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Tom likes to eat. He knows this. Other people know this. But this, this is new. He can’t seem to stop. Every opportunity he comes across to just eat something, he does so. He’s eating for England. He’s eating like a pregnant woman. He’s eating things he doesn’t even like.
Harry asks if he’s trying to imitate the very hungry caterpillar. Dougie asks him if he has bulimia. Danny asks if he wants his last sausage because he doesn’t feel like eating it.
Tom doesn’t take much notice of his sudden cravings. Surely he can just work it all off at the gym?
But it’s not working for him. It seems the more he tries to lose weight, the more he puts on. It’s beyond puppy fat, and it’s getting beyond a joke.
He tries to cut down, he really does.
He finally goes through a whole day eating just regular meals successfully, and goes to bed feeling smugly pleased with himself.
But in the morning, he finds himself waking up with horror on the kitchen floor, surrounded by chocolate wrappers and empty pots of ice cream. He’s sleepwalked and sleep-fed.
That’s when he starts therapy.
He talks about his issues. He talks about his childhood, and his parents. He talks about Danny, and their relationship, and how everything was just getting to where he wanted it to be.
Was it that reason that he was eating so much? Was it possible he was unable to deal with having what he didn’t think he deserved, and so he was trying to give Danny a reason to reconsider?
No, Tom had said, that couldn’t be it, because he’d waited for years for Danny to realise how he felt, hoping and praying that maybe one day his feelings would be returned, and he wouldn’t throw it all away when he had finally got the man of his dreams.
And instead of helping things, the therapy just seemed to make it all worse, because then all could think about was losing Danny.
He was truly terrified, flinching away from every touch, but then being overly clingy, always wearing baggy shirts - even when they had sex, refusing to share a shower, but not wanting Danny to leave him for longer than a few minutes at a time…
Eventually Tom found himself wrapped up under his bedcovers, crying helplessly whilst Danny attempted to calm him down.
“Please don’t leave me,” he whimpered, unable to meet Danny’s eyes, “I’ll lose the weight again, I will-”
“Shh, I’m not going anywhere. You don’t need to do anything; I love you just the way you are.” Danny whispered in return, gently stroking his hair.
“How could you?” Tom wailed. “I look like an ogre! I’m hideous, disgusting…” He trailed off in a series of hiccups and sobs that only encouraged Danny to hold him tighter, grasping hold of his chin, and turning his head so that he could look him in the eye.
“You are beautiful.”
“I don’t think anyone one else would agree with you.”
“I don’t care about anyone one else. To me, you are the most beautiful person in the world.”
Danny continues to say these sorts of things everyday for weeks, and eventually they begin to wear away at Tom’s insecurity. Still, it’s hard to shake off a complex once it has developed.
Then things get even weirder, because Tom starts secreting sticky stuff from his whole body, leaving a type of clear, gloopy film all over any surface he touches.
At first it washes easily away, but then it becomes stickier and stickier until Tom has to forcibly wrench himself away from anything he touches, and it begins to hurt when he becomes unstuck.
And everything comes to a climax when Danny has to go away for the weekend – he tries to cancel numerous times, but Tom is determined that they’re going to stay as normal as possible, and insists that Danny goes.
Danny finally leaves in the afternoon, and Tom decides to take a nap; he doesn’t wake up again until well into the night of the following day.
When he does wake, it is to find he is tucked inside something totally alien - completely naked and suitably confused.
Whatever he is encased in is almost too small for his body to fit in; it’s a sort of peachy membrane, that feels almost like tightly stretched skin when he gives it a tentative poke. There is no way out; it’s been stitched together after he was put inside or something.
Tom attempts to tear free but it’s a slow process; the material is very elasticised and difficult to break. After many valiant attempts he manages to sink his fingers through the casing wall into the cool air of whatever is outside.
Suddenly fearful, Tom retracts his hand, listening as hard as he can to see if he has disturbed anything outside of his fleshy prison. He waits, but hears nothing, so cautiously begins to tug at the little holes he’s made, widening them further.
Eventually he is able to fit both of his hands through one hole and pull it apart, though it’s tough, and the strong material makes it a very thorny task. Panting with effort, Tom lays back down in his cocoon to catch his breath, shivering as the cool air enters through the hole he’s just made, licking at his naked flesh.
Dragging himself back up into a seated position, Tom stares out of the gap he has created and gives a loud gasp of surprise. He’s still in his bedroom, and the shock renews his strength; he vigorously tears at his prison, shredding it apart until he is free.
As he steps out of it, he can’t help but gasp again; he’s thin again, and he’s gorgeous. His whole skin is a creamy white colour, totally unblemished and glowing with health.
He’s pretty sure this is just a bizarre dream so he goes along with it; shamelessly admiring himself with the naïve modestly of Adam and Eve in the Garden, as he slides gracefully out of his papoose.
As he frees himself, Tom gradually becomes aware that there’s something not quite right about his back; he perceives an extra weight there which seems to unfurl and shift as he moves.
With dainty steps he glides over to the full length mirror in his room, and stands staring at himself, aghast. There are wings sprouting from his back; gigantic butterflies’ wings, pale blue in the moonlight that is streaming through his uncovered windows.
He can’t resist bringing a hand round to touch them, marvelling at the silky feel against his fingertips. They flap lazily as he watches, unable to tear his eyes away. He wishes he could see how, and where, they are attached; he notes idly that buying clothes is going to be a nightmare.
He manages to assert that they’re growing out from the lower middle of his back, in two sections on either side which arch upwards to become four individual wings, although the two on each side flutter in tandem. He wonders vaguely if this means he can fly.
Tom’s petrified that Danny will leave him now; who would want to stay with such a freak of nature? But Danny takes his metamorphosis in his stride, just like he does with most things, petting Tom’s wings with awe, gently exploring them with his fingertips while Tom lies on his stomach, letting the sensations wash over him.
Aren’t you scared of them? Tom wants to know, but he can’t seem to find the correct way of asking. Danny seems to understand though, and he chooses to respond wordlessly; kissing away all of Tom’s fears.
In daylight they’re a stunning combination of cornflower blue and violet that offsets Tom’s new skin tone perfectly, even when he gains a glorious tan. Danny can’t seem to take his eyes, nor his hands, off him. Apparently a butterflies’ main goal in life is to mate, which would explain why Tom finds himself achingly hard with even the simplest of touches.
They make achingly sweet love to re-affirm their affection for one another; and Tom finds that the wings are truly a part of him now, staying out of the way as Danny slides into him, inch by delicious inch, and wrapping around them both, to hold them together when they lie sweaty and sated and complete.
Tom knows they’ll have to venture outside soon; he can’t stay cooped up inside forever. He also knows that there’s no knowing how much the rest of his body has been affected by this change… he wonders when the right time would be to tell Danny that he might be pregnant.
But the most important thing Tom knows is that no matter what happens, Danny will be there by his side to comfort and reassure and love him, and that he will strive to do the same, and that's all that really matters in the end.