Chapter 1 - First Date

The driver’s door opens on the old Toyota Yaris, and a woman’s comfortable, worn white sneaker sets foot in the parking lot. The other foot is set on the ground, and as the weight shifts from the car seat to the legs, the car’s suspension rises up. The tip of her belly peeks past the open car door. Jet black hair rests on chubby Filipina cheeks. The cool spring breeze gently caresses her hair, revealing a fair, full face and mascaraed, dark, almond-shaped eyes. She turns to close the car door, and her big buttocks jiggle and bounce with every step in her well-fitted jeans. Faint shapes of back fat show through her open-button-down shirt. She wears over her t-shirt as she closes the car door.

The bottom of her buttocks takes turns to round up, and giggle on impact of every step forward. Thighs rub jeans on jeans with every stride across the parking lot. She pulls her phone and checks a text message that says “I got us a table”, so she responds with “just parked, coming”.

On the outdoor coffee shop’s wooden chairs sits a toned, muscular man in shades. Stubble textures a chiseled face, crowned by a long Christopher Reeve's Superman hairstyle. Phone hand, he types “no rush,” and sends it.

“Hi, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting”, he perks his shaded eyes to the bright smile, accentuating how chubby her cheeks were. The sun rays blind him as they trace the round silhouette of her upper arms. Ample breasts stretch her t-shirt below the wings of the open button-up shirt. Breasts rest on the big, round pot belly stretching in front of her, giving her the sweetest apple shape.

He’s taken aback seeing all of that; it sinks her heart. But her heart starts beating again as he gets up, smiles, and says, “not at all”.

He pulls her a chair, and she happily accepts it, half her thighs and butt spill over either side of the chair. He drops back in his chair and says, “thanks for coming, you didn’t need to rush.” She blushes, “No, I didn’t want to keep you waiting.” “That’s why I come early”, he replies.

She pushes her chair closer to the table, her breasts jump up a little, and as her belly almost touches the table blocks the way. Her chubby, soft hand gently tugs on her t-shirt downward.

“I hope you’re not too shocked.”

“I had an idea when I swiped right. Anyway, before we go on, what can I get you?”

Caught off guard by the question, she fumbles on the coffee shop’s Instagram page. In the periphery of her eyes, a little menu brochure slides towards her on the table. She looks up the brochure. At the top of it are the big manly finger-tips pushing it towards her. Fingers connect to a bulky craftsman’s hand, to muscular forearms, to buff biceps and triceps, to a built chest, his muscular neck, to a bright smile, to sparkling eyes. Aviator shades sit on the table.

She takes it, “thank you!”, and then funnily flexes her biceps in a show of guns, too. Her pillowy upper arms swell on top, while some of the fat hangs below, stuffing her long, folded sleeve. Then she drops her arm and laughs a little, as he smiles and laughs too.

“Okay, serious now,” as she studies the menu. “Haha, okay”

The menu is full of coffee drinks, espresso, Americano, cappuccino, latte, Frappe, etc. But then a milkshake section. “That’s intriguing”, she thinks. The intriguing part is how it starts: vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, malt, malt chocolate, Oreo, chocolate cake milkshake, chocolate came Oreo, peanut butter milkshake, all kinds of milkshakes that keep sounding heavier and tastier as she goes. She bites her lips in hesitation.

“Frappe, small”

“Are you sure? They got a cake milkshake, I thought you’d like…”

“Nooo, do you want to make me fat?” deep down, everything in her wanted to say yes to the chocolate cake milkshake, and she could taste it in her mind’s mouth so vividly, she started to get aroused.

Until she realizes what she just blurted out loud without thinking. Her heart racing, mind swirling. “Oh no,” She thinks.

He smiles, raises his hand in the air as if he’s playfully surrendering while playing guilty, “No, not at all, me? Make you fat, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

But she just did. For that moment in her mind, she was in a world of pure imagination, where his strong, muscular arms wrap around and squeeze her fat waist from behind. His lips are busy kissing her chubby, round cheeks as she slurps her third milkshake.

