#flab barriers

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 4

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 4 Summary: Feyre arrives at the Moonstone Palace. Reader meets those from Midgard. (I suck at summaries).

Word Count: 3.7K

Warning(s): Mentions of minor violence.

A/N: It's another short chapter, sorry. I read HOFAS and moved into a new apartment at the same time so I was a bit busy the past two weeks. There will be some minor spoilers from HOFAS in this and later chapters, but a large majority of it will diverge from canon. This is primarily an ACOTAR fic with a minor part of the main storyline requiring the characters from Crescent City.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 3

You woke up to the feeling of sunlight on your face. The windows high along the tops of the walls of your bedroom allowed the light to pour in, cascading down the sheer fabric that draped alongside the bedposts. A breeze from the open-air bathing chamber flitted in and ruffled your matted hair. Last night’s dream had been intense and different from the images that haunted you most nights. Instead of simply reliving your week of intense interrogation by Azriel, last night you bore witness to…

‘Damn it, why can’t I remember now.’ Flashes of images leaked from your memory, only the essence of fear and longing remained. You brought your hand up to rub at your temples, a headache beginning to take root. When your hand placed itself back on your hip it didn’t find it. No, it found itself on top of another hand that was larger than yours. As your brain focused through the fog of the sleep tonic you realized something was pressed against your frame. Not something, someone. That wasn’t an outside breeze that brushed past you, but the warm breath of another person. You craned your neck around, careful not to jostle the body curling around yours. Your eyes caught sight of the shining red strands and you relaxed just a bit to see that it was Lucien in the bed with you. You relaxed even further when you noticed he lay on top of the covers while you were underneath. You weren’t sure how you would have reacted had there been less of a barrier between you two. Reflexively his hold moved from your hips, his arm wrapping around your waist and tightened, pulling you closer. You were surprised that his arm fit around you; his fingers curling in when they couldn’t find space on your opposite side with your body pressed against the mattress. Still you shifted slightly so that the flab of your stomach didn’t spread too far out in front of you. Or at least that was what you hoped.

It had been a long time since another person slept next to you. You had been too embarrassed and ashamed of your body to really let anyone else see or touch you. Logically you knew that you had a healthy body overall, but that didn’t stop the comparisons your mind made when you looked at celebrities or your friends. You always were the largest in your friend group, and sometimes-most times- the knowledge of that drained your self-esteem. You exercised and ate…well your eating habits could probably do with some improvement if you were honest. Your job kept you running around town for various meetings with clients or on phone call conferences all day, and your nights were spent pouring over books and online articles for your dissertation research. Quick and fast meals had become your go to over the past year prior to your arrival in Prythian. And more pounds than you would care to admit accompanied.  

A soft sleep filled hum from the male next to you brought your lingering thoughts to a standstill. You didn’t remember much from the night before, only being awake long enough for the bath. The sleeping tonic had worked incredibly fast. You had drunk the ounce as if it was a damn shot of alcohol, not bothering to dilute it with water as Lucien instructed. You felt bad that Lucien had to watch over you due to your nightmares, and you couldn’t help but wonder when he decided that lying next to you was the solution.

‘Then again, he could just be tired of sleeping on the couch.’ But, you couldn’t deny that you felt more at peace being held by him. His breath tickled your skin, his inhales evenly measured in a steady beat. You lay beside him for a few minutes longer, not really wanting to leave the comfort of the bed. Sadly, your body couldn’t allow itself to remain still for too long once it was awake. You found yourself having to stop the subconscious wiggling of your toes before the energy expanded to your entire foot. The jostling surely would wake the male and you wanted to allow him to sleep as much as possible. So, you decided you would just get ready for the day.

The sun was surprisingly high in the sky, marking the first day that you had slept in since your arrival to this new reality. You maneuvered yourself out of Lucien’s hold, careful not to wake him, before softly walking over to the bathroom. You glanced at yourself in the mirror and were horrified at the image that reflected back. Craning your face close to the mirror-your glasses left on the night stand next to the bed-your appearance came into better focus. You looked at your red rimmed eyes as they sat sunken in above dark blue half circles. Sleep crusted in their corners before giving way to the dried-up streams of your tears. Your disheveled hair still clung to your face, the shorter parts sticking up at odd angles. Your eyes roamed over the long scratch marks that littered your neck and clavicle, even going as far down as your cleavage. The darkness of the thin pajama top brightening each of the red lines. Dread pooled into your stomach. What happened in your dream to merit such an attack on yourself? Which was something that you had never done before. Your fingers reached up to trace alongside what effectively looked like claw marks, and you winced at the tenderness of the skin.

A whip made of flames striking at your chest flashed before your eyes and you jumped back from the mirror. A shocking pain speared through your back at the sudden movement and you crumpled towards the floor. Another flash and barbed wire pressed against your throat. A blinding white hand reached towards your face, followed by piercing blue-violet eyes filled with a mix of emotion only described as loathing, sadness, and pain. Breathing ragged, your hand grasped the edge of the stone sink. Slowly rising back to your feet, you braced your body against the cool marble, allowing it to ground you in the present. You instantly knew the images were from your dream. Each image so vivid that they bordered on feeling more like memories, for they held no trace of the usual misty appearance that was typical of your dreams. You glanced at your throat again, making sure that the wire was gone. You noted a few crescent shaped marks along the outer sides of your throat, likely from your own finger nails digging in to your skin attempting to pry the imaginary wire away. With shaking hands, you turned on the cold water and splashed your face several times. You heard movement from the bedroom and turned to see Lucien standing at the archway.

“Morning,” You mumbled. Your hand rubbed along your chest at the base of your neck while the other wrapped around your torso. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t wake me. Are you alright?” He took a few steps towards you, his golden eye whirring as it looked you over. You felt a pang in your chest as his arms pulled you into an embrace. It was only when he held you tighter did you realize you had been violently shaking. Your throat tightened as tears brimmed your eyes and you wrapped your own arms around him. You were getting tired of this. Tired of constantly crying and feeling weak…a broken thing. What would it take for the nightmares to end?

“No,” You admitted, releasing your hold on the male. “There was something…different about the dreams last night. They…they felt too real.” Your hand brushed against your neck again as you moved passed him on your way back to the bedroom. You pulled out a navy V-neck sweater and black form fitting pants. You heard the tap of the sink in the bathroom turn on and quickly got dressed while Lucien kept himself occupied in the bathroom. It wasn’t long before the two of you headed out in search of food before settling back into your normal routine.

You and Lucien made your way to the patio, hopeful that you hadn’t missed the opportunity to eat before you dove back into your daily research. When you arrived though, an envelope placed underneath a rock was in the center of the table. Lucien picked it up and read over the contents.

“We’re wanted in the main dining hall,” He folded the letter and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Where’s that?” You wrapped your arms across your middle, a slight chill filled the air.

“Follow me,” He stated simply.

“What about the wards?” Your head swiveled as he brushed past you.

“Apparently they have been taken down. You’re free to move about the Moonstone Palace,” You tried to avoid the slight stumbling of your feet as you followed Lucien. He navigated the hallways as if he had been born inside them. There was no falter in his step as you both approached a set of intricately carved stone doors. The near opalescent shine caught the midday rays of golden sun light, causing flashes of blue, green, and peach to scatter across the surface as the doors opened on silent hinges.

Beyond the doors the room opened into a vast dining hall made up of the same stone. A long and intricately carved pinewood table sat at the center with several people already sat around it. Two chairs had been left vacant on the side closest to the doors you walked through. Your eyes swept over the faces of those gathered, only one of which you recognized as Nesta. She sat just to the right of another young female with the same piercing blue-grey eyes and coppery brown hair that sat at the head of the table. You paused as the female held an infant in her arms. Even from this distance you could make out the vibrancy of his violet eyes and the wings on his back. Down along the side of the table, spaced a seat away from Nesta was another female with deep crimson hair. She held a striking resemblance to Lucien, if not a tad shade paler than the male beside you. Two males sat next to her, the one closest to her with dark hair and eyes, a tattooed crown of black thorns peaked out from above his brow. The vivid bright blue irises of the male on the end met yours and you gasped. Your knees threatened to buckle from underneath you, the memory of your dream hitting you full force.

Running. Running through darkened hallways. Breaths ragged as your lungs strained to inflate. Three males, one with wings carried a third. The red of Cassian’s siphons glinting in the sun. The wind whipped through your hair as a metal gate crashed down. The sound of a machine gun firing coming to an abrupt halt. Running. Your joints ached and muscles burned with effort. The ground beneath your feet crumbled as you barreled towards a cliff’s edge. Shouts and chaos erupted around you. Gunfire. Running. Running. The cliff was so close. Pressure ripped through your back, the feeling of blood trickled down your chest. Falling. Followed by slamming into the earth. The cliff edge just a hairs breath away. Darkness. In the distance you heard the shouting of male. A blindingly bright hand reached towards you. True pain unlike any other ripped through you. Your throat burned from the scream it unleashed. Another shout. Darkness.

“(Y/N)!” Lucien stood in front of you, his mismatched eyes wide and face pale. His grip on your biceps was tight enough to bruise. You blinked rapidly, the dining hall coming back into focus. The female from the head of the table now stood to Lucien’s left. Her worried gaze studied your face.

“My dream,” Your voice sounded so far away in your ears. “They’re from my dream.” You stepped around the male to peer at the ones at the table. The male on the end was standing, staring at you with his own wide eyes. His hair was buzzed along one side; the other side a curtain of long black hair swaying in the breeze that came from the open archways along the far side of the room.

“What?” Lucien followed your gaze.

“No, it’s nothing, never mind,” You shook your head, the images fading back into the recesses of your mind. There was no way…You decided that while you may not have magic, it was best to keep the contents of this particular dream to yourself.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked, worry laced in his tone as he brushed a strand of your hair back. The caring gesture making you self-conscious in front of your audience. While you were certain that his actions were strictly platonic, you didn’t want his mate’s sisters to get the wrong idea and cast you in a not so favorable light.

