to her feet, Meghan retreated to the washroom to remove the lingerie, regretful that she'd already removed the tags and could no longer return it.

It took her a full ten minutes to build the courage to go downstairs and face Dixon after she buried the lingerie in the back of her bedroom closet. When she did, she found him sprawled over the sofa, scrolling through his phone. "Hey honey," she greeted him, petting Hobson absentmindedly as he bumped her leg with his head.

"Hey," Dixon grunted, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"How was your day?" she asked, approaching, mildly hopeful he might be looking at her photo.

"Fine, think we can have lasagna for dinner? I'm having a craving," Dixon informed her, his phone tilted enough Meghan was able to catch a glimpse of his Instagram.

Closing her eyes, trying to bury the painful sensation building in her chest as he continued to scroll through pictures of beautiful women, Meghan forced cheeriness to her tone, "of course, I'll go grab one from the freezer, do you want garlic bread too?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," he replied distractedly, setting down his phone, trading it for the tv remote.

Meghan stood there a moment longer, silently willing him to acknowledge her, to say something nice, to ask how her day was. To lie and compliment her on the photo she'd sent him. Her disappointment grew as the seconds stretched.

'It's fine, he's just tired. Probably had a stressful day,' she attempted to reassure herself as she left the room and headed for the fridge. Setting the lasagna on the counter, she jabbed the buttons on the oven aggressively, not sure if she was more upset with him for crushing her confidence again, or herself for bothering to try to initiate yet again.

It took everything in her later that night not to burst into tears when they crawled into bed and she finally built enough courage to mention the photo. "Yeah, the lighting wasn't very flattering," he mumbled, turning off the lamp on his nightstand as he rolled away from her.

~ ~ ~

Glancing over at her alarm clock, Meghan grimaced, it was two am. She hadn't slept at all, just stared up at the ceiling glassy eyed, utterly still, doing her best to keep her shattering heart a secret. Losing their baby had just about killed her. Losing his affection was destroying what was left of her. She could feel small parts of herself slipping away the longer he rejected her attempts to bridge the chasm that had been growing between them since the moment the ob-gyn had informed them she couldn't find a heartbeat.

Peeling back the comforter, Meghan got to her feet, grabbed her phone off her nightstand and walked to the bathroom, locking it behind her. Sniffling, she opened google and began typing.

'My husband isn't attracted to me'

Swallowing painfully, Meghan read the signs, the warnings, the suggestions for couples therapy until she came across a comment thread that caught her attention.

'If he's not getting any from you, he's getting it elsewhere.'

Sitting on the bathroom counter between their double sinks, Meghan frowned, the comment worming its way into the most insecure parts of her heart. Dixon could be callous and cruel and thoughtless, but he would never betray her. Would he? The idea tormented her.

Long minutes later, she decided for her own piece of mind, she needed to do something she'd never done before. Listening to his peaceful snores, she crept back into their room and quietly collected his phone from his nightstand. Typing in his passcode, she navigated to his Instagram, clicking on his messages.

She scrolled for a few minutes, reading his exchanges, betrayal settling in the pit of her stomach. He was complimenting other women. There was nothing particularly nefarious or overtly sexual about his messages, just simple 'you're beautiful, I appreciate your posts' type of messages. The women would say thank you and the conversations ended there. If they weren't going through a rough patch, she might not even feel that threatened by one or two exchanges like this. The fact there were fourteen though? With fourteen different women?

Meghan wanted to throw up. Was he fishing for something? Someone new?

Another thought sent a violent wave through her stomach. If he wasn't even trying to hide these, what would she find if she went looking through his other apps?

Navigating off his home screen and into his apps, her breath caught painfully in her throat as her eyes narrowed in on 'kik'. Her thumb hovered over it momentarily before she tapped. Her free hand fluttered over her mouth in horror as she scrolled through nude photos he had exchanged with a slew of other women.

Returning his phone, she went back to the bathroom. Doing her best to muffle her sobs, Meghan bit down on her knuckle as she cried her heartbreak, her face contorted in pain as she pictured him with other women. The beautiful ones he looked at on his phone. The ones that made her feel like a troll. Hearing her sobbing, Hobson roused and wandered into the bathroom, licking at his human, trying to comfort her.

~ ~ ~

Curled up on the couch, Hobson on her legs, Meghan felt hollow as she pulled up her reddit account and navigated to an advice subreddit. Ever a glutton for agony, she began typing, trying to figure out how to claw back what she'd once had with Dixon, thinking for the sake of the life they'd built together, she should try to fix things.

