At last, here's the results of the first YCH Auction I'm doing alongside Brock to catalog Theo's diverse clientele. This auction's winner was  cynical_gage, whose kitsune Thomas was looking to boldly eat what no man had eaten before, i.e., everything in the universe.

This is going to be one of the entries for my anthology of Theo's travels through time, so if you like what you read and see here, consider checking out the next YCH in the next few days!

Art ©  rockytheprocy
Story © c'est moi
Thomas ©  cynical_gage

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Now, many have come to assume that I yearn for the so-called “good old days,” that fantastical era of history that always seems to shift around, meaning everything from the glory days of Pax Romana to the 1950’s. Nothing could be further from the truth, dear reader. I may have a certain, shall we say, affinity for the great, aristocratic courts of old, but time is something of a somewhat lax librarian; I come and go as I please, and so long as I am no great disturbance, he doesn’t bother me. Why, just the other day, I met the most fascinating client some two centuries in the future.

Oh, the things you mortals have to look forward to in the 23rd century- space colonization, meeting alien races, the robot uprising… Mr. De Fleureaux is giving me a concerned look, presumably about that last one, but he needn’t worry. He’s got a handful of decades or so to prepare for it.

Ah, but I digress. The client in question was one Thomas Kitsune. A somewhat on-the-nose name, as he was himself a kitsune, but one of the more unique ones I’ve had the pleasure of coming across. His pupils were the shape of stars, and all nine of his tails ended in a hand. He was, you could say, a rather handy fellow. (The author must pause here, having sprained his wrist attempting to strangle Theo for that last statement.)

As I was saying, Mr. Kitsune was already large when I found him. A rather rotund fellow with long hair streaked with green and dark grey fur that provided ample proof that dark colors are not inherently slimming, his ponderously porcine posterior provided a positively pear-shaped profile. I latched onto him in particular whilst in a small bistro, eyeing him as he sighed glumly at some horridly flavorless artificial whats-its that was apparently all the rage in 23rd century cuisine; something to do with the robot uprising, but I’m not quite certain. Anyways, it was instantly clear to me that Mr. Kitsune was hungering for something; I just had to sniff out what. He and I recognized each other almost instantly; not in the sense that we were former acquaintances, but there was something about Mr. Kitsune, an air about him, that struck me as familiar. I shan’t say what, but let us simply say that one does not acquire nine prehensile tails with hands attached at a local supermarket; whether he knew it or not, he had more in common with me than one of you fine mortal readers.

The simple truth of the matter was, my new client was bored. He was tired of the safe, artificial trappings surrounding him, the all-too clean and safe environs of the 23rd century’s technology dominated world.

“There’s still so much we don’t know about the universe,” he told me as I provided him with much heartier, tastier fare for dinner; an old recipe of mine involving filet mignon and Cherries Jubilee. “All anyone does anymore is look at hologram screens and let robots sort out the rest. We can easily send a ship to the Andromeda Galaxy, but since we’ve got colonies in a hundred different systems, people think there’s nothing we haven’t seen already.”

I sympathized with Mr. Kitsune; surely, it is a travesty to be surrounded by the incurious and the easily satisfied. I’ve come across more than my own fair share, and they are frightfully dull. So the question becomes, what could I do to alleviate Mr. Kitsune’s boredom? Well, if no one if the 23rd century was keen on expanding the horizons of their star maps, then the task should clearly fall to my client. But of course, Mr. Kitsune was not exactly in the best shape for space travel, not by the conventional standards. It was thus my task to mold him into the shape of a true astronaut hero, or at least, this was the original plan.

“Look, if this is what it takes to get into space, maybe it’s not the best idea for me…” Mr. Kitsune had told me after a particularly strenuous workout. His belly was stubbornly stretching out his clothes, refusing any shirt to cover the peak of that furry dome. It was frustrating; there was something about this vulpine’s physiology that proved utterly resistant to my usual methods of sculpting a body into a herculean physique. My patented Drink Me tonic had only added more fat to his frame, particularly in his rear, now spilling out of some rather unflattering gym shorts. Where had I gone wrong, I wondered?

