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  1. This story was inspired by a prompt from my GF @Bluebubblygirl ❤️ ^^ - The world was once the domain of the gods, living and breathing entities of great power whom ruled the cycles and laws of the physical realm. Among all the gods, the Divine Sun was the mightiest, for their light was the bringer of warmth and life and everything that was good and beautiful. The Sun fought an eternal battle against the Darkness, with only a one day truce to rest and renew their strength after each year battling across the skyline. The Divine Sun created a resting palace to enjoy this day of leisure and restore their essence, a place of beauty floating in the heavens, filled with gardens, monuments, sparkling fountains, and twelve women handpicked by the divine to be their wives. Those were the Sun Brides, deemed the most beautiful of all mortals, whom stunning eyes could rival with the rising sun, and whom statuesque feminine figures made the sun set appear mundane in its beauty. Most of these chosen youth came from privilege and high status, chosen among high priestesses, princesses, merchant daughters, and great artists. As long as they retained their exquisiteness, the Divine Sun promised them a life unmatched by the greatest mortal queens, living the whole year in the palace, and sharing the divine company on their return. Each was responsible with entertaining the divine for two hours before their leave at the end of the truce. Some sang for the Sun, some danced, some indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, and other charmed them by their wit and laughter. However, the Divine Sun’s most recent bride was different from any of the eleven others she shared the palace with. Pooran was a diamond in the rough, a mere street urchin found in the slums of the largest and filthiest city of the moral world. Her face was a natural work of art, with youthful, big innocent eyes, high cheekbones and a defined jawline leading to a gracile neck and nubile breasts. Her slender body was shapely and toned, effortlessly perfect in its proportions, carved by a hard life into a monument to mortal splendour. For the Divine Sun, she was unmatched, for she was as genuine and pure as the light itself, unaltered, unfiltered, unspoiled by vanity. Now draped in the finest silks and wearing the godly gold, the young Pooran was living a waking dream, enjoying a life of leisure and luxury in the divine palace, while she grew used to hardship, misery, and hunger. Pampered by the avian shaped servants of the Sun, she tasted fruits so sweet she almost fainted, and dipped her gorgeous lips in mead and wine so delicious she wondered why one would ever touch water again. While the other brides were used to luxury, the palace life only providing them with a slightly more exquisite life than what they could obtain among the moral with their beauty and status, Pooran was almost overwhelmed by the sudden change of lifestyle, and found herself wanting to enjoy her new privileges to the fullest, to the point moderation and wisdom were quickly left out of the picture. At first, her childlike enthusiasm charmed the other brides, who found her gleeful amazement adorable and endearing. Her fascination for all these new luxuries and delicacies was understandable, and all guessed she would simply need some time to get used to all this. Even when she began to appear softer and fuller, slowly losing the tone of her body to a thin layer of plush feminine flesh, the other wives didn’t worried much. After all, this suited Pooran well, and she could always train and exercise with them later on to return to her slim and lithe self before the truce day. But weeks turned into months without the young beauty showing any sign of slowing down her hedonistic lifestyle, or even deigning to follow the wives in their daily training. While all the eleven of them would often run around the palace, dance, climb, swim, and compete among themselves in friendly challenges of athleticism, Pooran simply napped in the palace, enjoyed a third collation, or watched the others from afar, laying on a pile of cushions. After a life spent running and struggling to escape city guards, violent gangs, and angry merchants, the former street urchin was puzzled about why someone would strain so pointlessly. Sure, the brides were all stunning, with their lean slender bodies, toned stomach, firm and shapely curves, and thin muscles dancing under their perfectly smooth skin, but why worry so much about a little plushness? Pooran was quite aware she had been gaining weight, but in her mind eyes, fat was synonym with prosperity and wealth, and was certainly not something that needed to be kept at bay with such fervour. Sure, her stomach was no longer flat, and it bounced lightly each time she walked a bit too fast, but her hips were fertile and soft, and her breasts were bigger and more voluptuous than any of the Sun Brides, even that Amazonian beauty how stood a whole head taller than the next tallest woman. She wasn’t ashamed by her change, even if she was slowly growing so plump and curvaceous her new clothes could have fitted twice her former left. If anything, this new heft made her feel powerful and self-assured, making her easier for her to adapt to this new amazing life in the heavens. The other brides didn’t wanted to harass their newest member, but they were all getting very worried for the chubby beauty, for they knew that the Divine Sun despised fat and excess, whom were associated with the lowly realm of the earth gods, while the mighty entity was from the heaven, and the highest, most perfect of them all. They tried to persuade Pooran to at least try to use the last few months before the truce day to lose some weight and sculpt her curves into a more athletic form. After all, a large bottom and thick womanly thighs