Egg Ch 01 1

*Author's Note*

Hey everybody.

First of all, let me say thank you to everyone who is a follower of this series. I had someone contact me and offer to help with some editing. After discussion, I decided to rewrite the series with this editor and resubmit. A special thank you to Pixel_Panda for going through and helping me. I will publish chapters as I can once more. I know many of you are waiting for a continual story, but the editing process does take me time and as previous posts show, I am no expert at it. Hopefully, this next posted version is up to par. As always, email me for discussion or questions or even suggestions.

Destodes777

The woods that made up Verdant Springs could be described as an eerie mix of tall old birches and pines that gradually grew thicker the deeper one traveled off the paved paths that wove through it. Moss grew in great blankets across the ground broken by small game trails and paths.

Jacob Grand walked down one of those paths. A small dirt path framed by thick walls of foliage and trees. The eighteen-year-old walked down the dirt path slowly. While he always figured should feel constricting to his enormous frame, he instead found refuge. Dried tears hung on his face.

Gold thick-rimmed glasses barely allowed his poor eye-sight to be corrected. He also wore baggy clothes, but the ill-filling fabric did little to hide the bulges of fat that hung on his body. Sweat rolled under his exertion, for today was not a day the woods provided refuge.

Laughter tormented him. On the breeze, it floated lazily and closer than he would have liked. It followed him, cackling at his heels as he walked to his favorite sanctuary. That sanctuary would be a log sitting on the bank of a small stream.

"Why?" Jacob said out loud.

Jacob asked the question a lot to himself. To the bullies who tortured him through the years at school, peers who ignored him, to his father who either neglected or beat him. No answer ever came back that made it easier. Just more insults and flying fists.

He walked, his feet finding precarious perches as he did. Sore legs carried him onwards. Hurting, Jacob felt a feeling of elation as he cleared the last of the trees and saw the bend in the stream that he loved.

The bend in the stream that Jacob loved could only be seen from the opposite bank. Years ago, Jacob had built a makeshift bridge, which as he crossed currently, wobbled and bucked under his weight. There may have been a crack, but it fell on deaf ears.

In the small clearing that made up his favorite spot sat a single log. Next to that happened to be an old military box made out of metal and weather sealed. A stake had been driven through the bottom to anchor it and a rusting lock kept the weather seal tight. Inside the box, Jacob stored an assortment of writing materials and books. Today wouldn't be a day that he opened the box, instead he would sulk on the log.

Countless days, Jacob had sat on that log. Peace out here by the stream always brought him out of the pains the world offered him. The lazy way the water flowed over the polished black rocks or how limbs of trees bathed their leaves in pleasant breezes left him with a serene feeling. A feeling that washed over him quickly as he sat listening to the flow of water in the stream.

After a bit, Jacob's stomach growled from impatience. It always did that though. Growling and bothering him with its insatiable appetite, Jacob knew what it wanted down to not only habits but taste. Taking his backpack off and opening it, he pulled out a lunch box that was cold to touch. The opening of which revealed a carefully protected prize.

The roast beef sandwich sat inside a transparent plastic zip lock bag. Jacob could already taste the sandwich. Layered with prime cut, lettuce, Swiss cheese and mayo. Fresh tomato complimented the grains and seeds in the bread. Too fast the sandwich disappeared. Licking the last of crumbs off his finger, he sighed in contentment and let serenity wash over him.

"Hey lardo," a voice said. Jacob didn't need to look across the stream to see who the voice belonged to. Billy and his gang. The irony that Jacob's bully happened to be named Billy did not escape him. Every bully had some jock name and a Billy always seemed to be either the leader or member of a gang member.

Jacob looked up when he heard the sound of splashing in his ears. Horror permeated through him as he watched Billy and his two cohorts cross the stream awkwardly. Marcus and Zeek were with him and the trio made short work of the ankle deep water of the stream.

"Now lookie here," Billy said to his friends. "Got my shoes all wet."

Jacob stayed sitting on the log, perched and ready for whatever torment headed his way. He could have tried to run, but the three jocks would only punish him more.

