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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Creatures & Monsters
- Published: 06/19/2020
Ideal
Born 1968, M, from Kingston, CanadaLes Bannister picked up his mail from the community mailbox as he did every day on the short walk home from Aspire Mobile.
He sucked hungrily on the last drops of his French vanilla cappuccino before chucking the plastic cup into the tall grass. He then shuffled through the junk flyers quickly and tried to forget his job.
As usual, he couldn’t quite do that. All he kept seeing were the faces, the endless parade of mall folks, the constant stream of shoppers.
With so many people, Les expected stares, of course. He always imagined he could hear the snickers behind his back and if that wasn’t enough, he easily recognized the barely concealed disgust on customer's faces.
Hell, even his staff looked at him like that.
Come check out the obese man...
What was this?
He plucked an envelope from the flyers. The return address belonged to his old high school.
Insult to injury: it was addressed to Less.
Idiots. A simple error no doubt, the “s” held just a millisecond too long but still, wasn’t that just the perfect ending to another perfect day?
He slammed closed the mailbox.
Less. Isn’t that how he’d felt back in high school too? Less than he should have been? Less than everyone around him? Even then, he wasn’t a real person, only the fat kid most of the student body could and would tease.
With pudgy fingers, he tore open the envelope, slipped out the letter, unfolded it, and quickly skimmed it.
Twenty-five-year high school reunion. Next month.
Had it been that long?
He started walking toward the next block, already huffing and puffing. He could feel the sweat on his brow.
Once home, he tossed the mail on the kitchen counter and put the reunion out of his mind.
So, he’d just make supper.
As he stood hunched over, peering in the fridge, he briefly wondered if Kelly Sears might be going. Even as he thought of his crush from homeroom, he could feel his heart start to beat a little faster, his hands grow clammy and droplets of perspiration break on his brow. Just like his body had always reacted whenever he tried talking to her.
Slamming the fridge door, he grabbed up one of those new pizza flyers from today’s mail. He’d order in. He lived for fast food.
As he removed his phone from his jeans pocket, a text message lit up the screen.
Tired of being FAT!?!
(huh?)
Another text came in:
Tired of feeling LESS!?!
(What the f**k was this?)
Then another:
RESULTS GUARANTEED!!
Then:
Become MORE Than LESS!
(What was this crap? An ad!?!)
The next text was in bold and all caps:
BECOME THE IDEAL YOU...THE YOU, YOU ALWAYS KNEW WAS POSSIBLE!!
Beneath this text was a hyperlink to something called Ideal.com.
He checked to see who had texted him, not that he got many texts from people.
There was no number.
Blocked.
He grunted. Probably someone at the store. Their idea of a stupid, hurtful joke.
Well, he certainly wasn’t impressed. He wasn’t going to click on the link. Probably wind up with a virus or something.
Yet, he found his finger hovering over the .com.
His finger hit it.
Nothing happened.
Except, except he could hear a hum as he drew the phone to his ear.
“Hello,” he finally said. “Hello.”
What was he doing? He wondered.
Within seconds he heard what sounded like music...but no, it wasn’t that. It sounded like tribal chanting and a weak heartbeat beneath it.
The noise in the background grew in intensity and still, he didn’t drop the phone. The noise seemed to fill him up.
He felt... almost peaceful.
Drowsiness swept over him.
What was happening?
Maybe the day had caught up to him?
His legs almost buckled beneath him. Better lie down.
The phone dropped from his fingers. Distantly, he heard it strike the floor with a dull thud.
As he shuffled toward his bedroom near the back, he used the wall for support.
So tired.
Falling into bed, Les’s eyes focused on the roof and the small black dot that birthed from a crack there. He watched as it wiggled out, crawled across the stippled ceiling, and stopped directly above him.
He blinked, tried to adjust his blurry vision. Just so sleepy.
He watched it fall then and like a single raindrop, felt its wetness plunk onto a huge stomach.
Through heavy eyelids, he peered down at the bug. His shirt had been hiked up just enough that he could see it on his skin, right next to his belly button.
It resembled a slug. It was oily black with two milky white eyes peering out at him.
His heart started to beat faster. He tried to move his arms to brush it off, but his limbs just felt so damn heavy.
The bug opened a gaping hole beneath those dead eyes, revealing a row of needle-sharp teeth.
Immobile, he watched stunned as the creature lowered its head and with its teeth, bit into his ample stomach.
Despite fatigue, Les screamed and started to flail.
The bug began to chew his skin, began to burrow into his gut.
Les’s fingers bunched up blankets. Intense pain ignited every neuron. He began to scream louder as he felt it wriggling into him.
Then, blackness overtook him.
