An avid weeaboo, Josh knew many anime girls of various personalities and powers, but his true love was Katou Megumi of Saenai Heroine no Sodatekata.
Among all those queers, follies, the overpowered and the overrated, Megumi is the most modest of all, possessing little attractiveness compared to anyone else, yet she had won the heart of Josh by simply being mundane, and exemplary at the same time:
While there are lolis and grown-ups with oversized breasts or minimal breasts, in Josh’s eyes, only Megumin (as many affectionately call her) embodies the best size; her body shape, mature but not entirely, is also what made Kashima popular in comparison with her child-like face; Megumin had only plain black hair and amber eyes, not any other colors that blinded Josh.
The icing on it all is certainly the famous but simple outfit (you can see in the preview picture), the one Megumin was seen on the street, that made Josh attracted to her.
He surrounded himself with Megumin posters, figures of Megumin, and the official dakimakura, besides other anime collectibles that made his room seem close to Melonpan, the famous Swiss otaku, but Josh treated his collection in a saner way, only imagining Megumin to be his girlfriend and lived with her. In his mind he never wanted to disappoint Megumin for she was his love and she was his life.
When the Megumin chatting app was out, many rushed to download it, and Josh was no exception to chase the chance of dating her. In the app there was a 3D model of Megumin which you can chat with. While others ditched the app after some time and out of their fading eagerness, Josh kept on playing to interact with his love.
Megumin was someone he wanted to be real: Not just cosplay level real, but a real person with the identical personality and mind. Something many had dreamt, but no one had realized for it being impossible to break the 4th wall. Only if she could travel to this world or I could get there, Josh fantasised.
As he fantasied of Katou Megumi being real at night, a notification from his phone broke his flow of thought.
“Messenge: do you want me be real?”
It was from Katou_Megumi, someone who he had never heard of expect being of the same name. While those messages are usually dubious and unreal, overwhelmed with love, Josh picked up his phone and typed, “How?”
“Do you have a boy friend?”
Josh was no gay, so she must meant a normal male friend, Josh thought. And at this time he pictured his soulmate, Bran, who had been watching anime with him since 14 or 15.
“Yes?”
“Bring him to me so I can know him”
Josh noted, “Megumin couldn’t be like that, she is too soft to be eager. It must be someone playing on me… Bran?” He called Bran, who worked in the gas station often in night shifts, so there was a good chance he was up, and he knew of his devotion of Megumin. Those might be ways Bran used to spend the night without being bored.
“Hey Bran, did you send that Katou_Megumi message?”
“What Katou Megumi message?”
“That one, ‘do you want me be real?’”
“No chance, I’ll come later and let you check my phone.”
The reply was absurd to him, and there were already apps to fake message senders. Josh didn’t know if it was Bran, or some other people, but he wished in his heart that Megumin could be real.
The next day Bran went over and gave Josh his phone. “You say I sent those stuff? I don’t know how to do that.” Bran wanted to clear his name. As Josh inspected the phone, he found all messages being sent normally without the 2 mysterious ones, and no apps that remotely modify messages to appear to be sent elsewhere. There were just normal apps and games. “Bran, it wasn’t you? Then who was it...”
Another notification hit Josh’s phone, and the 2 friends looked at the phone…
The 2 previously misunderstood friends hurdled to see what was wrong with the phone when Bran was not the culprit behind the messages. Josh unlocked the phone to reveal a few new messages:
“Your friend is here”
“Let us start”
“Start what?” Bran was dumbfounded looking at the messages. Josh was starting to understand the situation he was in, and urged Bran to move away from the phone. The chat app opened abruptly, and a few abnormal dialogs popped up:
“You want me to be real”
“So I will take away your dearest friend”
“And replace him”
Josh suspected that the one in the app was no longer Megumin, but some intruder using her identity. But realization aside, the phone flew out of Josh’s hand and towards Bran, knocking him on the head and onto the ground. Without a pause the phone emitted a bright ray to cover the unfortunate guy, until it appeared to Josh that Bran was a shape of light, the skin replaced by white radiance. Now terrified, Josh leaped to Bran’s shape, he wasn’t sure if he had a body by then, and tried to snatch the phone; but a force repelled him and he fell back on the ground, immobilized and left there to witness what happened next…
The shape started to morph, becoming shorter and most proportionally feminine by every passing second, and he could saw slimmer limbs replacing the old ones. A good pair of breasts was inflated as well as the perfect shape Josh had envisioned; and the hair grew until the hairstyle matched Megumin’s. And to add more insult to a frustrated Josh, who was already destroying everything Megumin in his room, the simple outfit was forming with the characteristic beret hat now visible as an outline.
