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(Romance, BE)
I awoke slowly, sleepy fragments of my mind still clinging to my dream. It was hazy, and part of me was unsure if I was still asleep or awake. There was a time when that would have made a difference. I shifted, feeling his warmth against my back, his arm curled around me softly, our fingers interlaced. He was with me in bed, which should have told me that this was real. But he was in my dreams too. He always was. If I stirred, he would know I was awake. And our day would begin. It was such a simple thought, that thrilled me, paralyzed me and filled me with equal parts ecstasy and dread. I had leashed myself to this comet, dived into the maelstrom willingly and now I was a kite in a hurricane. I tried to think back to a time when things had truly felt real. Before I met him. Before when everything was worse. And safe. And predictable.

I remember it happened during a bad day. It sticks out to me as such because it was one of my last. It’s not something I ever really regret leaving behind, but you can still miss something like an annoying neighbour. Having bad days felt natural. Now it’s just another reminder of what I’ve abandoned.
Bad days are a matter of cause and effect. Something as simple as missing your alarm can spiral outwards into a bad hair day, a foul tasting breakfast and an odd pain in your foot you get when running for the bus. After that, everything felt expected. Dropping my phone in a puddle was a mild inconvenience, losing my files at work was par for the course, and the broken strap on my purse just felt like it was overdue when it happened.
That was where I met him.
I was crouching down, gathering my spilt personal effects, when I suddenly felt the sun on my back. It had been overcast all day and suddenly spring decided to rear its head when I wasn’t looking. I felt a tingle race up my spine and a hand extended into my range of vision, holding my phone. At first I didn’t recognize the device, as I was certain that my screen had cracked that morning, but it was my wallpaper.
“Need help?” he asked.
“Yes…” I admitted meekly.
He gathered the rest of my items up and deposited them back in my bag. They were miraculously all unscuffed and dry. I glanced up just in time to see my bus drive off without me.
He apologized for my situation, and offered to buy me coffee.
Sometimes I try to remember exactly what we talked about in that cafe. I remember him mentioning his job and me opening up about the day I had experienced, but details eluded me. I know that I was listening to him, but I was….distracted. Everything felt like a dream. It was warm indoors, my drink tasted better than anything I could remember from the establishment, my seat was comfortable and all the little aches and pains from the day had melted away. Just being around him was the coziest thing in the world.

Scott. He said his name was Scott.

I agreed to a date with him the next day. It felt as natural as breathing. Why wouldn’t I? He had been nothing but accommodating and charming. That evening was pleasant and quiet, and my dreams were filled with the vague images of warm embraces and soft tickles up and down my spine.
I don’t quite remember waking up the next day. Usually I’m hazy until coffee, but this felt like I drifted into consciousness when I was well into my morning shower, awaking to warm water pouring over my body. The rest of the day was a blur until I headed out to meet Scott. I had suggested a date at the local gardens.
The good weather from yesterday had remained, despite forecasts for rain. I don’t know why I expected sunshine when suggesting an outdoor activity, but there it was. I wore one of my nicer dresses for the occasion, and was surprised at how good it looked on me. Everything hugged my body just right. He was the first to complement my appearance, and for once “I woke up like this” was utterly true. I couldn’t remember the last time preparing for an outing had felt so effortless.
He always seemed to have a deep well of information on anything. Most of the day was his comments on plants, or dogs, or some terrifyingly vast but comfortingly sympathetic philosophy. He always had an agreement or well-thought out counterpoint to all of my own interjections. Too many men feel a need to impress on the first date, Scott sought merely to engage me. His impressiveness came naturally.
I had been expecting bugs, but while there was the occasional distant buzz, none seemed to want to pester us. There was no line at the spot we paused to grab lunch, and our food came quickly, proving to be utterly delicious. It was around the point that Scott offered to take a photo of a bird that had landed on my palm that I had to admit that everything about this day had been….easy. Convenient. So incredibly lucky that it made me wary. I couldn’t explain it, but I was suddenly suspicious of Scott. I had no reason to believe that he had any sort of hand in my turn of good fortune, but it felt natural to assign it to his presence. I decided that I had had enough and suggested a quick end to our outing. I never felt in any danger, or even uncomfortable as I softly dismissed his protests. If anything, I was *too* comfortable. It was eerie.
In spite of this, we exchanged numbers and he offered to drive me home. I took the bus.
It was raining by the time I got back to my place.

The next week felt like it passed all at once, with the occasional sharp defining moment of inconvenience. A sore back from a night of sleeping odd, a split lip from the change in humidity that bugged me all day, burned food, the lingering taste of toothpaste souring a morning snack….
These really were just minor issues, the kind of thing that any person dealt with on a daily basis. But they all seemed so much more vivid now. I hadn’t appreciated how bizarrely perfect that day had been, free of worry, irritants, the thousand little aches and pains that painted the background of life. It had been so surreal that now I was trying to remember it like some half-conceived dream. I had since woken up, and every pain in my side, uncomfortable chill, moment of tedium or needling point of uncertainty was thrown into stark relief, blinding me to the rest of my experiences.
I had a minor panic attack one evening, sitting on the foot of my bed. Was this going to be the rest of my life? Soured and disappointed by the typical after having a taste of something so much more than that?
Maybe I would have eventually gotten over it. Maybe I could have even forgotten what that day felt like and reconditioned myself to a normal life. I could have told myself that I didn’t want to see his face again, didn’t want to hear his voice or feel his warmth. But that opportunity never came. A week later I called him, and tried to keep the desperation out of my voice when we agreed to see each other again.

He offered to buy me dinner, of course.
The restaurant had room at their best table for a last minute reservation. I made it there with time to spare, and met him just as our spot opened up. The wine matched the meal, which was delicious and brought to us quickly, and I can’t remember ever wanting to tuck into a second helping of vegetables like the ones that came with my main course.
I was poking at a frankly extravagant dessert that seemed to be getting better and better with each bite when I finally worked up the courage to ask.

