chapter 1

Female Fat Admirer will be at the Happy Dumpling Chinese Buffet from 5 to 7 p.m. next Friday night. If you are a BHM who would like to eat with her, the code phrase is, "Excuse me, do you know where the soft-serve machine is?"

That's what I posted on Craigslist last Friday, thinking that yet again, I would stuff myself at the buffet while looking longingly at BHMs happily stuffing themselves. It seems that everyone there is with family, friends, or lovers, and no one ever approaches me with the code phrase.

Little did I know, tonight would be the night. I saw him the moment I walked in. A gorgeous face, full and round, with layers of chins supported by a stout neck. He looked to be about my age, but I quickly stifled my hopes. There were already three empty plates piled in front of him, as he greedily polished off a stack of chicken wings on his fourth plate. He must have been there for a half-hour already, at least, so he probably isn't here because of the ad, I thought.

I paid for my meal and picked up my tray, barely able to tear my eyes from Mr. Gorgeous long enough to scan the restaurant for other possible suitors. There was no one but Gorgeous and an adorable fat family -- a roly-poly mom and dad with two roly-poly kids. Maybe someday that will be me, I thought, looking longingly at the mom's belly that appeared to be both fat and eight months pregnant.

I made my way to the buffet, loaded up with dumplings, steamed buns, egg rolls, and sauces, and poured myself a Coke. I looked over at Gorgeous, and I could have sworn he winked at me! Or maybe he just had something in his eye. I smiled at him, just in case it was a wink, and then he patted his belly.

He tugged at his shirttail, tucked in his napkin, readjusted his seat at the table, it was all very subtle, but it could have been (just maybe!) designed to show off his jiggling upper arms, and the massive dimensions and softness of his belly. I noticed how far he had to put his chair from the table to accommodate his keg, and I was overcome with desire to straddle him. I shoved a huge bite of steamed bun in my mouth so that my cheeks were stuffed with food, and, pretending to adjust my napkin on my lap, I grabbed a handful of my love handles, then glanced over at him. He was smiling, and looking hungrily at me, and I knew it was time to make my move.

I stood up and walked over to him, and said, "Excuse me, do you know where the soft-serve machine is?" "Do I ever!" he said with a grin, "but don't you want some more food before dessert?" Of course I did, so I said, "Do you mind if I join you at your table?" He hoisted himself up and waddled over to the other side of the table to pull a chair out for me. After I sat down, he heaved himself back down in his chair, and I noticed his stomach laid on the chair, shoving his amazing tree trunk legs out to each side. "I'm so sorry I started without you," he said. "I didn't realize how early I was, and I can't help myself when I'm near a buffet. I just have to eat." (to be continued)