“I’m fine Lucien,” You ducked around his arm, breezing past him and who you assumed was Feyre. Nesta continued to sit in her chair, the infant almost toddler now in her arms. His legs stretched out in a standing position on her lap. The sight immediately conjured up old memories of your own nephew when he had been that age. As you approached the chair opposite Nesta, her eyes slightly widened.

“What the hell happened to you?” The child in her arms twisted his head, following and tracking your every movement. You held up your hands, curling your fingers as if they had become claws.

“Apparently I turn into a cat and thought my own neck was a scratching post,” You flexed your fingers for emphasis. You felt Lucien’s irritated gaze bore a hole on the side of your head, but you continued to ignore him.

“Don’t fret though, I’ve since declawed myself,” It was Nesta’s turn to show displeasure, however the child in her lap giggled. “Good to know at least someone thinks I’m funny.” You glance to your right and notice that the male at the end of the table is still standing, staring directly at you. The expression on his face was unreadable, and he had an uncanny resemblance to Rhysand.

“Her nightmare was particularly bad last night,” Lucien supplied the eldest sister with the information. You scoffed and sat down in your chair across from her. As if your nightmare was something to easily explain everything. You also found yourself not appreciating him telling your personal issues to anyone apart from him and yourself.

“You did that to yourself?” The blue-eyed male spoke up. Your gaze fell to him, his stern expression made you shift in your seat. In fact, the expressions of everyone else in the room made you uneasy. You had no control over what images your mind conjured in the middle of the night. So why did you feel that it was your fault and you did something wrong. The male’s companions both whipped their heads towards him, surprise on their faces. The red-haired female looked back to you.

“So, you can talk, and that’s the first thing you decide to say?” Her question was met with silence as the male sat back down in his own spot. “And back to silence.”

“Bryce…” The other male seated next to her sighed. Something in you sparked.

“Oh, so you’re Bryce,” You tilted your head as you examined her. The two males stiffed at your tone, but you didn’t care. Yes, they both looked like they would kill you if you said the wrong thing, but your mood was starting to become too sour for you to really care.

“(Y/N),” Lucien’s warning tone was foreign to your ears. You felt like a child being scolded and it only fanned the flames of your embarrassment at feeling so weak and…human. It had suddenly dawned on you that you were the only human in the room. Of course, they would look down on you and find your attitude to be at fault. The overly emotional human. Though the small voice in the back of your mind was also telling you to calm the fuck down before someone did decide to actually end your life.

“What Lucien?” You snapped. “I was nearly murdered and then tortured for a week because I didn’t know who she was. So, forgive me if I’m a bit salty.” You didn’t acknowledge the confused looks you got for your use of slang.

“What do you mean by nearly murdered?” Feyre asked. You turned to face her, the fire of your irritation in you not balking at her steely gaze.

“When your husband found me the first thing he asked was if I knew a Ms. Bryce Quinlan. I told him that I didn’t know any Bryce…I then found myself locked inside my own body. I couldn’t move, could barely even breath. I felt claws gripping my skull, felt them tear at the flesh on my temples. Which doesn’t make sense because his hands were in his pockets…then he brought to a cell in the Hewn City where Az-” Your throat closed up around his name. You felt the irritation in you sputter and die out. You had to press your lips in a thin line to prevent the lower one from trembling. Feyre’s expression softened by a fraction. You turned your head away, not wanting to see the pitying look she gave you. You didn’t want to be pitied for being so weak.

“I’d like to apologize on behalf of my mate and his brother,” She said, “I know that they both feel bad for how things with you were handled. Azriel is especially distraught-.” You scoffed again and looked up at the ceiling. Golden chandeliers slightly swung in the breeze. Your anger wouldn’t let you believe that Azriel felt bad.

“Its true,” Nesta added. You looked at the female, the child in her lap smiled brightly having no clue to the growing tension in the room. To your ever growing embarrassment and shame you had in what happened to you.

“He wants to make up for what happened (Y/N),” Lucien’s hand was warm against your thigh, his thumb rubbing gently against it. No doubt an attempt to comfort you. “He brought you the sleeping tonic last night and-” You went still and you could feel the color drain from your face. You remembered hearing Lucien speak to someone as you bathed last night, but you had no clue it was Azriel.

“He…he was…in t-the room last night,” Your breath came out as a mere whisper. You felt your limbs start to tremble, but you couldn’t tell if that was from fear or rage. Lucien had allowed the male that tortured you to enter the only space that you felt somewhat safe inside. Now it was tainted. You felt anger simmer under your skin. Lucien had allowed Azriel to see you in such a vulnerable state, half naked and crying from the absolute terror that flooded your veins due to the nightmare. However, you knew this wasn’t the time to have this conversation with Lucien, given the three complete strangers sitting at the table. Your ire would have to wait as you didn’t want to air your dirty laundry out in front of them. The male beside you seemed to read your thoughts when he spoke in a low voice.

“We’ll discuss this later,” He lifted his hand from your thigh and you immediately felt the cold air. A cold sting hit your chest. You fixed your eyes on the table in front of you and bit your tongue. You knew that things had gotten way off track, your emotions getting the best of you. You lifted your head and looked to the new faces around you.

“I have to apologize,” You sighed, “I don’t really sleep well and my moods can be a bit fickle as a result. Let’s start over. I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” You held out your hand Bryce over the expanse of the table. Bryce glanced at your hand, an eyebrow raised.

“You shake it,” Nesta whispered to the female, “Or at least that what she says they do in her world.” Bryce smiled.

“I know what a hand shake is Nesta,” Bryce held your gaze and shook your hand. You let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

“You’re not from here?” The male next to Bryce eyed you curiously.

“No, I’m not,” You held out your hand to him in greeting, “We call the planet I’m from Earth. I don’t think we have specific name for our solar system, but it’s within the Milky Way galaxy. Again, our term. I realize that other places could call it something else…if they are even aware of its existence. And… I’m rambling again…”

“I’m Hunt,” He smiled as he shook your hand in return. “We come from a planet we call Midgard.”

“It’s nice to meet you Hunt,” You rose from your seat, and walked around to Lucien’s opposite side to extend your hand to the last male. “And you…” His blue eyes bore into your (e/c) ones. He glanced at your hand, as if touching it would somehow burn him. You withdrew your hand and straighten to stand. You tried to not let the hurt that his demeanor caused show on your face. But it didn’t stop you from studying him a bit longer than you likely should have. Still you forced a smile to your lips.

“That rude asshole is my brother, Ruhn,” Bryce informed. You dipped your chin to Ruhn in acknowledgment. He remained silent; however, his eyes never left you as you returned and sat in your seat across from Nesta. As soon as you sat back down, Lucien’s hand was back on your thigh. Had you not known any better, you would have mistaken it as a territorial gesture. But Lucien had a mate. He was likely just wanting to reassure you that he wasn’t as mad as he may have sounded a few moments ago. You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes to gage his features all the same. He was staring daggers at Ruhn, who was still staring at you. Ruhn only looked away when your eyes met his. Lucien’s hand remained on you and his thumb resumed its unconscious stroking. You noted the action and would have to ask him about it later. You then settled you gaze upon Feyre at the head of the table.

“Well, now that introductions are out of the way,” She leaned forward on her elbows, “We should discuss your potential move to Velaris.”

Next: Chapter 5

Tag List: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee

[siberat]

illustration for @mr-miss-anonymous story. My fav body shape- the pear shape. Just look it Swo/op cuddling his bundle of joy

story below cut- reposted with permission

The comically large egg he now held while huddled in a nest of blankets and  twigs felt impossible. It was impossible that after weeks of eating and brooding and sleeping that *this* was to be the result. And yet… 

Pri/mus help him. He was reverting back to his natural roots now, and there seemed to be nothing that could be done about it. Swo/op reclined against the sharp barrier of sticks and sat the egg in his lap, his beak curled in a frown. 

As he absentmindedly stroked the top of the egg—his egg, Swo/op thought, the egg that he had produced—he found his servo drifting towards the soft flab of his belly. 

It’d been quite a sight, getting fatter and fatter as the days went by with no real reason why. Swo/op didn’t mind the egg so much now, especially not when it meant the massive dome of a belly he’d been stuck carrying had disappeared (or at least reduced some—he still had plenty of pudge to his frame that would be a killer to burn off). 

It almost felt unreal, like he’d fallen into a deep recharge and woken with an egg in his lap and a nest for his bed. Swo/op could still recall every waking moment that lead up to this though, if only in hazy detail. It was a new experience, having his processor become so easily overridden by natural instincts and a prehistoric drive. 

There was nothing that could be done about it, he supposed. It happened, and it was over, and now he was left to deal with the aftermath. 

Swo/op shuddered at the memories clouding his processor. It’d felt so right in the moment, yet so *wrong*, but there was nothing that could be done to change it. 

The egg was held close against his side, its shell kept warm by the pillows and blankets hoarded in the nest. Swo/op held it closer still, a small smile twitching at the corners of his beak as he watched the curved surface melt into the pudge of his belly. 

That egg had been inside him not long ago. It was his accomplishment, his egg, his offspring. The signs of his carrying remained, worn on Swoop’s frame in the form of fat thighs, jiggly hips, and a roomy belly. He was the perfect vessel for an egg, really, and he’d done something impressive. 

It was just…

The Dino/bot clicked his beak and hissed, a lingering feeling of guilt and dissatisfaction poking at the back of his small processor. It was infuriating, this back and forth between worry and pride. He’d done something amazing, after all. What was there to be ashamed of?

The nesting period itself, perhaps. Swo/op was sure he must’ve looked rather ridiculous gathering up as much supplies as he could to build the perfect home for himself and his infertile offspring. He could still remember the shame of sneaking up on hoards of sleeping Dino/bots, a cool and aloof bot such as him bloated with a belly a staggering on his pedes as he snatched up the nearest unoccupied blankets. 

It wasn’t *like* him. None of this was like him. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop it, either.

They wouldn’t miss those, he  reasoned with himself. He needed them more, especially now that he had company. If they could see him now, fat and glowing in the aftermath of producing something so perfect… they would understand. They wouldn’t miss the extra blankets and pillows. 

Still, he thought nervously, drawing the egg closer to him. Blankets were one thing, but food was another. 

