The second you warble out your affirmation in a voice that made no effort to hide how anxious and uneasy you were, Creston, the gigantic mountain of lard in front of you, the bane of your years in high school so long ago...looked like he was about to cry. The bloated raven Pokemon blinked it's red, nightmare eyes rapidly and took a step back into his house on his massive foot, prompting an eruption of wobbles and jiggles to appear across his fat blubber. He smiled the most pained, forced smile you had ever seen on his beak, no, in your entire life, and a chuckle rose from the depts of his obese frame. "I-Ian...God, I never thought that I would see you again!" The way his words came out was bifurcated; on the one hand, he sounds happy to see his favorite stress ball once more, but on the other, like you were some monster he put away long ago. "Do you...uh...w-w-want to come in?"
You had not come all this way to go into the surprisingly cozy looking home of your high school bully; you had come to have this big, epic showdown on his porch, to spit the greatest 'you suck' speech ever devised, after rehearsing with yourself in the mirror for months. But after Creston posed the question, you were silent for what felt like a millennium, though it might have been closer to about five seconds. And after that five seconds, you finally muster enough courage to form a response. "S-sure." You wanted to say more. You wanted to say so much more; you poured days of energy into making sure every word you said when this moment came would go right, but you couldn't get another word out?! "Thank you..." You add haphazardly.
Creston's smile went down an iota of forcefulness and became just the slightest more natural as he maneuvered his mountainous body backward so that you had enough room to head inside his home. His absurdly globular stomach still took up much of the space inside, but at least you could step past the doorway. Eventually, you did just that, after forcing yourself to move into what could only be the grimy, horrifying inner sanctum that was Creston's house. The outside looked fine, almost cute with the bright, pastel colors and the freshly tended flowers, but it had to be an act. Inside, you were sure to expect a vermin-infested shed, covered in stains of God knows what, with squeaking stairs and leaking roofs and all the hallmarks of your typical broken home.
However, what you expected to see was not what you saw at all. Beyond the sliver of open space that the titanic sphere of feathers and fat that Creston's stomach afforded you, what could be seen can only be described as...comfy. To your immediate right was a living room that, aside from the heightened proportions to accommodate its host, mirrored your own with warm, soft colors as ample light came in from the windows. To your left you had a harder time seeing, it was the room that the Corvisquire backed into so that you may enter, but it looked something akin to a kitchen...if kitchens had vaulted ceilings, more than at least two fridges, and a dining table that looked like it felled a redwood for its construction. The whole place seemed to remind you of your old childhood home; only your high school bully was squatting in it and exaggerated everything so it could stand a chance against his impossible height and weight.
Looking up past the sloping mass of blue blubber, you saw Creston studying your face, but the moment you made eye contact, it was him that flinched away, not you. A slightly red hue rose from his permanently stuffed looking cheeks. "Y-yeah, you're not the first to do a double-take inside. People look at me, and they expect me to have at least a candy wrapper on the floor." You noticed some pride edge up into his voice now, but it was a ghost of the testosterone-fueled variant you were acquainted with. Aside from some warping in the furniture's wooden supports, you had to agree, this place, or at least what you could see of his living room, was kept in good condition. "Why don't you sit down? Can I g-get you something to eat? Drink?"
"May-maybe some coffee, if it's not too much trouble." Well, look at you two stuttering messes, you thought. Here you were, in the much elusive Wrencrest residence, which you had always pictured as far away and fear-inducing as the concept of Hell, having your old tormentor wait on you as you made your way to his oversized sofa, and what were you doing? Nothing, if fidgeting with your thumbs in the indent Creston made with his huge ass, could be considered something. The house shook and quaked once more as the equally fidgety looking raven Pokemon went into the kitchen behind him to get your drink. "Holy shit…!"
