My wonderful boyfriend, Elwin, invited me to this new, high-end, luxurious restaurant on the north side of town. As I’d never been there before, I decided to arrive two hours early so I can scope out the scene.

The restaurant sits amidst the skyscrapers, taking up the bottom three floors. Cars clog the streets, zooming by with honking and screaming. The wide sidewalk fits hundreds of different aliens going about their daily lives. The beautiful night sky is dominated by the blinding lights of the city, but there’s plenty of shadows to keep myself concealed.

I’m in an alley right now, hiding behind a full dumpster.

In the 20 minutes I’ve hidden here, only six people have entered the building, and eight have left. The women are wearing elegant dresses, so I’ll fit right in, and the men are wearing sharp suits. I don’t know what Elwin plans on wearing, but if he invited me here, it should be fine.

“Righty!” With a determined look in my eye, I stand up and slap my cheeks. Elwin and I are sharads, meaning our skin is white, our hair is white, and our pupils are a striking blood red. Slapping my cheeks puts a bit of blush on them, which is more acceptable for being seen in public. “Long distance observation over, time to get in close.”

I used to get so nervous when walking through crowds, but it’s no big deal anymore. On our homeworld of Sharashado, there’s all kinds of vicious beasts that stalk the lowlands. Since I was born into the Courier caste, my job was to avoid the eyes and ears of those monsters, moving under the cover of darkness to deliver packages and letters to the different kharaks.

But here, in a big city like this, it doesn’t really matter. It’s a different kind of stealth. You can stand in the middle of a large crowd, and even if people glance your way occasionally, they don’t really notice you. So long as I don’t stand out, which is regrettably difficult due to the rarity of having snow white skin and fluffy white hair among these aliens, it’s fine.

Sadly, this need to remain unnoticed messes with my range of acceptable outfits. I can’t go for the dresses that show off my athletic Courier physique since I’d be turning everyone’s heads. I’m just wearing a simple, short-sleeved black dress with a long, wavy skirt. I’d love a window around my waist to show my abs, but oh well. At least the black contrasts well with my skin.

Though I think I’ve worn this dress too many times. It’s starting to feel a little tight in the chest, waist, and hips. Did I shrink it in the wash? I’ve had Elwin explain washing machines to me a dozen times, but I just don’t get it.

Ducking inside a crowd and walking with them across the busy street, I make it to the restaurant and flee inside. The carpet is red, the light is low, the furniture is all made of dark brown wood with red cushions and black accents.

The main reception area has glass walls to see outside, a small banister separating it from the main, lowered dining hall to the right, and small, intimate coves for those who want to wait longer before being seated. The dining hall has tall glass windows as well. To the left of the reception area is a spiral staircase to reach the second and third floors of the establishment.

“Good evening, ma’am.” The receptionist boy says with a smile, causing my body to jolt.

“O-oh, hi,” I mutter out. I should have hidden my presence more and introduced myself, not stumbled in off the street and let him get the drop on me. What an embarrassment! I’m too out of practice.

“Are you waiting for someone, or will you be joining one of our parties?”

“I’m, uh, here alone. I’m going to be eating here with my boyfriend later so…” It’s the dead of night, and despite the activity outside, there’s less than what goes on during the day. Even a fancy restaurant like this will have space open on-demand.

“Ah,” the boy says with an understanding, sly smile. “And you’re embarrassed to be seen eating? Don’t worry ma’am, we serve plenty of young women like that. Follow me.”

I raise an eyebrow, but follow regardless. Don’t want to be seen eating? Is that a normal thing among aliens? I just want to eat first to see what’s good. That’ll make our date better.

Regardless, he leads me down a two-step staircase to the main dining floor, then directs me to a cozy, two-person table near the center of the room. There’s a large chandelier overhead, luxurious red carpets, and black upholstery seating.

“S-sorry, can I get a seat on the side?” I look around the room. None of the patrons are looking at me, but I can feel their gazes avert whenever I look their way. I’m conscious of the fact that it’s probably in my head, and nobody is looking at me, but I can’t help it. “Somewhere in a dark corner, if preferable.”

“Very well, ma’am.” He moves me to an empty seat off center in the room, and I sit down, instantly feeling relieved from the lack of eyes. Scooting to the inner part, my shoulder pressed against the wall. The boy hands me a menu. “May I start you with a drink?”

