Morning came, and the sun shone through the netted curtains leaving patters all about the room. My eyes slowly crept open only to remember last night's occurrences. I looked down at my weighted lap to find my burly cousin still napping. The clock read seven, and I decided to rustle his hair gently.
As I did, he groaned a little and moved to wake. Still lying, he arched his back as if to stretch and then sat up. He put his hand on my shoulder as he rubbed his eyes to the sun.
“Good morning,” I said softly. It was nice to wake up with him in my arms once again, like the old days long since passed.
He yawned again and looked at me with half-squinted eyes. “Good morning,” he returned.
Hoping only the best and that sleep helped to heal, I asked him, “Did you sleep well?”
“Yah,” he said yawning. “How about you?”
“I slept pretty well,” I responded truthfully though lacking the full extent of my feelings. I wanted to say it was nice to sleep with him again, but I wasn't sure if it was the right thing. I chose instead to hold my tongue.
To my surprise though, he smiled and proclaimed, “It was nice to sleep in your comfort. You always knew how to make me feel good after a bout of depression like that.”
I smiled bashfully saying nothing for a moment. I was both happy that he thought so, but confused because he was so free with his emotions. It didn't seem right, for some reason, but it was right, and it was nice. I was glad that the feeling seemed to be mutual. “Yes, it was nice,” I mimicked. Caught up in the moment, I continued, “It's nice to know that we can still do this, you know... being all grown up and whatnot.”
“What do you mean,” he asked as he stretched beside me. The fat of his shoulders buckled into his neck as the tension in his arms let out the soft squeal of stiff muscles.
“Well,” I went on, “We're adults now. We haven't held each other to sleep since we were fourteen. It always seemed kinda weird after we got older. It's just nice to know we can still do that.”
“Man, we're family. We're here for each other,” he said consolingly.
“Yah,” I responded with a slight of depression. I realized in that moment once again that what we have is familial. The way he spoke and his choice of words, it all just spelled out the truth to me. He was my cousin and wasn't afraid of me because of that. At the same time though, he wanted only to be my cousin, and that is why he was so comfortable with our closeness.
With that, he got up and started making breakfast. “It's Sunday, and I have company. We could do with some food,” he exclaimed as he cracked egg after egg into a large pan.
I just sat there staring blankly as I sorted things out in my head. I still want to try, I thought to myself. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I would be able to work it into a conversation. I questioned if perhaps there were some way to find out if I had any sort of chance with him. Or, I thought, maybe I'll just have to accept the fact that we can be nothing more than cousins. Maybe I'll have to try my hardest to stay close to him... but family-like.
I found my way to the bathroom. We all have to pee in the morning! Anyway when I was done, I used some sink water to fix my bed hair. Once I had my hair how I wanted it, I just stood there. I couldn't get the thought out of my head! I wanted him all too badly, but I decided it was best to just work things out slowly.
After a good twenty or so minutes passed, I was still in the bathroom thinking things over and just staring into the distance of my own reflection. Josh called me out to the dining room, and as I walked down the hall, I could smell the mouth watering aroma of fresh pancakes, eggs, sausage, real maple syrup, fresh churned butter and bacon. Following the delicious scent, I found myself face-to-face with a table piled high with breakfast!
“Thought you might be hungry,” he called through the kitchen archway. “Help yourself to whatever you want!”
Starved from having skipped dinner, I piled a plate with three big soft pancakes, four juicy sausages, a mound of scrambled eggs and a handful of bacon. Not that it was, but my ass felt really fat when I sat on the hard wooden chair. I guess it was my mind making a metaphor. After buttering my pancakes, my fork dove straight for a steaming sausage. The taste was magical as I munched away.
Josh came back to the dining room about two minutes later with a pitcher of orange juice and two large glasses. “I figured you'd need something to wash it all down with,” he began until his eyes widened. “Then again, it looks like I might have been wrong,” he exclaimed when he realize that about five pancakes, half the sausages and good portion of the eggs were already vanished.
I slouched in the chair with my hand over the distension of my stomach and let out a loud, relaxing belch. “I hope I didn't eat too much,” I pleaded with my cheeks a bit rosy. “I didn't get dinner last night, and you cook so well! I couldn't help myself.”
“It's all cool, man. If you want, I'll make you some more! A skinny guy like you could use a little meat on his bones.” He looked at my bloated stomach contently and said, “What are you weighing in at these days, anyway? You don't look like you've grown too much since high school.”
Shifting to a better position, I recounted, “My weight's gone up and down a little. I'm surrounded by food all the time, but I don't have time to snack like you do. I'd say I'm probably about the same I was then, though.”
“Got a number,” he coaxed.
“I wouldn't know. I haven't weighed myself since I tried out for football in tenth grade.” Just to let you know, football was a flop. I gave it a good week and a half, but it just wasn't for me.
“Well what did you weigh then?”
At that point he seemed to be prying, so I turned the tables and asked him the same, “Well what do you weigh, big guy??”
His face lit up like a deer in headlights, but he responded quickly, “I'm closing in on 350, if you really want to know. Last weigh in was 347. But now it's your turn!”