It was hard to justify stealing scraps of another bot’s food when he looked like he’d already eaten ten times as much as he could normally stomach. In his defense, he was feeling peckish, and constantly so. 

No matter how much he ate, it never seemed to be enough. Before long, Swo/op had amassed a frame far too big for flight, and he was forced to sit in his nest and wait until the next bout of hunger pains came along. It was either that or doze off for a few hours, which… well, he did that a lot, too.

Nesting really was a mess when he wasn’t prepared for it, that much he was certain of. Swo/op shuddered at the thought, giving his helm a firm shake when the memory of his attempt at a mating dance for some confused bystanders started to creep up. 

Even so, it was his first nesting experience. There was bound to have been some unfortunate happenings, especially when he’d been thrown in unprepared. 

For not knowing a thing of what was going on inside his own frame, Swo/op was sure he’d done a pretty good job at preparing for the worst. The egg had been quite the surprise when it finally came out, but seeing that shiny pink shell had immediately put all thoughts and fears to rest inside his helm. 

With a sigh, Swo/op nuzzled the egg close and settled down against the pillows. He still had plenty to process, but for right now, the only thing he wanted to do was snuggle with his egg and sleep. 

The pillows were perfect against his frame, a soft cushion for aching parts that soothed his processor and relieved him of his worries. Infertile or no, he’d done something incredible. The egg was held close in his arms, warmed by the cozy nest and the heat from Swo/op’s fat frame. 

He was long overdue for a bit of a rest, the Dino/bot decided. Everything else could be figured out when he awoke. For now, it was time to sleep. 

Original post found here:

[anony-man]

You’re in for a treat, anon! My good friend @siberat and I collaborated on this request, and they’ve produced gorgeous art to go with the story! Their art is at the bottom, and will be updated with a link once the post is up here on tumblr!

Chubformers drabble #86!

Character: Swoop (TFA)

Word count: 950

The comically large egg he now held while huddled in a nest of blankets and twigs felt impossible. It was impossible that after weeks of eating and brooding and sleeping that this was to be the result. And yet…

Primus help him. He was reverting back to his natural roots now, and there seemed to be nothing that could be done about it. Swoop reclined against the sharp barrier of sticks and sat the egg in his lap, his beak curled in a frown.

As he absentmindedly stroked the top of the egg—his egg, Swoop thought, the egg that he had produced—he found his servo drifting towards the soft flab of his belly.

It’d been quite a sight, getting fatter and fatter as the days went by with no real reason why. Swoop didn’t mind the egg so much now, especially not when it meant the massive dome of a belly he’d been stuck carrying had disappeared (or at least reduced some—he still had plenty of pudge to his frame that would be a killer to burn off).

It almost felt unreal, like he’d fallen into a deep recharge and woken with an egg in his lap and a nest for his bed. Swoop could still recall every waking moment that lead up to this though, if only in hazy detail. It was a new experience, having his processor become so easily overridden by natural instincts and a prehistoric drive.

There was nothing that could be done about it, he supposed. It happened, and it was over, and now he was left to deal with the aftermath.

Swoop shuddered at the memories clouding his processor. It’d felt so right in the moment, yet so wrong, but there was nothing that could be done to change it.

The egg was held close against his side, its shell kept warm by the pillows and blankets hoarded in the nest. Swoop held it closer still, a small smile twitching at the corners of his beak as he watched the curved surface melt into the pudge of his belly.

That egg had been inside him not long ago. It was his accomplishment, his egg, his offspring. The signs of his carrying remained, worn on Swoop’s frame in the form of fat thighs, jiggly hips, and a roomy belly. He was the perfect vessel for an egg, really, and he’d done something impressive.

It was just…

The Dinobot clicked his beak and hissed, a lingering feeling of guilt and dissatisfaction poking at the back of his small processor. It was infuriating, this back and forth between worry and pride. He’d done something amazing, after all. What was there to be ashamed of?

The nesting period itself, perhaps. Swoop was sure he must’ve looked rather ridiculous gathering up as much supplies as he could to build the perfect home for himself and his infertile offspring. He could still remember the shame of sneaking up on hoards of sleeping Dinobots, a cool and aloof bot such as him bloated with a belly a staggering on his pedes as he snatched up the nearest unoccupied blankets.

It wasn’t like him. None of this was like him. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop it, either.

They wouldn’t miss those, he reasoned with himself. He needed them more, especially now that he had company. If they could see him now, fat and glowing in the aftermath of producing something so perfect… they would understand. They wouldn’t miss the extra blankets and pillows.

Still, he thought nervously, drawing the egg closer to him. Blankets were one thing, but food was another.

It was hard to justify stealing scraps of another bot’s food when he looked like he’d already eaten ten times as much as he could normally stomach. In his defense, he was feeling peckish, and constantly so.

No matter how much he ate, it never seemed to be enough. Before long, Swoop had amassed a frame far too big for flight, and he was forced to sit in his nest and wait until the next bout of hunger pains came along. It was either that or doze off for a few hours, which… well, he did that a lot, too.

Nesting really was a mess when he wasn’t prepared for it, that much he was certain of. Swoop shuddered at the thought, giving his helm a firm shake when the memory of his attempt at a mating dance for some confused bystanders started to creep up.

Even so, it was his first nesting experience. There was bound to have been some unfortunate happenings, especially when he’d been thrown in unprepared.

For not knowing a thing of what was going on inside his own frame, Swoop was sure he’d done a pretty good job at preparing for the worst. The egg had been quite the surprise when it finally came out, but seeing that shiny pink shell had immediately put all thoughts and fears to rest inside his helm.

With a sigh, Swoop nuzzled the egg close and settled down against the pillows. He still had plenty to process, but for right now, the only thing he wanted to do was snuggle with his egg and sleep.

The pillows were perfect against his frame, a soft cushion for aching parts that soothed his processor and relieved him of his worries. Infertile or no, he’d done something incredible. The egg was held close in his arms, warmed by the cozy nest and the heat from Swoop’s fat frame.

He was long overdue for a bit of a rest, the Dinobot decided. Everything else could be figured out when he awoke. For now, it was time to sleep.

(Art by @siberat! Link to their post: https://www.tumblr.com/siberat/759087338956767232/illustration-for-mr-miss-anonymous-story-my-fav)

[traingains]

@chubbykanmuses A huge mound of flab, bloated beyond comfort~

"Well, ummm, It's kinda like- It's not bloated all the time!"

Surely it's still bloated, how could it not be when she puts her poor tummy through the wringer, spoiling herself with snacks and then still deciding to eat dinner? However, since it still retains a ton of flab, the bloating isn't an issue yet.

The main issue, is the ass. It's so unwieldy, so gargantuan, an anatomical nightmare. Reminiscent of eldritch horror as you're left wondering how a girl with such a short stature can have a rump with such perplexing bounce, such mighty power as she dents the walls of the train, and most importantly... How in the hell can her overalls maintain to barrier the mind bending-ly large globes of fat from the outside world???

Dooby is truly a mysterious creature of mysterious origin.

[big-rwby-squad-2]

Weiss getting turned into a breathing Grimm barrier by getting stuffed with 2000000000000 calories per day via three incredibly horny and milky teammates. Excluding individuals from other teams.

All the Grimm are instantly focused on her and she's too soft for them to do anything to her

Everything either bounces off her or sinks into her majestic flab.

[gluttonemporium]

There it was again, Mona almost broke concentration from his belly pushing and gut clenching as he felt the now-familiar, intoxicating pleasure of a solid, struggling girl moments away from being sucked into intestines and truly being made *his.* Steeling his resolve, Mona licked drool from his smirking lips and continued his rhythmic advance on his plush, quaking mountain of a gut with a strength not unlike Makoto’s—and was his butt already growing too?! Reaching down so deeply to touch the now dwindling number of pets at the pit of his stomach brought Mona closer to the ‘action,’ again—letting him experience his own immensity, his own hunger with each shove. Each summoned a wet, guttural *GLORT* as his intestines greedily accepted more girlfat, and a *BWOMPH* as the residual motion forced his flabby flanks to balloon outwards again, before jiggling to a halt accompanied by a series of dull claps and thuds—rippling waves of fat once again colliding into each other and rebounding in and out. Face almost smothered in his own bellyfat, Mona bobbed like a ship in a storm, sinking deeper and deeper with every shove as his pet was pulled further and further into his wanting guts.

Haru’s sweat and saliva slicked stomach quivered like gelatin as it was greedily shoved deeper and deeper into Morgana’s intestines, fat readily squishing and shifting like dough by the tight contractions of the ravenous guts—compared to Makoto’s firmer double wide ass, Mona hardly had to work to suck down Haru’s yoga ball of a monobelly, it’s prodigious size being Haru’s only barrier against joining her friend in the winding, constricting length of Mona’s guts with a single clench. With each greedy, slurping flex, more of Haru’s notoriously soft mound of a gut was deformed and squished, packed tightly into the fat cat’s intestines with an almost hypnotic wobble, *SLUUURCH* *BWOWOMPH* *SLUUURCH* *BWOWOMPH* the remaining, impossibly soft mass of Haru’s belly being forced into a steadily shrinking muffin-top as it pooched over the hungry sphincter. Haru’s own ‘sentence’ was finally heralded as another flex of Mona’s lower belly muscles advanced the intestinal ring around the crest of Haru’s soft flab, easily squelching and morphing from the pressure of the gastric ring—like shoving a water balloon into a hose.

In spite of herself and Mona’s inhuman voracity Haru made a single effort to cling to freedom, fingers frantically wiggling just outside the grip of the sphincter and supporting her entire fluffy frame against the ravenous, predatory suction that was eager to unite her with Makoto to wait (or more accurately glut) out their sentence together. Was swept into the pits of Mona’s guts as if acquiescing to his voracious hunger, submitting itself to become *his.* By the time the bickering duo of Sumire and Futaba turned to look, Haru had already squeaked out her apology and Mona’s hungry sphincter gulped her down to her fate, their eyes falling only upon mounds of mid-digestion feasts and their ears just barely able to make out the telltale rhythmic *GLUT* *GLUT* *GLUT* that marked the floofy heiress’ descent amidst the chorus of sloshing and rumbles.