could pass it there were strong muscles hidden under the plush flesh. Sadly, Poorah rejected their advice. She didn’t want to experience privation ever again, even if it was self-imposed, and wouldn’t scale down the size or number of her feasts. However, she didn’t ignore their warning. If, indeed, she risked losing her privileges if she was caught so plump by the Divine Sun, she needed a plan to avoid their wrath and enjoy another year of decadence and pleasure in the palace. The brides were surprised to see Pooran, at last, join them in their daily training. If she really wanted to lose the weight, it was sadly too little too late, for the Sun would join them by the next moon, and she was now the heaviest of them all, including the Amazon. Pooran didn’t even attempt to keep up with the brides, for she was slow, clumsy, and sluggish as she ran. Her enormous bosom would bounce ponderously in front on her, throwing off her balance and making her back sore after only a few minutes. Her belly would wobble endlessly; testing the fabric of her skirt, and making its seams creak in protest. Her thick womanly thighs would sway and rub at each step, hindering her speed and making the simple act of running quite difficult. Still, Pooran kept training at her own pace, testing her speed, evaluating her limits, and more importantly restoring some of her lost stamina. In fact, the training was so gentle that the gorgeous ex-thief keep gaining slowly during that month, but it didn’t bother her, for losing weight was never her goal. All she needed was a better knowledge of the palace layout, and a touch of endurance. The end of Pooran’s first year in the palace was finally upon her, and the Divine Sun returned from their year of conflict across the sky, eager to reunite with their brides and rest in their company. When the godly being came back, the servants led the radiant deity to each of the bride, one by one. The Divine Sun danced, feasted, sang, and played, and at last, when it was time to meet the last and most recent of the chosen beauties, the avian servants announced what Pooran had planned to entertain the palace’s owner: for she was young of hearth and of spirit, and for she knew nothing but the sneaky life of a city thief, she challenged the Divine Sun to a game of hide and seek, a playful jest to amuse her serious host. It had been her ruse all along, for Pooran knew the Divine Sun would be awful at such a game, for their bright shining halo announced their every move, and she could run to her next hideout anytime she feared getting discovered. Furthermore, spending only one day a year in the palace, the Divine Sun remembered little of its layout. With her guile and cleverness, even an overfed, plump, and clumsy Pooran easily outplayed the shining Sun in this contest, only fearing to get caught by the end of the two hours, for she was getting so out of breath from sneaking across the palace that she feared she might get caught. It was a close call, but she was saved by the holy duty, for the Darkness returned upon the sky, and the Divine Sun went back to fight against it, leaving an exhausted Pooran behind for another year of indulgence, nearly caught, but free to stay until the next truce. As they flew in the sky, the Divine Sun was amused and even proud of whom they pictured at this clever and innocent bride that just made a fool of them, unaware of the deceit at play, and the bulging curves that now swallowed the memory they cherished. Exalted by her victory, Pooran doubled down in her revelries as soon as the Divine Sun left them in the palace, ordering extra portions and spending days and nights eating with renewed desire, her hands exploring her stuffed belly and overflowing curves with fascination and amazement. She wanted to taste everything, to experience this paradise to the fullest, and she certainly did. The avian servants struggled to keep up with her demands, while the other wives watched in awe and horror as she quickly outgrew her clothes, as well as their memories of her former slender self. Born in privilege, all the Sun Brides had seen a few plump princesses, gluttonous priestesses, or overfed matrons in their noble circles, but Pooran was quickly leaving any of those rotund damsels in the dust with her hedonistic ways. Her expanding figure was losing any sense of definition, with her overabundant flesh now forming rolls across her thickened midsection, her back, and over her waistline. Over the weeks, her stomach was folding on itself and began to rest on her lap, filling all the space it could take until there was no more left. Her breasts, formerly voluptuous and abundant, were now obscenely large, to the point they started to limit her movements, forcing Pooran to reach across their expanse when feasting, and often swallowing any plump fruit she dropped on her cavernous cleavage. Her bottom was no longer round, but wide and mushy, akin to overfilled cushions, and it lifted her higher, making her appear somehow taller when she was seated, which meant most of the time. The Sun Brides knew she was doomed. As Pooran’s weight skyrocketed into obesity, as she began to compete with the plumpest of all mortals, there was no hope she could slim down to a shape acceptable to the Divine Sun in the time that was left before the day of truce. In fact, there was no hope she could get in shape for another round of hide and seek. More than three times the size of her thin past self, Pooran was more out of shape than ever, and her overflowing curves made sneaking impossible. Anytime she waddled across the palace, the overfed bride could be heard from the distance, for her thudding steps were echoing across the corridors, and so was the fleshly sound of her stomach bouncing against her upper thighs. If she ever attempted to jog, something that only happened when desert was announced, her enormous melons