Passages
After Jasmin had recovered from the shock of her new, and massive, growth spurt, she wanted to know her height, her weight and, especially, the status of her blossoming abilities. The first thing she, and Ray, were to learn about her new size, however, was that her weight had increased to the point were it was putting a serious strain on the floor of their apartment. No matter how carefully she placed her feet, the floor would groan ominously when she shifted her weight. They guesstimated where the floor joists might be so she could step as directly onto them as possible, but still, she had to move slowly, and cautiously.
To assess her height, Jasmin stood with her back to a kitchen wall as Ray stood on a chair, and leveled a ruler atop her crown. He marked the wall with a pencil, then got out his measuring tape and consulted its capacity.
"A fifty footer," he announced, then he looked at her. "Think it'll be enough?"
The lady was not amused. Ray stretched the tape from the floor to the mark, and read the report.
"Six feet five, and a quarter inches."
Jasmin stared at a point in space, and drew a breath as if she were inhaling what Ray had just told her. After a moment, she pursed her lips, and let the air out.
"None of the cloths I ordered yesterday are even going to begin to fit," she stated dejectedly. "We have to call the shop, and let them know."
"Know what?" an incredulous Ray wanted to know. "That their making cloths for the fifty foot woman in progress?"
"Shuttup!" she ordered him, and meant it.
"Well, Jasmin," he said helplessly, "just what do we tell them?"
"I don't know," she snapped. She took a moment to think, and to calm herself. "I guess just . . . cancel the order, and pay them for their time, and materials."
There was a knock at the front door. Hearing the sound, both of their minds went blank for a moment, then their eyes widened, then they looked at each other.
"What time is it?" Jasmin asked.
Ray looked quickly at the stove clock.
"Just before eleven," he informed her.
At once, Jasmin became very excited, and started moving toward the hallway as quickly as she dared. The floor creaked, and groaned with her every step.
"That's Gwen, and Phil," she said nervously. "Punctual as always."
"What!" Ray ejaculated, his memory for such things being a sieve as always.
"They're coming over for lunch today," Jasmin curtly informed him. "and now they're here."
Ray moving to head Jasmin off, and beat her to the doorway.
"I'll make an excuse," he hastily offered.
"Not like that you won't," she informed him, drawing his attention to his nakedness with a conspicuous glance to his groin.
"Shit!" Ray spat as he darted back around her to where his cloths lay on the floor. He began dressing as fast as he could. "Why don't you stay here," he suggested, "I'll tell them you're not feeling well."
"No!" Jasmin snapped as she took another step. "That would be rude."
"Impy!" he protested helplessly, trying to hop his way into his pants.
"Ray, I can't hide myself forever," she declared.
Jasmin moved to angle herself through the doorway, but collided her newly broadened shoulder against the door jam anyway. With her nerves already frayed, her temper blew. She emitted an exasperated growl as she balled her fists, and prepared to force her way through head on.
"Jasmin!" Ray barked at her sternly.
The massive woman backed off, and relaxed. Ray helped her navigate her monstrously overdeveloped body into the hallway. Once there, Jasmin suddenly took him into her arms, and kissed him.
Another, louder knock was heard. The couple froze for a moment, then Jasmin put Ray down, and turned toward the bedroom.
"You let them in," she instructed, stepping as lightly as she could. "There's got to be something back here I can wear."
"What'll I tell them?" Ray asked, feeling truly lost.
"The truth," she called back in a heavily forlorn tone. "It might just set us all free."
"Uve," he groped, "try my old sweatpants."
A third knock came.
"They're clean."
Ray watched after Jasmin as she began to squeeze herself through the bedroom doorway at the end of the hall. He returned to the kitchen to hurriedly gather their discarded towels, and cloths, looked frantically for a place to put them, then stashed them in the oven as a forth knock was heard.
He strode to the front door, finger raking his hair into some semblance of order. With his hand on the knob, he paused to collect himself only to discover that he couldn't collect himself, then opened the door before he had a chance to think and suddenly found himself startled to see Gwen, and Phil, standing before him.
"Hi!" the couple gushed, all smiles.
Such wonderful, innocent smiles, Ray thought as he tried to return their greeting without sounding like a shameless phony, and then he ushered them inside.
"Where's the birthday girl?" Gwen wanted to know. The buffed, little blond hardbody looked around briefly, then called out, "J!"
"Hi!" Jasmin answered from behind the closed bedroom door.
Tell the truth, thought Ray. "She's just finishing getting dressed. Something, uh . . . developed, and she wasn't quite ready when you guys arrived. Well uh, have a seat. Can I get you anything?"