The transformation was complete, as well as Josh’s new bitter distaste with Megumin and the ruin of his room. Posters were torn into pieces, while the dakimakura cover was removed from the pillow and stamped upon. Figures were scattered on the ground, dismembered, in contrast to the body of Katou Megumi on the ground, unharmed, unscratched, and completely real as an Asian high school girl. Everything on the body was not unlike the best cosplays, save that there was an authentic touch to them.
Josh picked up the phone, and to his dismay, the chat app had disappeared.
Without any clue to do with the body of “Megumin”, he decided to do a bold thing: he could enter the back alley of the block he was in and dump her there without many knowing. To his luck, no one noticed and the body was quickly disposed of.
However, With the incident, Josh no longer saw Megumin as his true love and instead as terrifying, since she took his good pal away. From then he shunned all his collections of Megumin, destroyed ones dumped and others sold. While Josh remained interested in anime, Megumin was to him a black history of some kind.
He was reminded of that when he got in touch of a hit called Konosuba, featuring the stupid heroine Aqua and the chuuni magician, the name was of course, Megumin. But Josh knew that, Megumin was another character from Katou Megumi since Megumin (the one from Konosuba from now on) was a chuuni magician yelling “explosion!” and practising explosive magic every day. She was not the everygirl that was Katou Megumi. This way, Josh would learn no to disdain her.
Megumin was much different from from the old Katou Megumi, being a younger magician in an epic chuuni garb, characteristic of her clan. With or without the hat, or the chuuni eyepaych, Josh was sure her greatest attraction was her insanity in casting explosion magic around. The sight was stupid but really entertaining, much like the rest of Konosuba. That set her apart from Katou Megumi, and by Megumin Josh could finally let his memories of Katou Megumi go.
It was the time of the year that a great anime convention came by, and Josh went there. There was a lot to see there, and many cosplayers were around as with any other anime con, but one of them caught Josh’s attention.
She was a Megumin cosplayer, a rather good one with all the costume’s details being true to the real Megumin, and a real Asian. But then, Josh noticed, the breasts were a bit too big, and her age seemed to be about high school.
As Josh came close, the cosplayer noticed him, and called out softly, “Josh”, in a voice Josh was familiar, but he could not pinpoint why. The cosplayer slowly walked near Josh, and while he looked more closely, he seemed to have remembered something.
“Megumin… The voice, isn’t it Katou Megumi’s? That sounded close enough to a dub, if she was speaking good English.
Other than the voice, while the cosplayer hid it under the eyepatch and the red contact lens on the other eye, her eyes were like Megumi’s. And though the hairstyle was now shaped in Megumin’s fashion, the hair length seemed to be like Megumi’s.
If she had Megumi’s voice and looks, then how was it possible?
Josh knew he himself brought her to life with that incident. While the cosplayer called out to him, “Josh, remember me?”, Josh wanted to leave the place and not to see her again. Not that she could stalk her, but he wanted a distance as far as possible.
Running out, Josh was sure that if the cosplayer- the real Megumi- had left the convention she have little chance of returning, for his apartment was hours away. He was right, and as he looked back, the cosplayer turned back into the hall the convention was in.
To escape her, he had to leave the convention, but as Josh thought, if she had known him, she would have found him out sooner or later, and he couldn’t escape for long. He didn’t know if he should face his fear and find out the cosplayer, or went as far as possible. He wanted the latter of course, but then, it was almost impossible.
So, where should he go?
Friday, June 30, 2017
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
The Drug of Growth
In the living room Becky’s father Tom took out a drug brought from a bioengineering company he worked in. It had no labels except for a plain one with “Age Progression Drug” printed on it. Otherwise, the bottle was no different from the average medication, which he was taking home regularly.
Becky noticed the bottle and asked Tom, “Age Pro-gre-shun Drug?” “It’s progression, my girl,” Tom replied. Becky was only 3 and too young to comprehend complex words like “progression”, and mistakes like that were understandable.
