Nothing special. No one saved. No one harmed. Just another day ending, head down to avoid the idiotas buzzing around the coffee counters. A trooper's day survived.

There is a plan for the evening. The body needs to rest, which is an opportunity to sharpen the mind. Someone left a copy of Hagakure in the shop, a worthwhile read. There was also a copy of a glossy swimsuit catalog, which should be pursued to remain current on the trends of fashionable and fresh female citizenry. Research, research, research...

Did it.

Done.

A day of nothing, but that happens — we never really know what a day will hold.

Behind me, I felt eyes attached. Turning around, I saw a friendly female coworker who has spent a good portion of her chewy life as a sweet tasty treat. She motioned for me to come to her. As good is a gentleman, I went.

“You've been so quiet today. Everything's okay?”

“Yeah, it's just a day.”

I found myself politely analyzing the perfect overflowing curves of her glorious, sticky ampleness.

“You looking at these?” she asked, placing her hands under her breasts and pressing them high, bulging about her low-cut top.

“Oh... I... Spectacular. Naturally spectacular. They really are.”

“Thank you,” she answered proudly. “Here, take a better look.”

To the delight and glee of gifts unforeseen, there was nothing to do except be polite and admire the perfect, smooth, fresh young skin encasing plump, fatty, full breasts. It was not the place of I to ask why.

“Here,” she insisted, taking my hand and placing it under her shirt and over a hanging, mounding example of nature's fat storing perfection.

Understanding the fragility of women, I had concern for the trauma that could be inflicted if she were to feel as if her generous offer of pleasantries were rejected, so I massaged, gently caressing the beautiful supple skin in my kind and unworthy hand.

“You can stop now,” was her suggestion after a few memorable minutes.

“Okay.” There was nothing else to say.

This was not planned.

Today did not see this coming.

But in every imaginable way, I must thank the universe for letting me play.

Why, I do not know, but there is no doubt the hand of fate is greater than the hand of cause. In fact, the rudder steering hand of fate employs the hand of cause.

Bottom line: Whatever causes the hand of fate to place so unexpectedly the the hand of good feeling around the plump, ample perfection of one of God's greatest toys, is bigger and more generous and whimsical than any of us can ever understand or demand.

Life, it is a gift.

Ample.

Soft.

Smooth.

Round.

Plump.

Perfect.

Who knew today would be sooooooo perfect...

Oh, the recollection and desire for another handful of fat brings firm standing pleasure to the senses.