"Aw, no thanks," Phil said, "we'll wait for lunch."
Lunch, thought Ray as their company settled themselves on the couch. Oh shit, was his very next thought. He, and Jasmin, had shopped Friday night in preparation for Jasmin's birthday lunch with their friends, but, with everything that had happened since, that was as far as their preparations had gotten. He was awakened from these reflections by the sound of the floor groaning. Ah, the patter of little feet. There was a pause as the visiting couple looked around, wondering as to the building's soundness.
"What was that?" Gwen asked.
Screw the truth. "An overweight neighbor," Ray replied.
Gwen's eyebrows went up as she tucked her chin a bit in surprise.
"Really?"
"Uh . . . yeah," Ray said agreeably.
Gwen looked over to Phil. "He must weigh a ton," she remarked, then she returned her attention to Ray. "At least I assume it's a 'he'.
"Uve - sure," Ray chirped.
The floor groaned again.
"Jeez," said Phil, looking around nervously. "What's he doing? Jumping jacks?"
"Umm," Ray said. This isn't working. He ditched plan "B" for plan "C". Tell the truth. "There's something you guys need to know - "
It was all he got out before there was a tremendous crash heard from the bedroom that shook the entire room. All three of them to jumped to their feet at once. Ray knew he had to go to Jasmin, but what to say?
"Uh," he said with a desperate smile. "Have a seat," and then he was gone.
At the bedroom door, he found that Jasmin had locked it from the inside. This only fed his already considerable fear.
"Impy!" he whispered urgently as he rapped on the door. "Jasmin, open up!"
The creaking floor told him that she was approaching. The lock clicked, then the door opened just enough for Jasmin's head to appear around its edge above him. She was frowning.
"What?" she whispered impatiently.
"Are you alright?" he hastily inquired.
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"I lost my balance, and had to put my foot down hard so I didn't fall."
Knowing her dance background as well as he did, Ray found this hard to believe.
"Jasmin, you do not loose your balance."
"Ray," she said helplessly, "nothing - nothing fits me."
In the next second, her eyes widened as she glanced down the hall.
"Shit!" she whispered, then she disappeared behind the door.
Ray looked over his shoulder to see Gwen, followed by Phil, coming toward him.
"Ray, is there something wrong?" Gwen wanted to know.
They both looked concerned.
"No, uh," Ray said, trying to back his way into the bedroom, "she just needs some help, that's all." He caught Phil's eye. "You know how women are."
No sooner had he said this then their guests saw Ray's shirt suddenly tighten across his chest. He seemed to lift up high on his toes, and then he vanished behind the door. Gwen, and Phil, stood transfixed by what they'd just seen. They didn't even really notice the door swing shut after Ray disappeared.
"Tell me if I'm wrong," Phil eventually asked, "but did I see Ray's feet clear the ground before he left?"
Gwen thought about this for a moment.
"Yeah . . . ," she answered kind of distantly.
Inside the bedroom, a still naked Jasmin had closed the door with her foot as she held Ray before herself at her eye level with one hand by the scruff of his shirt. She gave him the look of death, gave him a shake, then carefully set him down. They regarded at each other for a strained moment as Ray straightened his shirt, and Jasmin rested her hands on her hips.
"We're not doin' too good, are we?" she quietly observed.
Ray looked away, then he shrugged.
"Could be worse," he ventured.
"Yeah, right," Jasmin intoned derisively.
"J?" Gwen's voice was heard from the other side of the door.
The sound of her best friend's voice tore at Jasmin. She raised her eyes in the door's direction.
"Yes Gwen?" she said with sadness.
"You know," Gwen offered, "if this is a bad time for you two, Phil and I could just leave."
"Yeah," Phil was heard to add, "we don't have to do this if it's a problem right now."
"We understand," Gwen said.
Jasmin looked at Ray with hurt in her eyes.
"Understand," she said quietly. She rested her head against the door. "Gwen?" she called forlornly to her friend.
"J?" her friend called back.
"Oh Gwen," Jasmin said, choking back tears.
The doorknob rattled.
"J, let me in," Gwen implored her.
"No," Jasmin did not want to reply.
"No, really J, please," Gwen urged. "Something's wrong here, and we're both getting really scared."
"Oh Gwen, I'm so sorry," Jasmin said, wiping tears from her face. "This . . . this is so difficult." She tried to calm herself. "But it's alright. Really. It'll be alright. Please. Just . . . Ray, and I, will be out in a couple minutes. Okay?"
There was a pause, then Gwen was heard to speak again.