“You just have to give it the old college try, Mr. Kitsune. Nothing any other astronaut hasn’t gone through,” I said in a reassuring tone.

He scoffed at my attempts to help. “It’s not like there aren’t other ways to help space exploration… I could be in station command.”

“But did you not tell me you wanted to see the wonders of the cosmos without it being filtered through a screen?” I took him by the shoulder, gesturing to the stars shining in the night sky through the gym’s large window. “You were destined to travel there… you could say I see it in your eyes.”

“Hah.” He was being stubborn, but I saw that I was wearing him down; persistence and charisma, in equal measure, are key in my line of work.

“Come, why don’t we talk this all out over a little treat?” I produced a small morsel, one of my famous fruit tarts, wafting it under Mr. Kitsune’s nose so he could smell it past his second chin.

I saw his stubbornness break as he sighed, grinning in spite of himself as one of his tails snapped up the treat. “Alright, Theo. But you can’t win me over all the time with treats.”

“Ah, of course, Mr. Kitsune, I promise,” I said, planning to win him over all the time with treats.

It was something that was fairly obvious to me after meeting him; Mr. Kitsune was so dreadfully tired of bland fare, he was excited at the prospect of new and exciting food. The problem becomes that it is awfully hard to motivate someone to get in shape when rich desserts are one’s sole motivation. But then, that’s when it struck me.

“We’ve had space explorers inspired by the advance of science and progress, the sheer thrill of adventure and exploration, but you, Mr. Kitsune, are going to be a different type of astronaut,” I explained to him.

“What do you mean?”

I offered him a friendly smile. “Why, you’re going to be a cosmic gourmand, Mr. Kitsune.” I grabbed his round shoulder, tapping his swollen side. If I couldn’t mold him into a more heroic build, then I would mold him into something far greater, something with planetary dimensions, if I had my druthers. “Imagine. Every exotic eatery in the galaxy and far-flung, foreign feast, every tantalizing tidbit and alien aperitif; you could be the first to try them all.”

I saw those star-shaped pupils sparkle; I had him. “It sounds tempting… but don’t I need to get in shape, still?”

My smile deflated a bit at that. Logic always had a way of ruining my best plans. “You just leave that to me, Mr. Kitsune. I have a way with people, after all.”

It wasn’t how I like to do business, but I’ll do anything for my clients. A few people at the space agency needed to be coaxed; one particularly nebbish and anemic fellow was flirting with a dream of being a world-class bodybuilder, and I don’t need to tell you what I did with him. Another liked nothing more than sweets, and, well, I’m proud to say I left her particularly rubenesque after I finally convinced her to sign off on Mr. Kitsune’s albeit frosting-stained clearance pass. Finally, our Mr. Kitsune was a certified astronaut. Granted, he couldn’t pass any of the physical tests and had no actual training, but why let such details get in the way of one’s dreams?

It was all worth it to see how his face lit up upon seeing his spaceship; a fully automated corvette, I believe it was called, set for personal space travel. A handsome vessel, to be sure, if a little too sleek and minimalist for my personal tastes. It had adequate quarters, if one is comfortable with tight spaces, which Mr. Kitsune most certainly was not; I would need to make significant modifications to ensure he didn’t catch wise to any additional poundage he may inadvertently be carrying on-board during his long expedition.

Still, my client was all agog and aghast at his new ship. His many tails brushed against every surface his round posterior didn’t, those curious tail-hands pushing every knob and button, like a child at Christmas. It was almost sweet. But my eye was ever set on the horizon; my client wanted to see, and taste, the universe, not a mere spaceship. I urged him into his tight captain’s chair, ample sides spilling over the arms as I added another mental not to my long list of desperately needed adjustments, and soon, we fired off into the wild blue yonder.