“What’s that? Is it candy?” Despite the apparent “Drug” label and its non-resemblance to any kind of sweets Becky had ever seen, it was close enough to children vitamin pill Tom often gave her as some kind of “candy”. Lies are bad, but for her to swallow the vitamin they were necessary. The pink color of the pills further reinforced that image Becky had in mind.
Tom picked up the bottle and sank into deep thought. “Each pill results in age progression of 1 year and rapid acceleration of mental age growth*. To reverse the effect try our Age Regression Drug. Effectiveness not guaranteed and side-effects vary from none to disability and death. Consider carefully before use.” Tom read the small text on the side of the bottle, and in his mind his wife’s want and his reason combated.
His wife Joan mothered Becky at the ripe age of 44, and through in vitro fertilization after one and a half decades of attempt. Child-bearing at this old age meant the loss of 15 years of precious growth in Becky, and when the idea hit her she was uncomfortable. She thought, “could we warp the fabrics of time for us to have the appropriate age?”
It was either reinvigorating Joan or skipping Becky’s childhood, but neither time warping or changing someone’s age were a thing of fiction- until Tom’s company initiated a new research in human growth and regression. Now that the research was in its human testing phase, he informed Joan of the groundbreaking discovery, in which Joan saw the only hope.
There was a small surplus of one of the drug since one of the subjects died of uncontrollable ageing and his portion was spared. Being in the right position as the head of testing process, Tom secretly embezzled the portion and placed it in a prototype bottle given to him by a friend in the marketing team.
Though aware of the project, Tom was not truly clear of the drug’s potency as it was kept secret to the testers, so he had to refer to the bottle for any effect. And he counted, 1, 2, 3, a total of 14 pills, enough to age Becky from 3 to 17. That would close the gap just right if Joan ever used that, he reminded himself.
The idea would be his wife’s pleasure, but to himself, it was his worst decision: first he went against his conscience to loot from his company which had deep trust in him, and then he was about to erase his dear girl’s childhood…
Joan came in and took the bottle away. I could had stopped it at the last moment, Tom regretted.
Becky stood in the bathroom naked, only facing a ready Joan. “Come on, you will have those candies. Now count them and eat them one by one.” Without knowledge Becky obliged. By the time she finished all that was in the bottle, the one standing in front of Joan was no longer an infant, but a girl at her high school age. Long hair of a nightly blue color had grown, tied by her mother into an outdated hairstyle.
Joan went out to pick the teenage clothes she had prepared beforehand, but she couldn’t find her husband. He had left.
Tom left in the grief of his baby girl’s loss to age- something he made real firsthand by bringing the drug to a willing Joan. With beer he was revelling in the temporary relief of drunkenness and in forgetting that his girl was no longer there. He decided to stay away from home for some time, or even leaving Joan with a divorce, to start a new life. But for tonight he needed a bed and breakfast.
The first thing to do for the now grown up Becky was to enrol in the local high school, of course, even though her mind was far less than ready. School were almost incomprehensible at first, but by the end of the day she got the idea of most of the subjects. On top of that, new friends were made, something she was eager to do as a newcomer to both the environment and age, though everyone treated her as mentally stunned as it was wont.
At the end of the day, with the new sketch book and crayon, Becky drew the scene of her first day in school, something she was glad of meeting so much new friends and having so much fun!
Tom sneaked into the backyard of his house not to be discovered, and he witnessed now adolescent Becky drawing as if she was still stuck at 3. Tom remembered the small note after the asterisk:
*Mental growth rates vary across users and aspects of mentality. Additional information including (but not limited to) personality, memories and knowledge.
All art used here are under fair use.
Becky noticed the bottle and asked Tom, “Age Pro-gre-shun Drug?” “It’s progression, my girl,” Tom replied. Becky was only 3 and too young to comprehend complex words like “progression”, and mistakes like that were understandable.
“What’s that? Is it candy?” Despite the apparent “Drug” label and its non-resemblance to any kind of sweets Becky had ever seen, it was close enough to children vitamin pill Tom often gave her as some kind of “candy”. Lies are bad, but for her to swallow the vitamin they were necessary. The pink color of the pills further reinforced that image Becky had in mind.