“Small frappe it is”, she asserts.

“Alright then,” smiles as he rises, “well, if you change your mind, text me,” and punctuates the sentence with a little wink.

By the time she computed what he said, the glass door 10ft away closed behind him. She is stunned, but wastes no time snapping out of it and writing a message: “You know what? Get me 3 milkshakes, the chocola...”, and she freezes right there in hesitation and guilt, and echoes of her ex-boyfriend asking her to lose weight because she’s not attractive anymore pollute her world of no-longer-pure imagination. She promptly deletes the message draft without ever sending it.

Minutes grind like a decade, and the time thickens with every second, almost stopping its flow under the weight of the darkness clouding her imagination. Her date's arms aren’t on her round waist, grabbing her fat rolls like a dog in heat. She looks over her belly to the empty 20Oz milkshake cups and echoes in her mind the scrawny, dumpy image of her ex, mired in his career apathy, lack of ambition, and bitterness, telling her she let herself go and no one will ever love her.

A plastic cup thuds on the table, snaps her out of it. She looks to her date. He’s back, ever so smiling. “Well, they only took forever”, and he sets his hot coffee paper cup on the table. She’s so happy he’s back, then she reaches for her frappe.

She’s shocked: that’s not small. That’s not even large. “Do they have extra large here?” She wonders. The frappe was stacked so high with whipped cream that it was almost 20Oz of frappe, 10Oz of whip cream? She wondered because she couldn’t be sure.

“Do you like it?” He asks. With some semblance of worry on his face.

With a grin, she tears the paper wrapper off her straw, puts it in the drink, careful not to push the cream out. Then, she asks: “Is that small?”

“It’s their small”, he answers nervously.

“Really?”

He leans forward to her and asserts, “dude, trust me”.

She chuckles at how stupid he is, and drinks the frappe anyway. Pleasure and reassurance flow through the straw, each gulp provides her a moment of sweet creamy pleasure on her lips, before it goes to its forever home of a lifetime on her hip. Only for the next gulp to do the same. Her mind conjures an image of a running calorie meter excites her some more.

But then she remembers she’s on a date! And it’s a guy she doesn’t know. “It’s a first date for crying out loud,” the devil cartoon of herself on her shoulder scolds.

Her date is amused, she locks eyes with him, draws a long slurp, and swallows. She caught him! He’s amused too.

“It’s a lot”, she puts the drink down for a moment. She wasn’t lying; she thinks it’s a lot. A lot of cream, sugar, milk, just the right amount of coffee, way too many calories, and all she ever wants right now is more.

“Well, I don’t want you to waste away”, and smiles nervously.

She looks down at the table. “But I am on a diet, you know, I’m cutting back a little.” Then she lifts her eyes up to see his reaction, and his face drops for a millisecond before regaining his composure. A millisecond too slow, because she caught him. Now, she’s a little emboldened.

“Yeah, I didn’t mostly for my boyfriend in the past, because I gained weight when we got together. But he’s gone now”. She taps her belly, gives it a rub, and quips: “This never goes no matter what”.

“The things that matter stay”, he says with a wide smile.

“But most guys want skinny women,” she laments.

“Most guys,” he dismisses, “but for a palette cleanser, what do you do again?”

“Oh, I’m a graphic designer and social media manager. What do you do?”

“Nothing exciting like you, I’m just a financial analyst”. But then, brightens up, “but I like what I do, it’s a good job.”

“And it can be creative too!” She claims and watches him as he folds his arms, leans back, and looks up as he thinks about the statement. She reaches for her frappe and starts drinking, just short of chugging as she pairs the eye candy with the mouth candy. Gulp after gulp, every gulp is a celebratory delighting her taste buds, and then excites her loins as the cool creaminess make its way to her belly. The calorie counter in her mind runs wild, and she’s debating, short of plainly holding back, asking him for another drink, this time a shake.