"Okay," she said reluctantly. "We'll be in the living room, okay?"
Jasmin sighed with relief. "'kay."
A light tapping was heard on the other side of the door. Jasmin listened.
"Love you," Gwen said to her.
Jasmin squeezed her eyes closed.
"Love you," she whispered back.
Jasmin stood at the door, wondering what she was going to do, then she felt a tapping on her shoulder. She turned her head toward the sensation, and saw Ray at her side.
"Excuse me miss," he informed her quietly, "but, uh . . . you're naked."
"Yeah," she sighed with oppressive fatigue, "an' I'm big too."
Ray moved into the room, surveying the wreckage of discarded clothing her search had generated.
"Alright, let's get you decent," he suggested, then he turned back to ask, "Wha' do we got so far?"
"Zip," Jasmin answered dejectedly as she carefully approached him. "I can't even get a G-string over my thighs."
During the next few minutes, they managed to fashion a kind of sports top, and diaper, out of sweat cloths that Jasmin would tear apart, and Ray would then pin together on her. After making reasonably certain that her enormous body wouldn't burst out of the makeshift ensemble, Ray joined their guests as Jasmin cautiously made her way after him.
In the living room, Gwen, and Phil, sat together on the sofa looking very worried. Ray came in wearing a forced smile, and took a seat opposite them. The couple, and their host, sat gazing at each other in very awkward silence.
"Okay," Ray finally began, "first of all - "
"Is Jasmin alright?" Gwen wanted to know.
Ray met her caring eyes.
"She's fine," he assured her, "really."
All of them could hear the floor creaking as Jasmin advanced down the hall.
"In a lot of ways, she's better than she's ever been," Ray continued, and then he added, with reference to his company's inconvenience, "and . . . we are really sorry about all of this."
"Hey, no problem," Phil offered with an easy wave of his hand.
"Um," Ray mumbled before he informed the couple that, "there is no overweight neighbor." He paused briefly, then continued. "What you heard was Jasmin."
The floor groaned. Ray's eyes drifted toward the hall as he sighed,
"That . . . was her too."
"Oh God," a frightened Gwen couldn't keep from saying.
"It's okay," Ray quickly assured her, "really." He paused again, then, "To make a very long story very short; something happened, and, uh . . . Jasmin has gotten . . . big . . . really big . . . uh . . . huge."
Gwen, and Phil, sat across from Ray, anxiously regarding him with uncomprehending expressions on their faces. Having no idea of what more he could add at the moment, Ray just looked helplessly back at them.
"What happened," Phil wondered curiously, "'d she go on an eating binge?"
"Phil!" Gwen snapped in knee-jerk defense of her friend.
"No, it's nothing like that," Ray assured them. "She's not fat. In fact . . . that's the least of our problems." He paused again, then, "She's . . . just really big," he told them, "and she's become very, very strong."
The couple tried to understand what Ray was telling them, but digesting such startling information was, obviously, not easy. Finally, Gwen leaned forward.
"Where is she now, Ray?" she asked as calmly as she could,
"I'm right here," they heard Jasmin say.
All of them looked in the direction her voice had come from. When their guests saw Jasmin, both of them were struck dumb at the sight of her. She stood just beyond the archway to the hall, her head nearly reaching its crest, her now gargantuan build overfilling its breadth. Wearing the minimal, patchwork outfit Ray had hastily assembled on her, Jasmin peered at her company through the archway, feeling mortally self conscious. She noted her friends' reaction to the way she looked. She understood how shocking her appearance must be to them, but still, the way they looked at her . . . it didn't help.
But there's an unspoken given in the unspoken terms of friendship. No matter what happens, no matter how people, or circumstances, change; you're friends. And to that end, even before her own surprise had worn off, Gwen was on her feet approaching her friend.
"J, are you alright?" she hesitantly asked.
"Yes, I'm okay," Jasmin answered gratefully.
Gwen's willingness to come near her had meant the world to Jasmin at that moment. It did much to put her at ease as she took a careful step forward, and began maneuvering herself through the archway.
"Oh, J," Gwen breathed.
Seeing the unusual way in which Jasmin moved made Gwen think that she was in discomfort. She took her by one hugely muscled arm, and tried to help.
"I'm fine, Gwen," Jasmin assured her.
She smiled, and gave her friend's hand an affectionate squeeze as she proceeded to work her way into the room.
"I just have to be really careful," she explained, "because of the floor."
The floor groaned in agreement as she shifted her weight to an advanced foot.