Mona’s tight, sensitive depths picked up the sensations his cavernous, growing belly missed—the struggles of Makoto and Haru as they slid *deeper* and *deeper* down his winding intestinal tract, Haru’s pillowy belly safe and sound bloating out his lower guts alongside Makoto’s doorframe demolishing ass—it was absolutely going to take some real doing to get them back out, but Morgana figured it was nothing a pill from Takemi couldn’t solve, right? Plus, if they could see what they were contributing to—his own belly growing softer by the minute and his asscheeks oozing outwards and consuming more of the street behind him as he ever-so-gently sapped some of their fat and curves during their stay—that they were making his already bus sized body even *fatter*, to give him more room to pack his belly full of Shibuya’s greatest delicacies, they might even want to stick around *longer!* Morgana, eyes half lidded, breathed a sigh of satisfaction and cradled another armful of fat, still feeling it bubbling and sloshing with activity. His tummy would be happy to accommodate them—and more—for *as long as possible.*

As Mona dropped his armful of tummy flab back into the tumultuous ocean of his belly with a *CLAP*, he seemed to inadvertently loosen another pocket of gas. There was a muffled burbling emanating deep in the pit of his gut, and the catboy’s upper belly roll grew taught again—surging and swelling out with air further and further for each jiggle as it got harder and harder for him to see over the horizon *FWUMPH* *FWUMPH* *FWUMPH.* When the swelling subsided and gave way to a choir of muffled gastric bubbling, Morgana traced a circle along the bloated dome of his upper roll before plunging his paw into the center and giving it a *squeeze*, feeling his fat ooze between the digits. Opening his throat, Mona erupted with deep, brassy belch, his eyes widening, his entire flabby body vibrating with tiny ripples as he felt his upper belly roll grow softer and softer as the lip rattling eructation went on, “MMMMMUUUUOOOOORRREEEEAAAARROOORRRRUUUHRRP” As the hot gastric fumes dissipated, the catboy smacked his lips: expensive perfume and a faint hint of grease! “Mwehehehe~! I think I tasted—BLAAAAUURP—you again in that last burp NoiOOOOUUUUURRRRP! My compliments to the—BEEEUUURRRP—chef: a refined flavor for an heiress! Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to—GUUUUEEERP—fill all that space you freed up with more Big Bang Burgers! NyahahahahaaAAAAUUUUOOOLCH!”

Running his hands over his fat gut like it was a jiggling, gurgling mountain of thick liquid gold, Morgana fantasized about just how *immense* he would be soon, once his pets were packed away and he had more room. He was already so big, he could hardly even imagine how gargantuan he’d look stomping across the Scramble then—a living tidal wave of pure fat—each step quaking the ground and sending aftershocks through his flabby thighs and enormous gurgling belly, its ominous grumbles loud enough to shake windows. Hips that could fill a street and a gut looming over buses and buildings—and if someone got close enough to his lower belly and really listened closely, maybe they could even hear his bellypets buried beneath a mountain of pure fat, safe and secure in his fortress of flab as the diamonds of his hoard—maybe they’d even want to *join* them! Morgana would be on top of the world—or at the very least on top of a bubbling, fatty globe of a gut that could be mistaken as one—he would easily have enough room for a whole *town’s* worth of girls, and his pets wouldn’t mind a little company right? “Hope you’ve cleared your calendars ladies,” he’d say, sauvely licking his lips before heaving up his stomach, letting its soft, jiggly curvature loom over his audience who could only stare into the cavernous depths of his truck sized, sweating navel as it groaned needily, “this belly doesn’t like letting go—consider it a vacation.” He’d punctuate his statement by letting his belly drop against thighs that were wider than he was tall—wider than even Makoto’s and Futaba’s—as it collided with a *CLAP* *GALUNK*, sending his entire giant form into a fit of feverish wobbling, his upper belly roll and lower belly roll tumbling like waves in his black ocean of fat. If they still needed more convincing he’d thrust his gut at then so they could get a feel for the fat they could help build, so that they could get acquainted with where they *belonged*—greedy, rumbling fat that was already deep and soft enough for them to be completely engulfed in *without a trace*, but that somehow still wanted *more.*

The cafe sized cat burglar purred, intent on making his daydreams reality as he rubbed and patted his rolling sea of black cat fat with both paws, flab jiggling outwards in waves from the impact *BWUB BWUB*, “If you guys can still hear me doOOOOUUUUUURRRRRLLLCH—down there—keep on struggling! It’s freeing uOOOOOOOOORRRP—some more room, plus it feels sooooo good”

As if to provide some encouragement, Mona took deep handfuls of each of his flanks, paws sinking down to the elbows in cat fat, before shaking his gut. The massive, hungry organ *SLOSHED* tumbled and *GROANED* as his rolls jostled and wobbled against each other like a washing machine filled with thick syrup until he felt it. Something solid

—alive—lodged *deep* in him. It was the feeling he had been chasing again: a wriggling, solid meal, doing everything she could to escape being sent deeper into his guts but hopeless against the tide of his gluttonous greed—and he didn’t even have to focus to start it off this time!

Morgana smirked down at his gut addressing his ‘eager’ pet “Couldn’t—HUUUEEEERRLCH—wait to get deeper—MUUUURRRP—into this belly,”—Mona delivered a meaty thwack to the side of his tummy flab, letting it sway slowly left and right accompanied by an exaggerated heaving *SLOOOOUURRSH* *GALUNK* before jiggling back to the center—“huh VioOOOOUUUUUURRRPlet? Things might be a little *snug* down there, but I know you’ll be saAAAAAEEEEEEEEELLCH—safe!”

Mona began the process of curiously gliding his paws along his rippling, growling fat to find his pet—where best to push that solid lump of girl meat deeper into his guts. With his stomach now vacated of half its contents worth of girlmeat, his belly was restless and hungrier, its rumbles becoming more violent and numerous, a constant background of wet grumbled underlying Morgana’s every move—he needed to pack his girls away fast so he could have more food, more girls, more!

Despite being despite being half-swallowed by Mona’s intestines, Sumire remained a fighter to her very core—she was intent on not giving up like she had during the challenge that landed her in the catboy’s mountain of fat to begin with. Thanking her good reflexes, the gymnast braced herself against the unbearably tight intestinal walls, planting her arms on either side—fighting against the construction of the fat walls and mounting all her strength to prevent Mona’s winding, greedy guts from claiming her for even longer. Even with her head this deep in Mona’s rumbling intestines, Sumire could only barely make out Haru’s (admittedly kind of cute) moans of effort as she struggled against the smothering tightness that clenched harder and harder with each pound of fat added to Mona’s frame that sought to claim them all—most of the burger heiress’ struggles and words being drowned out by the pulsing, wet *GLUT*s that delivered her deeper—a grim portent for the fate that would befall her should she lose her mettle.

The building pressure was only making Morgana even hungrier, he pressed his face into his belly and called out in the hopes he was still audible through the growing layers of fat, “Oooouuh—OOOOUUUURRRP—Oracle, do you could help meEEAAAAUUUURRP? I need—bWUUEEOOORRP—Violet in my guts—HOOUURRLCH—right now!”

Still dazed from being tossed and turned by Morgana’s tumultuous guts, Futaba belched queasily. Opening her eyes again, rather than a reassuring voice from her friend, the gamer girl was instead greeted with Sumire’s plump, flailing legs jiggling in panic as she worked to pry herself out of the guts that had already claimed two of her friends for an extended stay. The NEET couldn’t keep her eyes off the curves of the gymnast who had almost ended up as her own belly filler mere moments ago—her skirt having flipped over to reveal the two wobbling pale moons she called asscheeks jerking and wiggling with each ‘gulp’ from the greedy sphincter consuming her—hey wait! This was no time for ogling! If she didn’t act fast, Futaba would be down her entire party and be the last girl standing—er—wobbling in Mona’s belly! Her RPG experience taught her that being alone against a superboss like Mona was a sure-fire recipe for disaster—no matter how much grinding she had done to prepare! But what could she do? Despite her incessant burping, Futaba was so bloated that she could hardly move herself! Futaba thought she heard Morgana’s voice, groaning, almost desperate when suddenly there was another deep, guttural rumble that shook the belly walls around the girl as she was lost in thought—this wasn’t good, it was only a matter of time now before—

*SQUEEEELCH*

Morgana flexed his lower gut, tightening its grip on the gamer girl’s enormous, overfull marshmallow of a belly—fat spilling above and below the greedy muscles—forming a massive, pale muffin top with a *GALOOORSH*—as they tried to feed Sumire deeper into his guts below her—like a slimy hand gripping a stress toy. The sudden, immense pressure forced a round lump up Futaba’s throat that blasted out of her mouth in a humid, lip-rattling belch, “BUUUWWEEEEEEUUOOOOOEEEEERRROOOOEEEUUURRRP” The force of the burp reverberated through Futaba’s own gut like an earthquake through a water balloon, morphing her soft flab almost into the shape of the wave form itself and leaving Futaba shaking and jiggling helplessly atop her belly. The belch was even audible to her captor outside as it produced a visible bulge that thumped against the upper curve of Mona’s gut. Unfortunately for Futaba and Sumire, the gas being freed also deflated Futaba’s stomach slightly, causing the wobbling, marshmallowy mass of sweaty gamer girl flab to drop navel-first onto the squirming feet of her friend. Uh oh.

"Wh-wha-whoah-!!"

Futaba had been the last victim to be dumped into this ever-churning hellscape, and she still felt like she had been here forever! Not even when she had been alone in her room for weeks had she ever burped so much and so often! This was getting bad... one wrong move, and Futaba's playthrough would come to a (semi)perma-end-!

But that wrong move came sooner than expected, as the NEET's ever shifting balance betrayed her, and sent her hurtling towards the Suction AOE in the center. Futaba yelped as her face was headed right between Sumire's pillowy buns - not a bad thing, but this wasn't the time! - and tried kicking her feet to hopefully clear the pit! Sadly, it wasn't exactly the graceful move that the gymnast could have pulled off - instead of jumping over it, Futaba belly flopped straight on what was left of Sumire!