“I suppose everything is an art if you’re an artist,” he reflects, “but I do enjoy painting in my spare time”. He shoots a glance at her cup, almost empty in her hand. She’s caught off guard, just chugging away. Only a little bit left of that 20Oz, and she felt awkward in the silence, she slurped the remaining bit of her drink so loudly. Once she stopped, the awkwardness was back, and then some, just like her weight after every diet.

“One more?” Tempering his excitement.

“Yes!” Her heart screams, but she’s embarrassed and hesitates.

“I’d like an espresso myself, but maybe you would like to try something else?” He smiles knowingly, and she knows it.

She smiles wide and bright and asks for: “a chocolate cake shake”, then motions with her chubby hands and adds “just a small one”.

He mimics her hand gesture and adds, “small one, got it.” Then if he goes, to get the creamy grail to win the heart and taste buds of his date. She observes him hastening before he disappears behind the glass door. So athletic, so energetic, so excited to serve her.

She looks at the full, swollen belly, getting excited for the next shake, and she mutters to herself a concerned “oh my God”, then leans back and mutters an aroused “oh my God”.

The glass door opens, and that’s a tall, wide, 32-oz cup full of chocolate cake shake. Her date’s smile outshines the sun, and she thinks, “What did I get myself into?”. The answer waters her mouth, and she’s so hungry again.

He sets the big, wide cup in front of her, then the straw. “The girth on that straw”, then wastes no time tearing the wrapper and sticking the straw in. She feels the thickness of the drink. This excites her and arouses her hunger, but the cartoon devil on her shoulder shakes her bony head at her, saying, “Girl, you’ll get so fat”. The words prompt her to put her lips on the straw and have a big draw without thinking about it.

She didn’t realize how much the straw drew until she swallowed a copious amount of velvety, melted ice cream and sugar, textured by blended cake. The calorie meter in her mind is of the chart, and she looks to the approving tender smile of her date, and she keeps drinking. “A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips,” she thinks, “these lip moments got to be shorter than, the lifetime on the hips is what matters”. Her belly swells in excitement and protest to her prioritizing her hips over her belly. She looks at it swelling and thinks“definitely fat in the right places”. The cartoon angel of herself, much bigger than she is, nods and raises her chin and double chin, with her hands on her enormous hips pushing her massive beach ball belly forward, and exclaims, “That’s my girl. You go for it, you’ll be ready for bikini season in no time”. She opens her eyes to see the tender, loving smile of her date, and she almost falls for him then and there.

“If you finish it too fast, I’ll have to get you another one”, he quipped.

That stopped her from drinking the shake. He got visibly worried that he might have finally pushed too far. Then, she locks eyes with him and inhales the rest of the shake. She struggled a little towards the end, but she got it all down.

She set the cup on the table and said, “Well, that was too fast”. He’s stunned, but it took less than a second for him to brighten in a smile, get up, and go to the coffee shop again. She blows him a kiss as he walks away.

But then her belly ached a little bit, so she rubbed it to soothe it, and thought the idea of a challenge excited her. He comes back with a small 8-oz cup.

“Don’t you believe in me?”, as she tears the wide straw wrapper, and starts drinking the milkshake immediately.

Her date is equally fascinated and a little stumped, worried he made a wrong move. She relishes the victory of cracking through his polite surface and plays a little bit with a long chug. Then, she puts the drink down, halfway finished. “You don’t have to get another one for me after this”, then she rubs her belly some more because she just realized how far she passed her capacity. And it doesn’t escape her how this rub makes her date crazy, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“You know I can tell that you like it,” she flirts, and it blushes him to no end. “I like it too, but why do you like it?”

He’s definitely on a back foot here, “I just don’t know, like the softness, the shape, I don’t know? It’s sexy”, mesmerized by her subtle belly rub.

“Really?”

“Really, really”

“Next date, take me out to eat then.”

“Yeah, I know this buffet”.

“Where were you all my life?”

He leans back in his chair and replies: “I could say the same.”

Fin