When he jolted awake, he blinked against the sun streaming in the bedroom. With some effort, Les heaved his body out of bed, ran to the bathroom, fell beside the toilet, and immediately tossed up the contents of his stomach.
Resting against the bathroom wall seconds later, he used his fingers to probe at his sore gut, an inflamed lump right above his belly button.
What the f**k!!?!!
Just a nightmare, he told himself.
Only, he could feel the bug inside him still.
He struggled to stand – he just felt so weak - and studied himself in the mirror.
His face didn’t look as puffy as it usually did. His double chin, while still there, looked...somehow less defined.
Haunted eyes stared back. Deep lines under them further served to make the night seem more real.
It was just a dream, right?
Hesitantly, he stepped on the bathroom scale.
He stared at the number.
No, it couldn’t be -
He stepped off. Stepped on again. 325. He barely believed it. Was the scale broken? He’d weighed 350 for near a decade.
But twenty-five pounds dropped in one night...?
It wasn’t possible.
He called in sick.
As supper rolled around, Les felt the first twinge of hunger, and then the pain started anew.
He again staggered off to bed and lay on his side, taking the excruciating pain until it became unbearable and he passed out.
Morning, groggy as he was, he stepped on the scale again.
And blinked madly. 300 pounds. Again, he had lost 25 in a night.
He called in sick the next few days and ended up taking all 5 weeks of accumulated holidays. There was no way he could show up at work looking like he did. How could he possibly explain this?
Each day, he woke pounds lighter. The only thing that didn’t change was the now-familiar look in his eyes.
Nine days later, standing naked in front of the mirror, he again studied the barely recognizable body that greeted him. He ran his hand over his stubbled jawline. No extra chins, no extra skin hanging off him either. He could see his ribs.
He was at his ideal weight, 175, as he had been for several days now. No pain before he slept either, as though the bug had eaten its fill and now remained dormant.
Waiting to devour any extra fat he might put on, he supposed.
A month later, he found himself standing alone in the gym at the high school, sipping some weird fruity punch. What was this shit? 90’s music blared over the speakers as he watched old classmates sway on the dance floor while others mingled and chatted around the room.
“She’s put on the pounds,” he overheard someone whisper.
He turned to see Kelly Sears surrounded by old friends. Instantly, his heart started to beat louder.
Within minutes, seeing she stood alone, he quickly gathered his nerve, (telling himself he wasn’t that same fat kid any longer) and approached her.
“Lester Bannister,” he said, trying to sound surer of himself than he felt.
“Lester? My God!” she said, drawing him into a hug. “Look at you! Wow!”
She remembered him. That was a start. True, she was easily over 300 pounds now and not quite possessing the cheerleader body, firm and tight, that he once remembered, but this was Kelly. Life had not been kind to her once model perfect form. Lucky for him, he could see past all that.
He grew aroused holding her and pulled back slightly. No need to make things awkward between them.
“Would you like to dance?”
“You’re so skinny,” she said as they finally fell into a slow dance together. He put both hands on her hips to keep a little space between them.
God, he was turned on!
She leaned into him and he relaxed enough to let her. He still couldn’t believe this was happening.
“I’ve tried to lose weight for years. What’s your secret?”
He wanted to tell her about the texts, the bug, all of it, but he didn’t want to scare her off. He’d sound crazy.
He could feel himself growing harder as she gazed longingly into his eyes.
“It’s a lifestyle change,” he said. Wasn’t that the truth?
Then her lips were on his in the middle of the dance floor.
Was this happening?
She grabbed on tight, melted into him.
His stomach growled.
He felt the bug stir within his gut. First time in a while.
When was the last time he’d eaten anything?
He lightly nibbled on Kelly’s bottom lip, grabbed her hair, kissed her deep.
Kelly’s moaning grew in intensity.
Only –
She wasn’t moaning.
She pushed away suddenly, wobbling backward on high heels, hand clasped over her mouth.
Blood gushed between her chubby fingers, dribbling off her double chin, spattering the gym floor.
He kept chewing her lip, tasting her flesh, loving her hot blood as it pooled in his mouth.
People in the gym were screaming now.
He felt his face start to crack in places, his body beneath his suit start to split.
What was happening?
The bug wasn’t ever dormant, he knew.
It had fed; it had been incubating.
He started to chant, words foreign, yet somehow familiar rolling off his tongue.
Les spit his teeth onto the cold floor and ran his tongue over the new sharp ones that had pushed them out.
People were staring; people ran.
He stared back, met horrified eyes.
He was just so damn hungry.
THE END
Ideal(Douglas Richards)
Les Bannister picked up his mail from the community mailbox as he did every day on the short walk home from Aspire Mobile.
He sucked hungrily on the last drops of his French vanilla cappuccino before chucking the plastic cup into the tall grass. He then shuffled through the junk flyers quickly and tried to forget his job.