Tom picked up the bottle and sank into deep thought. “Each pill results in age progression of 1 year and rapid acceleration of mental age growth*. To reverse the effect try our Age Regression Drug. Effectiveness not guaranteed and side-effects vary from none to disability and death. Consider carefully before use.” Tom read the small text on the side of the bottle, and in his mind his wife’s want and his reason combated.
His wife Joan mothered Becky at the ripe age of 44, and through in vitro fertilization after one and a half decades of attempt. Child-bearing at this old age meant the loss of 15 years of precious growth in Becky, and when the idea hit her she was uncomfortable. She thought, “could we warp the fabrics of time for us to have the appropriate age?”
It was either reinvigorating Joan or skipping Becky’s childhood, but neither time warping or changing someone’s age were a thing of fiction- until Tom’s company initiated a new research in human growth and regression. Now that the research was in its human testing phase, he informed Joan of the groundbreaking discovery, in which Joan saw the only hope.
There was a small surplus of one of the drug since one of the subjects died of uncontrollable ageing and his portion was spared. Being in the right position as the head of testing process, Tom secretly embezzled the portion and placed it in a prototype bottle given to him by a friend in the marketing team.
Though aware of the project, Tom was not truly clear of the drug’s potency as it was kept secret to the testers, so he had to refer to the bottle for any effect. And he counted, 1, 2, 3, a total of 14 pills, enough to age Becky from 3 to 17. That would close the gap just right if Joan ever used that, he reminded himself.
The idea would be his wife’s pleasure, but to himself, it was his worst decision: first he went against his conscience to loot from his company which had deep trust in him, and then he was about to erase his dear girl’s childhood…
Joan came in and took the bottle away. I could had stopped it at the last moment, Tom regretted.
Becky stood in the bathroom naked, only facing a ready Joan. “Come on, you will have those candies. Now count them and eat them one by one.” Without knowledge Becky obliged. By the time she finished all that was in the bottle, the one standing in front of Joan was no longer an infant, but a girl at her high school age. Long hair of a nightly blue color had grown, tied by her mother into an outdated hairstyle.
Joan went out to pick the teenage clothes she had prepared beforehand, but she couldn’t find her husband. He had left.
Tom left in the grief of his baby girl’s loss to age- something he made real firsthand by bringing the drug to a willing Joan. With beer he was revelling in the temporary relief of drunkenness and in forgetting that his girl was no longer there. He decided to stay away from home for some time, or even leaving Joan with a divorce, to start a new life. But for tonight he needed a bed and breakfast.
The first thing to do for the now grown up Becky was to enrol in the local high school, of course, even though her mind was far less than ready. School were almost incomprehensible at first, but by the end of the day she got the idea of most of the subjects. On top of that, new friends were made, something she was eager to do as a newcomer to both the environment and age, though everyone treated her as mentally stunned as it was wont.
At the end of the day, with the new sketch book and crayon, Becky drew the scene of her first day in school, something she was glad of meeting so much new friends and having so much fun!
Tom sneaked into the backyard of his house not to be discovered, and he witnessed now adolescent Becky drawing as if she was still stuck at 3. Tom remembered the small note after the asterisk:
*Mental growth rates vary across users and aspects of mentality. Additional information including (but not limited to) personality, memories and knowledge.
All art used here are under fair use.
Monday, June 26, 2017
It Came from the Vending Machine?
All art used here are under fair use.
Friday, June 23, 2017
The Bimbofying Effect
A limousine pulled up outside of a dark and desolate alley in the
vibrant night life of the city. Opening the door was a dark silhouette
which blended into the crowd, such that, if someone looked from the top
of a block here, no matter how good he could be at recognising faces, he
could only see a shadow. You could not know who he was, even when you
faced him, and as far as you could describe, the description was either
contradictory or non-existent.
At a window overlooking the street I observed the movement of the silhouette through the camera of a fly-sized drone, and no matter how hard I had tried, I couldn’t pin down his or her face. Such silhouette was witnessed to be associated with a few disappearances in which he (let me stick with that) pulled someone into the alley or any covered space, and the victims disappeared, only for the limousine to be driven away later without the silhouette returning. There was no pattern of the victims, except that they were all male. They ranged from small children to seniors, and were of all races and social status. In fact, the more cases we had, the more the pattern resembled the general demographic make-up of America- so, almost no pattern at all. Even picking people at random would show some sharp patterns after many attempts.
