Four counts of Conduct Unbecoming of the Heavenly Host. Nineteen Dress Code infractions. And a whopping thirty-seven tickets for Inciting Temptation; twelve in the last week alone! Now Niah had to appear in full service dress in front of a tribunal of Seraphim before the end of the month for a disciplinary revue. She shut her eyes and kneaded the sockets with the heels of her hands while letting loose an exasperated sigh. What else could go wrong?
Oh that's right, there wasn't even a slim chance she was going to fit into her formal robes. She'd show up for her hearing, be handed even more infractions, and then who knew what next. Extra duty? Demotion? -gulp- Exile?
The whole fiasco had started with her breaking her wing. Flying took so much energy that sticking to her regular diet while grounded prompted pillowy piles of pounds to pad her person. She had since curbed her intake and found a caloric equilibrium, but the damage was definitely done.
What irked her was that it was almost impossible to undo. Her flight license remained pulled by her physical therapist for fear she'd do permanent damage to her healed wing if she flew so heavily burdened. And exercise was banned because vanity was a sin. Where did that leave her? Staring at a freshly written citation for Wanton and Lecherous Conduct (doing jumping jacks) in addition to Harming an Innocent (the reporting party was sent to the infirmary with an uncontrollable nosebleed and a peculiar stiffness).
Since she couldn't help, predict, or understand the effects her body had on others, she hid it. Not with clothing; fabric couldn't hope to conceal her curves. She avoided company. It was a lonely way to live, but it was safer.
Niah put her hands together bowed her head slightly. "Help me to get through this. Please. I need a miracle."
It was the same prayer she had been chanting for weeks. Yet she never lost faith. It was getting down to the wire, but the Big Guy always had a flair for the dramatic.
Religion is a cruel vice for those of us who are buxom. I, unfortunately, am not buxom (nor a woman), but fortunately I'm not a religious person either so it all balances out okay.
There needs to be a religion based on sex; considering so many religions abhor emphasis on it. Astarot can be the Goddess, and the local brothel can be the church! Donations are made by merely hiring prostitutes! The money collected by the church is spent on more condoms and comfier beds around the world!
Another idea for Woot: An angel who grows so plump she can't truly fly, but rather bounces along, her flapping wings giving her a boost with every ascent. Her milk sprays out and causes women's breasts to grow, and her haphazard flight causes earthquakes wherever she lands.
If such a religion is created, SirJimmy, it's bound to be criticized and condemned by others. We all can see the reaction to pastafarianism. We're all someone elses' heretic.
Niah should've gone to Valhalla instead of Heaven. Odin likes his busty valyries. :D
Fantastic! Being a Catholic has added a bit of spice to my life and being who I am makes it challenging to say the least. Cannot say I know what this angel's going through ... but ... :)
Here's the story I wrote for this picture some time ago: --------------------------
I was lying in bed, ready for my midday nap, when I felt a sharp pain in my chest. Before I could even utter a noise, I was unconscious. When I opened my eyes next, I was standing in front of what looked like a courtroom arrangement on open clouds. All others present had wings and a halo, which I myself did not. The people there were just as surprised as I was at my sudden entrance. A trumpet melody was heard as a dove flew overhead and had dropped a message to an old man who appeared to be the judge.
The message was read aloud and indicated that a change of plans had occurred. I was to decide some hearing, not the judge or jury that were present. Almost all of the people there called for my files and hastily rushed to adjust to the change. I was handed several documents before a finger directed my eyes to “Niahâ€, the defendant. When I looked over, I saw a strangely familiar blond, plump young woman. I thought I knew her from somewhere, but I could not think of where. I felt some lust for her, but put that feeling down. Although I can do whatever I want in my dreams, I dared not this time. Considering that what had happened before my arrival, I may not dreaming.
Sometimes when I think, I zone out all outside images and focus on internal thoughts. This was the case when I praised the Lord, and it wasn‘t because of the girl‘s beauty. Whether this was real or not, even dreams of communicating with God are a boon to my faith, and I was thankful for this blessing. It was then I regained focus to my surroundings; a judge had just finished adding another charge of “inciting temptation†to her, and I learned that they were just about to give a ruling before my arrival, making them agitated already.
That did not matter. I objected loudly at the injustice. When confronted, I explained that she did not directly tempt me; it was my fault. They were about to speak back to me when one of the assembly reminded them I was now the judge.
When I asked about the case, I received a vision that explained the charges and what had transpired during the trial, along with a mention that some of my memory had been blocked in order to grant a fair trial. When it was over, I pondered at what I had seen. After accounting for everything, save that last thought, I asked Niah to explain herself. When they objected, I pointed out that they never allowed her to speak except when they asked questions, Even then, they never gave her a chance to explain, only having her answer yes or no.
