Trophy Wife (G/t)

1

 Why in the world did I come here again? Oh, yeah... She wanted me to. I didn't even have to come to this, and yet... she wanted me to. So, I don't even know why she seemed so confused when I wanted her to come, too. If I had to go down, then she would, too. Plus, did she think I was going to leave her? Not that I don't think she could be on her own for longer than our usual time apart, but... I'd rather- Wait, is someone calling me?

"Tracy? Hellooooooo?" Oh, yeah. Scott was talking to me... or was trying to, at least. Great. "Dude, Tracy boy, I knew you were quiet back in grade school, but I could almost swear that you weren't listening to me." Oh, trust me. I wasn't. "I mean, come on, why wouldn't someone listen to me? Me!?" You can't think of one reason? Really?

This guy... He and all the other freaks that hung around him irked me all through my adolescent years, and he's still doing it now. I guess being at an elegant estate/clubhouse at a black tie affair wasn't going to change that, apparently. One would think that someone as pompous as him would learn to bring it down or just end it after fifteen years. But, no. He's still arrogant as ever. Luckily, not everyone was a total jackass, but good ol' Scott was still being the prime example of one... and not to be petty or anything, but 'Tracy'? Really? It's Trace, damn it.

"Well, Scott, my mannnn..." another male voice dragged.

Oh god, Craig's here, now? Craig, aka Scott's sidekick 'Carefree Craig'. I never understood how he, the school's licensed druggy/stoner, could be so chummy with Scott. Anyhow, what does this Shaggy-lookalike want now?

"You can't tell, bruh? McGuire's checking out your girl over there," Craig answered playfully, pointing over to the side... where I admittedly was looking earlier, but not at whoever he's talking about.

"What!?" the protective - heh, more like jealous, if you ask me - Scott shouted, scaring some of our other celebrating classmates spread around. "You're looking at Camilla!?" No, I wasn't, but he wouldn't believe it if I say otherwise. I watch as he spasmodically began searching for his Camilla, who I can only guess was another model like his other exes. I can't help but chuckle as he realized that she wasn't in sight, resulting in his fallen face. Heck, I didn't know his wife, girlfriend or sidepiece was here... or that he even had one.

"Nooooo," corrected Craig. "He's spotted your little girl. I mean, can you blame him? *cheeky whistle*" First of all, that's not creepy at all, Craig. Secondly, yes, I did see her, but she wasn't or isn't my focus. She is something, though.

"My 'little girl'? I don't have a k- O-Ohhhh." When Scott made the realization, he relaxed and laughed as he looked over into an adjacent, fairy-lit parlor to see his other... lady friend? "Tracy, are you intrigued by my Melrose?"

'Melrose'. A name fitting for a Hollywood diva. She's dressed like one to the T, as well, in that blindingly sparkling dress, aside from her already, naturally glistening gold skin. With her big, blonde hair, that overly airbrushed and painted face, and the rest of her that just looked like a warm piece of clay, she really could've been a celebrity. Well, actually, now that I think about it, her equals are becoming more and more popular... probably not in a good way, but still... She's intriguing, yes, but everyone would get interested in a living, breathing Barbie doll with pointed ears and prismatic skin.

Because I know Scott and the type of person he is, I know that a) I have to answer him to avoid conflict, and b) answer correctly to avoid other conflicts. But, I'm not shallow enough to use solely appearance as a character qualification, so he probably won't like my intentionally bland opinion. "She's... pretty?"

"Pretty? Pretty!?" Craig repeated. "Nah, man. Baby Girl's fine as hell."

"Yeah, Tracy, don't be so modest," Scott insisted, resting a hand on my shoulder, for some reason. Dude, you don't know me like that. Stop. "Feel free to compliment her. I'll be flattered."

"Uh... you?" I question, removing his touch from me, in (noticeable) disgust. "Don't you mean her?"

"Oh, no," Scott smugly replied. "She wouldn't be where she is today, literally, if it wasn't for me. To think, she was once a little, naive, alien tribe girl. But, now, she's absolute perfection made to live here, carved from the image I created for her." Oh god... just inflate your head more. Please do.

"Scott," Craig whimpered - no, seriously, he did - with a tear beading from an eye. "That was beautiful, dawg." Oh, for crying out loud. I internally gag as he composed himself, with Scott looking proud as ever in the background. "Ever since you got her, she's really become a mini... uh, what's the word? (pause) Oh, yeah, starlet. She's a cute, widdle star, she is." Blegh. She's not a dog. Damn.