As usual, he couldn’t quite do that. All he kept seeing were the faces, the endless parade of mall folks, the constant stream of shoppers.
With so many people, Les expected stares, of course. He always imagined he could hear the snickers behind his back and if that wasn’t enough, he easily recognized the barely concealed disgust on customer's faces.
Hell, even his staff looked at him like that.
Come check out the obese man...
What was this?
He plucked an envelope from the flyers. The return address belonged to his old high school.
Insult to injury: it was addressed to Less.
Idiots. A simple error no doubt, the “s” held just a millisecond too long but still, wasn’t that just the perfect ending to another perfect day?
He slammed closed the mailbox.
Less. Isn’t that how he’d felt back in high school too? Less than he should have been? Less than everyone around him? Even then, he wasn’t a real person, only the fat kid most of the student body could and would tease.
With pudgy fingers, he tore open the envelope, slipped out the letter, unfolded it, and quickly skimmed it.
Twenty-five-year high school reunion. Next month.
Had it been that long?
He started walking toward the next block, already huffing and puffing. He could feel the sweat on his brow.
Once home, he tossed the mail on the kitchen counter and put the reunion out of his mind.
So, he’d just make supper.
As he stood hunched over, peering in the fridge, he briefly wondered if Kelly Sears might be going. Even as he thought of his crush from homeroom, he could feel his heart start to beat a little faster, his hands grow clammy and droplets of perspiration break on his brow. Just like his body had always reacted whenever he tried talking to her.
Slamming the fridge door, he grabbed up one of those new pizza flyers from today’s mail. He’d order in. He lived for fast food.
As he removed his phone from his jeans pocket, a text message lit up the screen.
Tired of being FAT!?!
(huh?)
Another text came in:
Tired of feeling LESS!?!
(What the f**k was this?)
Then another:
RESULTS GUARANTEED!!
Then:
Become MORE Than LESS!
(What was this crap? An ad!?!)
The next text was in bold and all caps:
BECOME THE IDEAL YOU...THE YOU, YOU ALWAYS KNEW WAS POSSIBLE!!
Beneath this text was a hyperlink to something called Ideal.com.
He checked to see who had texted him, not that he got many texts from people.
There was no number.
Blocked.
He grunted. Probably someone at the store. Their idea of a stupid, hurtful joke.
Well, he certainly wasn’t impressed. He wasn’t going to click on the link. Probably wind up with a virus or something.
Yet, he found his finger hovering over the .com.
His finger hit it.
Nothing happened.
Except, except he could hear a hum as he drew the phone to his ear.
“Hello,” he finally said. “Hello.”
What was he doing? He wondered.
Within seconds he heard what sounded like music...but no, it wasn’t that. It sounded like tribal chanting and a weak heartbeat beneath it.
The noise in the background grew in intensity and still, he didn’t drop the phone. The noise seemed to fill him up.
He felt... almost peaceful.
Drowsiness swept over him.
What was happening?
Maybe the day had caught up to him?
His legs almost buckled beneath him. Better lie down.
The phone dropped from his fingers. Distantly, he heard it strike the floor with a dull thud.
As he shuffled toward his bedroom near the back, he used the wall for support.
So tired.
Falling into bed, Les’s eyes focused on the roof and the small black dot that birthed from a crack there. He watched as it wiggled out, crawled across the stippled ceiling, and stopped directly above him.
He blinked, tried to adjust his blurry vision. Just so sleepy.
He watched it fall then and like a single raindrop, felt its wetness plunk onto a huge stomach.
Through heavy eyelids, he peered down at the bug. His shirt had been hiked up just enough that he could see it on his skin, right next to his belly button.
It resembled a slug. It was oily black with two milky white eyes peering out at him.
His heart started to beat faster. He tried to move his arms to brush it off, but his limbs just felt so damn heavy.
The bug opened a gaping hole beneath those dead eyes, revealing a row of needle-sharp teeth.
Immobile, he watched stunned as the creature lowered its head and with its teeth, bit into his ample stomach.
Despite fatigue, Les screamed and started to flail.
The bug began to chew his skin, began to burrow into his gut.
Les’s fingers bunched up blankets. Intense pain ignited every neuron. He began to scream louder as he felt it wriggling into him.
Then, blackness overtook him.
When he jolted awake, he blinked against the sun streaming in the bedroom. With some effort, Les heaved his body out of bed, ran to the bathroom, fell beside the toilet, and immediately tossed up the contents of his stomach.
Resting against the bathroom wall seconds later, he used his fingers to probe at his sore gut, an inflamed lump right above his belly button.
What the f**k!!?!!
Just a nightmare, he told himself.
Only, he could feel the bug inside him still.
He struggled to stand – he just felt so weak - and studied himself in the mirror.
