Chapter Text
Why you, Simon? WHY. YOU?
Because it knows me, and I know it.
The answer felt perfectly obvious all of a sudden, as the boils rippled across his skin and the blood flowed into his lungs. It was like he was a spider, stepping warily out onto some kitchen tile, being scooped up under a glass and gently brought out to the garden.
It was also like his mind was a piece of paper being folded over and over, until his thoughts were still just flat bits of writing but his brain was an origami crane.
Blood.
An Understanding, Child.
The words were wrong, too loud and too big for his skull, each one hurt, but whoever was trying to talk to him wanted him to understand the danger was over. He’d impressed his creators, and his reward was being scooped up under a glass and set down on a sunflower’s leaf.
He could see the petals, he could see the sun dancing through their gold.
And he could hear the ocean.
And… music.
“Well, what is it?”
“Rocky still looking!”
“Look harder!”
Simon grumbled as something hard and kinda warm poked his cheek. He batted at it ineffectively, then scrambled as his hand touched something soft and strange instead of the metal flooring he was used to.
He staggered to his feet, tripped on the loose sand, and fell right back down on his face where he was happy to remain because his head spun less when he was laying down flat.
“Starless!” Grace half swore. “Is that a person? Rocky, is it a person? I can’t see from here!”
“Use chair! Rocky make chair, you use chair!”
“Use full sentences, I’m not dumb anymore!”
“If Grace not dumb, why Grace not use chair, question? Or maybe Grace just lazy, question?”
Simon groaned, feeling like all this music was swirling around his head and making him dizzier. He forced an eye open just in time for a large shadow to blot out the light- sun?-coming from above him.
“It is a person!” Grace gasped, and began to speak a language he hadn’t used in decades. “Hey… are you okay? Can you understand me?”
Simon couldn’t keep himself awake. His eyelids fluttered closed again, and the last thing he saw was the most beautiful, roundest face he’d ever seen in his entire life.
Simon woke up in a plush bed.
He felt like he’d been drugged, and his sleepy mind attributed that feeling to the soft sheets and pillows that seemed hellbent on letting him sink down into nothingness. He struggled to sit up, fighting against the squishy mattress and eyeing a hand-stitched pillow that read “Dome, Sweet Dome” in purple, swooping font with confusion.
His eyes swept over his surroundings as his brain came back online: some sort of weird pulley system installed in the ceiling above the bed, grab bars along the wall, a dresser with framed children’s drawings and strange little metal dolls, a nightstand with an alarm clock- it was the biggest and most decorated quarters he’d ever been in.
He slipped out of bed and uttered a shocked sound as his bare feet hit a soft carpet, one featuring a star map and planets with their orbits detailed by thin white lines.
He tiptoed around the orbits, as if stepping on one would cause some sort of harm, tilting his head as he studied them.
“Mercury… Venus… Earth…” He stopped with his toes by a little red planet, his brow furrowed.
“Ah, shoot!”
Simon stiffened at the strange singing followed by a screech and a thump, like someone was moving furniture. Instinct told him to run, get far away before whoever this was did something to hurt him.
Common sense told him he was no longer covered in blood and nothing hurt anymore, not to mention he’d woken up in a gorgeous room. Maybe he was safe.
The indecision was quickly reaching a deadline though, he could hear humming coming closer, so he decided to split the difference and jump back into bed where he could pull the blanket back up and pretend he was still asleep.
He heard the door open and a strange set of heavy footsteps enter. It didn’t sound like human footsteps, both in size and quantity. He dimly remembered a claw poking his cheek and tensed in fear.
“… I know you’re awake. Just so you know.”
Shit.
“I could pretend I don’t know that if it makes you feel better?” A warm voice chuckled. “But uh… sleeping people don’t usually breathe like they just raced back to bed. I also have some tea, if you like tea you could- just spit-balling here- sit up and drink it?”
Simon hesitated, shuddering, before steeling himself to sit up.
He once again struggled with the squishy bed, and had to push his hair out of his face as he turned to see who was talking to him.
He immediately froze, eyes wide in disbelief.
The person in front of him… could have been four or five people, he was huge.
He was sitting in some kind of strange… almost wheelchair? Without the wheels, instead sporting five segmented, rocky legs… and “in” was a generous way to describe how this man was sitting. On or around or “wedged into” might be better terms for it, because he was spilling out over the sides like he’d outgrown the chair. Simon couldn’t tell what was stomach and what was hip, and he couldn’t see any sign of a neck or jaw- the man’s face was all fat decorated by a neatly trimmed beard and some glasses on a colorful chain. The man took up so much space that Simon knew he had no chance of darting past him to flee, but was also so big that Simon figured even with the chair, he was in no danger of being chased.
“Hi.” The man lifted a hand, not his arm which was resting on the expanse of his belly and looked very much like larger versions of the pillows on the bed, and waved a little. “My name is Grace. Or, Ryland Grace, but no one really calls me Ryland anymore. Just Grace is fine.”
