Chapter 1 - From the Shadows

Being on Broadway had always been Mariah’s dream. As a kid, she would watch every musical she could get her hands on forward and back and could recite every fact from the bonus features on the dvds, to the point that her family had to constantly remind her that they too now knew the trivia. They were far more interested in court TV and sports. She had tried out for every school musical, and joined a local youth group in high school, landing the occasional lead. She was pretty confident she was a good singer, since she had sung solos in church plenty of times. The competition was hot at church. And her acting wasn't bad either. Without being braggy, she had to assume her looks made up for whatever she may have been lacking in the dancing department. She had never been trained professionally, though she had plenty of moves for the dance floor. Theaters were often looking for something else, unfortunately. But she had a healthy hourglass with a front and back that turned heads. Her skin was a gorgeous and rich shade of brown. She didn't know if she was light or dark skinned, because whenever it came up, she was in a different group of diverse composition. Sometimes she was dark, and sometimes she just wasn't on the inside amongst a group of her gorgeously dark associates.

After graduating with a liberal arts degree, she threw herself into the city life of New York, with the hopes of finally fulfilling her dream. With Emilie Kouatchou able to break the color barrier and play Christine in The Phantom of the Opera, Mariah was thinking it was that much more possible for her. She was ready to fly through that opened door. Though like many others on her path, success wasn't a direct route. She had slogged through a year and a half of waitressing at various restaurants before she had gotten a small role in a show on Broadway. She liked Rent as much as anyone, but had been hoping for more than a chorus spot. Overall, she was grateful to be there at all and to be able to put it in her portfolio.

Mariah was so laser focused on her artistic aspirations, it was near impossible to focus on anything else. She had an alarm set to remind her to call her parents twice a month, barely managing to keep up with friends from back home. And forget about a love life. She hadn't dated since a big showmance she had in college with Michael. They went together well but quickly fizzled out after the requirement of spending time at rehearsals was gone. She often felt one dimensional in relationships and couldn't really figure out why. Maybe she just wasn't a “lovey” person. She could take care of and love herself just fine.

That, of course, was before she realized that a particular member of the set was constantly catching her attention. She had hardly noticed anyone besides her script and the frustrating woman she was usually blocked next to, but one day she caught a large figure moving in her peripherals, almost scaring her. She laughed to herself at the memory, because she had truthfully thought he was a falling set piece. She was relieved to see it was just one of the stage crew members, who was not far from the size of a background building. He had given her a weird look for her little jump at his passing, and she was mildly mortified. She hadn't really dwelled on it, but since that day she couldn't help but notice him in fleeting whispers out of the corner of her eye. Her head was like a satellite, bordering on compulsively looking for him.

He was certainly taller than 6 feet and pretty heavy set. His black shirts left a bit to the imagination, but couldn't really conceal that he was girthy. He wore a full beard, of a reddish color with curiously contrasting dark brown hair. He wore it short on the sides with a little left on top. His sleeves of tattoos were always on display, giving Mariah something new to notice each time he passed. Some detailed flowers, some skeletony stuff, a lot to track. She thought there were some video game references around too. She wasn't usually attracted to his type, not that she was convinced she was fully attracted to him, but her eyes were. She had never been interested in a guy like him,nd figured it had to be a blip of fascination.

There was something about that gruff expression he wore that was drawing her in. She thought he might be putting on a tough guy act, but she wasn’t going to actively test how tough the guy was. She had actually seen him get into an argument with another stage crew member that had caught many others’ attention, due to the volume and tone. She wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of his rage after that.

She caught herself making little vignettes about him in her head and wondered how far was too far in creating a whole life for a stranger she'd never spoken to. She would daydream about him arriving home and maybe he would pet his cat and settle in for some Jeopardy. Maybe he watched an ungodly amount of anime. She admitted she had seen her share. What brought him to the theater? Could he sing? Was he waiting for an opportunity like she had been? She knew so little about him. And she tried reminding herself that that was a normal status for their relationship. Yet.

Mariah had to change that, feeling too guilty to be making this man a silent character in her day to day for almost a month. She happened to be behind him at the craft table when she decided to break the ice. He had placed two sugar coated jelly donuts on his little plate and she was speaking before she could think. “Are those ones good?”

He turned with suspicious eyebrows and nearly glared at her, but his face softened when his eyes met hers. They were an amber brown and cased in thick lashes. It was always boys who ended up with full naturals. Pretty, she thought. “I like em,” he said, quickly returning to his darker look. She made some kind of agreeing sound and took one herself. She bit her lip, wanting to mine more information from this guy.

“I'm Mariah by the way,” she said. He looked over his shoulder as he poured himself some coffee from the box and chuckled a little.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Drew.” He lingered by the table a second as she poured some coffee herself, seeming a bit hesitant to continue the conversation, but not wanting to be fully rude to her. She thought fast.

“I've just noticed your tats and wanted to say…cool tats,” she said, feeling like it was unbelievably uncool to say. He raised his eyebrows at her, but smirked.

“Thanks. You got any ink?” he asked curiously.

“Oh no. Far too scary,” she said, before considering if that was rude to the mod community.

Drew seemed unbothered, but thoroughly unimpressed at the same time. He gave a short laugh and a conclusionary sigh. “Well I gotta get to painting something. Catch you around Mariah.”