“I really don't know, Josh,” I said feeling like a broken record with a jumpy needle.
He laughed at the face I made and said, “Well why don't you go in the bathroom and pull out my scale! It should have no problem weighing you in, considering I upgraded to a mini industrial strength scale.”
“You're using an industrial level scale,” I moved to laughter. “I knew you were big, but I didn't think you were quite that big!”
“O shush,” he yelled as he smeared some bacon grease on his apron. “Man, just go get on the scale. I'm seriously curious to know what your tiny ass weighs. We gotta compare your little belly to this grandiose gut!”
Though I still couldn't believe he was using an industrial scale, and I could believe how hot it was to think about; I got up and headed back to the bathroom. I found the scale, which was surprisingly not much larger than a normal one, and hopped on. I waited a moment while it calculated my weight, and when 153 flashed on the screen I flinched at a loud dropping whistle from the door. Josh had followed me to the bathroom and watched me weight myself! To make matters worse, he had apparently taken off his apron and shirt. As if him being there wasn't embarrassing enough.
“Not the same little twink you were, are you,” he jested. “You forget; I was there when the coach announced, 'Alex Giordano, one hundred and twenty-four pounds.' What's that? A thirty pound gain since try-outs?”
Heated from the lack of privacy and the embarrassing truth, I yelled back, “At least I'm not almost 400 pounds, chubs!”
At first, he seemed taken aback, but a smirk tore across his face and he looked at the mirror, pleased with himself. “Like I said, man, it's not all that bad. I gotta be honest, I kinda like it.” We both said nothing for a moment while he stared at himself rubbing his massive stomach. I stared too. Then he said something I never thought I'd hear pass his lips. “You like it too, don't you!?”
Further embarrassed and blushing massively, I could feel my skin boil. The only thing I wanted to do was run and hide! How!? How did he know?
“I've seen you stare,” he said. “Right now and a few times in the past. It's not a stare of disgust like ma gives me. You're not looking at me funny or confused. The look on your face is always a little flushed and pinkish when you stare at me. I can see you trying to hide your feelings, man.”
I wanted to turn into dust. I had to be dreaming! This couldn't be happening.
“I'm not mad at you, you know. I'm not gonna lie to you though, it's kinda weird.” As he said that, he seemed a little confused. It was almost like he was fighting something inside too.
“Do you want to talk about it, dude,” I asked, sort of hoping he did. We always got along well enough to share everything, and I really hoped we could talk this through. Maybe he felt the same way I did? Unlikely, but you never know!
He just stared at the mirror and at his hefty body. His face showed so many emotions. I think just looking at him made me as confused as he was. The bulge of his stomach sat high, and his luscious moobs rested on his huge belly. He didn't have much for muscles, so his body was more soft and doughy than firm and stocky. Forming the nicest love handles, two huge bubbles of fat stuck out where slender hips once ran smooth, and his arms had gotten so much thicker over the years. His thighs were massive and fleshy with little dimples sprinkled over them as they bulged out of his boxers.
Josh looked down at the floor, and first tracing the tiles, he worked his gaze to my toes and up my legs. Working slowly and observantly, his gaze followed my limbs and up my torso to meet my eyes. His twinkly olive eyes swelled with tears of confusion and desire before he carefully chose his words. Slowly, calmly and and carefully, he uttered his statement one word at a time. “Alex, you are my cousin. I love you. You are family, and I love you.”
Now I was confused. His eyes flared in a way that hinted a deeper meaning, but I never would have expected that! At least... I never would have expect what I assumed he meant. I was flustered, but I had to clear things up. “What do you mean,” I pleaded.
Again slowly he said, “You are my cousin, my family. I love you,” and when he said those last three words, the was a vague hint of liberation in his face and voice. He repeated it more softly, “I love you.”
I was shocked! Was I hearing him right? Maybe I was putting my own spin on what he was saying. That had to be it. I was just imagining the meaning of his words. I mean, they could easily mean a million other things, right?
Or wrong? Josh opened his meaty arms, and they jiggled as they flung out to his sides. He came at me so quick, I didn't have the time to think, and before I knew it, I was in his tight comfortable embrace. When reality hit me, I lifted my arms and wrapped them around his trunk of a body, my hands only just barely meeting behind him.
“Alex,” he opened his heart, “I've fought it for so long, and I wanted to deny it so badly... But the truth is; You're my cousin, but I care for you like a lover. We share blood, but it only makes our bond closer. We are family, in both blood and lust.” His words freed him, and with the burden lifted, he let himself loose. Almost his whole weight pushed on me as I struggled to keep him standing.
With a heavy strain and broken speech, I whispered hoarsely, “I love you too.” And after a moment of thought and continued struggle, I asked, “But do you love me like I love you?”
Roused and with a look of confusion, he jumped back with his hands still on my shoulders. Looking me in the eye with his head cocked to the side, he asked, “What do you mean? Are your stares and blushing cheeks not of attraction? Do you not want me as I once wanted Trisha? As I have always wanted you?” He looked away with stress written on his face. His eyes bulged, and I knew he thought he made a mistake confessing his affections.