Once Jasmin was in the room, Gwen wished her, "Happy Birthday!" and raised her arms to embrace her, but then she stopped short when confronted with Jasmin's daunting physical volume. She studied the problem briefly, her arms upraised in anticipation.
"How, uh . . . h - how do we do this now?" she found herself having to ask at length.
Tears sprang from Jasmin's eyes to realize that a gesture so basic as a simple hug had to be reinvented. She hastened herself to that invention by bending low, and gathering Gwen up into her massive arms.
"Same as before," she said in a tremulous voice. She drew her friend into her vast, comforting bosom. "Same as before."
"Ack!" Gwen exclaimed, shocked by the unexpected sensation of being virtually entombed in warm, powerful flesh.
Jasmin immediately put her down, and backed away. She looked very frightened.
"Did I hurt you?" she urgently needed to know.
"No!" Gwen was quick to assure her friend.
Even though she was befuddled by the experience, she closed the distance Jasmin had put between them.
"No, no, really," she restated, craning her neck to see Jasmin's relieved, and kind, expression looking down on her.
She reached up to take her by the arms, but stopped herself before contact was made. She wanted to touch the massive, swollen biceps, the sleek, naturally dark, oriental skin . . . She wanted to, but she opted to take Jasmin tightly by both hands.
"You're just . . . so damned big, I can't get my arms around you!" she laughed a bit awkwardly.
"Join the club," Ray remarked from where he sat, chafing at his new found inability to hold his woman the way he wanted.
"Well, c'mon," Jasmin prompted to get their visit underway, "have a seat, and tell us what you guys have been up to."
"Oh, same-old, same-old," said Phil without interest.
Jasmin shared a wistful look with Ray upon this telling. She followed Gwen toward the couch.
"Come sit by me," Gwen directed Jasmin. To make room for the massive Asian beside her, she ordered, "Phil," to, "move."
Phil complied without a word, and Gwen took a seat, then looked up at Jasmin expectantly. Jasmin looked at the sofa, and hesitated, wondering if the furniture could tolerate her greatly increased weight. She glanced over to Ray for help, but, seeing her dilemma, and not having a ready solution, Ray merely shrugged noncommittally as if to say, 'Take your own chances'.
"Is there something wrong, J?" Gwen asked.
"No, uh," Jasmin tentatively replied. "I'll . . . just sit on the floor. At least we know it'll hold me."
She carefully lowered herself, and sat cross-legged at Gwen's feet. Her seating location may not have been well chosen, however. Gwen had a strong mother hen streak in her, and seeing Jasmin so changed meant, to her at least, that she was in distress. Almost from the moment Jasmin was close enough, Gwen started fussing over her; arranging a stray lock of hair, straightening a strap of her top, 'dusting' her shoulder, returning to adjust the same lock of hair again, etc. She couldn't help, but do whatever she could to relieve the perceived distress, even to the point of actually causing it, which she soon did.
"Gwen, stop," Jasmin implored her, raising an arm in self defense. "It's okay."
Feeling terribly awkward, Gwen withdrew her overly attentive hand. All of them fell into a long, and very uncomfortable silence. Jasmin's appearance was like an oppressive weight on the general atmosphere, and no one seemed to have any idea of what to do about it. They all waited anxiously for any of the others to say something. Anything.
"I mean," Jasmin tried to offer lightly, but she was obviously trying too hard, "I'm not a baby."
Her effort, apparently, did nothing to relieve the mood.
"Well," Phil ventured, noting Jasmin's attire, "that, uh, diaper is pretty deceptive."
Jasmin looked up at Phil, his remark having taken her by surprise. The room suddenly went deadly silent for a single, gawdawful moment, and then was, suddenly, filled with their laughter. The leaden atmosphere immediately lightened. Grateful for the relief, all of them were finally able to relax, and get down to serious talking. Jasmin was still the center of attention, but, at least, she wasn't 'on the spot' anymore. She, and Ray, took turns filling in their friends on everything that had happened since the previous morning, while, at the same time, being careful to say nothing of her supernatural abilities. Both of them experienced a great sense of release as they talked, and they no longer felt so alone. Gwen, and Phil, plied them with a near endless stream of questions, most of which the couple often found themselves having to answer with, 'I don't know'. Their friend's inquiries gave them many things to consider, think about and explore.
"So," asked the fitness conscious Gwen at one point, "how strong are you?"
"She can lift up a truck," Ray spoke before Jasmin could give him a look that would've stopped him. Observing her foreboding visage immediately informed Ray that he had just dropped a very sizable brick.