Each older boy took to their callings as captains to different teams. Zeek happened to be the swimming captain. The skinniest and most dark-skinned, the boy known as the fastest swimmer. Marcus led the running team. Slim and pale with red hair. And Billy, the captain of the football team. Tall broad shoulders, Billy took the title of biggest in the school with no close rival.

"Yeah, me too," Zeek said. The boy was shaking his pants off.

"There's a bridge," Jacob said. He didn't know why though. The boys wouldn't appreciate the offer of information.

"What was that fatso?" Billy said, walking over to him and confirming his intentions.

"There's a bridge," Jacob offered once more, but the jock just walked up to him. Grasping him by the shirt and pulling him up, Jacob tried not to flinch. Billy wore a sneer on his face and it made Jacob fail in his effort.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Billy yelled at him.

Jacob stammered but his reply never got out. Instead, Billy's fist smashed into his face. Pain flash immediately into him and by instinct, Jacob went limp.

"He didn't even fight back," Billy exclaimed. Another fist fell upon him and Jacob lost his will to stand. He collapsed and Billy, not understanding what happened, fell atop the larger boy.

"Gross," Billy cried out in disgust. "Help me up."

Jacob felt the weight of Billy leave. He rolled to sit up but the wind rushed out of him as a foot slammed down onto his stomach.

"Did you hear that?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah, it sounds like one of those squeaky dog toys," Billy replied.

Jacob let the blows fall on him. After all, It happened every few weeks. How long the beating lasted Jacob couldn't even fathom. For him, the physical pain faded away as he sank into the dark recesses of his mind. There, he found solace in feeling like his body sank into a pool of black oil.

"I can help you," a warm, compassionate voice said. He wanted to ignore it, but the words enticed him.

"Who are you?" Jacob asked. The consciousness brought sudden pain as he felt a fist fall onto him again.

"Don't speak," the voice said again. "I feel the pain too."

Jacob remained silent.

"When they leave, by the trees you'll find a white sphere. Listen carefully. If you accept my help, find it and take it home with you. Immerse it in water next to your bed before you sleep. Don't alert anyone to it regardless of what happens."

The warmness disappeared and brought him back to reality.

"Come on guys, that's enough."

Jacob barely registered that Marcus spoke the words. Good ol' Marcus who never actually took place in anything physical when it came to the misery inflicted. Marcus did tease, which Jacob never held against his peer because words were really nothing, but it did hurt that Marcus rarely put a stop to things.

"Hey man, relax," Marcus continued.

"What?" Billy said with anger evident in his voice. "You feel sorry for the fat fuck?"

"Just got homework to do is all."

"Let's go," Billy said angrily.

Jacob heard the scuffling of feet across the polished rocks that made up the beach until that turned into splashing. Laughter faded off slowly and he didn't move. A couple times before, Billy had returned and so Jacob had learned to stay put for a bit. He waited for what seemed like hours. When he finally moved, pain laced through his body.

"Damn," he cried aloud. He already felt stiff from the bruising and welts. It took him four tries to sit up and even then he swayed as the world spun.

"Got to be a concussion," he spoke while he wheezed. Standing up was equivalent to conquering the world, and by the time he did, Jacob became aware that the temperature dropped. "At least I can see."

Jacob moved about and picked up his pack with gratefulness the beating hadn't been worse. He just wished it would be the one beating he would receive that week or even day. If his dad saw him in this sorry state, the patriarch's fist would dole out further punishment. Sighing, he prepared to leave when he remembered the voice.

Looking around the edge, Jacob let out an exclamation of surprise when he saw the promised orb. Picking it up, he marveled at it. Smooth as polished stone and no bigger than a golf ball, he got the feeling looking at it that the object may be fragile. Scared to drop it, he put it into his pack, his body protesting the series of movements. Grateful to be done with it, he looked over the site sorrowfully realizing that the one sanctuary he possessed had been taken away from him. He made a final mental note to return for the contents of the box and then turned away from the place.