The first few days were of little consequence, though I could tell Mr. Kitsune was slowly losing his enthusiasm for the journey when he saw the rations that had been given to him. More of the artificial, bland gruel I had found him eating in the first place. I could see the writing on the wall; he needed a victory, some excitement, and he needed it soon, or he would turn his tin can around and all my work would be for naught.

I left a subtle little hint; a little blip on his holographic map. “What’s this?” Mr. Kitsune furrowed his brow. “A second moon off of Gliese 876? This system should have been fully mapped out years ago!”

“What fortunate happenstance that you’re here, then, Mr. Kitsune,” I said; the second moon was a little known gem amongst my crowd; us Cheshires have a remarkable felicity for astronomy, as it turns out. We like to prod you mortals in the right direction of such little discoveries when things get boring.

Mr. Kitsune’s enthusiasm came back to him, and he deftly landed his spaceship on the alien surface of Gliese 876’s twin moon. It was a lush, verdant jungle, practically edenic in its crystal rivers and rich forests… and fruit sweet as honey, most of them the size of a small child. I watched my client’s star-pupiled eyes grow wide with wonder as he stared out at the strange world before him.

“Woah… look at this place!” he trundled out of the ship, his chunky thighs jiggling inside his smart looking spacesuit. “Do you think any of this is edible?” he asked, studying a bright, purple berry the size of his head.

“Well…” I put on my best winning smile for encouragement, and plucked a berry from its vine. “Only one way to find out, Mr. Kitsune,” I quipped, taking a large bite out of the fruit. It was perfectly ripe, and wonderfully sweet, I must admit.

Mr. Kitsune, I’m happy to report, needed no further prodding. We spent most of the day cataloguing the various fruits found on the moon, as he did still have a job to do, after all. Sadly for his superiors, I’m certain, no physical sample was collected by the end of the day. Mr. Kitsune took it upon himself to eat every single edible fruit I gently led him to, every new taste an adventure for my client. By the end of the day, I had found a successful itinerary at last. Mr. Kitsune was practically filled to burst; the material of his spacesuit was stretched to its breaking point, run taut over his swollen, round belly. More than a little juice from his fruity feast was staining his second chin, spilling out of the high collar of his suit. Rivalling his wonderfully stuffed torso was his vast posterior; those nine tails, yet more fruit in each hand, needed space, after all, and that rump was already spilling out of the top of his pants. It’s always so gratifying to see the fruits of one’s labor.

With Mr. Kitsune properly focused on his mission it became much simpler for my machinations to proceed. I watched with glee as he had to force himself into the captain’s chair, the seat groaning as heavy rolls of fat bunched up and spilled over the arms as that more than ample rear forced him to sit a bit higher. The grin on my face could have lit up the room as he was forced to lean over his belly to reach anything he needed before the ship lifted off again. With proper guidance I was entirely certain that my many-tailed client would be incredibly successful in his intergalactic feast.

Only a slight nudging was required for the stop at a small planetoid inhabited by a species of rather large, tundra-traveling beasts not unlike oxen. The shuffling behemoths, swollen with enough muscle to have almost distracted me from my current goals, were rather friendly. It should be noted they were big enough to send Mr. De Fleureaux squirming slightly when I gave him some dimensions. Back to the matter at hand, their frozen land offered some rather wonderful treats in the form of fish pulled from the cold waters. Mr. Kitsune seemed rather astounded when one of the scaled beasts was pulled from the water, the size of an orca. Allowing us to take part in one of their communal dinners was a fascinating experience. The hulking mammalians were shocked to see one smaller than them eating with such vigor, the space-faring gourmand devouring dish after dish that was offered. By the time the meal was over it was clear Mr. Kitsune had left an impact, having eaten enough to satisfy three of the adults. That spacesuit wasn't able to hold as it split and rose up over the bloated mass of his middle. It would have wound up juggling were he not sufficiently stuffed to the gills. The seat of his suit was fraying across his vast posterior, even his tails were looking thicker, the hands at the end of each were certainly pudgier. I took my time helping him back to the ship, kneading against his overburdened belly when he wound up slumping over in bed and began to snore.