One thing was sure: the alley was optimal for the next case and about 70% of the cases occurred this side of the city.
Now that the silhouette was out, looking for his next victim. As I focused back onto the screen, the silhouette has already pulled another white male of about 35 years of age, wearing a pair of broad glasses and of the “geek” type. With inhuman strength he dragged the new victim in the opposite direction of the crowd’s movement, all while attracting little attention. But no matter how hard he tried, they did bump into some people and then they didn’t apologise, hurrying again.
It was by those bumps the crowd realised that another kidnapping was happening and dispersed quickly. Some guys of bravado moved to follow the two, but upon arriving to the alley they vaporised into thin air, and there was no one inside. Some of the trackers entered the alley, and after some time they left in frustration. I could guess that they could found nothing but garbage and graffiti, and there was no sign of them even leaving- something I confirmed by flying the drone inside and observed the alley.
Without any clue of their whereabouts it was logical to park my drone on one of the mirrors of the limousine, so that I could look inside when the car was driven away. It was always the case for the limousine to be driven away as I said, but we had no clue of the driver. There was no one on the seats as far as I could see, which was more confusing: the limousine was driven away usually without anyone observed entering, in witness’ accounts, camera footage and photos. Some waiting would help.
It really helped when a young woman manifested on the back seat in a sudden. The woman, not older than 30, had short, curly blue hair- very unusual unless for dyeing, while her hair looked natural- and wore only a simple white dress, seemed to be put on in a hurry. The most visible part of her was her breasts, unnaturally big, seemingly enlarged by surgery or other means.
We was not able to be sure of the woman’s identity, since there was no social security registration with an identical face, nor from any database we had. By manifesting, I could have meant from a comic, or from someone’s imagination.
As for the disappeared geek, there was no sign of him, as if he had faded away from this world, while the woman appeared to replace him in this world. This was wild speculation, however, and as far as he was lost, this case couldn’t be closed.
As soon as the woman appeared the limousine started moving, and literally no one was driving: the driver’s seat was unoccupied, but the steering wheel was being controlled by some invisible hand. The limousine wasn’t self-driving, either.
At last, the limousine got moving. Its destination must had some clues for our investigation, or even for breaking the case.
You could know the limousine’s moving by judging the scenery around. When the scenery stopped moving in the camera, the limousine was actually parked. If it was not the case the sun would not rise tomorrow. So after some time, I knew when the limousine parked in a sudden, they had arrived at their destination.
The door was jerked open without anyone visible outside, and the woman was pulled out forcefully. I flew the drone up to keep track of her, and that revealed a crucial location: she entered a club with a large Neon sign named “Bimbo”. It had to be the place, I said to myself. From the web, “bimbo” describes a woman attractive but stupid, and the woman on the car at least matched the attractive one. Whatever was done inside should be key to the investigation.
I reported all of my observations to my superordinates, and though confused as ever, they agreed to send agents to shut down the club and investigate. No matter what really happened, normal or abnormal, it will clear up any questions everyone have, and for me, I finally could take a break from this complication of the mystery.
I'm writing this story from a news I've seen a few weeks ago about the club "Bimbo". the news coverage went as far as until the cops and FBI locked the club up for investigation, and then there's nothing else that the news has covered except for the cops' announcement.
They claimed that there was abduction of young girls and illegal activities going on inside and the club has been closed, but that statement was too brief to answer my questions. Somehow, the kidnapping of males has never quite been explained, and on the Web there was already some doubts of a possible cover-up. Here is what some forum investigators have unraveled:
-The kidnapper (I think he is the silhouette) has taken the males and the girls into the club
-The males are for services and the girls are for sex
-The cops and FBI denied the relevance of male disappearances to the club since they have some connections with the club
This will be some kind of serious scandal, but I have instead come up with my own theories which I had put down into prose. I haven't give out my conclusions but that would be easy for you to guess. No one really knows what exactly happened inside, not the cops, not the forum members, not me. But what happened doesn't matter, since everyone twists the truth into their perceptions and interpretations.
I know all of you want to go on reading, but I've hit my block and put the best of my knowledge in it, so it's up to you to imagine what really happened.
