Milo Mass Introduction


      “Good evening, gentlemen and ladies!”

      A spotlight came on, shining down directly upon a figure, the owner of the voice. The baritone sound seemed to suggest masculinity, but the body was a fair bit more muddled: the Milotic had an elegantly curvaceous physique, and the prominent meaty bulge around the groin was coupled with a sizably buxom chest. The uniform he wore was also a combination of conflicting tones, a jacket worn over a white shirt with a bowtie, its buttons strained by the mass of his bosom, while below that was a leotard that reached down to wrap around the underside, providing the tension for his crotch while leaving the slender length of his pale-scaled legs completely exposed.

      He tipped the top hat on his head in a dramatic flourish as he leaned over for a bow, long ribbons of purple hair falling forward past his shoulders while his mosaic tail rose up in the air behind him, swaying faintly. “I’m sure that you all must be wondering exactly what this show is going to be about,” he continued with a bright smile, all while mischief twinkled in his dark eyes, “not to worry, I shall not keep you in waiting any longer. There is much to do, and much to see!”

      He threw his arms out to gesture all around him as more lights came on one by one in a flash, and each one revealed something hidden the darkness: a number of ghostly white sheets which were draped over large, broad, thin shapes, seeming perhaps to be the frames of mirrors of portraits, their pointed and curling edges suggesting elaborate designs hidden underneath, all floating in the air around him. “For you see, we are upon a momentous occasion,” he announced emphatically, “a celebration of all things beautiful, serpentine, and, most of all, [i]big[/i].” He winked as he cupped a hand to his chest, fingers pressing into the doughy flesh.

      “And so, to that end, I have gathered a plethora of subjects for your viewing pleasure,” he then said whilst turning in place, gesturing to all of the obscured objects around him, “All of them have been suitably changed to be appropriate for this event while having their deepest interests brought to the surface. Not to worry, though, I assure you that everyone present is perfectly safe, even if they aren’t entirely conscious of the circumstances they’re in. We do our best to keep things humane around here.”

      “So when are we going to be allowed to leave?” a voice called out from the darkness.

      “Hush,” the Milotic promptly responded, snapping his fingers, and the dissenting voice spoke again in gasp of protest before turning into indistinct muffling. “Now, without any further ado, let us begin on our journey of wonder, whimsy, and width!” he proclaimed, and he made a beckoning motion, prompting one of the covered frames to float closer toward him. “Please, try to contain yourselves – I know that there will be much to take in, but our show has quite a ways to go, and you’ll want to savor every moment.”

      With one fluid motion he tugged on the curtain, revealing what had been hidden beneath: a mirror indeed might be the closest approximation, but contained within the rectangular frame was a shimmering, multicolored surface. Shortly after being exposed to the light of the stage, this surface then started to shift, and it seemed to draw one’s focus in as it took on a new image.