would join in the cacophony, slapping against the top roll of her overfed belly as she huffed and puffed toward her goal. Pooran was quite in denial that she was no longer in shape to perform the same ruse as the year before. The days the other brides found her naivety charming were long gone, and the general sentiment went from pity to loathing toward this ravenous glutton that ate herself into obesity in the span of only two years. However, her fall into decadence gave an idea to the eldest bride, a stunning blonde priestess whom had been craving more attention from the Divine. She devised a plan to use Pooran to gain more time with the Sun divinity, under the guise of helping the fool in her futile game. When the Divine Sun returned for the second day of truce, Pooran was led to the palace’s cellars, going down the small staircase under the guidance of the more mature bride. Squeezing her fleshy hips past the narrow doorway, the overfed young bride sat on a pile of cushion, hidden deep in the palace’s belly, and waited in the company of mead and wine. When at last the Divine Sun went for the expected game of hide and seek, the other bride, whom had dyed her hair and put on a veil, played the part of the younger Pooran, quickly getting caught on purpose by her deity. Feigning a genuine erotic game, she made the Divine Sun put on a blindfold, and had her way with the entity like she wanted, while Pooran slept in a drunken haze in the cellars, her rotund body taking most of the space. When the day was spent, the Sun Brides were once again left alone as their patron returned to their heavenly duel. Another year would pass until Pooran’s excesses would be at risk of being exposed. Without surprise, none of these events triggered any change in Pooran’s lifestyle for her third year spent in the solar palace. By this time, the enormous bride was no longer only eating to sustain her culinary curiosity, but to keep her ravenous appetite at bay. After years of stuffing, she was properly insatiable, her stomach turned into an abyssal pit that growled in anger after a mere hour without food. Hunger made an ironic comeback in Pooran’s life, but now she could feel it by merely not being full enough. She spent more time feasting than ever, often being handled by avian servants, or occasionally another bride out of morbid curiosity. She seldom left her personal chambers, only getting up for short walks toward the baths or the feasting hall, and she no longer jogged to be the first to get to the dessert, for anything faster than a slow lumbering waddle was now impossible. Pooran’s belly had grown even heavier since her time in the cellar, and it was now inching its way to her knees, while her buttocks were now so fat and well-padded she struggled to get up by her own power, so heavily anchored she was by their mass. Her breasts were beyond sanity, big enough to make an earth goddess blush from jealousy, and heavy enough that she struggled to lift one without using both hands. As the end of her third year neared, she surpassed mere obesity to turn into the fattest mortal in this time and age, an avatar of excess and opulence in world were hunger was assumed. In that context, the other Sun Brides should have been wiser than to assume they could keep Pooran hidden, but they drank the tale of the last truce stratagem and for them, the obese young damsel represented one less competitor to share the Divine Sun’s attention with. They convinced themselves they could keep fooling their host year after year, reproducing the ruse used by their senior and getting more time with their master. Their duplicity wouldn’t go unpunished. When the Divine Sun returned at last, after another year of endless combat, they wanted nothing more than to finally see the face of the young Pooran, the mysterious bride that became their favourite through her games and mysterious ways. Made impulsive by the long wait, turned restless after day dreaming of this reunion for months, the mighty entity ignored the protocol and asked to see Pooran right away, storming through the palace, majestic and terrible in their lust and love. The brides tried to distract them, for Pooran wasn’t yet hidden in the cellar, but there wasn’t much time left. While six brides were luring the Divine on false paths and dead ends, the five others were helping Pooran escape her chambers and trying to get her to her hideout. The enormous Sun Bride was now so immensely fat she struggled to move at any descent pace, and she was half-dragged, half-carried by the six toned woman. It was an odd spectacle to say the least, to see the athletic and slender ladies pushing on her mushy bum, pulling on her ham sized arms, and supporting her enormous curves by armful to help her waddle faster. The contrast was intense, for the five women together were barely outweighing the humongous butterball that was the youngest of them all. Huffing and puffing, and already menacing to reveal their position with her earth shaking steps, Pooran finally reached the staircase to the cellar, but as she was about to step into the passage, she was immediately stopped in her track as her thick love handles bit into the doorframe, far too plump to squeeze through. Confused, the five other brides watched as their blubbery comrade overflowed the narrow doorway, even her breasts slightly too big to fit in. One year prior, she managed to slip through, but she had grown enormously in these twelve months. Frantic, they tried to turn her sideways, to push her belly inside, to cram her inside with all the strength they could muster, but she was too fat, too deliciously obese to even get stuck in the doorway. She couldn’t even begin to fit through, and as she was shoved too harsh against the stone, she whimpered in pain, and soon, the Divine Sun dawned upon them, catching the group off guard as they stormed into the