Adjusting his chair to accommodate his burgeoning mass took much of my evening, but come morning more travel was in store. Our next destination was a far cry from the frozen land, a wonderfully balmy tropical planet on the periphery of the Andromeda Galaxy. Landing on the coastline, we found several short trees clustered along the sands. The branches were heavy with things that looked much like coconuts only an astonishing shade of magenta. Cracking one open unleashed a small deluge of liquid that was as thick and sweet as a melted milkshake. The starry eyes of my increasingly rotund companion went wide as he drank from the nut, and then several more. After a half dozen of the coconut-like delicacies it became apparent we weren't alone from the rustling of the leaves on the leaves and the occasional whisper. Even I found myself unnerved until a loud shaking came from one tree nearby. Below it sat a rather large mound of what looked similar to ham, but had a rather salty aroma wafting off the meat. It was cooked and looked fresh from the steam coming off it. Mr. Kitsune took it upon himself to investigate himself, a small nibble into the meat turning into a fevered flurry of bites, ripping down to the bone in a few moments. It seemed each time our backs were turned more piles of food would appear near the trees, our hosts as generous as they were shy. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I urged my vulpine client to be polite; it would be rude not to accept such gifts. It took little cajoling before he was shoveling food into his chipmunk cheeks, three large chins wobbling as he munched away, working to add a fourth.

We left the planet, dubbed Theodosium for obvious reasons, and there at last we stood on the threshold; the edge of mortal understanding of what lay beyond the planet Earth. The Andromeda galaxy spread out before us, filled with infinite possibilities, and, I must admit, where my own knowledge was limited.

“So,” Mr. Kitsune looked over to me, filling the entire cockpit by this point. “Where to next?” Even as I had been subtly stretching out the confines of his spaceship, he was growing faster than I could stretch- it is always a proud day when you see your charges outpace you.

I stroked my chin as I looked him over, this monument to gluttonous adventurism and hedonistic exploration that I had so deftly molded. “How about a walk? To see the Andromeda in all its myriad beauty.”

Mr. Kitsune shifted nervously, displacing a body the size of an asteroid, sending rippling, jiggling waves of fat all over the console. “Uh… you sure that’s a good idea? The space suits are, uh, awfully defective with how small they’ve been getting…”

I knew by now what would get him moving. “Maybe we make it a picnic, then. To whet your appetite.”

The moment food was mentioned it was as though a switch was flipped in the fattened vulpine's head, a clear sign that my little pokes and prods over time had worked exquisitely. In truth the only thing I required was for a helmet to fit over his head, something managed with just a bit of stretching to get it over those pillow-like cheeks and the heavy roll of fat that was his neck.

If not for my considerable abilities, and Mr. Kitsune’s own strange abilities, it might have been a touch dangerous for such a large fellow to step into the vacuum of space. That space suit had no hope of hiding the swollen mass of his belly, completely exposed, but entirely safe under my watchful eye. With gravity no longer mitigating his movement Mr. Kitsune seemed rather calm, no more huffing and puffing with each laborious step.

He also seemed a touch stunned by the beauty of the galaxy around us, the twinkling pinpricks of the stars in the void. "It's absolutely lovely Theo...," he murmured.

"Oh I couldn't agree more, Mr. Kitsune, I couldn't agree more." Of course my own eyes were locked upon that heavy form. Thick rolls bunching on his sides were allowed to float free, a burden no more. It was nothing short of a miracle that his pants managed to hold around his vast posterior, almost a shame. In space no one can hear seams pop. And yes, my good archivist, that is a fact. You must stop glaring, it's rude. Still one's work is never done, and I did have every intention of keeping my picnic promise. Conjuring a covered platter of treats was easy enough. "I do hope you brought your appetite out with you."

The zeal and hunger in those starry eyes said more than Mr. Kitsune could have. Not that he said much as he floated toward the food, mouth agape as he licked his lips. Yes, I do think that with my helpful hand to guide him, I may as well have been his first satellite caught in his orbit. I made certain that he was his own celestial body by the time I was done.