GLRRRRRRRCHHH~!

"Ack, sorry!! SorRROOOOUUURRRP Sumi-!" Futaba scrambled as she felt her precious gamer gut get impaled by her friends meaty legs, torpedoing them straight into her deep navel with a spine-tingling stretch! Uh oh... now she was even less mobile than before! To make matters worse, a sickening feeling of suction was creeping up Futaba's fat belly...

GLORT GLORT GLURT GLURP ~

So huge and malleable was Futaba's homegrown tummy that it had pooled right around the edges of the valve trying to claim Sumire... and Mona's body had chosen to try eating her instead! It all but abandoned it's claim on the red-headed gymnast, and was trying to pull in the red-headed gamer!

"Guaaahah! HUUOOOORRRRLLP~! Is that you, Futaba?!" Mona yelled from the outside - his extra sensitive guts were giving him a somewhat decent idea of what was happening down there. "Get your oOOOOOUUUUWWWRRP, greedy~!"

What he meant was, as Futaba's marshmallow-like stomach poured around Sumire to enter the guts beyond, it was reducing the vice-like grip it had on his third pet. With less of a slimy hold, there was nothing stopping Sumire from getting pulled in the other direction - up into the sweaty cavernous depths of Futaba's belly button~!

The gymnast could feel the shifting happening, but had no idea what it meant or which way was up anymore, so confusing was Morgana's belly kingdom she had been thrust into. She panted as the wet "hug" Mona's intestines had on her head and chest relaxed, but the swelteringly hot feeling of something oozing over her lower body was growing...

"Wha-?!"

Wait, it wasn't just spreading, it was here! In the dark tight depths, Sumire only had time to see a new colour of flesh from the rippling red walls, in the form of a pink mass from where she just came - and she was sinking into it! As it squeezed over her shoulders and swallowed her neck, there was only one person to blame for this new level of snugness, and she blurted it out before the wave overtook her-

"Futaba, this is you-rMRRPH-!!"

Perched atop her sinking throne of fat, Futaba shuddered as she felt the last bit of Sumire get vacuum packed into her hazardous navel. O-or she thinks that's what she felt? Everything was so... tight beyond that rippling entrance, it was tough to tell! All she knew is that her gut was getting compressed like dough into Mona's expressway tube, and there was nothing she could do!

"Nnnngh-! BWOOOOUURRRPH, this is too- MOOOOURURRP! -much..!"

The gamer girl wasn't claustrophobic, far from it. But even she was starting to dread the all-encompassing squeeze that was promised beyond this belly. If Mona had become as greedy as they thought, enough to funnel them away like this, then Futaba and her friends could be gone for much longer than a month... more like forever. Poor Sumire though, her freedom was even further way - first Futaba had to escape the cats stretchy depths, and then be fished out of the gamers bottomless belly cave-

Futaba waved her arms and stamped her feet, making her bulbous pair of asscheeks wobble along with them, but it was absolutely no good. Mona's guts had gotten a firm hold of her flabby midsection, and there was no getting away! The rest of the girl could only sit atop the soft ball as it was fed downwards... getting lower... and smaller... and lower...

Until at last, after many greedy gulps, Futaba was lying practically flat in the depths of Mona's stomach, her entire stomach swallowed up and hidden from sight - wow, she actually looked skinny! M-maybe it would stop here? Nothing could defeat the Futaba Line Block-

But her hopes were quickly dashed when the well stretched valve decided it wanted more. Futaba quickly noticed the tight feeling spreading out over her, across her arms and legs... then crept over her feet and hands! She gasped as her limbs were quickly pinned in place, as the intestinal entrance yawned underneath her - it was going to swallow the rest of her in one go! Feeling that the plunge was imminent, the once cocky gamer took all her frustration and aimed it at Mona's fattened belly roof:

"Mona, when I get out of here, you're going in my g-"

SCHLLLLOOOOOORRRRRRRRP~!!!

And just like that, the rest of Futaba was sucked inside without a trace. Only a crumb after the expanse of her belly. Now she'd be experiencing new heights of sweltering tightness, as the piles of actual food were moved to fill the belly-heavy void she left behind-

Food belongs in the stomach, and you pets belong in his guts~.

[muses-and-odd-fashion]

"Alright, let's go!" Yuma seemed to enjoy her temporary little throne atop Wool's hand, getting cozy as the two crossed the barrier back into her realm.

He smiled widely at her, squeezing slightly, his warm wooden fingers pressing into her flab. Surprisingly smooth, for wood!

“Comfy, smalls?”

He asked as he stepped through the door, holding a hand over her to shield her from the heavy rain. Seemed they appeared in a street

[mozzygan]

i love the before // after format and if that's what you're doing in your wip ask game i am dying to see it 👀👀👀

ok this one is...i've kept it very close haha. imma share some of it because i'm brave!!!!!!! but i'm sure you'll figure out why i've been closed-lipped about this story lol. just gonna share the intro tho—honestly, i know very little about this story right now. haven't super explored it/gotten to know the characters. but anyways IT'S BRAVE FACE TIME 😤 (self harm tw)

I used to write on my skin a lot—notes, dates, assignments, all that. Whenever you’re fresh out of notebooks (which is a perpetual state of being for me), just whip out a pen and you got yourself an easy-to-remember and unlosable agenda on your palm. After my friends got annoyed at me for washing my reminders off whenever I went to the bathroom, I started using the notes app on my phone to take notes, write down dates, remember assignments. But there were marks on my skin that I’d drawn on years and years and years ago. They’d had long since washed off. Still, after days of scrubbing myself raw in the shower, I could never quite remove them. They were gone from my skin, sure, but not from my soul. Two simple words, separated by a barrier of dashed lines all along my stomach, thighs, and the flab of my arms: “BEFORE” and “AFTER.”

[gorgin-gals-muses]

"Yep, here it is!" Nessa turned toward her back, unfastening a few buckles, and removed two large delivery containers, one on her shoulders, and one affixed rather tightly to her second belly. It was definitely the biggest order she'd delivered in some time. She looked away from the backpack, noticing something at her hooves, before doing a double take at the sight she somehow failed to notice.

...Oh. That was the client's gut. The rolled, gigantic, jiggling mountain of a gut that seemed to dwarf Nessa's own entire girth on its own, and which bunched up around both of the centaur's front legs. And she could see a girl behind the apex of that glistening hill, just faintly. She stepped back a bit, the flab seeming to rush toward her as soon as her booted hooves gave them room. Those rumors of a serial deliverer snatcher were starting to sound well founded; The centaur knew what it was like to be on the other side of the food chain. On the other hand...

Well, the minotaur seemed absolutely loaded, to put it lightly, and she was also... oddly approachable, despite physically being very hard to approach, due to her size actually acting as a barrier between them seeing each other at eye level. Nessa could negotiate a tip out of this. And hey, if she was at risk, she was a consummate athlete. Outrunning Kaylee would surely be a cinch, right?

"Should I hand this to you?" She yelled up the proverbial mountain.

Nessa usually wasn't one to pry about any of her deliveries; usually anything between them was brief, with her dropping off the food, maybe handing it if that was requested, and running off. But when you've visited the same house ten times in one day, things start getting a bit fishy, and the quantities of food were large even by the centaur's own voracious standards. It didn't seem like a party in the slightest, but peering through the curtains, there were thick piles of takeout boxes, bowls, and there was definitely someone there, by the looks of it. It was hard to make out exactly what they looked like, but Nessa was going to stick around this time to find out.

She was about to rang the doorbell, then heard a thunderous belch issue from within... eh, might as well. She thumbed on the doorbell and stood there, mustering her courage.

[weightgainworld]

Tip the scale

It's time to tip the scale piggy. You are so close to 300 pounds, but something keeps blocking you from pushing into the ball of blubber range. That's why I am here. I am going to keep you on the right track to being the huge roll covered overfed hog you always wanted to be. All you have to do is read my words and obey. Shut off that brain of yours that tells you to stop eating. The only thing you need to care about is your body getting more turned on from every piece of food you force down your throat. Make sure you are always surrounded by food. This isn't a suggestion by the way. I expect your fatass to be surrounded by the most unhealthy things you can find. If it doesn't taste good and makes you pack on the pounds, then ignore it. You only have 2 things you need to do, obey and get to 300 pounds. That means I expect you to always be gorging on something piggy. No more empty bellies, no more healthy options, and no more moving. You are going to be a lardass, and I know your perverted flab covered body is doing to love it. You should say goodbye now to your scale. Plan on buying one used to weight 600 pound farm animals. Also, I would suggest a new measuring tape. Whales like you have over 60 inch balls of blubber to measure. Your belly is just going to get rounder and more heavy from here. You have probably given up on stairs by now. Not like you are ever going to be in shape again anyways. However, you can say hello to massive buffet sizes of food, more rolls then you can count, being unrecognizable as a 300 butterball, and finally letting everyone know you couldn't control yourself. You know how badly you want to get bigger. You can barely stop yourself from binging for hours while you rub your too full belly to get off. I am sure if you had the choice, you would quit your job and just be a full time hog on some reverse fat camp. For now, you just have to be satisfied knowing I am here to push you past your limits. "I am full" starts to mean, "I am full, but I can eat more". "I am going to pop" starts to mean, "please feed me smaller bites". I am sure you can see what will happen in my care

There will be no stopping till your obese body breaks that's 300 barrier and is destroyed forever. You won't be turning back. Your muscles will be gone by then. You won't be able to function without your 6th family sized meal of the day. You won't be able to get off without a belly as big as a beach ball. You won't even feel like yourself unless you know that you will be waking up to a funnel filled with a 3,000 calorie weight gain shake. You will become the fatass you always wanted to be. No pillows making you look bigger. No pushing your belly out to feel bigger. Just you and your 300 pounds of flab that you let yourself pile on after months of eating like a 1 ton whale.

[eddie-boii]

Never Let You Go (part 13/14)

Fic info: Both Eddie and Stan live because I do what I want. Multichapter.