Silence filled the small amount of space between them.
“… so, do you have a name?” Grace joked. “Because this is normally when people introduce themselves.”
“Are you… real?”
“Am I real?” Grace rubbed the smallest of his chins. “Since last I checked, but I’m not a philosophy major. Still need that name, bud, at your own pace.”
“Simon.”
“Simon…” Grace seemed to taste the name, closing his eyes and smiling before letting out a little laugh. “Human names went out of vogue a couple years back, I haven’t heard one in awhile. Honestly, I’ve been pretty far from humanity in general for awhile, it’s so good to see a human face you have no idea.”
“Human face?” Suddenly, it all came rushing back to him, and his hands flew up to his face.
“I wouldn’t-!” Grace winced, watching Simon explore the bandages on his face with terror. “You’ve been off the meds for a few days now, but you might still be a little groggy and… trust me, Simon… right now you just want to get your bearings and try to feel safe. Everything else can wait. I’ll explain everything we did to help you and where you are and what’s going on, but for now… just drink some tea and catch your breath, okay?”
Simon definitely need to catch his breath. It was coming faster and faster, his ribcage expanding and contracting like it was trying to find and impale his heart.
“Simon. Breathe.” An enormous hand landed on his back and began to rub soothing circles against it, just like how his mother used to.
He took a deep breath in, coughed as he tried to let it out, then had more success the second time.
Grace nodded approvingly as Simon self-soothed. “There we go. That’s good.”
“I’m safe?” Simon’s voice wavered in its search for certainty. “You’re not… not gonna hurt me or make me do anything or-?”
“I might make you lay back.” Grace gently guided Simon back against the pillows, fluffing a few to better support him in a seated position. “But I’m not going to hurt you. You’re perfectly safe here.”
Simon let himself look Grace over again, and judging by the amused expression that came over Grace’s face he could tell he was being studied.
“… you said there was tea?” Simon finally said, put at ease by how Grace was built: like his fighting and fleeing days were long behind.
Grace pressed a mug into his hands. It had writing on it: World’s Best Human.
Grace smiled, and his cheeks lifted up to half obscure his eyes.
Simon pressed his hands around the mug, soaking up the warmth before lifting it to his lips. His nose wrinkled for a moment, before he tilted his head, licked his lips, then nodded. “Weird tea. But good.”
“You’re gonna find most of the stuff here is weird but good,” Grace laughed. “But everything I give you is safe for human consumption.”
Simon stared at Grace. “… I figured.”
“Used to be an important distinction around here!” Grace laughed again. “And apparently is again! Just letting you know, don’t help yourself to everything in the kitchen just yet. I’m gonna mark everything with color coded stickers or maybe just big labels: Poison, and Not Poison.”
“Are you saying you can eat stuff I can’t?”
“Yes.”
“… huh.” Simon hesitated with a question on his tongue.
“No, that’s not why I’m so fat, but it did help,” Grace volunteered with a snort.
“I wasn’t- I mean-” Simon blushed. “I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”
“I broke the mold last time I tried to fit through it,” Grace quipped dryly. “Go ahead, ask questions. I figure talking about my gut will help you get through the curious urges without venturing into trauma territory yet, and it’ll make us even when I start asking you questions about yourself.”
“How?”
“Let’s just say the inhabitants of this planet are generous and incorrigible,” Grace sheepishly rubbed his belly. “Okay, it’s not all their fault. I mean, definitely more their fault than mine, but it’s not like I fought them off or anything… and I do my fair share of snacking.”
“I just don’t understand how anyone could get to this size with the ration-” Simon paused. “I’m sorry, did you just say planet?”
“Were you just about to say rationing?” Grace asked with a worried frown and a glance at Simon’s midsection.
“No, answer me first.”
“Fine. Yeah, I said planet. Drink your tea, it’s getting cold.”
Simon took another sip of tea and stared at Grace warily. Grace only smiled back at him.
“I said planet,” Grace repeated after Simon’s sip. “And there’s definitely no rationing here, not for a long time.”
Simon thought back to that feeling of being transported out of the house like a bug. “I’m not in the Quiet Rapture anymore.”
“The fudging… what?” Grace adjusted his glasses and leaned in a little, an action that looked less like a man leaning forward and more like a rippling waterfall of fat shifting forward roll by roll.
“Nothing. You said not to think about my past or whatever.” Simon stared, entranced by how Grace’s body moved.
“Fair enough.”
“Is everyone here built like you?” Simon asked.
“Nooooo,” Grace laughed hard, like Simon had just made a joke. “No, no one here is built like me, you’re the closest by far.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“You’ll be surprised when you see the others.” Grace wiped at a stray laughter tear that had snuck out of his eye, lifting his glasses to do so. Simon noted how careful he was with his pudgy fingers and the delicate frames.