At a window overlooking the street I observed the movement of the silhouette through the camera of a fly-sized drone, and no matter how hard I had tried, I couldn’t pin down his or her face. Such silhouette was witnessed to be associated with a few disappearances in which he (let me stick with that) pulled someone into the alley or any covered space, and the victims disappeared, only for the limousine to be driven away later without the silhouette returning. There was no pattern of the victims, except that they were all male. They ranged from small children to seniors, and were of all races and social status. In fact, the more cases we had, the more the pattern resembled the general demographic make-up of America- so, almost no pattern at all. Even picking people at random would show some sharp patterns after many attempts.
One thing was sure: the alley was optimal for the next case and about 70% of the cases occurred this side of the city.
Now that the silhouette was out, looking for his next victim. As I focused back onto the screen, the silhouette has already pulled another white male of about 35 years of age, wearing a pair of broad glasses and of the “geek” type. With inhuman strength he dragged the new victim in the opposite direction of the crowd’s movement, all while attracting little attention. But no matter how hard he tried, they did bump into some people and then they didn’t apologise, hurrying again.
It was by those bumps the crowd realised that another kidnapping was happening and dispersed quickly. Some guys of bravado moved to follow the two, but upon arriving to the alley they vaporised into thin air, and there was no one inside. Some of the trackers entered the alley, and after some time they left in frustration. I could guess that they could found nothing but garbage and graffiti, and there was no sign of them even leaving- something I confirmed by flying the drone inside and observed the alley.
Without any clue of their whereabouts it was logical to park my drone on one of the mirrors of the limousine, so that I could look inside when the car was driven away. It was always the case for the limousine to be driven away as I said, but we had no clue of the driver. There was no one on the seats as far as I could see, which was more confusing: the limousine was driven away usually without anyone observed entering, in witness’ accounts, camera footage and photos. Some waiting would help.
It really helped when a young woman manifested on the back seat in a sudden. The woman, not older than 30, had short, curly blue hair- very unusual unless for dyeing, while her hair looked natural- and wore only a simple white dress, seemed to be put on in a hurry. The most visible part of her was her breasts, unnaturally big, seemingly enlarged by surgery or other means.
We was not able to be sure of the woman’s identity, since there was no social security registration with an identical face, nor from any database we had. By manifesting, I could have meant from a comic, or from someone’s imagination.
As for the disappeared geek, there was no sign of him, as if he had faded away from this world, while the woman appeared to replace him in this world. This was wild speculation, however, and as far as he was lost, this case couldn’t be closed.
As soon as the woman appeared the limousine started moving, and literally no one was driving: the driver’s seat was unoccupied, but the steering wheel was being controlled by some invisible hand. The limousine wasn’t self-driving, either.
At last, the limousine got moving. Its destination must had some clues for our investigation, or even for breaking the case.
You could know the limousine’s moving by judging the scenery around. When the scenery stopped moving in the camera, the limousine was actually parked. If it was not the case the sun would not rise tomorrow. So after some time, I knew when the limousine parked in a sudden, they had arrived at their destination.
The door was jerked open without anyone visible outside, and the woman was pulled out forcefully. I flew the drone up to keep track of her, and that revealed a crucial location: she entered a club with a large Neon sign named “Bimbo”. It had to be the place, I said to myself. From the web, “bimbo” describes a woman attractive but stupid, and the woman on the car at least matched the attractive one. Whatever was done inside should be key to the investigation.
I reported all of my observations to my superordinates, and though confused as ever, they agreed to send agents to shut down the club and investigate. No matter what really happened, normal or abnormal, it will clear up any questions everyone have, and for me, I finally could take a break from this complication of the mystery.
I'm writing this story from a news I've seen a few weeks ago about the club "Bimbo". the news coverage went as far as until the cops and FBI locked the club up for investigation, and then there's nothing else that the news has covered except for the cops' announcement.
They claimed that there was abduction of young girls and illegal activities going on inside and the club has been closed, but that statement was too brief to answer my questions. Somehow, the kidnapping of males has never quite been explained, and on the Web there was already some doubts of a possible cover-up. Here is what some forum investigators have unraveled:
-The kidnapper (I think he is the silhouette) has taken the males and the girls into the club
-The males are for services and the girls are for sex
-The cops and FBI denied the relevance of male disappearances to the club since they have some connections with the club
This will be some kind of serious scandal, but I have instead come up with my own theories which I had put down into prose. I haven't give out my conclusions but that would be easy for you to guess. No one really knows what exactly happened inside, not the cops, not the forum members, not me. But what happened doesn't matter, since everyone twists the truth into their perceptions and interpretations.