Rating: Mature. 

Pairings: Reddie, Benverly.

Ao3 link: here

Summary: The Losers prepare for a wedding. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

*

Richie pushed the door closed with a soft click and silence stretched through the hotel room. Neither seemed to want to be the first to speak, so Richie wandered over to the stereo set tucked in the entertainment unit beside the TV and busied himself flicking through radio stations while Eddie kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie a little. Richie stopped fiddling with the dial as a familiar song blossomed from the speakers.

“Wise men say...”

Cheesy. This was so cheesy. And Richie was such a fucking coward, but… maybe he’d be brave just this once.

“Only fools rush in...”

“Hey,” he said, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. The other man turned to him with raised eyebrows and Richie held out his hand. “I think I owe you a real dance.”

Eddie looked down at Richie’s hand and the second’s pause felt like a lifetime as Richie’s heart raced, but then Eddie reached out and took it, his warm fingers brushing over Richie’s palm and sending sparks of electricity shooting up his arm, making his heart pound even faster. Richie pulled Eddie over to the balcony and pulled the glass doors open without letting go of his hand. It was snowing again, the soft white flakes glowing softly in the light seeping from their room. They stepped out onto the balcony and, hesitantly, Richie put a hand on Eddie’s waist, the warmth of his skin heating his hand through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Oh, you’re leading, are you?” said Eddie with feigned annoyance even as he put a hand on Richie’s shoulder.

“Well, duh. You’re so tiny.”

“Average height, dickwad. It’s not my fault your mom fed you steroids.”

Richie only smiled softly, too distracted by that expression on Eddie’s face to retort, the little furrow in his brows and slight flush over his cheeks. This close up, he could see the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, not as prominent as when they were kids, but still there. Richie longed to count them all one day.

“Shall I stay, 

“Would it be a sin…”

They swayed slowly in time to the music, not really dancing but something like it. The snow came down softly, little flakes falling on Eddie’s hair and catching on his eyelashes before he blinked them away. Richie didn’t feel as cold as he should have, not with Eddie’s hand in his and their bodies so close, sharing heat.

“If I can’t help,

“Falling in love with you.”

Eddie’s face was so close, his lips only a few inches away. Richie only had to tilt his head down slightly if he wanted to meet them, but was he really brave enough? He kept his eyes fixed on Eddie’s mouth, milling it over in his head, trying to work up the courage to just lean down a little. But before he could, Eddie kissed him.

Eddie pulled away almost as quickly as he’d leaned in, but Richie chased his lips, not about to let him get away that easily, and their mouths locked in that little burst of electricity, fitting together like they’d always meant to be, and Richie didn’t care anymore about embarrassing himself, he just let himself sink. He’d wanted to do this for so long. So, so long. And he was having a hard time getting his head around it, so he didn’t bother thinking, just let himself do what he’d been imagining for thirty years.

He hooked his thumbs into Eddie’s belt and pulled him closer so they were flush together, their clothes the only thing between them. Eddie pulled away suddenly and Richie let out a little whine of disappointment, but it turned out it was only so Eddie could pull his glasses off so they wouldn’t have any barrier between them, and as soon as he had, his lips were back on Richie’s and he was pulling him further into the bedroom away from the balcony. Richie’s blindly reached out to close the screen doors and shut out the cold night air just before Eddie pulled him too far away towards the bed.

“Shit,” Richie breathed, pulling away a little for air. “Shouldn’t we have that talk first?”

“Talk later,” said Eddie impatiently, tugging Richie back down. His hands were entangled in his hair, ruining the little braids Patty had oh so carefully woven there. Richie found he didn’t care all that much, not when Eddie’s mouth was so hot against his, not when Eddie’s teeth bit at his bottom lip or when his tongue slipped into his mouth. It seemed Eddie didn’t care all that much about the bacteria in saliva when Richie was involved.

Richie quickly grew frustrated with the clothes between them and his hands blindly found the buttons on Eddie’s shirt, loosening them clumsily with little care as to whether he popped any off, too eager to get his hands on Eddie’s bare skin. His hand found the scar on his chest, the hard, uneven marring of his otherwise perfect skin, stretched across so much of his torso. Richie wanted to kiss it, to run his lips across it, this undeniable proof that even after Eddie had been hurt so badly, he’d survived. He was alive, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Richie’s hand. He stretched his fingers out, spreading his hands across Eddie’s skin, wanting to feel everything, to memorise every contour of his-

“What the fuck?” Richie pulled away to gape at Eddie’s now bare chest. “You have abs?! We’re fucking forty! Why do you have abs?”

“Because exercise is fucking good for you,” Eddie retorted. “You should try it sometime, asshole.”

“You can do exercise without getting abs!” Richie exclaimed. “You’re fucking ripped, what the fuck? All this time we were fawning over Ben when really you were the one with the stinking hot bod!”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!” Eddie cried, hands flying up to cover his burning cheeks.

“Seriously, dude, how much do you work out? How much weight can you bench press?”

Eddie’s hands fell away from his face and Richie only had time to catch a slight flicker of mischief in his eyes before, in one swift movement, Eddie bent down, hooked his arms under Richie’s legs, and flipped him up and back onto the bed with ease.

“How’s that?” Eddie said, moving to lean over Richie with a playful smile pulling at his mouth.

Richie gaped up at him, then decided to forgo words and simply pulled Eddie down, kissing that infuriating little smile right off his face. He let his hands run through Eddie’s soft hair, messing up the neat style like he’d always wanted to. They shifted on the bed until Richie was propped up against the headboard and Eddie was straddling his waist. Richie didn’t think he’d ever get over the feeling of Eddie’s thighs pressed tight around his hips.

“Woah,” said Richie, breaking away as Eddie starting toying with the buttons on his shirt. “No way am I letting you see my forty-year-old dad bod when you look like that.”

“I’ve seen it before, dumbass.”

“That was before I knew you had abs!”

“You have abs too,” said Eddie. He slipped his hand up beneath Richie’s shirt and spread his palm out over his abdomen, grinning when Richie gave a shiver. “Under here.”

“Underneath my old man flab?”

“Maybe I like your old man flab,” said Eddie. He leaned forward to whisper in Richie’s ear, nipping playfully at his earlobe along the way and making Richie’s hands spasm where they were resting on Eddie’s hips. “Take off your fucking shirt.”

“Fine but you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” said Richie, voice coming out a lot hoarser than he meant it too. Eddie Kaspbrak was a real tease.

“I won’t make fun of you,” said Eddie, his expression softening. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Tozier.”

“Wow,” said Richie, ignoring the blush spreading across his cheeks. “Love really does make you blind.” He faltered when Eddie raised his eyebrows at him. “I mean- I didn’t-” 

He was silenced when Eddie leaned forward and kissed him, his hands moving to undo Richie’s buttons and push his shirt and blazer off. He paused, breaking away from the kiss when something crinkled in the breast pocket of the blazer, and Richie felt his face burn when Eddie slipped his fingers into it and pulled out a little foil square.

“That’s not mine,” he blurted instantly. “I’m not assuming anything, I swear! Stan gave me this suit and you know how much of a little shit he is-”

“He is,” agreed Eddie, eyeing the foil packet. “He only left us the one. What, does he think we’re only going to do it once?” Richie gaped up at him, words stuck in his throat. “Unless you don’t want to?” Eddie added quickly.

“No! I mean yes! I mean, I’ve had fucking recurring wet dreams about this-”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

“I just- I- Shit.” Richie moved to run his hands down his face. “I need to tell you something first.”

“Spit it out, Trashmouth.”

“I-” Richie stared up at him. His face was a blur without his glasses but that didn’t matter; Richie could picture every detail, had committed it to memory. The exact brown of his eyes and the little permanent furrow of his eyebrows. The slight crook of his nose and the freckles across it. He needed to be brave now. There was no reason not to be; Eddie clearly liked him. He wouldn’t have made out with him or be straddling him or be suggesting they have sex if he didn’t. But he wasn’t sure if this really meant as much to Eddie as it did to Richie. He had to be sure. 

“I love you,” he blurted out at last, talking way too fast but he didn’t care, he just had to get it out. “Like, I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve and Brian Sanders called me a loudmouth fuckface with mental problems and you slapped him round the face with your fanny pack and told him you’d break his teeth if he ever spoke to me like that again. So- so there it is, I guess. I love you, Eds. I don’t know if that makes things too weird or…”

He stopped short when Eddie started laughing.

“What the fuck?” cried Richie. “I just confessed my undying love to you and you’re laughing at me?”

“It’s- It’s not that,” said Eddie, gasping for breath between laughter. “I just-” He shook his head, breathing deeply until his laughter subsided, then he smiled down at Richie. “I’ve got you beat, bro.”

“You- What?”

“I’ve got you beat,” Eddie repeated. “See, I’ve been in love with you since right before that happened when Brian Sanders pushed me over at recess and you yelled loud enough for the whole school to hear that his mom once blew the chemistry teacher behind the gymnasium so he’d give Brian a better grade. So that’s, what, like a whole minute I’ve got on you?”

“You- you-” Richie stared up at him. There were too many things he wanted to say, all fighting at once to get out of his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to get any out. “Wait, so you-”

“I love you too, Rich,” said Eddie.

“Well shit,” said Richie eloquently. “So we really did waste thirty years being dumbasses?”

“Well not really,” said Eddie. “Coz twenty-seven of those weren’t our fault, and the time we spent in Derry wasn’t really our fault either since that town’s a homophobic crap pile. So really, when you think about it, we only wasted one year.”

“Still,” said Richie. “That’s a lot of lost time we’ve gotta catch up on, right?”

“Yeah,” said Eddie. He leaned down once more, kissing Richie deeply, his hands wandering over Richie’s exposed chest. He moved away slightly to press kisses along Richie’s jaw-line, and when he spoke, his breath was hot against his skin. “Guess we’d better get a move on.”

*

Previous Next

[jegec101]

If Technology Is Effective in the Classroom - Why Do Some Students Dislike It So Much?