Seeing the glasses made Simon curious about the rest of Grace’s outfit. He gave it a quick look over, noting that his shirt and pants were very simple. They seemed to be just as much of one colored fabric as someone could wrangle around a body like that, although some parts seemed specifically fitted to fold under rolls as if keeping them from rubbing against each other. He was wearing a sort of sandal or slipper that left enough of his feet visible to prove the fat covered him head to toe, and he also had a cardigan on that looked like it had been adjusted to fit him several times based off the fact that the edges were a faded knit design of foxes and pawprints, but the rest was more simple fabric like the rest of his outfits. It had different, well hidden but still present, seams all throughout to indicate all the times he’d gone up in size.
“So, it’s not normal then, how you look?” Simon asked.
“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” Grace replied with pretend offense.
“I- I just-!” Simon stammered. “Where I’m from, people don’t put on weight. Like… ever.”
“Yeah?” Grace rested his chins in his hand, his eyes searching Simon’s frame. “When’s the last time you ate, Simon?”
Simon shook his head. “Days ago. At least. You said I was under? I don’t know how long for but, days before you found me.”
“Jeez…” Grace winced. “I’ll make you something.”
“Just like that? I don’t have to earn it or anything?”
“No!” Grace looked horrified. “No, it’s- it’s food! It’s a basic necessity for life! Just sit tight, I’ll be back.”
His hand navigated under one of the love handles surging over the sides of his chair where he grabbed a sort of joystick.
Simon nearly jumped out of his skin as the legs on Grace’s chair started moving, following the joystick’s command as they carried Grace out of the room through a- wow, just impossibly wide door.
Come to think of it, almost everything around him was pretty enormous. This was clearly Grace’s personal quarters, Grace was letting him sleep in his bed.
Simon closed his eyes and took another few deep breaths to steady himself. Wherever this was, it was clearly better than where he used to be.
“… so I’ll take whatever weird bullshit comes,” he mumbled to himself. “Just let me stay here, and I’ll accept it all.”
He finished his tea and let his eyes wander again.
The room was heavily decorated, he clearly hadn’t noticed it all the first time. Now, everywhere he looked there was some new detail. It was like Grace was a hoarder or something. He’d never seen so many resources all in one place and just on display before.
“Okay, I started simple because the doctors said your stomach might not be ready for the heavy stuff yet.” Grace entered the room again with a tray resting on his stomach. The tray held four plates, each with a couple sandwiches on them. Or something like a sandwich anyway. Everything looked familiar but a little bit wrong, a little like someone had described a sandwich to someone that had never had one before and they’d done their best to make one with whatever they had lying around.
Grace moved his chair up to the bed, sideways so his stomach squished up onto the mattress a little, and then lifted the tray and held it to the side a bit. “… you gotta take it, I can’t reach that far,” he said after awhile of waiting.
“Is this all for me?” Simon gaped.
“Yeah, is it enough? I don’t know if you can tell this just by looking at me or anything, but I don’t remember what a normal sized meal for a human your size is.”
“It’s… way too much.” Simon took the tray and set it on the bed, then pushed a few of the sandwiches off one of the plates so he could grab himself one plate with one sandwich.
“Oh. Really?” Grace made an amused sound. “Oh. Okay, I guess. Pass the tray back then.”
Simon raised an eyebrow, but passed the tray back to Grace. As he did, his hand brushed against his stomach, and he felt the easy give of the fat piled up there. It made his heart pound a little, and he jerked his hand back like he’d accidentally grazed someone’s breasts.
Grace didn’t seem to notice, he was focused on the food. He grabbed a sandwich and demolished it in three bites before looking to Simon. “Hey. It’s okay. Go ahead and eat,” he said encouragingly.
“… thanks.” Simon offered him a small smile. “Thank you, for the food.”
“Anytime.” Grace smiled, and waited until Simon took a bite before having another sandwich for himself.
Simon started to feel a bit warm, and realized quickly the warmth was emanating off Grace. It made sense, that much body mass had to generate some heat.
Simon was used to feeling cold. The last time he’d been hot was-
No. Not going to think about that.
The last time he’d been warm was when he was a kid. When he and all the others- when the others had still been alive- when they used to pile up together to sleep in a tangle of limbs and blankets and youthful voices whispering or shushing the whisperers.
He ate his sandwich and his stomach relished the chance to do its job, the resulting digestive process and everything else making him so sleepy. The warmth wasn’t helping either.
He swayed a little, blinking slowly as he set his plate on the nightstand, then slowly fell to the side against Grace.
“Simon?” Grace looked up from his meal, then chuckled when he heard snoring. He could just barely make out half of Simon’s peaceful, slumbering face from the angle he head on him, and he could feel him sinking against his side. “Guess I’m not moving for awhile. What else is new, though?”
He pressed a button on his chair and a compartment on the side opened. A robotic arm extended and offered Grace a more simplistic grabbing tool, which he used to reach the blanket so he could tuck Simon in.
“Rest well, Simon. I promise you’re in good hands now,” Grace whispered. “I really hope we can be friends.”