“You may,” I say with a smile. Looking down at the menu, I can’t read Cirathan Standard very well yet, but that’s okay since every item has a picture associated with it. “I’ll take this blue cola.” I flip the pages of the menu, using my Courier eyesight to take in visuals quickly. “Oh! And I’ll take this pasta. Aaaand this sandwich looks good. Hm? This bug looking thing is weird, I’ll take that. Whoa, what-“

“M-ma’am, you know those are all meals, yes?”

“Hm?” I look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, I know. I’m not stupid.” I reach into my purse and pull out my wallet. “I run security at a very prestigious company, I can pay for as many meals as I want.”

“Oh?” The boy gives me a nice, friendly, suspicious smile. “What company?”

I narrow my brow. What an odd question. Now why would he want to know a thing like that? “No idea. I can’t read the sign.”

“You… don’t know who you work for?”

“Plausible deniability. In case I’m ever captured and they try to torture me for information.”

“O-oh. That’s very serious, ma’am.”

“Security is a serious job.” I raise my chin with a cocky smile, “I’m in charge of organizing the transfer of classified documents, running parcels between the board of directors, and I’m even trusted to send personal letters to their families and stuff (that’s a lie. They use the regular mail services for personal deliveries, but it’s better if potential thieves think that some packages contain worthless junk mail). No package has ever been lost, stolen, or delivered late on my watch.”

“Is it common for people to try and steal packages and documents?” He asks with a deceptively sweet smile.

“…anyway, all my coworkers love me. I’m always bringing in stuff for everyone, like donuts, or snacks, or getting pizza delivered. I’m basically the best manager ever.”

“That sounds like a very difficult job, ma’am.” It doesn’t sound like he means that.

I forcefully close the menu, causing him to jolt, and then I glare at him sideways. “One time, a delivery man added a strong laxative to a friend chicken basket I ordered. He tried to disable all of us to steal the set of parcels we were delivering, but I sniffed out the poison and forced him to eat it under threat of getting his fingers broken. You understand?” That actually never happened, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, understanding that I’ll know if he messes with my food. After handing him the menu, he grabs the menu and takes off. Another threat dealt with. He was asking a lot of probing questions, but I think I sent the message that I was on to him.

The suspicious waiter returns a few minutes later with my blue cola. Half an hour after that, he returns with three plates worth of food. A thick pasta with a pink sauce and chunks of some strange seafood. A burger with a thin meat patty and several layers worth of vegetables. The last plate has a large bug with a coiled shell, and some steamed, buttered, saucy, yellowish bug meat inside.

“Interesting!” As with most food found in the Protectorate, it’s all perfect. Luxurious, bursting with flavor, and plentiful. Very unlike the kharaks of Sharashado, where our food intake is carefully maintained to an exact, specific caloric requirement.

It all tastes great, except the shell of the bug thing. That’s a little too crunchy, I think. I won’t order that during the date.

After licking the plates clean of excess sauce and discarded crumbs, I leave my seat to track down my waiter.

He’s handing plates to another table, and I stand behind him, hiding my presence until he finally turns around.

“Ah!” He yelps.

“Hello I’m ready to order another round of meals, and require another menu.” Then I slink away back to my seat, leaving him in a state of slight shock.

He shows up before long and I order another three meals, allowing him to refill my drink and take the plates away. Of the three I had before, the sandwich was the best, so I order a burger, a double burger, and a five meat burger. Each of them come with an order of fries with different seasonings. It’s all so savory and delicious, I think the single burger was even deep fried in oil!

The waiter boy comes back around once I finish licking clean my last plate, he’s holding a menu in his hand. “I… I take it you’ll be ordering again?”

“Teehee, no way. I should save the rest of my stomach space for my date, which should be in a few minutes.” I reach into my purse and pull out as much money as I need. I’m not sure how much it is, since I haven’t memorized the numbers used in the Protectorate, but he brings me my change before long, then I head back outside to the busy street.

So full of aliens crossing back and forth, with such varying levels of skin pigmentation, and hair colors. I really do blend right in.