"She truly is. I mean, look at the other girls compared to her - how they're just absorbing all of her words, actions, and beauty as she presents herself with poise, grace, and confidence. Yep, just like Daddy taught her." D-Daddy? Mother of- "Off the top of my head, I can't name a single flaw of hers... except... one..."

I notice Scott squint his eyes toward his little lady, molding his face into one of slight anger. Stepping away from me and Craig, he ventured toward the open parlor, where all or most of the tinier guests - male and female - were collected, heading for Melrose's exclusively female circle, specifically. Well, no. I mean, he stopped at the halfway mark across the room, but with the loudness of his voice, I knew it was meant for all of them to hear.

"Melrose!" he shouted, disrupting the bitty blonde's conversation. The way she responded to it would probably be disregarded by most humans, especially... *sigh* the 'owners', but with my experience with visitations, viewings, and assistance with their kind, I... Honestly, I felt bad for her.

She immediately stood straight up and turned to him about-face or whatever that military term is, and gazed up at Scott, who, by his descriptions of her, was most likely her... her master. Her face spoke it all, being stoic and patient, waiting for an order. I saw her chest move up and down supremely and surprisingly slowly - slower than the natural heart rate for... for anyone, as if she was programmed not to breathe quickly when panicked. Not to mention, the scars of body reconstruction were now slightly visible on her upper torso, so I wasn't looking at dem titties just 'cause. I'll make sure She knows that.

"Yes, Mr. Foster?" Melrose called to her human with a nod. 'Mr'? Are they not amiable with each other to be on a first name basis? What? Now, that I mention it... Melrose is not even close to a usual, native name for their species! What!? Freaking 'Melrose.'

All Scott did as in response was make a rapid, curved motion toward his own ears, to which Melrose acted upon quickly, fixing her voluminous hair so that her fairy tale ears were no longer seen. I was surprised how that minuscule change altered her entire appearance, making her appear much more humanoid, and yet I feel that she was just taking away a part of herself. Scott was pleased by the action, eventually turning away and coming back to me and Craig, and she went back to conversing.

"There," Scott remarked on his return. "All is right with the world, once again."

"Man, bro, with all of your bitching about her ears, I thought you would've gotten them fixed by now," Craig commented back. "I mean, she's gotten procedures pretty much everywhere else." Wait, 'fixed'? What wrong with them? Is she injured? Did he injure her!?

"Craig, please, you know the deal. I'm letting her decide what to do, with this one. That alteration - when it's done and who does it - will all be up to her." I call B.S. to that. Nothing about her body fits natural anatomy standards anymore.

"Why would she want to get an ear surgery?" I didn't realize, at first, how my mouth decided to make my voice heard before my brain did, but I don't regret it. "Did something happen?"

Scott's reply was something that I should've expected, and yet it still surprised me. The way he suddenly asked Craig to travel to the other side of the building and grab him some hors d'oeuvres and a drink was a surprise, and the lackey following the order was even more of a surprise. So, disregarding the others bordering the walls of this ballroom-esque room - them in their own private reunions and whatnot - it was just me and him alone now. He got really close to me, with barely a ruler's length in between us, and wondered aloud, "Do... Do you think I don't care about my doll?"

Well, when one ends his statement by calling his fun-size female friend a doll, that brings up some suspicion. But, I just stand there silently, knowing that he had plenty more to say.

"Just because she's diminutive, you believe that she can't make decisions on her own? That automatically lowers her free will?" Wait, is he trying to turn this onto me? I wasn't even suggesting anything he did... verbally. "Look, Tracy, I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, and I don't know what kind of life you've been living, but in my world, I strive for excellence. There are certain qualities of it that should be fulfilled and some that are just nice. I guess that if my Rose Petal feels that achieving beauty is a necessity, such as remodeling her ear shape, then I'll accept her wishes and help her do what she wants. It's only fair for all she's done for me."

Scott's smile after saying that made me skeptical of whether or not it was actually her intention... and curious about her 'doings'. I know this guy. He's not a nice person... at least, he wasn't before. So, I led him on some more. "Was she not beautiful enough for you, before her changes?"