His face didn’t look as puffy as it usually did. His double chin, while still there, looked...somehow less defined.
Haunted eyes stared back. Deep lines under them further served to make the night seem more real.
It was just a dream, right?
Hesitantly, he stepped on the bathroom scale.
He stared at the number.
No, it couldn’t be -
He stepped off. Stepped on again. 325. He barely believed it. Was the scale broken? He’d weighed 350 for near a decade.
But twenty-five pounds dropped in one night...?
It wasn’t possible.
He called in sick.
As supper rolled around, Les felt the first twinge of hunger, and then the pain started anew.
He again staggered off to bed and lay on his side, taking the excruciating pain until it became unbearable and he passed out.
Morning, groggy as he was, he stepped on the scale again.
And blinked madly. 300 pounds. Again, he had lost 25 in a night.
He called in sick the next few days and ended up taking all 5 weeks of accumulated holidays. There was no way he could show up at work looking like he did. How could he possibly explain this?
Each day, he woke pounds lighter. The only thing that didn’t change was the now-familiar look in his eyes.
Nine days later, standing naked in front of the mirror, he again studied the barely recognizable body that greeted him. He ran his hand over his stubbled jawline. No extra chins, no extra skin hanging off him either. He could see his ribs.
He was at his ideal weight, 175, as he had been for several days now. No pain before he slept either, as though the bug had eaten its fill and now remained dormant.
Waiting to devour any extra fat he might put on, he supposed.
A month later, he found himself standing alone in the gym at the high school, sipping some weird fruity punch. What was this shit? 90’s music blared over the speakers as he watched old classmates sway on the dance floor while others mingled and chatted around the room.
“She’s put on the pounds,” he overheard someone whisper.
He turned to see Kelly Sears surrounded by old friends. Instantly, his heart started to beat louder.
Within minutes, seeing she stood alone, he quickly gathered his nerve, (telling himself he wasn’t that same fat kid any longer) and approached her.
“Lester Bannister,” he said, trying to sound surer of himself than he felt.
“Lester? My God!” she said, drawing him into a hug. “Look at you! Wow!”
She remembered him. That was a start. True, she was easily over 300 pounds now and not quite possessing the cheerleader body, firm and tight, that he once remembered, but this was Kelly. Life had not been kind to her once model perfect form. Lucky for him, he could see past all that.
He grew aroused holding her and pulled back slightly. No need to make things awkward between them.
“Would you like to dance?”
“You’re so skinny,” she said as they finally fell into a slow dance together. He put both hands on her hips to keep a little space between them.
God, he was turned on!
She leaned into him and he relaxed enough to let her. He still couldn’t believe this was happening.
“I’ve tried to lose weight for years. What’s your secret?”
He wanted to tell her about the texts, the bug, all of it, but he didn’t want to scare her off. He’d sound crazy.
He could feel himself growing harder as she gazed longingly into his eyes.
“It’s a lifestyle change,” he said. Wasn’t that the truth?
Then her lips were on his in the middle of the dance floor.
Was this happening?
She grabbed on tight, melted into him.
His stomach growled.
He felt the bug stir within his gut. First time in a while.
When was the last time he’d eaten anything?
He lightly nibbled on Kelly’s bottom lip, grabbed her hair, kissed her deep.
Kelly’s moaning grew in intensity.
Only –
She wasn’t moaning.
She pushed away suddenly, wobbling backward on high heels, hand clasped over her mouth.
Blood gushed between her chubby fingers, dribbling off her double chin, spattering the gym floor.
He kept chewing her lip, tasting her flesh, loving her hot blood as it pooled in his mouth.
People in the gym were screaming now.
He felt his face start to crack in places, his body beneath his suit start to split.
What was happening?
The bug wasn’t ever dormant, he knew.
It had fed; it had been incubating.
He started to chant, words foreign, yet somehow familiar rolling off his tongue.
Les spit his teeth onto the cold floor and ran his tongue over the new sharp ones that had pushed them out.
People were staring; people ran.
He stared back, met horrified eyes.
He was just so damn hungry.
THE END
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- 9
Once upon a time..
07/06/2020Oof, awesome ending! I thought the slug would just keep eating or something cliche like that but no...
amazing language!It really kept me hooked to the plot, not that the plot wouldnt have held me by itself..
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Cristelle Grenade
06/24/2020Very creative. Unexpected ending. Good job and congratulation on being the Short Story Star of the Day.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
JD
06/20/2020EeeeGaads! I was thinking maybe you might have people out there in dietville desperately seeking their very own fat eating slug to permanently fix their weight problem... it worked so well n all.... but then came your ending... and I definitely think you may have lost a few of your dieters! Yipes! :-)
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COMMENTS (4)