chapter 1

You stand in the doorway and a small shiver goes down your spine, you know your smack bang in the middle of Bristol, you can hear the traffic zooming past on the road and the students yakking as they wander up the hill, but here you are stood in an authentic American diner. You could be anywhere in the continental U.S, god bless post modernism.
You spot your other half sat in a booth near the window, and make your way over to him with a smile whilst you daydream of all the delights the menu is likely to offer. This café is infamous for it's enormous calorific milk shakes and pancakes so it's no coincidence that there is an unusual amount of larger folk dotted across the bar, bulging buttocks drooping over the small stool seats. You think nothing of their seating arrangements until you yourself try to sit down in the booth opposite your partner.
Who ever designed this restaurant did not design it for American proportions, you try to slide onto the vinyl seat with a little grace and decorum, but it quickly deteriorates into an ungainly shuffle as you try to negotiate your breasts and belly through the insanely small gap between table and seat.
'These seats are quite small, I bareley fit in here myself' says your other half with an amused smile. You eye all 130 pounds of him and realise your chances of fitting have dramatically dwindled. Stubbornly you start to mentally debate whether public decorum allows for tits on tables. Shaking your head you sigh, probably not, instead you suck in your sizeable stomach and heave yourself into the gap. The table gives a groan but stays rooted to the floor. Your belly however has rippled and now a sizable roll is sat in front of you on the table, the rest seated firmly in your lap. You can't help but let out a small giggle, somehow you doubt belly on the table is publicly acceptable either, but your other half's face says that at least someone doesn't mind.
He's just about to make what you can only guess to be a perverted comment when he's rudely interrupted by the waitress arriving with menus. You can feel her eyes on your stomach as she hands out the menus, but see her blush as you look her straight in the eye as you order two large cookie dough milkshakes. Disconcerting skinny people is more fun than you remember.
Returning to the menu you are immediately absorbed into all the calories it offers, huge steaks, burgers dripping meaty juices and cheese, pancakes the size of your head with crispy bacon slathered in maple syrup. It takes you a moment or two to realise that your other half is not even looking at the menu but still very much fixated on every little movement of your stomach.
'Can you even move?' He asks looking a bit too pleased for a public place. You attempt a small wiggle but are shocked when the only result is the squeaking of your trousers against the vinyl seat. You flush with embarrassment and sudden arousal as you realise you are actually stuck. A further wiggle only aggravates the situation causing squeaking loud enough for half the diner to turn and look.
'That's a no then' he says hiding his smirk with his glass of milkshake, that has just been placed in front of him by the now confused looking waitress. He takes a huge slurp and smiles 'You think you don't fit now? Wait until you've had dinner'. He sends you a devastatingly sexy smile across the table leaving you (probably) weak at the knees.
'So what you having love?' he asks 'Steak? Bacon? Pancakes? Burger the size of my head?'
'All of the above' you deadpan.
The tension at the table was not unfelt by the now flustered waitress. Thankfully her blushes are saved as the manager appears next to her.
'I'm sorry to disturb you during your meal and hope you find the drinks to your liking' she starts. Knowing what was coming next you brace yourself with a swig of your own milkshake and quickly declare the creamy concoction to be delicious.
' I'm glad you enjoy it, but it has been brought to my attention that you would probably feel more comfortable at a different table, perhaps two seats at the bar would be preferable for you madam?'
You crane your neck to look at the bar behind you. There are several seats available ready and waiting. It takes a moment for the penny to drop but when it does, your blood drops too...right to your erogenous zones. You've been size upgraded! They are actually worried about their furniture! You give your other half a knowing look before turning back to the manager and give her your sweetest smile.
'That would be lovely thank you, can I have a hand up?'
The manager looks visibly relieved that your not hurling abuse at her for being 'size-ist' and offers you her hand. In the end it takes both the manager and your other half to pry you from the gap, with a satisfying sucking noise from the seating. Once safely installed at the bar, on what feels to be a precariously small stool, you return to browsing the menu and mentally cataloguing likely calorie intake from each dish.
After a few moments you realise it's going to be a toss up between blueberry pancakes with bacon and syrup or a 12oz steak and chips. No doubt you'd be having an easier time deciding what to eat if your other half was not running his hand over the part of your bottom that had not quite made the seat. Your ass was in fact oozing over the sides of the rounded stool, in an apparently distracting manner if your other half's face was anything to go by.
'I've made up my mind' you announce , drawing your other half's attention back to your face. He eagerly hails the waitress who appears in seconds baring her little notebook and pen.
'I'll have the blueberry pancakes as my starter and the 120z rump steak as my main please'
'But the pancakes and the steak are both main courses' says the waitress looking confused
'I know' you say unfazed by her reaction
'I hope you realise our portions are huge'
'We know' you reply not missing a beat.