palace, solar flares appearing in the edge of their halo disappointment, wrath, and disgust. The Divine Sun immediately understood the charade they had been served, and their anger was great, immense, in proportion with the offending ingrate they saw flaying powerlessly in their light, and the eleven snakes that lied to cover this infamy. Light turned to fiery rays, and with every scream, fire spread through the palace, turning drapes and furniture to ash and ambers, and melting stone and glass like butter. The wives ran, all of them, fleeing the devastation their all brought upon themselves. Toned legs and nimble bodies quickly reached the edges of the burning solar palace, where avian servants waited in anguish. Knowing it was the end, the winged creatures decided to flee with the damsels, judging the gorgeous brides undeserving of such an awful fate as to burn alive in a god’s anger. By pairs, the bird-like creature grabbed the women by the arms, and with a flutter of wings, hauled them into the sky, slowly bringing down to the surface of the earth to safety and rescue. The creatures were strong and disciplined, and they quickly saved the eleven women, but as Pooran busted from the burning palace, red faced and buried in quivering flesh, the pair the remained exchanged a worried glance. Huffing and puffing, the cow sized beauty lumbered through the courtyard, her pendulous gut slapping against her knees each time she tried to move faster. Her swaying breasts throwing her out of balance, she collapsed on hands and knees near the edge of the floating palace, her decadent stomach spreading under her body, so fat it hung low enough to rest heavily on the stone pavement. Slowly, the solar paradise tipped, sending Pooran slipping into the sky below, unable to catch her fall with her fat laden limbs. With a scream of terror, she felt her obese form plummet through the emptiness, while the two avian servants dived to attempt to catch her fall. Talon like feet grasped her plump wrists, and the pair expended their wings to slow her fall and hopefully gain some lift. Sadly, what was enough to fly a slender damsel couldn’t suffice to carry a woman of Pooran’s girth, and no matter how much the avian creatures struggled, they couldn’t slow her fall, and with a sad cry of powerlessness, they let her go, falling through the sky toward the arid expanse of a desert. As the beautiful and enormous girl fell to her doom, her fear and despair attracted the attention of many gods, whom couldn’t help but feel ashamed by the Sun’s outburst. The first to come to Pooran’s aid was the Great Wind, whom unleashed their mightiest upward gust in an attempt to save the decadent mortal, whose only crime had been to enjoy life too fully. Sadly, even the strongest wing was too weak to fight the results of Pooran’s three years of revelries, and the sky god backed away, saddened. The second god to come to Pooran’s aid was the Gentle Rain, whom clouds were of velvet softness. They attempted to weave a cushion of cloud under the girl’s rotund form, but she busted trough like an arrow through soft clay, her overfed body too plump and heavy for such a diaphanous mattress. The Rain was surprised, for they often welcomed mortal on cloudy beds, not unlike the solar palace. Yet, this poor girl was simply too heavy for the fragile sky cloth. At least, as her fall drew nearer to the earth, Pooran caught the eye of the Desert God, cursed by the Divine Sun into an arid land unkind to all life. For aeons, the Desert languished the curves and folds adorning the bodies of their kin from fertile lands. They were earth gods, yet the Desert was no more fertile than the sky above. The cursed god saw in Pooran’s body their dreams come true. Her body was a topography of dunes, valleys, hills, and canyons, like an homage composed to the Desert’s glory. She brought with her lifetimes of bounty; so much abundance couldn’t be gathered in the arid sands, even in centuries. She was a blessing, and the Desert God wasn’t going to let her plummet to her death. With a loving hand, the land itself reached for the sky, gigantic fingers and a titanic arm forming a gentle slope of silk-like sand. Pooran landed on the opened palm, and slowly rolled down the divine arm, until her fall was caught, softly, gently, into a bath of sand. It is said that Pooran cried of relief once she realized that she made it alive from the solar palace, and that her tears filled the depression formed by her landing, creating the first of all the oasis. The former Sun Bride was then embraced by the Desert God as their sole spouse, and her abundance lifted the curse cast by the Divine Sun, bringing life again in the dunes, and especially in the islands of plenty that were the oasis. To these days, Pooran is no longer known by her mortal name, but instead as the Fruitful Oasis, a fertility goddess worshipped by any traveller fearing the Sun’s wrath.
  2. (Note; This story in heavy sci-fi, slight mythology, in the genre of light romance/tragedy. I've posted it elsewhere, but you'd have a hard time finding it. Still, I like it, so I hope you will too.) A Gift from Grandpa ----- Chapter 1: A Surprise Gift Alan Michaels was trying his hardest to keep from sweating bullets as he finally decided to just go for it, pulling the chair out, before moving to take his own. Fortunately, Elsie didn't seem offended. If anything, she looked pleased as she grabbed the back of the chair in one of her own hands, before moving it out another six inches, and slowly lowering herself into it. Alan was already seated by that point, but he could see that even from where she was sitting, Elsie's stomach had pushed outward, against the edge of the table, and spilled over, to cover a little bit of the table in front of her. She pushed herself back a little more, her whole body seeming to tremble in a single, wave-like motion, before