"Oh, of course - stunning, in fact. I wouldn't settle for anything under Gold class. All gold everything." Really? He went with the metal/medal listing? *internal facepalm* You're not supposed to use that terminology. It's pretty much their equivalent of racism. Yes, Melrose is pretty. Yes, her skin, hair, and even a part of her eyes give off that golden yellow twinkle that 'everyone looooooves'. But, it's still wrong. Does he actually speak to her that way? "She first looked like she could've walked in any of those Fashion Weeks or whatever Cami's a part of." So, she is a model. Knew it. "You know... except she had an extremely foreign twist to her... and the height thing."

"So, if she was so precious and gorgeous to you, in the past, then why would you even let her do all that she's done to herself?"

"Ha!" he laughed, partially freaking out some of the other party attendees. What's funny about it? "You think those were her ideas? Please... Tracy, Melrose was smart and still is, knowing how to have a basic conversation in a few languages and all, but she didn't know a thing about pop culture, attractiveness, or generalized 'beauty standards'. However, I... saw some potential in her and found someone to make a cut and plump some things here and there. Nothing too bad."

Nothing too bad!? Scott's lost his sh- No, he's just stupid. Even so... "How could that even be done?" I inquire.

"Which procedure? The hips, the neck, her middle?" Does it really matter where? I just want to know how! "Eh, the first one was around the time I first started hanging with Camilla, so maybe two years ago? Three? She had something done to her recently. I think it was... Yeah, it was liposuction. She was raving about her doctor and how he was so fragile and perfect with her. Once she randomly mentioned how him and a few others she had gone to also specialized with tinies like Melly-Mel, I said it was worth a shot. Been shuffling docs and making fixes ever since."

"Yeah, and it's been workinnnnnn. Mmm." A wild Craig appeared, serving a saucer of small treats and a glass of something I don't recognize to his buddy. "Dat body's on fleek, tho." No, Craig. Just no.

"Thanks, bro. It's nice to have some kind of support, rather than grouchy Tracy here."

"*sigh* I'm not grouchy. I'm just..." What's the right word to get on his good side? ...I've got it. "I'm just so... fascinated. She's really impressive. Heck, she almost looks human." Strangely so.

"That's what I said, broooo," Craig agreed.

"Yeah, I've noticed the similarities," Scott laughed, quickly scarfing the victuals down his gullet. "I've got an haute couture model on one arm, and a girl fit to be a lingerie model in my opposite hand. They're both gorgeous, but I think I'm gonna have to let her go." My eyes widened at that. Did he say what I think he said? What? He did all that irreversible work on her, and he's just going to drop her like a phone call?

While I was silent about it, Craig had a vocal reaction to the idea. "You're ditching Rosie-poo!? Yoooo, I'll totally take that sweet sugar off your hands... literally. Give me that cake."

I don't know what was louder: Scott's resulting bark, or the slap on Craig's face that went with it. The second-in-command ended up on the floor in seconds flat, squirming in pain like a freshly bug-sprayed insect. "What!? I was talking about Camilla, dumb-ass! If you ever speak of Melrose like that again, then I swear on my life I will end you! Got it?" Craig, still pained and on the floor, nodded as best as he could. "Good, now go hang with that walking stick, so it doesn't look like I'm deserting her." Without hesitation - well, a little bit - Craig stood up and went off, following the forceful Scott's directions. "*sigh* Freaking Collins. Him and his mouth. No control. But, you, on the other hand..."

"What about me?" He better not go where I think he's going with this. With that kind of nonsense, it's just like I'm back in school again, dealing with him and his crap. True, he treated a lot of kids worse than he treated me, but still... What does he want with me?

"You didn't tell anything about your successes, job, and whatnot through the RSVP, and yet the nerds that organized this shindig figured you're making six figures a year, possibly seven. That was something I had to know about. Plus, if you're making those kinds of stacks, then you must have some power. I know I do, with that money. I ain't gotta clue why you'd hide it." The things you don't know, Scotty. "So, to fix that, I know just what you need to show it off. Follow me." I'll never know what he's planning if I don't go, right? Well, here goes nothing.

We slipped our way through serpentine passageways of the grandiose home until we ended up outside in the dark night at its back entrance, going onto a patio. Scott and I sat down at the table and looked into the illuminated windows and the glass back door of the fancy home to find ourselves looking into the parlor where all of the mystical, miniature personas were. Before, only a few could be seen through the doorway in the ballroom, but with these windows, I can guess that there are at least a hundred. If each one of these guys and gals was partnered with only one human from my class, then about a fifth of them all had to be here. Huh.