"Really?" Gwen intoned, mystified by the combination of Ray's statement, and Jasmin's extraordinary muscularity. Gwen was a passionate hardbody, deeply submerged in the world of competitive fitness. As her experienced fingers began probing Jasmin's massive shoulder, Jasmin gave Ray an exasperated look of, 'See what you started?' to which Ray could only respond with a contrite look of apology.
"Gwen," Jasmin finally told her, trying to squirm away from the unwanted touching. "I'm not meat, and you're not shopping, okay?"
"Oh," said Gwen a bit self consciously as she ceased her examination. "Sorry."
She tried to get around the awkwardness by changing the subject . . . sort of.
"Umm, well I . . . guess this is as good a time as any to give you your birthday present."
She produced a blank, white envelope from her bag, and offered it to her friend.
"Ooo," cooed a beaming Jasmin. Glad for the change of topic, she took the envelope into her hand. "Thank you."
"Maybe you'd better open it before you thank me," Gwen cautioned with a calculated degree of uncertainty.
The big woman straightened her back, and rocked her pelvis to, and fro, excitedly.
"Wonder what it is?" she mused as she examined the envelope.
"Open it," Phil prompted with a grin.
"Well," quipped Jasmin in mock exasperation with a look in Phil's direction, "if you insist."
She went about opening her gift as the others watched her. She carefully tore one end of the envelope from bottom to top, as was her custom. A puff of air then filled the envelope to show a card inside. Extracting it, she saw that it had printing on it, making it necessary for her to ask for her reading glasses, which Ray fetched from her evening bag of their night out. With her spectacles properly set on her face, Jasmin was able to read the printing on the card.
"Oh," she intoned as perception dawned, her voice belying a precipitous dwindling of enthusiasm. "A . . . gym membership."
All of them knew of the fundamental disagreement in temperament that existed between these two women who were each the other's best friend. Almost since their first encounter, years ago, Gwen had wanted Jasmin to come to the gym she habituated. Jasmin, for her part, was seriously not interested. Gwen's persistence, and Jasmin's consistent refusal, had, over time, made the issue a sore point between them. There was even a period during which Jasmin would greet her with a stern, yet good natured, "No!" It was simply a difference in temperament; the one being particular to a barre, the other being particular to a barbell. Gwen even went so far as to take ballet lessons for awhile in hopes of gaining political leverage to what'd become a cause with her. Even though the discipline improved her posing, however, and garnered an approving nod from Jasmin, the pattern of entreaty, and refusal, remained unbroken. Now the stubborn problem had arisen yet again.
"Oh Gwen," droned Jasmin through lightly clenched teeth, "you shouldn't have." Then, casting a glance at her friend, "Really, you shouldn't have."
In all seriousness, Gwen eyed her friend steadily as she traced her fingers over the many pumpkin-like segments of her thick, powerful shoulder.
"J," she told her sincerely, "there are no excuses now."
"There weren't any excuses before," the big woman told her back.
"That body belongs in a gym," Gwen asserted.
"This body belongs to me," Jasmin stated with an edge of anger, "and it's none of your business."
"J . . . ," Gwen intoned with the conviction of the devout.
"Hey, who's hungry?" chimed Ray, trying to sound a bell that would call a halt to the latest round of this ideological boxing match that wouldn't end. It seemed to work as the two combatants quieted with Gwen retreating into a mood of dignified hurt, and Jasmin becoming sullen.
"I am," offered Phil, hoping that his seconding of Ray's proposal would mark an end to the tension.
But it didn't. Even in the midst of total silence the two women perpetuated the heavy atmosphere. The men were reduced to looking helplessly at one another. Ray finally took matters in hand.
"Will you stop sulking," he addressed the female section of the couch.
Both females looked up, and glared at him.
"I'm not - " they both declared at once, then both of them, suddenly, shut their mouths.
Both the men broke up laughing at this. The women responded by closing ranks. Jasmin draped a protective arm over Gwen's lap, and Gwen extended a protective arm across Jasmin's shoulders. If looks could have killed at that moment, both Ray, and Phil, would've been six feet under.
It did get things going again, however. Being a skillful seamstress, Gwen had made a study of Jasmin's attire while the four of them had been conversing. Now she asked where Jasmin's sewing machine was. Jasmin was only able to indicate the bedroom when the men began whining to be fed. Gwen decreed that they would prepare lunch while she got Jasmin "a little better dressed".
So the women retreated to the bedroom while the men soldiered off to the kitchen, but, as the separate sexes set about their separate tasks in separate rooms, the concerns they expressed were oddly similar.