Unlike the boys who tormented him, Jacob did use the bridge to cross the creek. The path meant more steps, which his body ached with each one, but he got to keep his clothes dry. Honestly, for a beating, Jacob considered himself lucky. Sure the pain existed but the boys had left him in far better shape that he should have been in. In all honesty, as he hobbled painfully through the woods, he surmised it was that because today happened to be a Friday, the bullies had more pressing matters to attend to. Like the school dance that night. If Jacob thought correctly, he knew why Billy had come for him.

Lunch that day at school for the seniors had been busy. As peers gossiped and made final plans, Jacob had sat alone in the corner as per usual. He had already eaten that day, three snack cakes, a sandwich, and two cans of coke, and sat there observing. One of the things he observed was Billy being shot down by a hot girl for a date. The boy must have seen Jacob smirking, to the small justice the universe had given him.

Out of the woods, Jacob walked along a paved path, popular with runners and the like. No one used it now except Jacob. Grateful to the heavens for that small measure of luck that none would stop him demanding to know what happened, a reason centering on bad repercussions from his father in the past, he continued on as fast as he could go.

The effort paid off and by the time he reached home, the pain had dulled and his clothes were soaked in sweat. Even before he reached the street his home sat on, Jacob could smell himself. A strong smell that embarrassed him to no end and one he could never hope to get rid of.

Rounding the corner to his street, he saw that no one was about. No doubt as the evening grew later, everyone that lived on his block made plans for Friday. As he walked it grew apparent to him that his father's truck wasn't sitting in the driveway.

"Thank you," Jacob said in a sigh of relief. He didn't want to see his father that night. Continuing on, he paused in the driveway right next to the mailbox where he leaned on it.

The house that Jacob lived in sat in the center of the row of houses. It also happened to be the biggest, built for a family of at least six, but it never got to experience that. Jacob looked longingly over to the neglected flower garden where a stone cross marked the memory of his mother. A constant reminder of where everything went wrong. It reminded Jacob and his father that his birth had killed his mother. He proceeded to enter into the house. His father once had told him the stone cross had been a prized possession of his mother's but now instead of a fond memory, it brought nothing but emotional trauma.

The home had five bedrooms on the second story, one of which was a massive master bedroom. Apparently his mother had wanted to have a lot of kids. All of the rooms had things in them to that effect. Two boys and two girls, his dad would tell him over the years. The master bedroom sat undisturbed and his father slept in one of the empty rooms. Jacob had his room of course, and the other two rooms were untouched except for the abandoned kid's furniture projects.

An unexpected snap sounded and Jacob barely had enough time to register that the sound came from the mailbox. He stepped away as quickly as possible to see that the wooden pole now leaned at an angle with a crack.

"Crap," he said, sudden fear going through him. When his dad saw it no doubt retribution would come. Sullen, he went up the steps of his house.

The key to the home had been hidden on the screen door right inside in a black magnetic key holder. Getting it out, Jacob opened the door before putting it back and going inside.

Entering into the Grand family home meant entering into a man-made scenery of nothing. There were no pictures on the walls, barely any furniture. Most had been broken by his father in his many drunken stupors. The house was a shell of what it could have been. Stains on the walls and wooden floors where the polish and paint long since faded greeted all who entered, which for the home, often meant no one but Jacob. With a depressed sigh, he went upstairs to his room.

Jacob would have to give kudos to his dad on a few things. One, is that even though the patriarch was abusive, the man did take care of his son. Jacob had a massive desk, a bed and shelves lined with collectibles. Each section of the shelves had a specific purpose.

The shelf next to his desk held books and notebooks. The two on the wall next to his bed were filled with figures. The last top to bottom had finished models and hand-painted figures. All paid for by the generous allowance that his father gave him. Jacob didn't understand how such an abusive man offered such a solace, but he never questioned the stacks of cold hard cash and written notes of instructions his dad would leave behind. The man worked hard for some job he didn't know much about and drank himself to a grave at night.

Jacob went to the bathroom and stripped. From there, he examined his flabby and rotund body as much as he could in the mirror. Bruises of purple and black showed on his skin, some brand new and others faded. He smiled a bit thinking that he could have been a furry and spotlighted as a leopard. With a shudder, he dismissed that thought and lumbered into the shower.