While I heard her speak, I became angry. Her figure was the result of circumstance, and she had been trying to correct it. What had enraged me, however, was that not only had they prevented her efforts, they charged her with crimes because of something she was not able to fix. As a precaution, I asked it what she said was true. They responded, but I knew their responses were skirting the answers. I pushed for a real answer, and they finally relented: what she said was true.
Clearly, the laws at play were either flawed or had been used in a way they were not meant to be, so I decided her to be not guilty by reason of entrapment.
When I gave my verdict, they were furious, and spoke against me after finally having read my files. They argued I was predisposed towards the defendant because I thought she was attractive and they said I was unfit to judge because of sins that I have not repented of. My reply was that they were right. This shut them up long enough for me to continue explaining.
I told them that while what they said is true about the sins, I told them the only reason I have not repented of them is because I want to stop desiring them first. That way, I can truly repentant. Even now, I regret partaking of them and have asked for God to help me, but I do not want to falsely repent.
I also said that while I find her attractive, that was not why I found her innocent. I gave them a thorough explanation, pointing out that her figure was the result of circumstance, but I also showed them their error in preventing her from fixing it. From the way I saw it, they had forced her to commit those crimes. I suggested they fix the laws before I asked if they thought I was wrong.
There was mumbling before they all shook their heads, one by one. The judge who had run the trial closed the meeting, after agreeing with my argument. I was a bit smug that I, a mortal sinner, had humbled self-righteous beings in heaven. A was quickly ashamed of my smugness, but was glad justice was done.
Upon hearing the decision, Niah jumped up and praised God before she ran over and hugged me. Although I was tempted to touch her anywhere I wanted to, I choose to slowly and carefully hug her, touching only her shoulders with my hands and keeping some space between my arms and her flesh.
After the hug, I was told I was being offered a reward for my judgment in the case; any reward. I first made sure I wasn’t dead, and was relieved that I was still alive. Despite the great temptations I had, I asked that God decide my blessings. I thought this would make it easier. When they told me that God would let me decide, I struggled with the choice. After much internal battle, I asked that I only remember this event, and that if that was against the rules, I asked that I at least be allowed to keep the feeling of joy I had.
I remembered God had given Solomon a choice of three things. When Solomon choose the one God found pleasing, the Lord gave him all three. From that knowledge, I could have chosen a little thing and expected a great reward for being unselfish. But that itself is selfish, and I knew better than to do that. Although I knew there was a chance I could get an extra blessing, I was intent to expect what I asked for and nothing more. And so it was.
At home, I awoke. The pain was gone, and I felt fine. I remembered what had transpired, not sure if it was a dream. It was then I remembered something: Woot! Niah was one of Woot’s girls, and even I wrote a story describing the exact events to him, describing how I would help Niah, which I wanted to do. And now I had lived it! What did it all mean, though? Had Woot been divinely inspired to unknowingly portray a real event so that I could bring a happy ending I wanted to the story, or was it just coincidence, a dream? That could be the case, or maybe, just maybe, it could have been a portent?
Whatever the case, I had been blessed because I was able to help make a happy ending. Although upon reflection I did think God could allow Niah to visit me, in dreams or real life, as an extra blessing, I wasn’t expecting it. It was a possibility, but I’ll let God decide whether I get any more or not. But at least I got the blessing I wanted: to give Niah a happy ending. ------------------------
This is possibly one of my favorite pictures done by you. Your story, as well as Cerebrei's continuation make it 5 times better than it would be otherwise though, the story makes it memorable, makes it stand out. It's just nice, I have this image of him seeing Niah in his dreams every night, and when he eventually dies they get to be together forever...
Oh that's right, there wasn't even a slim chance she was going to fit into her formal robes. She'd show up for her hearing, be handed even more infractions, and then who knew what next. Extra duty? Demotion? -gulp- Exile?
The whole fiasco had started with her breaking her wing. Flying took so much energy that sticking to her regular diet while grounded prompted pillowy piles of pounds to pad her person. She had since curbed her intake and found a caloric equilibrium, but the damage was definitely done.
What irked her was that it was almost impossible to undo. Her flight license remained pulled by her physical therapist for fear she'd do permanent damage to her healed wing if she flew so heavily burdened. And exercise was banned because vanity was a sin. Where did that leave her? Staring at a freshly written citation for Wanton and Lecherous Conduct (doing jumping jacks) in addition to Harming an Innocent (the reporting party was sent to the infirmary with an uncontrollable nosebleed and a peculiar stiffness).
Since she couldn't help, predict, or understand the effects her body had on others, she hid it. Not with clothing; fabric couldn't hope to conceal her curves. She avoided company. It was a lonely way to live, but it was safer.
Niah put her hands together bowed her head slightly. "Help me to get through this. Please. I need a miracle."
It was the same prayer she had been chanting for weeks. Yet she never lost faith. It was getting down to the wire, but the Big Guy always had a flair for the dramatic.