Alan could even think about what to say or do next, so it was fortunate that Elsie spoke first. "Did you work things out with your dad?" The question snapped Alan back out of his daze, and for a moment, he glanced away, but it didn't take him long to reply. "Sort of. We talked about it, but I just don't think he'll ever understand. He's kind of old-fashioned, you know... Came from another country when he was a young man and all that." "Really?" Elsie asked, "Which country?" "Huh?" Alan asked, feeling a little taken aback by that question. The truth was that he didn't think his father had ever told him directly, and he'd never been all that interested in knowing. Still, after living with the man for years, he had enough data to offer an educated guess. "Poland, I think. Like I said, he..." "Oh, yeah." Elsie replied, though at that point, their conversation was interrupted by the waiter, and after taking some drink orders, he vanished into the kitchen, and the two were left alone again. "See, it's just that you always seemed kind of traditional yourself." Elsie admitted, "I was a little surprised to see you and your dad fighting like that." "He never should have said those things." Alan replied, however, starting to feel his anger returning, even as he discussed the topic with Elsie, "Can we talk about something else? How did that paper go, that you were working on?" "I finished it yesterday morning." Elsie just said with something that could almost be called a shrug, though it was really more of a slight shake of her impressive shoulders, "Tell me something, Alan. I've been talking to Jane in accounting, and she says she actually approached you with an extra movie ticket last month, and you didn't even seem interested." Alan decided to return Elsie's gesture, and merely shrugged. "I guess I wasn't." "The thing is; from what I understand, half the men in the middle three floors have crushes on Jane. You don't?" "I don't." "I see." For a moment, Elsie looked a little uncomfortable, but in a couple more seconds, Alan asked, "Is that what you needed to know?" "No." Elsie quickly replied, raising both of her big, thick arms just a bit, "Alan, why did you come here?" Alan blinked a couple times before replying, "Because I asked you to come here with me. It would have been really scummy to do that, then stand you up." "I... I know that. But what I mean is; why are you here... with me?" "Because you said yes." "Alan! Stop dodging the question!" "What? What's the question?" Elsie stopped talking for a moment, and rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger before she made any attempt to continue. "Alan..." she said at last, almost moaning over having to put it so overtly, "What is it... about me in particular... that makes you think it's a good idea to approach me, and ask me out to eat?" Alan had been dreading the approach of that question, but since it had been asked, he did have an answer ready, as he once again braced himself for what was coming. "That's pretty much what you do, right? I mean, you meet a pretty girl, talk to her, get to know her, and eventually you realize that you have enough in common, that... What? What's with that face?" The truth was that Alan knew exactly why Elsie Hill's mouth and eyes had opened all the way just then, but feigned ignorance, and/or foolish optimism was one of the few things he'd never tried, when dealing with someone like Elsie. "Did... Did you just say..." Elsie almost muttered, looking flabbergasted as she spoke, "Did you just call me pretty?" "Yeah." Alan replied, "What's wrong?" "Oh, I should have known. I don't believe this." Elsie almost gasped, staring down at the glass of soda water that the waiter had just delivered, "You're one of those sickos, aren't you?" "Excuse me?" Alan asked, immediately feeling irritable, "What did you just call me?" However, just like that, Elsie had leaned forward, pushing against the table, and slowly lifting herself up off her chair, causing her torso, which had previously seemed to be scrunched up into a thick oblong, to smooth itself out into a large, roundish, coffee-bean-like shape, with occasional rolls all over. Elsie Hill was one of, if not the fattest person working at the office where Alan worked, and it was going to end the same way as always. "I keep thinking to myself, 'this guy must be interested in what I'm doing,' or 'this guy really wants to help me out,' like some child, and I keep ending up in these situations!" Elsie almost shouted, bracing both hands against the table, and almost spilling the drinks, "You're just another one of those weird fetishists, lusting after this lump of a body I have!" Immediately, Alan was on his feet, slamming a few dollars down on the table. He hadn't meant to be so forceful, and he hadn't thought he'd need the cash so soon, but Elsie had reacted much faster than most of the girls he'd tried dating in the past, and much more forcefully. Many girls at least had the courtesy to wait until they were in a less public place, before telling him what they thought of him. He was mortified and furious with her. "That's enough!" Alan actually shouted, "If you didn't want to come here with me, you should have just said no, Elsie!" Then, seething with rage, Alan had dislodged himself from the table, stormed right past Elsie and left by the front door, and he never so much as looked at her, or that restaurant again. ----- Susan Chalmers was furiously typing out the final closing statement of the script she'd been working on, when she heard a knock on her apartment door. Dreading yet another reminder about the rent, she rolled her chair back away from her computer desk and hopped to her feet, strolling slowly to the door, before looking out the peep-hole. Fortunately, it wasn't her landlord, but the person on the other side didn't make her feel much better. It was Alan Michaels, and