“No,” I blurted! “No, I'm not saying I don't. Josh, I love you. I have always loved you, and I could never see myself losing sight of that.” Though frantic, I hoped my words were the right ones.
His face turned back up to me just as quickly as he had looked away. His bright chubby cheeks were flushed with blood, and I couldn't tell if it was blush or the redness that comes with the heat of tears. His eyes were once again swelled with emotion, and though his mind was full of thought, the only words that escaped him were, “What now?”
Still shocked myself, I rested my hand on his shoulder and spoke softly. “We'll just have to do what we have always done -- express our love without anyone catching on. But from now on, maybe we can do things a little differently. Now we are both sure of that love, and we don't have to lie to ourselves.”
Josh shifted himself a few feet and sat on the toilet with my hand on his shoulder all the while. He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his palms. “But what about everything else,” he pleaded. “So much time with Trisha. We'd have the rest of our family to skirt around. It just couldn't work, could it?”
“Well,” I sighed, “Our family is the least of our problems. You and I have always been close, so they probably wouldn't suspect much. Trisha is the biggest question to consider. You say you've grown apart. How does she feel?” After receiving no response, I added, “How do you feel?”
Josh looked up at me with his face still mostly covered by his hands and said, “I don't know how I feel, Alex. I've spent seven years with Trisha. We're close! Well, we were anyway. At the same time, you and I are closer! We're still close. We've always been close!! We grew up together and, as far as I can tell, fell for each other together. I mean, looking back on high school, I could swear you felt this way for me even then. I felt for you too, but it just seemed so wrong because of what we are, and I was so involved with Trish.”
His eyes wandered to a portrait of them that was stood on the sink counter. He stared at it for a while as he thought about everything, as he thought over his life, as he questioned the path he was on. “I have no idea what to do,” he announced as he buried his head once again into his well-padded palms. “What do you suggest I do, Alex?”
I wasn't sure either, and while I knew my own desires, I had to stay rational. Thinking on the spot, I suggest, “Why don't we take this one step at a time. Slow and steady. These emotions are raw!” I was utterly surprised at how the tables had turned. All this time I thought I was the irrational one with too much to hide, tormented by my own desires. Instead, fear blinded me to my cousin's needs, but now it was time to take charge and assume a level head. “Here's what you should do,” I continued. “You have to figure out your own emotions first. Who do you want more? Do you want your girlfriend of seven years? Or do you want your cousin who you felt for for so long and who felt for you?”
“Do you have to put this stress on me,” he yelped painfully and in rage. “I can't decide!”
I didn't want to be the harsh one, I hated being harsh, but sometimes Josh needed a commanding opinion. “Yes! I have to put this on you, and for that I'm sorry,” I explained. “Above all things, I don't want to hurt you. But I want you to be happy. I want you to choose your own direction, but you can't do that until you know what you want. I don't want to be the one to make you face yourself, but you have two options; me or her. If you take her, you'll have your girl and will always have your cousin who loves you unconditionally . If you choose me, you'll probably lose Trish, but you'll have me as both your cousin and as your lover.” My stomach churned as I said that last line. It sounded so right, but strange. It gave me butterflies to think about, but I'm glad I said it.
The moment those last words passed my lips, he looked up at me. His gaze was blind, but after a thought, he spoke. “I think,” he paused as tension grew. My heart raced hoping he'd make the decision I wanted him to, and we both had faces mixing terror with delight. “I choose you, Alex,” he yelled with a grin!
Inside, I was rejoicing! Everything I wanted was right, now. Everything felt so good! My head was so full of wonder, and the world didn't exist anymore, but on the outside I just smiled pleasantly.
Josh stood up and took me in his arms once again, and once again, I felt his warmth, and I was happy. We were happy.
But then he pushed me back, still holding me, to look me in the face. In further amazement, he proclaimed, “You know this means you're gonna have to cook for me from now on, don't you?” His words followed with an awkward silence, my face bright with glee but shocked. Before I could speak, he added, “And you know you're gonna eat for me too, right?”
To that, I felt a little elevated, if you catch my lift -- I mean drift! “O yah? And what makes you so sure I'll eat for you, big guy” I asked slyly.
“O come one, Al. I guess I know you better than you know you! If you can eat like you did this morning, and as I've seen you do for years; I know you'll eat for me if I want you to.” He winked at me while smiling widely at the idea.
“And what of you,” I asked with a hardy grin. “If you think I'm letting you skimp by on what little you've been eating!” Everything came so naturally. It was like this huge weight, built up over ages of repression, finally burst, and with it came all the other repressed emotions and desires.
A smile broke on his face, and he seemed happier than he already was. “Gee, Al, I didn't think you were into all this. I guess this really is meant to happen!”
I grabbed his jiggly belly and told him, “So is this! Now let's go finish breakfast!”
On that note, we left the awkward bathroom setting and landed ourselves back in the dining room sat at the table and ready to eat.