We were seated in silence, taking in the scene, until Scott continued and explained himself. "Look at them all, walking around and chatting with each other, enlarging their social circles with their newly found freedom. They've learned our languages and our cultures, and we've taken them into our homes. Even with their tiny personalities, it's just amazing how characteristics of their caretakers shine through them. For example, Melrose, my princess, wherever she is in there, is a total Gold tier, high-class bitch." So, you're calling yourself a bitch, Scott? If you say so... *internal snicker* "So, since we're on the same level - man, I never thought that I'd ever say that - I figured that maybe you're also worthy of a... heh, heh, a 'plus one-half', if you will." Oh, clever...

"So, you want me to find a Gold mini goddess like you did?" I'm being sarcastic, but I know Foster wouldn't pass up a compliment.

"'Gold mini goddess'?" he reiterated. "That's a new one. I like it." Of course, you do. "But, I wouldn't say that..." Because you don't want to believe it, do you? "You should find whatever one suits your interests." Oh, I have. She's in there, I think. But, I won't call her out just yet.

"Wait, there's more than one type?" I innocently ask. I know there is, but what does he think they are?

"Oh, Tracy. Allow me to teach you my ways." Scott, bite me. "Look around, my boy, at the spectrum of the Metal (yep, that's the word) classes. Rosie is high-class Gold. The girl over there looks like she could either be Silver or maybe White Gold - not bad. The little dude by the fireplace is definitely a Bronze - so much brown... ugh. Then again, I'm probably not the best to judge. I've never really been good with colors. That's more Camilla's thing than mine. Maybe I shouldn't give her up so soon..."

That's your reason for keeping her!? That's just low... "Then, why were you thinking about dumping her?"

He paused a bit before answering like he had to come up with a valid reason. "I mean, it's not like she's not great or anything," he began. "It's just... she just doesn't have all the things I like in a girl. Like, she's cool, but... well... let's just say that I can't really grab her." No context, yet so much context.

"You mean, like one of them?" I query, pointing into the room.

"Well, not exactly. I meant in terms of curvature, but... it would be more fun for me if she was like that. Heh, heh. Cutesy Camilla. I like the thought of that, though she probably wouldn't be up for it, possibly losing her career and all. But, whatever." You heartless wretch. None of that was right. "As I was saying, aesthetic is important. Yet, it's the physique that really makes the difference." Not personality? Commitment? Love? None of that!? "And once you find that, all the romantic, lovey-dovey stuff will emerge and blah blah." Well, at least he thought about them, I guess.

"So, by physique, you mean muscle build, body shape, tone, strength, et cetera?" Once again, what context!?

"Exactly, and we've got a good selection in here, too. Lucky dogs." Do I really want to know what he means by that? "There are ones that obviously work out frequently, the chubbier cuties - so squishy, the flexible kind - a personal favorite, but the ones that seem to have the most value, in my eyes and many others, are the ones that have the most endurance and the most resistance."

"Resistance... to what?" That just sounds bad, no matter how you look at it.

"Anything and everything that's given to them, for them, with them, on them, etc. Whatever you like." See? What did I say? "You know, I bet Melrose could lead you in the right direction. Since it's a different perspective from small eyes, so she could tell you more than I ever could. She'll come out here if I ask her. I think her receiver should still be able to connect from out here." R-Receiver? What in the world is he talking about?

Scott pulled out his... his... You know what? It's one of those freaking 'phablet' things or something. Anyway, he placed it down on the table and fiddled with the screen, looking as if he was inserting multiple passwords into a program. While I was curious, it didn't really strike me as important... until I heard Melrose's voice. He... he put a mic on her? Where's the trust!? He's actually recording her right now! He must've been doing it for at least two hours now!

I leaned forward to listen in better... and to see if there were any instant captions on Melrose's conversation, but Scott turned the phone away and put down the volume. I guess he couldn't handle me getting a taste of his blondie. Oh my god, did I really just put those words together? Scott wouldn't even be able to say something that clever, and he's the one that... has her. And speaking of, why is it taking so long for him to talk to her? He was so confident that I thought he'd have her... by... now? W-What is he doing?

"Uh... Scott? You okay?" I question, sincerely this time, as he suddenly flopped his previously phone-balancing arm into his lap and turned his head toward the building, with some kind of distraught and/or surprised expression.

"What... in the-!?" he started, now ascending and making his way to the window, with a deep scowl on his face.