Standing off to the side of the door with my purse held tight in front of my stomach, I patiently wait for Elwin to arrive. He always manages to sneak up on me no matter how alert I am, but I won’t make it easy for him. Back pressed against the wall, eyes open, head on a swivel. Despite my alertness, it’s only a minute or two of waiting before I feel a tap on my shoulder, but rather than shock, it’s relief. I turn my head and see my loving boyfriend standing there.

“Hello Eluua,” he says in his simple, rough voice.

Elwin is a bit shorter than me, his eyes only reaching my collar bones, but that’s to be expected. He’s of the Builder caste, responsible for maintaining the kharaks back home. His pure white skin and fluffy bone white hair, marked with a large beard that reaches down to his thick, iron-hard belly. His arms are thick from years of hard labor, and his muscular, stout legs complete the look. He’s wearing a sharp black suit, complimenting my dress.

It’s normally illegal for members of two castes to engage in this kind of relationship, but we received a special dispensation since we don’t live on Sharashado anymore.

“Hello.” I speak with a reserved smile and a polite nod. It’s not good to make too much noise when out of the safety of home.

He holds out a hooked arm, “might I escort you inside?”

I coil my arm around his, “you may.” I cross my right arm over my chest to grab his bicep, then we head inside. Us walking inside like this, we do turn a few heads, and I slink down just a little, rolling my shoulders forward to seem smaller.

“They’re looking at me,” he says, running his far hand down his beard. “It’s to be expected, I spent almost an hour braiding my beard this morning.”

“Teehee, right.”

We approach the front desk with the waiter boy. “Hello,” Elwin says. “A table for two, please.” Such confidence in the face of a stranger, such bravery!

The waiter looks to me for a second, then nods. “Very well. This way, please.”

He leads us to a table in the center of the main dining area, right under the large chandelier. “Actually, sir, could we get a table off to the side? In the darkest spot possible, please.”

“Ah, yes sir. Of course.”

He even brings us back to the booth on the side that I was at before. I sit on one side and slide to the wall, and Elwin slides in on the other.

“Can I get you a drink to start you off?” The waiter hands us the menus.

“Yes,” I say, “I’ll have the blue cola.”

“Same for me.” We open up our menus, but while Elwin seriously considers what he’s going to purchase, I merely pretend to look through it.

“Very well. I’ll be back in a moment.” With a prompt click of the heels, the waiter turns off.

“Oooh!” I point at the bug meat. “This looks-“ I snort, and take a moment to compose myself, trying to steady my smile. “I think you should try this, it looks interesting.”

“Hmh. It does. What do you think you’ll get?”

“Oh, I dunno. This five-meat burger looks good.”

“Five meat?” He raises an eyebrow. “You can read now?”

I wave him off, “a little. We’ve lived in the Protectorate for a few years now, of course I’ve picked up a word or two.”

“I see. And the five-meat burger was the best one you tried?”

“Oh absolutely, by far. And the fries-“ I pause, my brow narrow. Elwin remains stone-faced under that beard. “How’d you know?”

“I arrived before you and watched from right over there.” He points to a raised section in the back of the room, past a banister and a small staircase.

“Huh. You should have been born a Courier, haha. So what’d you eat? Anything you recommend?”

“I didn’t eat,” he pats his thick belly, “gotta watch my figure.”

“Fair, fair.”

“Which brings me to why I did it.”

I lean forward on the table, my arms crossed, “the big question.”

He looks me in the face for a few seconds, considering his words. “You’ve been eating too much lately and are getting fat.”

“Fuuouf-!” All the air is forced from my lungs, “ooh, okay… That… that was a gut punch. Uh, what do you mean? I’m getting fa-“ I place my hand against my tummy, which should be smooth, tight, and flat… but then my eyes round. My red pupils constrict in shock, my lips purse, and my cheeks turn red. It feels like the temperature falls by at least 20 degrees. “Wh-what the…” My gut bulges out not just in the front, but on the sides too, hanging over my pelvis bones like the top of a muffin. I instantly flex my ab muscles to try and hide it, but as I look down, it’s still obvious how out of shape I am. I can’t suck in my haunches. “U-u-uh.”

I move my hands up to my chest, and I gulp. When did my breasts grow so large? That’s disgusting! I’m a Courier! I should be more or less flat chested; aerodynamic for jumping around on trees and sneaking past predators!