"I guess we know who wears the pants in this household now," Phil ventured as he donned an apron to keep his shirt clean.
"Huh?" asked Jasmin under her upraised arm as Gwen undid the pins that held one side of her top together.
"Well," said Gwen, "I think it's pretty obvious." She now had one side of the makeshift top completely opened. "There, can you pull it off the rest of the way?"
"I think so," Jasmin replied, drawing the top over her head. Her hair snagged on a pin, however, so she had to pause to deal with that.
"Where's your tape measure?" asked Gwen.
"In the drawer right in front of you," Ray said, directing Phil to the kitchen knives. "So, what're you saying, Phil?" Ray asked, knowing perfectly well what the other man was getting at.
"Well, you know . . . ," Phil hedged. He was beginning to feel cornered by his own topic.
"As big as you are now," Gwen opined, "you've gotta be stronger than Ray." She kicked off her shoes, and stood up on the bed, then beckoned Jasmin to, "Com'ere, and turn around."
"Believe it, or not," said Jasmin as she came to stand by the bed with her expansive back to Gwen, "I seem to be a lot stronger that I look."
"That is hard to believe," said Phil, impressed by the price on the package of ground beef Ray had handed him.
"Not really," said Ray. "The health food stores you, and Gwen, go to are always more expensive."
"Yeah, but what about the quality?" Phil asked.
"So your beef is raised on organic hormones," Ray answered.
"Dominance has never been an issue with us," Jasmin informed her friend, pulling her hair over one voluminous shoulder.
"Your traps are 'bout up to yer ears," Gwen noted in a tone of muted amazement. She measured the distance across Jasmin's shoulders. "Jesus, you're huge," she exclaimed.
"Do you have to rub it in?" Jasmin asked over her shoulder.
"Yes, you have to rub it in," Ray maintained, attempting to instruct Phil on the 'proper' way of merging ground beef with seasoning.
"If you're makin' meat loaf, but this's spaghetti sauce," Phil countered.
"Look," Ray said, patiently trying again, "just put the meat in a bowl - "
"Who's wearin' the apron here?" Phil protested, "You, or me?"
"Who's kitchen is it?" asked Ray, pulling rank for rank.
Phil paused a moment, blinked, then said, "Your landlord's."
Gwen finished noting down some measurements she'd taken.
"Okay," she instructed Jasmin, "turn around."
Jasmin complied, but, as she turned to face Gwen, the prominence of her chest forced the little blonde to yield a step, or two.
"Ooo, sorry," Jasmin apologized, reaching out to catch her.
"You need to wear red flags on those things," Gwen commented.
Jasmin looked down to observe her nipples, then glanced up as she queried with a smirk, "They're not red enough already?"
"No, they're not," Phil answered with regard to the readiness of the vegetables he was preparing.
"Okaaayy . . . ," said Ray, observing the flame under the six quart pot he had on the stove. "Water's on." He turned his attention to the pan of ground beef he was browning. "Alright, so you're asserting that - "
"There's always a dominant party in any relationship," Gwen asserted academically.
"Shee, yeah right," Jasmin snorted.
"Ray," Phil maintained, "c'mon, there's gotta be a pecking order."
"Hey," Ray retorted with a wave of his spatula, "you mean a pecker order, don't you? I got the pecker, so I give the orders."
"How primitive," Jasmin commented with a derisive sniff as Gwen dismounted from the bed, "but I guess it's inevitable if there's no respect in the relationship."
"How can you say that?" Gwen demanded. She moved behind Jasmin, drawing the tape around her waist. "It's entirely a matter of respect."
The force with which she drew the tape tight when she'd said the word 'respect' made Jasmin's eyes bulge.
"Wul, wha' do you mean by respect?" Ray asked.
"Not messin' with somebody, because you're afraid of them," Phil stated with conviction.
"Oh, great!" Gwen chirped happily.
"What?" Jasmin queried.
"Your waist is finally bigger than mine!" her friend proclaimed.
"That's one way to look at it, I guess," said Ray.
"Excuse me," Jasmin protested, stung by Gwen's triumph at her expense. She stepped away to face her friend with her hands upraised to indicate the sum of her very substantial physical totality, then pointedly asked, "Proportions?"
" - are the key to a successful spaghetti sauce," Ray declared as he scrupulously rationed additives to the store-bought sauce. "If you don't have the proportions right - "
"You ain't got nothin' for a waist," Gwen commented ruefully upon calculating Jasmin's measurements as she'd noted them down. Jasmin stood at her elbow, peering over Gwen's shoulder.
