Grimace
15th April 2010, 01:32 AM
Taking a different approach, so you might not get what you expect - not so much gainer fiction at this point, the first chapter is sort of gauging interest in the basic plot. Hope you enjoy, and if I get good feedback, I'll continue. Comments and criticism encouraged.
***
'If only,' he whispered, skeletal hands flicking through a grubby sketchpad. Each page was much the same, drawings of figures, over and over again, theposes different, but the face always the same. Blue eyes gleamed from beneath waves of dark hair. A boy in his teens. Overweight. Happy. The drawings were smudged in some points, the mark of long-dried tears. He sighed, closing the book with another shiver. He could hear the distance sound of quietened murmurs down the hall - laced with concern, the voices of a mother, a father. Talking about him again. About what he was eating. If had even eaten anything. It was like a ritual. They would talk about changing a fact that they had given up on. They didn't know what to do. His voice quivered with a heavy sigh, turning away from the vague sounds of conversation. He threw his headphones in his ears, drowning it out. Drowning it all out. He was tired. Always so tired...
The first thing he recalled when he woke was white. Blinding. Clean. Pure. Had he died? He wasn't sure. His eyes slowly focused. He was in hospital. Again. More concerned voices. His eyes wouldn't focus. He felt so weak. There were talks. He couldn't understand them. Noises...electronic beeps? His head swam. Black.
Hs eyes snapped open. Hospital again. Silence. He was in a bed. Alone. Curtains drawn around him. He didn't understand what had happened...his head was still so hazy. The curtains were drawn back...a man in white entered. A Doctor. His face was masked, but there were traces of concern on his features. His voice was rough, tired. He looked unkempt. The end of a long night was worn on his very face.'Son, you're lucky to be alive,' he said, sighing wearily. 'You actually died several times throughout the night...your body just can't operate anymore. I've seen some severe cases in my time, but this is just too much. Do you want to die?'
He shook his head wearily. 'I just don't want...'
'...To eat? Yes, we noticed. We've tried everything to break this grip your eating disorder has on you, but we've tried everything, and you still won't eat. We're running out of options, and you're running out of time, son. I don't know what to tell you, you have to eat something...'
The doctor stopped, his voice shaking noticeably. '...Is...is it something your mother and I did? I know were were seperated for a few years, but we're back together now and you...you still won't eat. Did I do something wrong? Please, son...just talk to me...'
He turned his head to the side, away from his father. He didn't know what to say. His father the doctor, his mother the nutritionist...a life of having the fear of obesity drilled into his mind. And they still didn't recognize that the fear of food began with them. His father couldn't bear the silence. He was gone.
There was a voice from nearby. The curtain. Soemone was on the other side. A hushed whisper.
'Anorexia, huh?'
He didn't know what to say.
'Yeah. It's pretty bad.'
'Guess that's why the closed the curtains then, heh,' said the voice. Young. Male. Another teen. He suddenly felt self-conscious, drawing the sheets up around him. People stared. They always stared. Watched him, expecting him to collapse any moment. He hated it. He hated himself for making people act that way around him. He hat-
'Then it's pretty ironic that they put us side by side,' the voice chuckled.
His negative thoughts scattered. He was suddenly curious about this mysterious boy.
'How do you mean...why are you here?' he said quietly.
'Well actually I'm getting my appendix out...but well...let me ask you something.'
'Sure. What is it?'
'Er, well...how much do you weigh?'
He went silent for some time. 'Um...not sure...70, 80ish?'
'Woah...then you're in for a surprise, heh...'
'How do you mean?'
'Well...' the boy went quiet for a while. There was a grunt, and a soft padding sound.
Then the curtains between the two were drawn back. His eyes widened. The boy was tall, with jet black hair. Green eyes glittered beneath his fringe. A nervous smile was on his face, though genuine and friendly. However, his eyes did not focus on these things. The boy was...significantly overweight. He was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, and didn't in the least seem mbarassed about his figure. Rolls of soft pale flesh piled one on top of another, an enormous soft belly the centrepiece of his fleshy body. His smile widened.