'Am I ugly? My husband won't touch me anymore. Should I try harder to lose weight? I know he's cheating virtually, and I want to stop it before he takes it a step further...if he hasn't already.'

She backspaced the whole post and restarted, ignoring the sunbeams beginning to peek over the horizon.

'I've put on weight since my pregnancy. I feel really ugly and my husband doesn't seem attracted to me anymore. What can I do to get him to want me again?'

Frowning, she erased the first part of her message, she didn't want anyone asking about her loss. Cropping her head out of her bathroom mirror photo, Meghan attached the picture and hit post, desperate for any help she could get as the first tendrils of sunlight began filtering through her living room curtains.

~ ~ ~

When Dixon got up, he barely registered that his wife wasn't in bed beside him. Instead, he went about his morning routine, found her in the kitchen packing his lunch, and kissed her cheek goodbye distractedly as he texted someone on his phone.

Meghan on the other hand, was agonizingly aware of the issues between them. Watching his car pull out of the driveway, she checked her reddit, shocked to see there were thirty replies to her post already.

A scowl formed over her pretty lips as Meghan read the comments. One person had called her fat and ugly and that her husband was right to ignore her. Three had tried to plug their exercise programs. Ten told her she was beautiful, and her husband was acting a fool. Another eleven accused her of being vapid and fishing for compliments. The rest were non- comital either way, encouraging her to embrace her body no matter what she looked like and to find a man that would love her no matter her size. Sighing, feeling even more lost than before, she prepped her morning coffee, let Hobson out, and got ready for work, determined not to think about her marital issues for a few hours.

Around three, Meghan received an alert, reminding her of the thirtieth birthday she'd promised to attend for a friend of hers. Groaning, Meghan closed her eyes, not at all in the mood to attend a party after her discovery on Dixon's phone. She needed to confront him about it tonight, didn't she? Rubbing her temples, Meghan reminded herself that Cathy, the birthday girl, was confrontational and backing out would most likely be more of a headache for her than actually going. Besides, she wasn't sure she could spend another evening on the couch next to Dixon, desperately pretending nothing was wrong, if she failed to build the courage to talk to him about his betrayal.

At four, she called it quits for the day, went home, and crawled into bed, intent on napping until the last possible minute. She was going to the party. Having Dixon obliterate her confidence with nasty words and confirmation it was her fault he had cheated, was something she was more than happy to wait another day for.

~ ~ ~

The angry beeping of her alarm clock informed Meghan it was eight pm and time to attempt to make herself presentable. Moving on autopilot, she showered, did her makeup with a smoky eye and curled her hair, donning sparkling hoop earrings as she stood in front of her wardrobe attempting to decide what to wear.

Determining the only part of herself worth showing off was her chest, she yanked on a low-cut black t-shirt, tucking it into jeans she hoped hugged her ass in a flattering way. Tilting her head to the side she studied herself in her dresser mirror with a small frown. Her bra was doing nothing for her. Tugging off her top, she went to her closet, her eyes settling on the shoe box she'd stuffed her lingerie into. Feeling uncertain, she pulled down the box and fingered the material within lightly. The bra certainly made her breasts look good, pushing them up and together in a way that made her feel worth looking at.

Perhaps it would make the top look better? Unbuttoning her pants, she slipped off her hip huggers and pulled on the lace panties before wrestling her chest into the bra. Keeping her eyes off her mirror, she replaced her clothes, only turning to look at herself again as she buttoned her pants. This time her breasts curved beautifully, drawing attention to the deep cleavage she was putting on display.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she ran her hands over her waist and hips, admitting she looked pretty good from the front. Turning to the side, she sighed at the roll below her waistline. Closing her eyes, she tried to remind herself that lots of women struggled with at least one part of their body. Turning forward again, Meghan forced a smile and tussled her bangs. "I'm still beautiful, even if Dixon can't see it," she promised herself, the words forced as she attempted to do an affirmation her therapist had suggested.

Tugging on her heels, Meghan walked into the living room and past Dixon, he didn't look away from the tv. "I'm going out with Cathy."

He glanced at her disinterestedly in acknowledgement and then returned his gaze to the tv. "Do I look okay?" Meghan fished, unsure if she was purposely trying to hurt herself, or just insane enough to think her repeated desperate attempts to tempt him might actually yield in something other than heartbreak.