"Thank you," the big woman responded with a nod, accepting her friend's 'apology' with carefully measured condescension.
"You're welcome," said Phil, having handed Ray the cutting board of prepared vegetables.
"There's more to 'respect' than what you're saying, Phil," Ray maintained. He began transferring the veggies carefully into a preheated pan. "It can be a big part of what separates people, but it's also a big part of what holds them together."
"Okay," said Gwen as she turned.
"Opps," said Jasmin as she backed up a step.
"I'm seeing those little red flags again," Gwen remarked.
"Sorry," a contrite Jasmin offered.
"Okay," said Gwen, "I just need to get your hips now."
"No, no," Phil insisted. "The two sentiments are mutually exclusive. I mean, how can you respect somebody you love?"
"The way you describe it, 'respect' shouldn't even be desirable between two people who give a shit about each other," said Ray.
"That's just my point, J," said Gwen. "I love Phil, so respect really isn't an issue."
"Hm," said Jasmin with mixed interest, "interesting viewpoint."
Jasmin now stood in her altogether. Gwen took admiring noticed her freshly shaved pudenda.
"Don't you look cute," she commented.
"Oh," Jasmin said dismissively, "I did that on a whim. Ray, and I, were joking around, he planted a seed, I got to thinking about it, and - tadah - here I am." She looked a bit uncertain as she asked, "Wha' d' you think?"
Gwen took a moment to examine her friend's 'new look' a bit more critically.
"It's cute," she decided. "It adds to your innocence."
"My - what?" a surprised Jasmin asked.
"Your innocence!" Gwen told her as she approached to measure her hips. "It makes you look like a little girl. A really big little girl!"
"Maybe we're talking about the same thing, but on different wavelengths," Ray suggested while tending his stir-fry.
"We've always regarded our relationship to be an equal partnership," Jasmin told Gwen.
"But J," her friend asserted, "no relationship is ever really equal."
"If that were true," said Ray, "then one party of every relationship would feel cheated."
"How do you figure that?" Phil wondered.
"Let's put it on a personal level," Jasmin suggested to Gwen. "Do you feel like you're getting the short end of the stick with Phil?"
"Don't get me started," Gwen forewarned.
"No, I'm serious," said Ray. "Really. Do you feel like Gwen is cheating you?"
"He'd better not," Gwen answered.
"Gwen, c'mon," Jasmin chided her. "Seriously."
Gwen took a moment to seriously consider her friend's question, then answered quietly, "I hope not."
"So there you have it," Ray concluded. "As far as you can tell, neither of you feels like they're gettin' fucked over. So, what does that leave you with?"
"An equal relationship," Gwen realized.
"I never looked at it that way," Phil acknowledged.
Gwen found a pair of sweat trunks, and held them up to Jasmin's pelvis.
"You know," she observed, "these'll fit you." She moved away, examining the side seams. "It's just a matter of getting them over your big, fat legs."
"They're not fat!" Jasmin vehemently declared.
"Wha' d' you mean, 'not fat'?" Ray echoed Phil with a curious frown.
"Wul," Phil explained as he returned the lid to the cooking pot, "noodles get fat when their cooked. They absorb the water, and expand, and . . . y'know, get fat."
"So, uh . . . when do you think they'll be . . . fat enough?"
"Oh, they'll be done when they stick to the wall," Phil stated, then, "So, how does respect work into this . . . equal relationship thing?"
Gwen succeeded in adapting the trunks to Jasmin's unique contours by taking out the side seams, stitching up the separate halves, then tying them back together again by way of a network of holes, and a pair of shoelaces. After Jasmin had nested the crotch between her legs, Gwen laced up one side while Jasmin laced up the other. The result was a powerful looking, tightly clad, female pelvis with an enticing gap on either side that loudly proclaimed the fact that 'she's not wearin' any'.
Jasmin scrutinized her image in the vanity mirror, turning this way, and that, adjusting the trunks, and getting a feel for them.
"They don't cover very much," she opined critically, still turning, still adjusting. "But I like the way they feel, and the laces really solve the problem of getting them on." She eyed Gwen's observing image in the mirror. "Can you do this with panties?" she asked.
Gwen's eyebrows went up at the same moment her eyes went up to meet Jasmin's.
"You can't get panties over your . . . "
Jasmin's look of warning cautioned the little hardbody - but only so much.
" - legs," she said with a significant smirk.
Ray gave the spaghetti sauce a stir, and a taste. Satisfied, he replaced the lid on the simmering pan.
"I just don't see the point of two people staying in a relationship that's inherently adversarial," he opined.