The quick interaction only made her more curious about him. She was taken by those eyes and had come to the conclusion that he probably was as “cool” as he'd seemed and younger than he looked from the shadows. He wasn't just wearing a hard biker costume either. And by hard, she probably would be more accurate to say soft. After all, he had taken 2 whole donuts. After she ate half the large donut, she tossed it, finding it to be quite filling. Was that Drew's usual? The thought hung around in her brain longer than she had planned. She started to worry that it was messed up to think about it so much. She wasn't trying to judge him harshly for being fat and eating, plenty of people in her own family could eat and did. It troubled her, the sheer frequency and quantity of stories she made up in her head and how suddenly they were focusing entirely on Drew eating donuts.

Images of Drew's shirt lifting up as he reached his arms up to move a set piece started polluting her brain while practicing, to the point of being unsure if she'd really seen him at all. The most alarming part was how desperate she was to make that imaginary peek of belly HD clear. For some reason, her brain refused to up the resolution in that region. It was always a blurry smear. Maybe she couldn’t picture what she'd never seen or known. Unfortunately, her searches in Google images were not hitting the spot. Although, the results did intrigue her. She had no idea how many fat men were willing to post pictures of their fully exposed hanging guts on the internet, but the answer is enough.

And the obsession didn't stop there. She was working at the diner and her co-worker came up behind her snickering. “Some say it's rude to stare. Even if the guy’s hugely fat.” Mariah snapped her eyes on Jeff.

“I wasn't!”

“Yea, you were. What's the point in pretending? But seriously, he might notice if you don't at least pretend to be looking at anyone else.” She had been shamelessly staring, but Jeff very rudely reintroduced the shame. She didn't want to explain why she was staring at a huge fat guy. To say she wanted to was an understatement. She was boiling over with curiosities and urges.

“How do you think he got so fat?” she asked. She scanned him over, paying extra attention to his love handles that poured over his belt sides. How could that roll be so full and slouchy? How would it feel in her hands?

“You're a weirdo Riah. Stop bullying the customers. You have a new group at 7.” Jeff nodded towards a family getting seated in her section. She didn't mean it in a teasing way. But, she supposed it was sort of obvious how he got fat. She understood the basics of calories in and out. Excess energy was stored as fat. But the science didn't explain the feeling she was getting looking at that surplus of stored energy. And it certainly didn't help with the more pressing curiosities. The customer's belly was so big. How did it look bare? Did it feel good to squeeze it? Was it heavy? Obviously. And ultimately, how would this meal contribute? Could she?

She had to stop herself.

She felt the rest of her shift she was keeping an eye on the customer, who sat next to her section. Some of her customers she was serving might have questioned if she had a lazy eye. The longer he stayed the harder it was to look away. She saw him order a second meal and some additional appetizers. She felt a rush course through her brain and directly to her vagina and whatever receptor that would listen. He couldn't, could he? The man had already consumed a myriad of items, from which anyone should be satisfied.

They called her over to help bring a few plates to him, and she nearly burst. When up close, she could see his belly hanging significantly out of his shirt and resting in his lap. He didn't even seem to notice her gawking as he immediately dug in, making near rabid animal snarls as he did. She had to bite her tongue, lips, and eyes. But not really, because she'd need as many mental images as she could store in her brain for when she got home from her shift. She got plenty.

Back at the show, she was rapidly becoming transfixed by any and all sightings of Drew when on set, which at times felt hauntingly rare. She had started to think he was equally tracking herself and expertly giving her the slip, but she didn't want to assume that was the case. Whenever she did finally see him, his eyes always seemed to find hers first. They hadn't had any interaction besides the passing glances for a few weeks, as she couldn't find a good reason to be in his direct proximity and to strike up a conversation. It felt more and more urgent to do so as each day passed. She had spoken to her best friend Liv, who lived states away about it and was stunned by her conclusion.

“Mariah, you have a crush on a fat guy. That's it. It's not a crisis or anything.” Mariah didn't know how to take it. Was she acting like it was a crisis? It certainly stressed her out. She couldn't deny that.

“But why?” She had whined. Liv laughed at her for a minute.

“You really are ridiculous, you know? How bout ask ‘why not’. You don't question attraction, you just feel it. And it sounds like you are attracted to the big stage guy. Just ask him out. It's so simple.”

Her words lived in Mariah's mind all week, proving only to be not so simple. Especially because she did not mention how utterly entranced she was by the super fat customer and the nights she rode the memory with her bedside Rosebud. She felt both amazing and horrified after each session, not helped by the guy suddenly being covered in tat sleeves, and bearded. They were synthesizing into one big dream fat guy.

She hadn't noticed how absolutely busy all the stage crew people were all the time, and it didn't help that they were purposefully dressed in all black to be camouflaged to the background and darkness. Not to mention, every glimpse of Drew left her wanting to see his soft curves from under that veil of a t- shirt. She had never been so thirsty for someone's rounded body, but Liv was right, even if she only got the surface of the story. She wanted it now. Up until recently, she was very classically into slim guys. Not skinny, but certainly a narrow tolerance for fat. Somehow she was operating under the assumption that fat couldn't be cute and was representative of some inner short coming of the person. It all was tossing around in her brain now along with the desire to watch a man consume the Earth.