But then my eyes trail from my hands, where my fingers are fatter than they should be, until they rest on my triceps. Holding my arms out, the loose skin under my arm dangles offensively, jiggling with each of my heightened, panicked breaths. It goes without saying that there should be little to no fat there, the skin should be tight, and there should be a clear line of definition that separates my triceps and biceps.

“Th-this is… this isn’t… how I should look.”

Fear races through my system and I bring my fatty hands up to my neck, which feels just as fat as I expected. If I lower my chin, the neck fat doubles up repulsively. If I bring my chin as low as possible, the folds become so squished that it’s hard to breathe or swallow.

My cheeks are puffy. My thighs are thick enough to touch even when my knees are a little apart. The skin on my back is loose.

I want to puke, or cry. I definitely want to run away.

“H-how long have… have I looked like this?” My mind starts racing, running over every interaction I can remember. Were people staring at me since I’m some grotesque beast? Have my coworkers been laughing at me behind my back? Did they look at me with scorn and hate?

Elwin shrugs, “it started not long after we moved here.”

“Th-that long..?!” I keep my voice low as I shout, no need to draw more eyes to the freakshow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know why you were getting fatter. Then I saw you eat six meals in preparation to order a seventh.”

I rase a fatty eyebrow, “what does that have to do with anything?”

Elwin’s voice stays calm and patient. It’s more than I deserve… “If you eat more food than your body can handle, the excess calories turn to fat. You didn’t know that?”

I lean forward on the table, my fatty elbows resting on the wood, and my tubby fingers running through my obese hair. “Of course I didn’t know that… You mean there’s a cost to eating delicious Protectorate food beyond just money?”

“Yes.”

It’s at this point that the waiter shows back up, and I want to die. So he saw my disgusting body when I shoveled six meals down my throat? No wonder he was confused. “Here you go,” he sets down the drinks. “Are you ready to order?”

“I’ll take the five-meat specialty burger.” Elwin says.

“Very good. And you, ma’am?”

I turn my head towards the wall, open my hand to block as much of my bright red face as possible, and suck in my gut. He’s standing to my left and has a profile shot, so hopefully he won’t notice my enlarged haunches. “I… I’m good. Nothing please. Sorry.”

He stares at me for a moment, each second under his gaze makes me want to cry. “Sounds good. I’ll bring your meal as soon as it’s ready, sir.”

Elwin nods, and the waiter heads off.

“How do… how do I lose weight?”

“Eat less.”

I nod furiously, my head still turned. I can’t bare to look him in the eye. “And how do I tighten my skin?”

“Exercise more.”

“Okay. Okay, so I won’t eat for the next month, and I’ll start running thirty kilometers every day.”

“That might be excessive.”

I impatiently roll my fingers on the table, “I’m gonna lose like 50 pounds, I’m gonna get abs again, and then you’re not gonna break up with me, and it’ll all be fine.”

“I wasn’t planning on breaking up with you.”

I look over at the blue cola the waiter left for me. “Is that safe to drink for weight loss?”

“No.”

“Oh… what is safe to drink?”

“Water.”

“Water? Ugh,” I lean my head back, “but water sucks. I haven’t drank water since we got to this planet!”

“That’s part of your problem.”

I lean forward on the table, “how do you maintain your figure?”

“I lift heavy things at work, and I only eat three meals a day.”

“Only three? Are you insane? How do you avoid the temptation of so much delicious food, so readily available?”

“Would you stay with me if I was out of shape?”

I think for a second, looking him up and down, his chiseled face behind that beard, thick arms that strain the fabric of his sleeves, and iron pot-like stomach. He’s the quintessential Builder caste. But what if he was flabby, with weak arms covered in excess skin, and a tubby stomach rather than a strong one?

“Well, I mean… I would correct you first.”

He nods. “I’m cutting out the middleman by not getting fat in the first place.”

“Makes sense.” I look down and brush some of the hair in front of my face. “S-sorry you had to correct me.”

“Hmgh,” he says with an affirmative nod.

It’s hard watching him eat while my side of the table is empty, and he won’t even let me steal one of his fries, but this is basically training. I need to learn how to resist temptation.