"A lot of couples find that kind of tension exciting," Gwen pointed out as she searched through what was left of Jasmin's sweatshirts.
"Most of the time I just give in to 'er," Phil said, "because I get tired of arguing with 'er."
"So . . . ," Ray hesitantly surmised, "I guess you could say that she doesn't respect you very much."
Phil took a deliberate moment to consider this prospect.
"No," he replied with an unconcealed tone of resignation, "I wouldn't go that far."
"I'm not afraid of him," Gwen stated with confidence.
"Gwen, it's not about fear!" Jasmin urgently insisted. "I mean - look at me."
Gwen did. She thought her friend looked unreal, unearthly, godlike.
"By your definition; with the way I look," said Jasmin, continuing in the same vein, "Ray should be . . . cowering in a corner for fear of his life. Well, he's not, and the reason he's not is because I respect him, and he respects me, and both of us knows that."
"Is that why you guys never argue?" Phil wondered.
"Jeez," Ray muttered as he turned away, "don't get me started."
"We argue plenty," Jasmin argued, "but our disagreements aren't focused on an individual struggle for primacy."
"It's probably the one reason why we've lasted as long as we have," Ray noted. "Both of us advocate what we are, and have, not as individuals, but together, as a couple."
Gwen reflected soberly on her personal disatisfaction as she examined one of Jasmin's sweat shirts.
"What're you going to do with that?" Jasmin wanted to know.
"Hm?" Gwen mumbled, returning to the here, and now. "Oh, take out the seams, and make a top for you."
"No, not that one!" Jasmin quickly pleaded.
Gwen looked up at her curiously.
"I really like that one," she earnestly informed her.
"Okay then," Gwen replied agreeably. She tossed the sweat shirt to her. "Put it on."
Jasmin caught the shirt, and smiled warmly as she held it up before herself. Her sense of comfort over it's having been sparred was short lived, however, when her perception shifted to include her own large hands, and her enormously muscled forearms. Reminded once again of her size, Jasmin thought, My favorite shirt . . . , with a melancholic, inner sigh. Faced with the unhappy probability of her ever being able to wear the top again, the massive Asian's visage darkened as she eyed the bearer of such bad tidings. After her foul look failed to burn a hole through her . . . friend, Jasmin scrunched her face, and angrily mouthed, 'You bitch!'
Phil selected a noodle from the pot, and flung it at the wall behind the stove. Ray observed the process, noting how the noodle stuck to the wall.
"Fat enough?" he asked, looking at Phil.
Phil returned his look, and nodded.
"Fat enough," he agreed.
Jasmin's sewing machine whirred as Gwen guided material through the feed. Jasmin sat cross-legged on the floor, watching her friend work a kind of magic she quietly envied.
"Y'know," the blonde acknowledged hesitantly, "maybe Phil, and I, should have a talk."
"That's entirely up to you," Ray said to Phil.
"Because," Gwen continued bravely, "what we've got isn't really working."
Jasmin reached out, and clasped her best friend's knee.
"Gwen, if you two are right for each other, you've got nothing to be afraid of."
Gwen looked on her friend from where she sat.
"I wish I could believe that," she confessed.
Jasmin's gripping hand tightened affectionately as she smiled a little smile of wry understanding.
"I thought you said you weren't afraid of him."
"A lot of things we take pride in taking credit for can actually be attributed to just dumb luck," Ray said as he, and Phil set the table. "Impy, and I, got lucky with each other. Forks on the left," he specified, "and don't give me any, 'whose table is it?', bullshit."
"Hey," Phil stated, regarding him with a frown, "I was with you two when Jasmin bought this table."
Ray gave his friend a look of sorely tried fatigue.
"Fuck you."
Jasmin stood on her knees before her vanity mirror, modeling the top Gwen had made for her. It was essentially a sleeveless sweat shirt, slashed to the neckline in the front, back and through both arm holes at the sides, then bound back together with two more sets of shoestrings.
"It doesn't cover very much," Jasmin opined, turning this way, and that, adjusting here, and there.
Gwen came to stand behind her, and stroked her long, black hair.
"Think you're ready to face the world?" she asked her best friend's image.
Jasmin looked up at her in the mirror.
"Do I have a choice?" she asked in reply.
Gwen smiled, and threw her arms around her powerful neck.
"Always," she told her. "Keep your options open."
"Are we ready?" Ray asked his culinary partner in crime.
Jasmin carefully got to her feet. She drew a substantial breath. The top stretched, and held. She smiled at Gwen.
"I'm dressed," she said.
"Let's eat," said Phil.
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