I know all of you want to go on reading, but I've hit my block and put the best of my knowledge in it, so it's up to you to imagine what really happened.
Friday, June 16, 2017
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Ice Cream of Change
Ice cream was my favorite. Only two kind of people love ice cream: little girls being handed one by parents or whosoever, and fat guys sitting in front of the TV watching reruns. To be honest, I’m the latter. While film goers prefer popcorn and some prefer bags of air (with some potato chips), I gulped loads of ice cream down my throat. In my fridge I always had 2 or 3 flavor, often 4 or 5. Every time I’m in Walmart or anywhere I would buy some ice cream.
I didn’t go out too often since I prefer staying at home outside of work, but sometimes I went to the nearby Six Flags with my 3rd grade boy. Once while walking pass the line of concession stands, my son pointed to a new ice cream stand, located where a bush had been last time we visited. It was not weird for stands to be added or removed, but my son was pulling me to the stand as if there was some attraction compelling him.
“You want ice creams? It takes you a lot of money here, you can have much more at home, and a lot of flavors!” But my son won’t stop pulling me. The attraction might exist, since we saw many other parents buying ice cream scoops for their children, while the candy shop opposite had lost most of their customers. Something might be weird, but still, I was being begged eagerly.
My son instinctively pointed to cookies n’ cream, his favorite and the only flavor he would eat. Defeated, I ordered what he want for him, and a chocolate flavored one for myself.
For some reason, the chocolate ice cream was more deeply flavored than what it seemed. The chocolate was not the one I usually had at home, but one that was crafted by one of the master chocolatiers, and seeped deep into my taste bud. It certainly was worth the popularity it had, and after that visit we would fetch some ice cream there.
Due to my frequent return I came to know the one selling ice creams. A woman in her late 30s, she usually tied her cream-colored hair into a short tail, and wore her own apron on top of the shirt. In fact, she rented an apartment the floor below, something I didn’t realize until meeting her. This meant that we meet quite often not in Six Flags, but much nearer to home.
From her I knew that her ice cream was homemade- I wondered how she could managed the time, but then, every night, while I was comfortably seated, she was working on new flavors restlessly, and this answered the chocolate ice cream’s taste, since she told me she ordered Belgian chocolate in bulk. We became good neighbors and exchanged often.
In return, I shared moments of my daily life, how I went to work and then sat in front of the TV for the rest of the day and night. “That’s not good enough,” she went on to encourage me to change, like when she quit her job to pursue her dream and set up the ice cream stand she had.
She wanted change for me, but not myself. I just wanted more TV time and scoops of ice cream, and she was not listened to at best, if not denied up front. That way, I continued my routine life, and licked from my spoon every night at 2, while my son was sleeping and the TV was on playing a DVD.
One day, she called me to her place, just to discuss her future since she claimed to be moving away to open a new shop on the West Coast. Seated, she ported a cone of mint chocolate ice cream, and which was said to contain some “special ingredients”. I didn’t know what special ingredients it had, but that “This is for me?” “Yes, please enjoy it and treat it as some kind of parting gift.”
Upon tasting the ice cream with the spoon the woman gave him, the world around the fat guy started spinning. Strangely a mint-colored background, embroidered with chocolate stripes, formed. He thought it was some kind of psychedelic, since he was dazed by the flashy surroundings and the sickness it caused spread to his whole body, and even stranger, he could actually notice the surrounding getting larger, and himself shortening to a mere 4’4”.
Meanwhile, his fat belly disappeared, the fat being moved under the skin to all parts of his body, some to his chest and hips which were a bit thickened. While the shoulders collapsed, the proportions become more of a little girl than a fat guy, and so was the limbs and hands, being more refined and lengthy. Most of the body hair fell off, except those on the head, turning dark beige and growing rapidly, eventually tied into a twintail by an unseen force. The skin took on a lighter color, as smooth as a child. While the head became rounder, the eyes was larger and had amber color instead of the old blue, and the nose and mouth much smaller than before. The T-shift and shorts gave way for a cute chocolate and mint-colored dress, decorated with lushy green bows; new leather shoes and long mint socks replaced the worn sneakers. Finally, at the most intimate part, what had made the transformed one a man was no more, replaced by something appropriate for a little girl.