he was once again alone. Swallowing hard, Susan opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, inviting Alan inside. He looked like the dark clouds over his head were big enough to cause citywide flooding, and he definitely needed some support. "Messy one tonight, huh?" Susan asked, seating Alan down on the left side of her couch. "It always gets messy when they start asking me about my feelings," Alan confessed, "but yeah. Tonight was especially bad." Susan had walked over to her kitchen counter while they'd been talking, and turned her kettle back on. The water was lukewarm at best, but it wouldn't take it long to heat up, and she had a feeling it would be finished before Alan was. "It's like almost all of them have some kind of illness, that makes them act self-destructively." Alan complained desperately, as Susan listened, "If somebody says they hate the way fat women look, they'll get sad, and maybe even angry, but pleasure, joy and delight over their beauty is even worse to them. It's like Stockholm Syndrome or something. They want to defend their tormentors, because they've gotten used to being tormented, so they hate people who only want to do right by them." Susan waited for a couple of seconds before asking, "Did she say that?" "She said I was a sicko for thinking she was pretty." "Ah. Well, it sounds more like self-loathing to me, but self-loathing that's projected outward. I don't know. I'm no psychologist. Man, Alan. You sure know how to pick the weird ones." By that point, steam had started rising from Susan's kettle, so she turned it off and started pouring it into a couple of her cups, as Alan replied from behind her, seeming a little defensive at first. "Wait. Are you saying this is my fault? I'm just trying to find somebody I can actually feel something for. It's not my fault they all turn out to be weird." "Relax, Alan." Susan said, sitting down on the couch next to him, and handing him one of her cups of tea, "You're my best friend. I think I've got more in common with you than with my last boyfriend. If anything, I feel sorry for you. I mean, I've never been married, but I've at least had some long-lasting dating relationships." "No girl's ever dated me for more than a week." Alan reminded her miserably. "It's the weight thing." Susan confirmed, sipping from her tea briefly; a useful technique for keeping her cool, when dealing with emotionally-loaded topics, "I know it, you know it. It's stupid, but it's way more taboo to be fat if you're a girl." "I know *why* it's a problem." Alan replied bitterly, then changed gears entirely as he inhaled the steam from the tea, "What happened to Harold, anyway?" In response, Susan put down her tea, and leaned back against the couch cushions with a deep, audible sigh. "He was something, wasn't he? Like the ultimate dream; tall, strong and round as a pumpkin. Oh, I could have lost my arms in his rolls forever. We dated for a while, but he eventually decided he wasn't happy with a computer geek. I accept fat guys, and they've got to be able to accept me. That's how it works, if it works at all. It's too bad. He was so... so... much." Again, Susan sighed and leaned forward, resting one hand on her best friend's shoulder. "It's too bad neither of us is fat." Susan noted as Alan dared his first sip of the hot liquid, which already seemed to be calming him down, "That soft, overwhelming sensation... Oh! If I had that, even if it was me who was the fat one, I'd never need to go looking for it in anybody else." "Yeah." Alan said as he finished his sip and spent a couple seconds staring at the liquid in his cup, "I guess it's the same for me, but I always fantasized about finding that dream girl, you know..." "Maybe you'll still find her." Susan replied with a slight shrug, "There's girls who can appreciate fatness. I mean, look at me." For some reason, that almost made Alan laugh. He'd never met anyone as obsessed with softness or warmth as Susan Chalmers, and she enjoyed a good meal more than almost anyone he'd ever met, so they'd really hit it off after a while. Still, the fact that both of them needed something that neither one could provide, meant that their friendship could only go so far. "The worst part is having to face dad." Alan admitted at last, after several moments of silence, "He told me I'd regret it if I went out with her, and I got angry at him for it. It was a pretty nasty fight too." Susan seemed to have been just about to say something, but stopped herself after only a moment, and at last, she remarked, "Look, Alan. I don't think your father merits an apology. If you've disrespected him in some way, you can still try to patch things up, but I really have a hard time dealing with that man. He's just so closed-minded, it's infuriating. How did you ever put up with him for twenty years?" For some reason, those remarks had made Alan feel a little better, and although he didn't want any rift between himself and his father to be his fault, and he probably would eventually apologize for his part in their fight, it was equally clear what he needed to do next. ----- "Dad." It took a few seconds before Hugo Michaels seemed to realize that someone was talking to him, but once he recognized that fact, it was only a second before he'd turned to face his son, who was standing nearby, with his phone in one hand. Quickly, Hugo set a bookmark in the magazine he'd been reading, and put it off to one side, looking up at his son, who, he was a bit gratified to see, had a slightly sheepish expression on his face. "Yes?" Hugo asked, "You wanted to talk about something?" "I've made a decision." Alan said a bit shyly as he held up the phone, revealing the information displayed across its surface, "This is where I'm going to live. Starting tomorrow." For a moment, Hugo just blinked, not sure of how to respond, or what to say. He looked over the