The potency of technology use in the classroom has become a controversial issue. While many teachers and students feel that it's best to use technology since the device enhances teaching many others feel that it causes too many challenges and that it is a waste of time. If technology is as successful in the classroom as many teachers believe it to be; why do some students dislike it so much? In order to objectively respond to this question, 3 articles were examined. 2 out of the 3 relate how the use of technology in the college class frustrates students while the last one translates the thoughts of students who feel that technology in the classroom comes with responded to their need. So the issue is not that technology is not effective but rather that some teachers need to be mindful concerning technology use in the classroom and others need to be trained in order to properly use technology to teach so that students tend not to view technology as obstruction learning but as an enhancing tool. After summarizing the 3 articles that have been researched we will be able to prove that there are 2 groups of students who claim to dislike technology in the classroom: Those who are incorrectly exposed to it by their teacher and those who did not give themselves enough time to familiarize themselves with it. People will then be able to get to the logical conclusion that those same students would appreciate the value of technology in the in-class if their teachers used it properly. Let us first summarize the articles that we are referring to. The article "When good technology means bad teaching related that many students feel that teachers and professor use technology as a way to present. Students complain of technology making their teachers "less effective than they would be if they stuck to a address at the chalkboard" (Young) other problems related by students include teachers wasting class time to teach about a world-wide-web tool or to flab with a projector or software. When teachers are unfamiliar with the technological tools, they are apt to waist more time trying to use them the technological software that is used the most according to students is PowerPoint. Students protest that teachers use it instead of their lesson plan. Many students explain that it makes understanding more difficult "I telephone it PowerPoint abuse" (Young). Professors also post their PowerPoint Presentation to the school board before and when class and this encourages students to miss more classes. Another problem reported in the article with the use of technology inside classrooms is that many schools spend time to train their staff about how to use a particular technology but it does not train him or her on "strategies to use them well" (Young). The writer believed that schools should also give small monetary offers to teachers and professors to attend workshops. In an interview made with 13 students, "some gave their teacher some sort of failing when it came to using Power Point, Course Management systems and other classroom technology" (Young ) most of the complains were again about the misuse of PowerPoint's and the fact that instructors use it to recite what's on the level. Another complaint was that teachers who are unfamiliar with technology often waste class time as they spend more time troubleshooting than teaching. The last complain mentioned is that some teachers require students to comment on online chat rooms every week but that they do not monitor the outcome or never make reference to the discussion in class. Similarly, the article "I'm truly computer person" (Lohnes 2013) speaks to the fact that students expectations as far as technology is concerned is very different. In a examine done with 34 undergraduate university students, they advise that technology is an integral part of a university students lifetime because they have to do must everything online from applying for college or university, searching and registering for classes, pay tuition which in addition to being integrated in the administration, etc . technology is also widely used to teach and is valued by higher education. Those students, nevertheless feel that technology poses a barrier to success as they struggle to align with the ways in which the institution values solutions. " A student explains that technology is used in her freshman year to turn in assignments, participate in discussion boards together with blogs, emailing the professor, viewing grades and for a wide range of other administrative task including tracking the following school bus. This particular student whose name is Nichole says that she does not own a laptop nevertheless shares a family computer. She has a younger brother who also uses the computer to complete his school work which means she consequently has to stay up late to complete assignments. She states "technology and I? We never possessed that connection" (Lohnes). Nichole dislikes the fact that her college requests that she had more contact with technology as compared to she is conformable with. Nonetheless, she explains that as she started doing those school online assignments thus frequently she came to realize that they were not that bad. One of her issues though with technology is this she had come from Puerto Rico about a year prior entering college and that she never had to use the laptop computer so much there. The articles relates that other college students like Nichole have admitted that they are "reluctant technology users" (Lohnes) The article wants to explain, in essence, that although most people would expect that college students prefer technology and are now familiar with it, " that assumption is faulty" (Lohnes). On the other hand, the article "What Screenagers Say About... " High school graduation age students were asked about what they thought of technology but most expressed liking it. One of them said around PowerPoint: "My history teacher did a good job with Power Points. He would put them online, which designed for really great reviews. " (Screneagers, 2011) Others expressed how technology was really who they are and that teachers should know for example that when they text in class, they are not being rude but that they have gotten used to multi tasking. Another student invites teachers to not be afraid of technology "Teachers shouldn't be afraid of technology. Understand that it's how you live our lives. So don't just push it out. Learn to cope with us and how we work. inch (Screenagers, 2011) Another student however , expressed how she prefers simpler technology that her teacher is at ease rather than high tech that the teacher does not manipulate well "The most important thing for teachers is to be comfortable with what they really are using. It doesn't have to be super high tech. My math teacher used a projector, and it was one of my favorite instructional classes. Then I would go to this other class where the teacher used Power Points and the SMART board, but As i didn't get any more out of it because she wasn't comfortable with the technology" (Screenagers, 2011) Students spoke about their own appreciation for virtually all types of technology used in the classroom. Another said "One of my teachers used Skype. That's face-to-face interaction. If I had a problem with some math problem I was working on, I could take a imagine of it and put it on the Skype screen. She could see where I was making my mistake. It helped. " (Screenagers, 2011) The bottom line is that those high school students wanted to let teachers know that they really like technology knowning that it is already a great part of their daily routine but that it had to be used properly in order for them to enjoy it. Equally, they summarize a few things that they dislike as well. Among the list, they said: reading on the computer, paying a lot on an online textbook and the fact that they often forget everything else when they get caught up with using technology. non-etheless, they had even more positive things they liked in technology like for example that some teachers would text a question for them to take into consideration before class, so if they do not know they answer, they would communicate with classmates to discuss the possibility for the answer before category. This allows them to go to class prepared. They also like using Skype, emailing their teachers instead of going to speak to these individuals in person. They also enjoy discussion boards. The advice they would like to convey to their teachers is to make sure that they are comfortable with whatever scientific tools they are using, to give them more freedom to use the good sites and those in the middle range when they are browsing on the net using school computers and to understand that technology is part of their lives. After summarizing those articles, we could see that the students mentioned in Youngs, 2004 dislike technology because their experience with it was not satisfactory. With other terms, a group of students dislike technology because some teachers are not mindful about technology use or needed additional training. For example , some students are frustrated because they feel that instructors waist their time when they are not correctly trained to use the technological tools. Others disliked the fact that some teachers had PowerPoint presentations which were either not necessarily meaningful or they would just read whatever they wrote and add no additional comments. Those examples are generally called "bad teaching (Young, 2004) and they are in fact terrible examples that teachers should not follow because technology is not really meant to help teachers do the least work or to adopt poor teaching practices. Somme students related that PowerPoint was widely used by teachers so they even call it PowerPoint abuse. I can relate to what is being expressed just by those students. I observed a Teaching Assistant teach a grammar class recently. He purchased a device providing him to monitor the screen without touching the computer. He was able to walk throughout the class while adjusting slides. It all looked so impressive but despite all of this show, students were left so confused at the end in the lesson. When they asked questions, he went back to the slide that had the grammar rule and read the idea over to the class. The PowerPoint was a duplication of the textbook chapter. The same examples of the book have been used. At the end of the course, he felt that he had done a great PowerPoint when in fact , it was not thoughtful. It was a copy/paste project from the text book to the screen. This example shows that we need to use common sense when working with technology. When teaching grammar, a teacher has to be able to come up with examples other than those in the book, you have to generate on the board, have student practice what they have learned. PowerPoint use was a real bad idea, in my opinion, with regard to teaching this course. It was just not the right technological tool for the lesson. Students in that class may decide that they never like Power Points because it confuses them more while the issue is not with the use of PowerPoint but instead with the teacher's poor pick of technology. The point I also want to make here is that teachers may sometimes be unaware of their improper entry to technology. This is why, as educators, we sometimes need to ask students for their feedback so we may make corrections the place needed. We can then conclude that those students dislike technology as a result of improper technological use by teachers, and as well because many teachers do not attend workshops or training sessions to help them obtain a broader knowledge of technology since they are for that reason busy. Like suggest (Youngs, 2004) and (Lohnes, 2012), those same busy teachers would have attended those trainings if there were given an incentive. In the article "Technology Standards in a Third-Grade Classroom" (Kovalik, 2001), it is related what sort of study done on a 3rd grade class of 25 showed that students were properly using technology. There is absolutely no indication that those students dislike using technology. The article also mentioned how the teachers were highly trained because the Iowa board pays incentive to teachers to participate in technology training which teaching them not only how to use know-how by teaches them strategies on when to use them. Boards from other states should consider doing the same thing so that their teachers are responding to the technological need of their students and that they are teaching them according to the standards. That Ohio school mentioned above met the standards as far as technology is concerned because of the technology coaching received by the teachers. When teachers learn how to properly use technology in the classroom, it will be a less frustrating experience for them and for the scholar who will less likely dislike technology since it will meet its purpose to enhance teaching. The other groups of students who hatred technology are those who were not exposed to it for long enough. The College Freshman, Nichole advises that she hasn't been exposed to so much technology while she was in high school in her home country; consequently, it seemed to be a burden to help her to have to need a computer to complete most of her school assignments but also to interact with her classmate with a discussion board. What is interesting though is that even though she claimed to dislike technology so much, she advised of which once she started to spend so much time using it, she realizes that it is not so bad. Even though it is likely that a lot of people do not like the telephone and texting so much, the computer and some website have become part of most people daily routine. In Nichole's case, she does not own a laptop and has to wait for her turn to use the family computer which means that she has virtually no attachment to this media because her use of it is controlled. However , once she gets to own her own computer, it can be a guaranteed that her view of technology will change. I returned to school after about 12 years. To look at was in college the 1st time around, nothing was electronic but when I contacted USF to apply, they told me that almost everything was online. At first, I asked why everything was online but once I got used to it, I began to understand the value of having the convenience to do a lot of things without having to live my home. Therefore , Nichole will certainly not pursue to dislike technology that much once she gets more familiar and more attached to it. The fact is that she stated in which she started to realize that it was not that bad once she started doing so many assignments. She came to the conclusion that computer was not yet a friend but that it was no longer an enemy; it became to her an friend. With this understanding, depending on the background of some ELL students and depending on whether or not they were exposed to technology in their property country, they may not like technology at first but this should not be a sign that they will never come to appreciated it. Since teacher, we will need to allow them time to familiarize themselves with it while we continue to properly use it so that we never advocate against it or involuntary send missed information about its true value. On the other hand, the last article testifies to your fact that the new generation is technology driven and that when used properly, they benefits from it in the classroom, there are plenty of examples of how teachers originally used technology to teach which are appreciated by students. What should the conclusion be in that case? We have proven that technology use is effective in the classroom but that teachers need to take some actions to make this tool useful to students. It is necessary that they received some training if they lack it, and like a student indicated in the Screenager article, they should refrain from using complicated tools if they are not sure about how to use them. It's best to effectively use something much simpler that they are familiar with like a high school student suggested. In addition , it is important for teachers to screen a variety of technological tools and to research them before introducing them to their teaching. Should they test some that do not effectively work, they have to stop using them and seek one that is more appropriate. Most importantly, technology is not always the answer this is why teachers ought to be balanced when using it. If it is required that we use the board and chalks to help students better understand, this is what much more do. Doing so, we will ensure that more students appreciate the use of technology in the classroom for what it is truly worth.