Dixon shrugged, eyes still on the tv, "you've looked better."

The violent slam of the front door drew his attention a moment later, finally forcing his gaze to the spot his wife had been occupying only moments before. "What crawled up her ass?" he muttered to Hobson, grabbing his phone off the coffee table.

Navigating to his private browser, he pulled up the online chatroom he frequented, intent on finding a new playmate for kik while his wife was out.

~ ~ ~

"Okay, okay, one more, one more," Cathy insisted, handing Meghan another coconut tequila shot.

"No, no, Cat, I've had enough," Meghan protested.

"It's my thirtieth birthday, just do the damn shot," Cathy demanded playfully, forcing it into her reluctant hand.

Sighing, Meghan forced a small smile and pressed the glass to her lips, drinking the liquid, "happy?"

"The most!" Cathy assured her, pulling on her hand, dragging her towards the dance floor.

Rolling her eyes, Meghan danced with her, moving her hips to the music. As the bass thud around her, she grinned, the three shots she'd already had finally taking affect the longer she danced. It felt freeing, to move, to swing her head, to press herself against another body and grind. Meghan's smile widened as Cathy plastered back against her, twisting her hips towards the floor. Laughing, Meghan joined her until they both stood giggling.

"I need another drink," Cathy informed her loudly over the thudding of the music before disappearing through the crowd back towards the bar.

Meghan closed her eyes and danced by herself, letting the rhythm rock her as she waited for Cat's return, the songs bleeding together. She felt peaceful, the fog clouding her mind was silencing her insecurities for the first time in months. Finally, Dixon's voice in the back of her mind telling her no one else would ever love her, that she was a failure as a woman for being unable to have a child, was silent.

~ ~ ~

On the other side of the bar, steel grey eyes followed Meghan's every movement as her body twisted and swayed to the beat. Rubbing his stubble, Wyatt debated what to do about his attraction. He hadn't come here looking for a woman, but he was finding it difficult not to stare. It'd been a while since a woman had so raptly caught his eye and her friend had just dipped, leaving her alone.

"You gonna nut up and go talk to her, or should I?" Ryan asked, gesturing at the dancing woman with the top of his beer bottle, taking note of his friend's distraction.

Glaring at him, Wyatt nodded, "give me a minute to finish my beer." He agreed, figuring he had to get back into the game some time. His last relationship had ended badly last year, he'd yet to re-enter the dating pool, unsure if he wanted to invest himself in a woman again, or just save himself the heartbreak and resign himself to a life of solitude.

Grinning wolfishly, Ryan smirked at him from around a swig of his own drink. "She's got a great ass, I'd tap her," he commented, tilting his head to the side exaggeratingly, trying to get a rise out of his friend.

Ignoring him, Wyatt tossed a fifty in the middle of the table, hoping the woman had more going for her than just her looks. "This should cover me," he told the other guys, having no intention of returning to the table whether the woman accepted his advances or not.

Putting his wallet back into his pocket, Wyatt debated how to play this. Did he just want to get laid, or did he want to try to get to know her? Sighing, he resigned himself to being a pushy asshole. It really wasn't him, but it'd worked for Ryan more times than he could count, and he really wasn't looking for a relationship. Not after the last one.

~ ~ ~

"I love how into this song you are," a deep voice rumbled in Meghan's ear as large hands settled on her hips, a firm body pressing against her back.

Squeaking, Meghan stiffened as the hands held her tighter, pulling her more firmly against the man at her back. "Something wrong?" he asked, dipping his head to her ear, his lips so close they brushed over her hair.

Closing her eyes, Meghan tried to settle back into the rhythm, there was nothing wrong, it was a club, it was just a dance and it'd been so long since anyone had held her. Shaking her head, dispelling her discomfort, pretending it was Dixon that had hold of her hips, she rolled them to the beat. Pressing her shoulders against the stranger's chest, she wiggled her ass, dizzy from the alcohol, the music, and the feel of his hot palms as they ran over her hips and thighs.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked halfway through the next song, one hand much too close to her inner thigh, the other on her ribcage as he ground his pelvis against her ass, letting her feel what her nearness was doing to him.

Nodding, Meghan let him take her hand and lead her through the crowd, wondering what his face looked like as she studied the back of the sturdy man pulling on her. He was about six feet with short brown hair and a body that suggested a life of labour under the sun.