little, one-bedroom apartment that Hugo was pointing to, and the statistics on the page, and it did look functional for just one person; even cheap compared to the going rate for apartments. Still, Hugo was concerned. "Of course, if you start living there, you'll be paying them a lot more than you pay us. You won't be able to save up as much money." "I got a raise a few days ago," Alan replied with a shrug, "I can afford it, and I can do extra work on the side. Cathy gave me forty bucks for fixing her computer, and another five for getting her son's toy working again. It's not much, but it all adds up." "But what's the advantage?" Hugo asked, starting to feel genuinely worried, "Do you really think this is a good idea in the long term?" Alan had known that question was coming, but he'd still hoped not to have to answer it, because the only answer he could give would be easy to misinterpret. "Dad..." He said, "I want to do something to fix our relationship, and I think this might be the only way." Hugo looked bewildered for a moment, but his only response was "Oh." "We get into a lot of arguments when we're too close to one another for too long." Alan explained, "I notice, whenever I'm busy with work, and we only see each other for a few minutes a day, we usually don't... you know... bicker." "There's no need for bickering at all, or even arguing." Hugo said, starting to feel very tense, "I just want what's best for you, Alan. You're my son, and I don't want us to drift apart." For the first time since the discussion had begun, Alan actually smiled just a little, but he couldn't back down anymore. "You're my dad, and I don't want that to happen either," he said, "but the truth is, I just don't want the same things for my life that you want for yours. Now that I'm an adult, I have to be free to make my own choices, and... That means that if this is going to work, there needs to be some distance." For a moment, it actually looked as though Hugo would let it go at that, but then he turned, to see his wife and Alan's mother, standing in the bedroom doorway, looking worried, and mouthing a word that reminded him of exactly what would happen if Alan moved away. Yet, how could he prevent it? Hugo knew he couldn't keep his son prisoner. It was unthinkable, but the only things he still hadn't tried, apart from that were intimidation and mockery. He didn't want to resort to those if it could be helped, because they could only damage his relationship with his son, and yet, if there was even a chance of keeping his son from leaving... "Heaven help me." Hugo thought to himself silently as he gathered his courage. "She dumped you, didn't she?" At that moment, the color drained from Alan's face. "Wh-What?" "I told you she wasn't right for you, and I was expecting this to happen. You've never noticed the warning signs. You always wait for them to dump you first, Alan. Quite frankly, I don't think you should leave, because I don't think you know how to make those kinds of decisions responsibly yet." However, the speech was empty, and Hugo knew it, as soon as he saw the look on his son's face. Once the initial shock had faded, his look hadn't been one of anger or disgust, but a sort of passive look, tinged with something more like sadness. Without another word to either of his parents, Alan had turned and left the living room, and when he left their house on the following day, a brief "goodbye" was all he said then. ----- After the move, it had taken Alan a couple of days to get everything ironed out and set all of his things up in his new apartment, but his first objective had been his laptop, and the tools that he used for fixing things. Alan had always been the sort of person who took the time to plan out what he was going to do next, which was just as well. None of his relationships would have lasted as long as they had, if not for that aspect of his personality. In fact, Alan had been so busy setting things up, that he didn't even bother trying to check his mail until it was dusk on his second day in the apartment. Not many people had sent letters, of course, though there was an advertisement for a credit card, and some gym membership flier with those horrible "before" and "after" pictures that always made him nauseous. "I know people are losing weight." Alan thought silently, as he threw the flier in the garbage, "Don't remind me." However, there was one curious thing in Alan's mail; a small package, which had a local restaurant called "Pearl's Sweet Bites," as its return address. It wasn't too uncommon for restaurants to send out fliers or even coupons, but that was the first time that Alan had ever heard of them sending out boxes of goods before; much less in the mail. Alan went and got his knife to cut open the box and look at what had been sent to him, but as he pulled open the cardboard edges, the contents of the box merely filled him with confusion and curiosity. He'd been expecting the box to contain some explanation of why it had been sent to him, but instead, all it had left him with was another, deeper mystery. The box contained no receipt, no letter, no fliers, or papers of any kind to provide information. The only thing in the box was a single, transparent globe, about the size of a baseball. It was perfectly-round and smooth all across its surface, like an orb of colored glass, because although he could see directly through it, the orb was tinted blue. For a few moments, Alan just looked at the little ball with boundless confusion, but at last, with a smile, he picked it up and held it in his left hand, feeling its smooth surface; very much like glass or crystal. However, it was so smooth, that for a moment, he lost his grip on the ball, and it fell to the floor. Alan had expected the ball to shatter the moment it hit the ground, but, in fact, when it collided with the hardwood of his apartment's floor, not