“So what...is this?”
“Could you be more specific?” He inquired.
“This….perfection” I pointed at my dessert, at the restaurant. “This sort of thing doesn’t just happen. Everything is easy when I’m with you, everything is comfortable.”
“Maybe you just like being around me?” He smirked coyly.
“I do” I sighed. “I really do. But this is more than just good vibes. You’re doing something, aren’t you?”
He was silent for a moment, patting at his mouth with his napkin.
“Yes”
I felt a dozen, a hundred questions pile up in the back of my throat. He spoke before any of them could spill out.
“It isn’t action on my part. I’m not waving my hands and granting a wish, or anything. This is just what I’m like. I have no idea what difference you’ve noticed, though I’m sure that there is one. This is just what it is around me. It’s like gravity.”
I felt my stomach flutter at that.
“Are you….”
“A god?” He asked, chuckling. I had to laugh too, at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “No, I don’t think so...I don’t really know what a god is. But I am a visitor. Not from…” He gestured all around himself. “Here.”
He stood up, and everything else just...faded away. The restaurant, the people, maybe the whole world. It was still there, but muffled and blurred, like it was on the other side of clouded glass. I felt a chill run up my side, fear and excitement mingling as he stood at my side.
“I want to take you with me. You could live like this, with me. Forever. You’d be mine, and I’d do everything for you…” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “But you’d be mine.”
I swallowed, comprehending the decision. “I can be with you. Live like you. Be yours….”
He nodded. This was my one and only chance.
“One condition” I stated, keeping the tremor from my voice. “I want to still live a normal life.”
He fought back a smirk. “Okay. But my version of normal.”
“I’m in.” I agreed. “I want this. I want you.”
It was done. I felt like I was falling, like a feather, drifting slowly downwards as the world ignited all around me, light and sound hazily meshing into a glittering aurora. And he was there, above me like the sun, watching me, holding me, gently guiding me deeper and further downwards as my senses ignited. Soft, warmth enveloped me as he took me in his arms and my toes curled in delight as I felt his presence all around me. I shifted, and sighed, the world tilting around us as I lost track of reality.

I woke up in my bed. I knew this implicitly, even though it was nothing like my bed. It was softer, cozier, much larger. It matched the room around me, larger and more impressive than anything I could hope to afford, but still, inherently, mine.
I stirred and rose, feeling refreshed and clean, despite my deep sleep. I could hear Scott downstairs. I lived in an apartment that had managed to grow a second floor some time overnight.
I looked outstanding when I checked myself in the bathroom mirror, more like someone who had been to the hairdresser than who just woke up. But something was...off.
I realised it in the shower. My breasts had grown, ever so slightly. Not by a really perceptible amount, but just enough to notice. It was odd, more intrusive than the other changes. Even my body had been expanded upon. But it was mild, and not a problem, really. So I didn’t bring it up during my hour-long breakfast with Scott at 8:00. I then spent half an hour picking out an outfit for the day, and left for work right at 8:15.

The issue made itself known as I was driving to work when my shirt started to feel tight, and a button suddenly flew off my blouse. I nearly swerved at the unexpected wardrobe malfunction, but managed to get to my office without any kind of major incident. I emerged from my car sporting several cup sizes that I hadn’t possessed when I woke up, enough to burst buttons on my shirt and expose a deep line of cleavage. My chest seemed to radiate with heat every time I tugged at the sides of my shirt in an effort to cover myself. I ended up doubling back to the car to grab a jacket, not wanting to expose myself to my colleagues.
It didn’t help. My zipper inched lower and lower throughout the morning. By lunchtime, my torso was dominated by a pair of breasts that had exceeded known measurements and rested on my desk like a pair of soccer balls. Touching them sent little shivers of pleasure up and down my spine, and my jacket was incapable of containing their heft, serving only to frame my endowments. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment whenever a co-worker passed by, but all they had to offer me was the occasional word of encouragement, or a compliment on how “healthy” I looked. I silently fumed. This had to be Scott, and he had gone too far. It was a little past noon when I wheeled away from my computer, my lap filled with my own voluminous breasts, and called him. He answered immediately, eager to hear how my day was going.
As if he didn’t know.
“What kind of game are you playing?” I hissed at him.
“It’s just a little charm” He explained “Nothing serious”
“Serious?” I hooted. “I don’t think I could stand up with these things!”
The world shimmered slightly, and I was back at home, sitting on my bed. Scott was leaning on the dresser, holding my phone and hanging up.
“You’ll be fine” He said in the calm, reassuring tone he always had. “You can do whatever you want to. I told you. You just need to figure out exactly what that means.”
My breasts began to grow again, filling my lap and parting my clothes like curtains unveiling a grand spectacle. I hugged them.
“I didn’t want it to be this extreme” I shivered, feeling the contact of my arms against my whole chest. They were absolutely massive now.
“They’ll keep growing as long as you try to cover them up” Scott stated matter of factly, as if he had no control over the matter.
“We agreed to a normal life” I said desperately.
“We agreed to MY version of normal.” Scott corrected me. “And we aren’t there yet. I thought I’d give you something fun in order to help you….adjust.”
I felt my stomach fill with butterflies again. This was just the beginning. The start of what we had agreed to. My mind flew back the words of that all-too-brief conversation we had had before I took his hand. He told me he wasn’t a god. He told me I would be his. His normal. He had said forever.
Forever.
The word in particular ignited my mind with the same nervous, frantic, enthralling excitement that Scott always managed to conjure. Forever. This was going to be life now. What I had agreed to. There was no going back.
This was going to be MY normal too.