“Mama makes the best ice cream,” I said. Mama told me something I didn’t understand, “my girl, you are going to lead a new life from now on.”
All art used here are under fair use.
I didn’t go out too often since I prefer staying at home outside of work, but sometimes I went to the nearby Six Flags with my 3rd grade boy. Once while walking pass the line of concession stands, my son pointed to a new ice cream stand, located where a bush had been last time we visited. It was not weird for stands to be added or removed, but my son was pulling me to the stand as if there was some attraction compelling him.
“You want ice creams? It takes you a lot of money here, you can have much more at home, and a lot of flavors!” But my son won’t stop pulling me. The attraction might exist, since we saw many other parents buying ice cream scoops for their children, while the candy shop opposite had lost most of their customers. Something might be weird, but still, I was being begged eagerly.
My son instinctively pointed to cookies n’ cream, his favorite and the only flavor he would eat. Defeated, I ordered what he want for him, and a chocolate flavored one for myself.
For some reason, the chocolate ice cream was more deeply flavored than what it seemed. The chocolate was not the one I usually had at home, but one that was crafted by one of the master chocolatiers, and seeped deep into my taste bud. It certainly was worth the popularity it had, and after that visit we would fetch some ice cream there.
Due to my frequent return I came to know the one selling ice creams. A woman in her late 30s, she usually tied her cream-colored hair into a short tail, and wore her own apron on top of the shirt. In fact, she rented an apartment the floor below, something I didn’t realize until meeting her. This meant that we meet quite often not in Six Flags, but much nearer to home.
From her I knew that her ice cream was homemade- I wondered how she could managed the time, but then, every night, while I was comfortably seated, she was working on new flavors restlessly, and this answered the chocolate ice cream’s taste, since she told me she ordered Belgian chocolate in bulk. We became good neighbors and exchanged often.
In return, I shared moments of my daily life, how I went to work and then sat in front of the TV for the rest of the day and night. “That’s not good enough,” she went on to encourage me to change, like when she quit her job to pursue her dream and set up the ice cream stand she had.
She wanted change for me, but not myself. I just wanted more TV time and scoops of ice cream, and she was not listened to at best, if not denied up front. That way, I continued my routine life, and licked from my spoon every night at 2, while my son was sleeping and the TV was on playing a DVD.
One day, she called me to her place, just to discuss her future since she claimed to be moving away to open a new shop on the West Coast. Seated, she ported a cone of mint chocolate ice cream, and which was said to contain some “special ingredients”. I didn’t know what special ingredients it had, but that “This is for me?” “Yes, please enjoy it and treat it as some kind of parting gift.”
Upon tasting the ice cream with the spoon the woman gave him, the world around the fat guy started spinning. Strangely a mint-colored background, embroidered with chocolate stripes, formed. He thought it was some kind of psychedelic, since he was dazed by the flashy surroundings and the sickness it caused spread to his whole body, and even stranger, he could actually notice the surrounding getting larger, and himself shortening to a mere 4’4”.
Meanwhile, his fat belly disappeared, the fat being moved under the skin to all parts of his body, some to his chest and hips which were a bit thickened. While the shoulders collapsed, the proportions become more of a little girl than a fat guy, and so was the limbs and hands, being more refined and lengthy. Most of the body hair fell off, except those on the head, turning dark beige and growing rapidly, eventually tied into a twintail by an unseen force. The skin took on a lighter color, as smooth as a child. While the head became rounder, the eyes was larger and had amber color instead of the old blue, and the nose and mouth much smaller than before. The T-shift and shorts gave way for a cute chocolate and mint-colored dress, decorated with lushy green bows; new leather shoes and long mint socks replaced the worn sneakers. Finally, at the most intimate part, what had made the transformed one a man was no more, replaced by something appropriate for a little girl.
“Mama makes the best ice cream,” I said. Mama told me something I didn’t understand, “my girl, you are going to lead a new life from now on.”
All art used here are under fair use.
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