much seemed to have happened to it. Quickly, he picked it up, and on impulse. decided to try dropping it again. Sure enough, there was no damage to the globe. Feeling even more curious, Alan decided to try testing the strength of the little globe, throwing it hard at the floor, and once again, there wasn't even a single crack when he picked it up again. Finally, he set the globe on a pillow, and put the pillow on the floor, then grabbed the largest and heaviest of his hammers and swung with all his might. Alan felt the hammer make contact, but only just barely. It almost felt as if his attack had lost all of its force, a split-second before hitting the orb. However it had happened, Alan soon found himself laying the hammer down, right next to the blue orb of some crystal-like substance, which it had utterly failed to harm. It was certainly enough to make him even more curious, but sadly, the imperviousness of his gift didn't provide him with any more clues, or tips on how to solve the new mystery that he'd been presented with. In fact, there was only one clue, which Alan felt that he could follow. Once again, Alan picked up the box that the globe had come in, and looked at the return address, pulling out his phone to look it up. ----- Alan had been to Pearl's Sweet Bites once before on one of his earliest and shortest dates, and it didn't seem to have changed much since then, except, of course, that the customers were different. The waiters and waitresses still wore bright colors as they served tables, though there was a bit of a morose air about the whole place, as if it had just suffered the death of a beloved leader. However, as Alan scanned the visible sections of the restaurant, he promised himself that he would have to return some other time. While most of the people eating and waiting tables weren't surprising, there was one older man, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, and sitting at one of the middle tables. He had pure white hair with no gray at all, and a long beard, and he had to weigh at least four hundred pounds. For some reason, Alan found him comforting to be around. However, the middle-aged woman behind the front counter was no less impressive. Though her hair was beginning to gray a bit, and she had a wrinkle or two, she was easily as wide standing up, as the older man was sitting down. She also smiled in a very determined way as Alan entered, as if forcing herself to, which only made him more curious about her, so pretty soon, he'd approached the front counter, watching in amazement as she leaned over it to face him, making her look even wider. "Good evening." the very wide lady said in a very good approximation of a chipper tone of voice, "What can I get you tonight?" However, her smile instantly faltered, when Alan held up the globe that he'd gotten in the mail, and said, "Miss... Lilly?" Her first name was, of course, on her name tag, so Alan continued, "I actually just got this globe in the mail, and it apparently came from here." However, it had soon become apparent that Lilly's features hadn't fallen because of disappointment or sadness, but only in surprise, because suddenly, her smile had returned; more genuine-looking that time, before she mellowed out a bit, her expression changing to a slight grin. "Um... It's Mrs., actually." Lilly said, holding up one hand to show Alan her wedding ring, and briefly causing his heart to sink, "Man, I'm happy for you, though. Peter must have sent that. Hey, Peter!" At once, Alan turned around, to see the fat, older man in the leather jacket raise one hand with a friendly smile. Thanking Lilly for her help, Alan moved over to where the old man was sitting and sat at the same table, opposite him. Fortunately, he looked pleased by that, though his expression started turning a little grim as he leaned on the table with both elbows and spoke to Alan directly for the first time. His voice was deep and strong. "It's good to meet you, Alan. I was starting to worry that you might never come." However, Alan was already feeling very confused, and in a moment, he'd started asking questions. "Alright." he said, "First of all, I only got your package today." "Well, yes. The most recent one." Peter replied, but at once, Alan shook his head and Peter's mouth began to hang open, stretching out his thick and pleasant cheeks. "Wait." Peter said, starting to look very grave, "Are you telling me that until today, you never received any other packages from me?" "Never. Not one." At once, Alan almost jumped in alarm, because a look of fiery anger had spread across Peter's face, and he'd brought his right fist down on the table with a crash. The anger had soon faded from his expression, and he became a great deal calmer after that, but a lasting change had definitely come over him, because he wasn't smiling anymore. At last, with a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his seat and turned to look out the window. "I can barely even tell you how furious I am," Peter muttered at last, "but not with you. Of course not. None of this is your fault. The problem, Alan, is that I'm not sure who to be furious with. Perhaps Claire, perhaps Hugo... Maybe just myself, for not checking up on you in person, when I noticed that you never replied to my messages." "Um... I'm still a little lost here." Alan admitted, "Should I know you?" "Yes!" Peter almost roared for a moment, though he calmed down quickly, "Yes, you should. That was taken from you, and now all I can do is try to make up for lost time. You see, Alan... Just a moment. This is a very public venue for discussing matters of a personal nature." "No, it's alright." Alan replied, just feeling more and more curious, "Go ahead." "I'm your grandfather, Alan." Peter replied at last, "I was the father of that poor man Hugo Michaels; your dad."
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