'I'm Adam. And...believe it or not, I probably weight about four times what you do.'
***
'If only,' he whispered, skeletal hands flicking through a grubby sketchpad. Each page was much the same, drawings of figures, over and over again, theposes different, but the face always the same. Blue eyes gleamed from beneath waves of dark hair. A boy in his teens. Overweight. Happy. The drawings were smudged in some points, the mark of long-dried tears. He sighed, closing the book with another shiver. He could hear the distance sound of quietened murmurs down the hall - laced with concern, the voices of a mother, a father. Talking about him again. About what he was eating. If had even eaten anything. It was like a ritual. They would talk about changing a fact that they had given up on. They didn't know what to do. His voice quivered with a heavy sigh, turning away from the vague sounds of conversation. He threw his headphones in his ears, drowning it out. Drowning it all out. He was tired. Always so tired...
The first thing he recalled when he woke was white. Blinding. Clean. Pure. Had he died? He wasn't sure. His eyes slowly focused. He was in hospital. Again. More concerned voices. His eyes wouldn't focus. He felt so weak. There were talks. He couldn't understand them. Noises...electronic beeps? His head swam. Black.
Hs eyes snapped open. Hospital again. Silence. He was in a bed. Alone. Curtains drawn around him. He didn't understand what had happened...his head was still so hazy. The curtains were drawn back...a man in white entered. A Doctor. His face was masked, but there were traces of concern on his features. His voice was rough, tired. He looked unkempt. The end of a long night was worn on his very face.'Son, you're lucky to be alive,' he said, sighing wearily. 'You actually died several times throughout the night...your body just can't operate anymore. I've seen some severe cases in my time, but this is just too much. Do you want to die?'
He shook his head wearily. 'I just don't want...'
'...To eat? Yes, we noticed. We've tried everything to break this grip your eating disorder has on you, but we've tried everything, and you still won't eat. We're running out of options, and you're running out of time, son. I don't know what to tell you, you have to eat something...'
The doctor stopped, his voice shaking noticeably. '...Is...is it something your mother and I did? I know were were seperated for a few years, but we're back together now and you...you still won't eat. Did I do something wrong? Please, son...just talk to me...'
He turned his head to the side, away from his father. He didn't know what to say. His father the doctor, his mother the nutritionist...a life of having the fear of obesity drilled into his mind. And they still didn't recognize that the fear of food began with them. His father couldn't bear the silence. He was gone.
There was a voice from nearby. The curtain. Soemone was on the other side. A hushed whisper.
'Anorexia, huh?'
He didn't know what to say.
'Yeah. It's pretty bad.'
'Guess that's why the closed the curtains then, heh,' said the voice. Young. Male. Another teen. He suddenly felt self-conscious, drawing the sheets up around him. People stared. They always stared. Watched him, expecting him to collapse any moment. He hated it. He hated himself for making people act that way around him. He hat-
'Then it's pretty ironic that they put us side by side,' the voice chuckled.
His negative thoughts scattered. He was suddenly curious about this mysterious boy.
'How do you mean...why are you here?' he said quietly.
'Well actually I'm getting my appendix out...but well...let me ask you something.'
'Sure. What is it?'
'Er, well...how much do you weigh?'
He went silent for some time. 'Um...not sure...70, 80ish?'
'Woah...then you're in for a surprise, heh...'
'How do you mean?'
'Well...' the boy went quiet for a while. There was a grunt, and a soft padding sound.
Then the curtains between the two were drawn back. His eyes widened. The boy was tall, with jet black hair. Green eyes glittered beneath his fringe. A nervous smile was on his face, though genuine and friendly. However, his eyes did not focus on these things. The boy was...significantly overweight. He was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, and didn't in the least seem mbarassed about his figure. Rolls of soft pale flesh piled one on top of another, an enormous soft belly the centrepiece of his fleshy body. His smile widened.
'I'm Adam. And...believe it or not, I probably weight about four times what you do.'