In the time that Jacob entered and exited the shower he self-reflected in the shower. He could barely move in the thing, but did his best to wash himself. A process that involved lots of soap on a long back washer stick, which he used for his whole body. When he did exit, Jacob did the one thing he promised he would never do until he actually noticed weight loss. He stepped onto a scale.

Numbers jumped up accordingly fast on the digital scale. He watched and two-hundred flashed by. The displayed number stopped at three-eighty.

"I lost six pounds," he said excitedly from the news. "I can't believe it. I lost six pounds in a week."

Smiling now, he got off the scale and lumbered back to his room. Naked as the day he was born, he walked over to his desk and sat in the chair. It protested loudly from his weight, but he hoped that enough would be lost before it broke.

Logging onto his laptop he owned, made by that company with the fruit logo, he searched diligently on his favorite search engine, regarding different strategies to lose weight. Jacob had begun thinking of losing weight a couple of years ago. With no help or understanding of how, he had realized through researching online that he was an emotional stress eater. All the pain he had endured was dulled by the food he consumed, but that action could no longer appeal to him, even if he couldn't escape what he did.

Portion control had been his first step. Next week he planned on walking more, but he was afraid of that. The increased exposure for sure meant more opportunities for ridicule from others. A fear that he knew that needed to overcome if he wanted the weight loss to succeed.

Written on several sticky notes that were posted on his desk, were a series of goals. First, to lose weight. Second, to become fit. Third, to kick his bullies asses with the latter word circled with a marker. The last note just had the word "Dad"written on it.

Getting up from the chair, Jacob retrieved his pack. He opened it up and began taking out his school things. It wasn't until he felt something round through the interior that he remembered the sphere. Pulling it out with his hands carefully, he looked at it from various angles on its hard surface.

"What are you?" He asked, but it didn't reply. Sighing he put it on his desk. After an hour of aimless surfing, he put a game on. That took him late into the night and his stomach growled reminding him he still hadn't eaten dinner. A few clicks on the computer and he ordered a large specialty salad from a place he never tried before. Then he got dressed and went back to watching the game.

The immersion of the game took over once more only to be interrupted by the food arrival as announced by the doorbell. Jacob scrambled to answer the door, getting there in over a minute.

A shortstack girl seemingly in her early 20s greeted him when he opened the door. The kind that Jacob had dreamt about, but never would look his way. The look of surprise and subsequent poker face expression on her face at the sight of him told him everything he needed to know about how he looked to her. He gave her the money, tip included, and retrieved the large salad bowl from her. She and him exchanged no words as he went back inside and closed the door. Feeling sad now, he ate the large bowl of salad alone in the kitchen. After he finished, he got a glass of tap water and headed upstairs having decided that going to bed would be better than continuing to be awake.

Once back in his room, Jacob put the glass of water on his nightstand and went over to his desk. Grabbing the baseball sized white sphere from the top of the desk, he walked back over to the glass of water.

"I wonder what's going to happen," he said aloud before shrugging. He dropped the sphere into the large glass of water. But if it could be submerged inside a glass cup than it is more like a marble than a hollow sphere. The displacement pushed up some of the water over the rim of the cup, spilling a little of it. He ignored the spillage and closed the door to his room before climbing into bed. Laying down, Jacob looked at the submerged sphere and really wondered what it actually could be. A thought that stayed on his mind as the darkness of the sea enveloped his consciousness.

"Jacob," a feminine voice said.

"Who's there?" Jacob replied groggily. His awareness felt murky, like being in water.

"You have done well," she said.

Perception returned and he found himself in a cone of light, laying on a stone floor.

"What is this?" He asked.

"We are in your mind," she said. "In your dreams as you slumber."

"Who are you?"

"I have no name," she said. "A more appropriate question is what, but with your current mental capacity, the answer will drive you insane."

Jacob thought about that answer for a bit.

"So what do you want from me?"

The light suddenly brightened to push back the darkness around him. What was before him could only be described as a nightmare. On a throne sat a human-sized mass of writhing tentacles. He noticed how they somehow seemed to have a feminine figure as vaguely human curves presented themselves.