[flightfoot]

The Last Days of A Meat Puppet Ch. 1

Day 1

I blinked open my eyes. Blearily I looked around. Gleaming walls of white greeted my eyes, with a rainbow shimmer overlaying it. I squinted and took a closer look. The rainbow shimmer formed some sort of spherical barrier. I looked behind me to check whether it went all the way around, and choked. Standing behind me was a twenty foot tall man wearing a grey suit, a long black beard, and a severe expression on his face. The air around him crackled with energy.

I scrambled back, wanting to put some distance between myself and this strange, scary giant. I’d seen strange things before, like people with goat horns, and winged horses. Once I even saw a GIANT dog bounding around the city before melting into shadows.

Mum says that I’m clear-sighted, like her. We see the world as it REALLY is, in its full strangeness. We try to stay out of whatever trouble is going in the hidden world. but now it seemed that trouble had found ME.

“Who... who are you?” I cried, hoping I sounded braver than I felt. “Where am I? What do you want with me?”

I wracked my brains, hoping that remembering what happened before this would give me some insight. But it didn’t help. I’d gone to school, (DRIVEN myself in fact, I got my license just last month!) come home, played some Mario Kart with my younger brother Cameron, and pretended to be a vicious dragon for my much younger siblings, Katie, Tyler, and Tyrone to slay. (Tyler and Tyrone are identical twins. Most people outside of our family mix them up constantly, but we can always tell who’s who, no matter how often they try to fool us.) I helped Mum put them all to bed, then went to bed myself. Nothing that told me why I had awoken in this strange place with the giant scary man glowering at me.

“I AM ZEUS, KING OF OLYMPUS,” he bellowed. I felt the vibrations from his voice resonate throughout my body. “YOU ARE HERE TO SERVE AS A VESSEL FOR MY SON APOLLO, AS PART OF HIS PUNISHMENT.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Uh... so what will happen to me?”

He looked down his nose at me. I felt like he was looking at me as a particularly noisy livestock animal, an annoyance he’s almost happy to slaughter.

“YOUR SOUL WILL BE SYSTEMATICALLY DESTROYED, BUT YOUR BODY LEFT INTACT. I WISH FOR APOLLO TO BE THE ONLY ONE IN THIS BODY.”

I broke out in a cold sweat. He was going to what?

“You don’t want me,” I said quickly, fighting down my nausea. I didn’t think that throwing up would be helpful in getting the King of Olympus to listen to me. “I’m not athletic, I have acnes and pimples, and I trip over my own feet! I’d make a TERRIBLE vessel.”

“THAT MAKES YOU THE PERFECT VESSEL,” Zeus replied. “APOLLO IS PROUD AND VAIN. BEING IN SUCH A PLAIN, ORDINARY BODY WILL BE PUNISHMENT ALL ON ITS OWN.” 

Ok, NOW I was insulted. Yes I know I just insulted myself a second ago, but I didn’t need Zeus to do it too!

“I... I have a family,” I said weakly. “They’ll miss me if I’m gone.”

“LET THEM MISS YOU,” he replied. “WHY SHOULD I CARE?”

I had no answer to that. Even if they could somehow figure out where I was, there was no way they could retrieve me. And even if they could, what would stop Zeus from taking me right back? 

A cold trickle ran down my back. Zeus CLEARLY didn’t care about human life. If they did find me... if I tried to fight him... he might HURT them.

NO.

I wanted to live. I wanted to go back home and cook with Mum, watch bad horror movies with Dad, attend Katie’s first ballet recital (she was SO excited about it, jabbering away to anyone who would listen about what a pretty Sugar Plum Princess she made), cause Cameron to glare at me in annoyance as I chose Rainbow Road again, and stop the twins from giving the cat a bath in the toilet (though our cat made her opinions on that well known already). I wanted to be with my family.

But I wanted them to live even more.

With a jolt I felt myself being dragged into the air by... well, the air.

“What’s going on now?!” I shouted, flailing uselessly.

He didn’t reply. I guess he was done entertaining questions from lower life forms for today.

He dragged me through several different rooms, all lavishly decorated. Some were even staffed by... beings. They weren’t human, that was for sure. some were see-through and wispy, others were close to Zeus’s height and dressed in fine clothes, sipping some drink of out of golden goblets. A few glanced over at me as I screamed for help.

None of them made any move to help me.

At last we stopped in a room covered with a gleaming, golden net. On the other side of it stood a teenager, about my age, with golden hair and sky blue eyes. He looked as freaked out as I was.

“F-father,” he said pleadingly. No person should look up at their parent with so much fear. “Please. I’ve learned my lesson. Forgive me.”

Zeus merely looked down at him coldly. “NOT YET YOU HAVEN’T.”

That’s when Apollo noticed me, and his face morphed to one of confusion. “Who..?”

Zeus grinned. I shivered. “HE IS PART OF YOUR PUNISHMENT. YOU WILL BE CAST DOWN AS A MORTAL AGAIN, BUT THIS TIME, YOU WON’T EVEN HAVE A BODY OF YOUR OWN. YOU’LL BE IN HIS BODY INSTEAD.”

Apollo gave me a quick look up and down, lingering on my face and my stomach. I shifted uncomfortably, as best I could while being held up in the air anyways. I felt again like livestock, this time being inspected before the slaughter and found wanting.

“But... but he has acne! And FLAB! I bet he doesn’t even have a six-pack!”

Suddenly I lost my sympathy for him. I was going to have my SOUL DESTROYED as part of a conflict I had no part of, and he was complaining because I wasn’t a MODEL?! 

I glared at him. “He’s gonna destroy MY SOUL, as part of YOUR punishment. Why are YOU complaining?”

He waved it off. “Hey, it’s not like I can do anything about that. I’m not happy about this either.”

“I might not ever see my family again,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “I’ll never get to give my sister piggy-back rides again, or teach my youngest brothers how to ride a scooter, or give my younger brother dating advice, or... or...” 

I started to sob. It was beginning to sink in. No one was coming to rescue me. No one COULD rescue me. I was going to die here, and this conceited prick was going to wear my corpse, complaining about it the whole time.

Apparently Zeus decided that that was enough. “I’LL BE BACK,” he promised. “I WILL SHOW YOU HOW FAR I’VE PROGRESSED ON PREPARATIONS FOR YOUR PUNISHMENT.”

Then he walked away, dragging me along, still floating, behind him.

After a few more minutes, we were back in the room I had woken up in. He conjured a see-through box and laid me down in it. I tried to squirm some more, but he merely snapped his fingers and my body went still and straight, as if someone had cast Petrificus Totalus on me. (I had just gotten through reading the Sorceror’s Stone to Katie, Tyrone, and Tyler. I wondered who would take over now?)

“SLEEP,” Zeus declared. “NEXT TIME YOU AWAKEN, THE PROCESS WILL HAVE STARTED.”

I fought his order as best I could, but it was useless. I could feel my eyes closing against my will. I tried to hold on to myself as best I could, hoping I’d still, somehow, against all odds, still be ME when I next awoke.

My name is Lester Papadopoulos. I have a mother, father, and four annoying, but precious siblings. Cameron. Katie. Tyrone. Tyler. They’re my family. Don’t forget.

Don’t forget.

Don’t... forget...

[eyebeastposts]

Patreon Prompt 161

Weekly Prompts Available for $5 and up Patrons 

Prompt: In the far flung future there is only fat! Fat & the slobs who spread that fatness via fattening beams.

  The metropolis that was Neo New York looked as promising as ever. Hover cars zoomed near the city’s dome on the way to carry their productive citizens to their jobs. Robots roamed the streets to take care of menial labor so people could focus on their passions and careers. It was a perfect place, making it the perfect target for unbridled chaos.

  A ship in the shape of a bean bag chair came slamming through the protective barrier. All at once, the citizen’s stopped what they were doing to gawk at the craft. The doughy shape indicated that it was the invading slobians, a race devoted to pure hedonism. Though the city’s military face were already mobilizing to take on the threat, Neo New York’s fate had already been sealed.

  Weapons began to emerge across the ship’s exterior. Each cannon took aim at a different citizen and unleashed a zap of the alien’s fattening ray. When a person was struck, their weight sky rocketed, leaving them as little more than sentient blobs of flesh. To go along with their hundreds of pounds of added weight, the rays’ effects wreaked havoc on their digestive system to spout out gas from both ends to further spread the corruption. The people’s initial screams turned into a mix of heavy breathing and content belches as one by one the entire population fell to the alien’s attack.

  Aboard the ship, a gelatinous orb of green flesh sat in her chair and watched the chaos unfold. Looking through the streets, she was pleased to see the robots stop what they were doing to serve their newly slobbified citizens. The fear and worry in the people’s eyes stopped the moment they wrapped their mouths around a hunk of food, or they managed to slam their bodies together to explore one another’s flab. Letting out a prolonged fart to celebrate her victory over another human colony, the slobian redirected her ship to the next target. Soon, all of the galaxies would fall into true way of living.