You catch a glimpse of Creston's backside after he turned around, and you couldn't help but stare until it wobbled out of view. You couldn't see how your high school bully had changed since you saw him last in the back earlier, but now you could, and it was all you could fucking think about long after you had been left alone in his living room. Two blobular globes of feathered adipose quaked and bounced with each step the raven took, as big and round and blue as twin O-type stars in a binary system. Even when Creston was the stereotypical jock bully he was at eighteen, the one impressive thing about his physique aside from his rippling muscles was his behind, the object of every cheerleader and other girl student's desire. Now his ass was so fucking massive it was giving his stomach, which you THOUGHT was his most significant asset, a run for its money.
"Uh...Ian?" You blink rapidly and shake yourself out from your daze. Creston was in front of you once again, holding a large cup of coffee in one paw, and a human-sized cup in the other. He leans forward to set your mug down on the coffee table, inadvertently shoving his wrecking-ball-sized stomach mere inches away from your face. The intense confrontation was over in a second, however, and he leaned back before shifting over to a loveseat. "C-can I sit down?"
You were surprised at that; you didn't think that he needed your permission to sit down in his own home. "Oh! Uh, yeah. S-sure." With your approval, Creston slid his rear end down on the poor loveseat as quietly as the creaking wood would permit, keeping his ruby-red eyes downcast. There was a stretch of silence; the smell of grease and sugar wafted in from the kitchen, filling the air and making you hungry. "You know, I had, like, a whole speech prepared. Wrote it out and everything. But I came in here and just forgot it all..." you spoke up suddenly, a nervous chuckle escaping from your lungs as you look up at the massive Raven pokemon opposite you.
Creston, in response, took a deep breath of air through his beak, pushing his inflated chest and stomach out even further. He looked like he didn't know how to respond. Then, he forced himself to gaze at you, his old victim, in the eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry," he said in a rush of air. "I...I don't know what else to say, or what I could even say. There's nothing I could say that could ever make up for what I did. I h-hurt you, and I…" He trailed off, obviously not sure how to continue.
You nodded, feeling the sincerity of his words, even if it was the last thing you were expecting to hear from him when you planned this visit out. You swallowed a lump in your throat, your mouth suddenly feeling as dry as a desert. "Why, um, why was I the one?" Creston tilted his head at you, chins and neck fat wobbling as he did so, confused by your choice of words. "I could be remembering wrong, but...I never saw you ever do what you did with me with anyone else. Why was I the only one?"
'Why did you only target me for all your pranks and insults and humiliating abuse?' was the unasked question. Creston understood, though. The bloated bird took in a shuddering breath as if he had been expecting this. "...I've been seeing some big psychiatrists over in the city recently. I've only been to, like, three appointments so far, but it's been helping, I think. Umm…" He glanced up briefly. "He says I have a thing called...I don't know. I-I can't remember how he explained it to me. It's like, I always had trouble paying attention to stuff, and I don't think about the consequences before I do things." You didn't say anything, so he pressed on. "So, like, I was always jealous of how you could show up to class and get good grades while I put in twice as much effort and barely graduated. I hated you, or, I thought I hated you, and I thought you deserved all that stuff that I did. When I wasn't going after you, I was working out, and...well, I might have picked up an eating habit after school."
His words came tumbling out faster now, as he grew more comfortable speaking his mind. He looked back down at the table now, unable to look anywhere else. "I thought it was so fucking unfair that you had friends and a college scholarship, and I had assholes who pretended to like me because I was good at playing on their football team. I'm not like that anymore. Or if I am, I have meds to make it go away." He shuddered, his whole fat frame jiggling as he did so. "I'm...I'm just so fucking sorry, Ian."
What happens when all is said and done?
Choice 1: Ian forgives Creston and tries to get to know him better.
Choice 2: Ian forgives Creston...but he's still pretty mad after all that he's done.
Choice 3: Haha! It was all an act! Creston hasn't changed a bit, and Ian has nowhere to go...
Choice 4: Creston's stomach roars. All this emotional baggage really stirs the appetite.
Choice 5: qbhfel
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