Beef Horse Joe

I threw my bag in the hall and swaggered into the lounge where I flopped down on the Daddy-Chair. From there, I grabbed a remote and waved it threateningly around at the room just in case there were any rogue TV's awaiting their moment to leap from the shadows and attack.

Nothing.

Once again, I was safe.

I put the remote down and leaned back in the chair, gently closing my eyes and letting a small whuff of a sigh escape me.

Daddy?

I leapt upright at the word.

Who dared disturb the Daddy?! Was he not just home from the office after a hard day? Was it not written in stone that he needed five minutes peace? WHO transgressed the covenant?

For this, surely, there would be hell to pay.

My gaze fell upon a young wide-eyed girl.

It was my daughter, the Little Lady.

What fool disturbs the Dadden-mitch from his slumber??

I bellowed like a bull with one maddened red eye.

Daddy.

The Little Lady fixed me with a stern eye before continuing.

Why do my legs get fatter when I sit on a chair?

I peered at the insolent human from my mighty throne. She dared trouble me with this? A trifling query on the nature of flesh?

Well, lass. When you sit on something your thighs get squished and instead of being all tube-shaped, like yours are now they become like fat sausages so they spread out a bit. Because the chair is pushing against one side. You get me?

I thundered.

The Little Lady tilted her head to the side and looked perplexed.

Then her face brightened with the first faint dawnings of an understanding.

Oh! Oh! Like this?

She reached out and grabbed a chunk of my celestially majestic stomach.

This kind of fat wobbly sausage?

She shook the stomach flesh she held clenched in her hand as if it were not thinly skin-painted muscle and instead was a wet cloth bag full of lard.

WHAT?! WHAT WAS THIS? SHE DARED DEFY THE GODS?! Was I not the one they called BEEF HORSE JOE?!

I raised a hand as if to smite her with the lightnings.

She saw an opening and pounced like a serpent composed entirely of 6-year-old girl.

Her fingers clawed into my left pectoral muscle high on my sculpted chest and squeezed.

Hahahaha!!! Oh, Daddy! Like your boobies!! Are they like fat wobbly sausages!!!

She relaxed her vice-like grip on my Godly flesh.

I stared in horror at the damage she had wrought. Where once there was rippling corded muscle draped over a masculine frame of utter godhood there was now a slightly wobbly Daddy body with spare flesh ready for the grabbing.

This could not be? I would not be unmade?! I reached a hand out for her but she danced away singing something something boobies.

I watched her retreating form as she called out for the one called Mummy-Bear.

Mummy, Mummy!! Daddy's got boobies! Daddy's got boobies!!

I let my hand drop and slumped in defeat.

Truly, the young place no stock in the Gods anymore.