Posts Tagged Toby

[scrap] Toby.

What do you do on rainy days?

When it was just me, well—there were a lot of games of pool in the student center when there were people, and a lot of sitting outside watching it when there wasn’t anyone.

Today was a day for sitting outside, and I watched students go back and forth, fending off the weather as they rushed between classes.

I sat back, ignoring the groan of the chair under me. Rainy days are sleepy days. I know I slept till evening, when thunder started rolling in as well…

As darkness accumulated I gave up on the rain and went home to sleep.

[partim] Scott the Alchemist 4.

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The confused thoughts of the human getting used to his new situation bounced around in my head as I went around the room, trying not to stumble as I got used to walking on four feet.

Once I thought I had it down, I went back to my workbench, looking through the other potions I kept handy.

What, this isn’t enough for you? Toby thought.

What point is there in ever stopping? I grabbed a viscous pink potion from the shelf, unstoppered it, and drank it down.

Gah, that tastes like rubber! came Toby’s thought, after a few moments.

So will we.

The change started working from the inside out, the only initial signs being a feeling of extreme lightness—an effect of the dissolution of the fat and internal organs—then a feeling of flexibility as the same happened to the bones, and a feeling of weakness as the muscles, too, evaporate into thin air, leaving the body a hollow shell, though perhaps still a bit solid to the touch, due to being filled with air.

Once all that prep work is out of the way, the visible changes begin—the potion starts working through the vacated hide and changing its substance, from ordinary flesh and fur into a specific rubberlatex designed for resilient springiness, sturdy unbreakability, and an appealing fresh scent, which took quite a lot of time to get just right.

Ars est celare artem, though, and I could feel Toby’s thoughts, taking the workmanship for granted and entirely focusing on the sensation of being turned into the hindquarters of a balloonish tigertaur.

I’ll have to teach that boy some appreciation for the art.

[partim] Scott the Alchemist 4.

NSFW (M/M, merging) below cut…»

[partim] Mitch.

Previous / First

When I woke again, it was quiet in my head.  I knew I hadn’t imagined it—I could still feel myself listening.  There was just nothing to hear.  Toby’s bed, at least, was empty; I didn’t know where everyone else might be.

I sat up in bed.  Maybe I could find out?

I tried listening harder—

I started hearing what sounded like patches of white noise.  I couldn’t really tell what that meant or how far away they might be.  I figured I’d have to learn a lot about this ability.

Normal demihumans—at least, so I’m told—can generally reach somewhere around a mile’s radius telepathically, though at that distance it’s kind of like shouting and hearing far-off shouts.  The comfortable range is rather smaller; communicating with your neighbors next door wouldn’t be a problem, assuming you were fortunate enough to have neighbors who were demihumans like yourself.

How far was I reaching? I had no reference point, and I could see I was flying blind.  I got out of bed, got dressed, and thought about where to find people—the house seemed empty.

…of course, that was ridiculous, the house was never really empty.  The body of a forty-foot giant was always in the basement.  And I hadn’t reached him when I’d tried, so either I had no decent range or I was doing something wrong.

I ran down to the basement, sneaking in quietly so as not to disturb Toby’s poor body, and I listened.

What I heard was unmistakably the giant’s mind, a mixture of the large body’s dreams—they break my heart, even now—and the link coming in from his projected body.

I listened harder and I could see Toby’s viewpoint, walking through the supermarket with Rouss. But I knew that was his telepathy, not mine.

I focused on the giant’s mind and took a few steps back.  I held the focus, and went upstairs and outside, still hearing it—and I kept going.

[scrap] Toby.

I took up most of the bench in the hallway as I sat studying, waiting for class to start—or at least, for the previous one to end.

Alithia sat next to me, deeper in the chemistry book than I was getting. Nobody else was waiting, though plenty of people were passing back and forth.

Just her being there made it hard enough to study, regardless of how badly the textbook explained valency.

Long brown hair over her shoulders, feet bare—sandals stowed in her satchel—comfortably rather than fashionably dressed—she takes life so naturally, the way she wants, and the world warps to fit her—in a way it never would for me.

I put the book down.

People started pouring out of the classroom.  When the doorway had cleared, I nudged Alithia’s shoulder and got up to squeeze my way into the classroom, into one of the tiny chairs.

[partim] Scott the Alchemist 4.

NSFW (M/M, rimming) below cut…»

[partim] Scott the Alchemist 4.

Previous | First

NSFW (M/M, hyper) below cut…»

[scrap] Toby.

I saw a big guy who kind of reminded me of Toby…

I could be any size I liked, really; I chose to be a head taller than everyone else so they’d have just the smallest amount of understanding.

I’m a giant; I’m proud of it; the only hiding I do is for practical reasons.

So I choose to live in a world too small for me to remind people I live in a world too small for me.

I guess it’s a bit of stubbornness.  Complaining about finding shoes that fit doesn’t really suggest to anyone that I actually have a 40-foot body stored in a basement under the theater.

People are not to know this.

So it’s me venting, really.

“This doesn’t fit me” means “this doesn’t fit me.”

I wish it did—and I’m glad it doesn’t.

[scrap] Toby.

My day starts in the basement of the theater.  It’s a little disconcerting, every time, to experience the room from two perspectives—on the one hand, my projection, which I’d come to think of as my usual body, saw the space as large, if a bit crowded; on the other hand, my real body saw it as a small, enclosed space—like sitting in a closet.

The fans ran nonstop, as body heat tended to make the place stifling, otherwise.

I set the bucket I came in with down and tried to imagine what life would be like if I couldn’t project.  The pallor, the weakness, all inescapably mine, because the world outside was the wrong size for me, and I couldn’t live in it.

Instead I was able to escape the body, somewhat—but I still had to take care of it.

It could indeed have been worse.  It could always be worse.

I tried to keep that in mind as I started washing my poor body down.

No, I don’t hate my body.  I am… well, we all have to hide who we are.  But having another body that can’t really take care of itself gets to be a chore.

And I guess, also, that having high standards doesn’t help.  I wouldn’t leave myself to live in slobbery.

So I was down here every morning.  I’d wash my poor body down, because while I did have to take up space, I didn’t have to make it unpleasant for others.

It wasn’t hard work, but I did have a lot of area to cover—it was like washing four or five cars a day.

When I was done I’d always…well, today I lay on my poor body’s chest, stroking softly as much of it as I could reach, because every body needs touch for the sake of touch, or it starts to break down.

My poor body’s hand would cover me sometimes, because sometimes I felt the need to return the favor.

I might have fallen asleep there, my poor body holding me against its chest; I’d certainly lost track of time enough that it seemed too soon before Mitch was poking at my mind.

Toby! Come on, I’m going to be late!

[partim] Scott the Alchemist 4.

NSFW (M/M, hyper) below cut… »