"Alright Vakarian. You've fought mercs, cerberus, thresher maws, and reapers. Hard as it might be, you can do this too. Just take a deep breath, and... PULL!"
Garrus yanked hard on his pants, finally stretching them up past his large thighs. The waistband creaked in protest as it was forcibly expanded to fit his engorged stomach. Quickly but carefully, he grabbed the human garment he had picked up yesterday, something called suspenders, and attached them front and back.
The first time he did this, he fumbled with it horribly, and the straps and pants snapped apart, causing one of the buckles to whip up and whack him in the eye. That was earlier this morning, and fourteen tries and three split pairs of pants later, he was considerable more practiced. Of course all of this could have been avoided if he were on the citadel, or back on Palaven. Earth was notable lacking in plus-sized Turian outlets.
Huh. Funny, that was the first time Garrus had ever thought of himself as plus-sized. It was easy to forget, being here on earth, among humans. He had tried to ignore it for a while, but the fact was, he had put on a substantial amount of weight. Compared to the rest of the galaxy humans were fatty race. Getting fat was a normal part of their aging process, they were born covered in it, and they could get significantly larger than average without too much difficulty. Living on earth, Garrus had gained 30 lbs; by human standards, he had perhaps gotten a little chubby. Turians however were a much different kind of race. Their plate-like skin, their lightweight anatomy, and their military culture meant that fat was a rare thing on Palaven. By Turian standards, Garrus was morbidly obese.
He had certainly seen, or at least heard of, Turians bigger than himself, so he like to think that there was a store somewhere in the galaxy that sold clothes big enough for him. He supposed he could have had Shepard check on the citadel for him before she came back.... But that would involve telling her that he had blimped up while she was away.
Five months, it had only been five months. Just a quick tour of the galaxy again, a visit to everyone she hadn't seen in years. Tali on Rannoch; Wrex, Grunt, and Bakara on Tuchanka; they had, like she and Garrus, moved forward with their lives, and Shepard wanted to see it all, to remind herself that it was all worth it. Garrus had wanted to come too, but he had seen all of them recently himself, during a Turian fleet victory tour, and his new work on Earth, a desk job with planetary security, prevented him from joining Shepard this year.
Meanwhile, with no war to fight, the love of his life gone, and little to do but sit around, watch vids, and eat, that's exactly what Garrus had done. He didn't even need the new job, the entire crew of the Normandy was set up for life retirement after the war, but he found himself going stir-crazy without something to do.
Unfortunately, he had to balance that with his new, slower life with Shepard, so a desk job was the best option.
Of course, that hadn't done his burgeoning gut any favors.
The suspenders were his final option. His midsection was large enough now that they would be invisible under his shirt anyway. Spirits, they were tight though; the taut elastic was cutting into his shoulder, back, and belly. They had to, to be tight enough to hold the trousers at the right height.
Damn it, his body wasn't made for this. He pulled on an over-sized formal shirt, his only stroke of luck in this whole debacle. Turian formal wear was larger and roomier by design, even with that, it was a bit tight. Hopefully she wouldn't notice.
Time to get going to...
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author