Yasuinu

Orihime Inoue loved her part-time job. She always had an affinity for baking, and working at this bakery was probably the best thing that has happened to her in a long time. Fighting Hollows, helping Ichigo, and being a select handful of humans that knew the true secrets of the afterlife (and how weirdly classist it is) was fun and all. But few things gave the buxom high school senior more joy, than taking in the smell of freshly baked bread at the start of her shift. As well as have her carry that smell when selling that soft bread to customers, vendors, and of course, her friends—when there was any left. Since, even Orihime’s overly generous nature, didn’t stop her from sneaking a loaf or three every now and then—over the past year and a half. Inevitably leading her to lose the slender figure that most girls idolized her for. Her uniforms grew tighter, her bras snugger, and the struggle to slide behind her desk became a bigger hassle with each passing month.

The model industry was one of the most competitive and volatile industries in the world. There are those who struggle to even get their foot in the door, and those who have…most are barely able to last more than a few months before the next flavour of the month comes along. This wasn’t the case for Midnight. She was one of the premiere height and plus size models in the industry. When she came through the door, the fashion designers and runway models all stopped and took note…they knew she was the real deal and she was gonna go far in this industry. And how right they were as the 10ft tall Midnight was able to keep a strangle hold on the entire genre for the last ten years. She was all over the place, her stature and her weight were worldwide knowledge, she was on top of the world. But like everything in life…what goes up…must come down. And she was coming down in the worst and most humbling of ways. The 31-year-old bombshell had started to get older…sure being in your thirties was

“Basschin!” the name was a curse on my lips. Chaos ensued upon the beach, with every girl hoisting their stuffed selves into action. I could see little more than their feet stomping their way through the sand towards me, for the albino crab had latched itself to my face! “Off!” I cried as I stumbled to my feet. “Off, damn you! Fucking… Aniya! Basschin! Someone get this thing off me!” To ask anyone for help was not a thing I did lightly, but this was a perilous situation with weighty consequences. The albino crab had latched its six legs around my head, its bleached, bone-like underbelly pressed tightly against my nose. Even now, I was pulling madly at the beastly thing, gaining confidence that I could pull it off, only to feel sharp pains at the roots of my hair. The crab’s coconut-cracking pincers had clamped onto my hair! “Ahh, fuck!” I stamped my foot with rage. “Stay back! All of you stay back!”