Kinktober Day 20: Can't See the Scale

Content note: This opens up with a scene with a very mean woman humiliating her husband. That's not the core of this story—which does have a happy ending—but there is some name-calling and general nastiness to start with. Skip to the second set of triple asterisks to get to the soft bits if you'd like.

***

He got up that morning and immediately felt something wrong in the air, like the pressure rising before a storm. He headed into the bathroom to shower and was immediately waylaid by his wife. Even without his glasses on, he could see that she was pissed.

She looked him up and down, disgust creeping into her expression. “I need you to step on the scale right now, Charles.” He felt self-conscious and barely resisted following her gaze. He could feel a couple exposed inches of belly hanging out the bottom of his old t-shirt, and the boxer briefs he had on did nothing to hide his wobbly thighs.

“Babe, it’s six in the morning, can we—”

“We can not do this later, and how dare you try and push this off?”

“I’m not trying to push anything off, I just—”

“Do it,” she snapped. “Now.”

He sighed, knowing he couldn’t win. He hadn’t stepped on the scale in months, and for good reason. He knew he’d gained weight, and he knew Esther would be pissed about it, and the longer he could go feigning ignorance about his size, the better.

He nudged the scale out from under the bathroom sink with his foot, then stepped on it. He looked down, squinting. It was normally a little too far for him to see without his glasses on. But he realized it wouldn’t have mattered if he had his glasses on. He wouldn’t have been able to see the number anyway. And why? His gut was so fucking huge he couldn’t see over it. Shit, at this angle, looking straight down, his chest was so puffed up with fat that even without his belly there, he might still have had trouble. He felt sweat bead around his temples, his heart thumping with anxiety. He knew Esther would be as cruel as possible about this if she realized.

Charles leaned forward a little, hoping that would do the trick. It didn’t. He would have to actually move his hut out of the way and see if that worked. He tried to do it discreetly, using his hands to press his belly inward and down. No dice.

“Well?” Esther asked impatiently, her arms crossed. “What’s it say?”

“Uh.” He could feel his face and chest getting red, and in a whole lot of ways felt like he was dying. You cannot have a panic attack right now, he thought desperately. Not when she was here. Not when he was this vulnerable. (Of course, Esther was the usual cause of his panic attacks, so it definitely wouldn’t have been the first time she’d seen him have one.) “I…”

He pushed his belly to the side, but knew that was the wrong move as soon as he heard her screech, “I knew it!” She stepped forward and grabbed heavy handfuls of his hanging belly. “You’re too fat to even read the numbers, huh?” Her grip was hard, thumbs pinching into his skin. It took every bit of his focus to keep his breathing under control, to keep the tears from pricking at his eyes. She looked down at the scale. “God, you’re such a pig. I can’t believe I ever married someone like you.” She pulled off her ring and threw it at him before she stormed away, shouting, “I want a divorce! I will not be married to a fat fuck like you!”

He heard the door slam, but it wasn’t until he heard her car pull out of the driveway that he felt safe enough to let his guard down. He stepped into the shower and sat down on the tiled floor, letting the water run over him as he tried to calm himself.

***

He called in sick to work that day and drove to one of the two safest places he knew: the local greasy spoon diner. It was in a part of town Esther would never set foot in, and served food that she would turn her nose up at. He’d been coming here since he moved to this city, a few years before he ever even met his wife (ex-wife?). He knew all the other regulars and was friendly with the staff.

It was a Tuesday, so he knew Josie would be working. Josie was Charles’ closest friend, and the owner of the busy little diner. He didn’t have many friends that weren’t Esther’s friends at this point; she tended to drive off the kind of people he wanted to spend time with. But Josie had never met Charles’ wife and was firmly in his corner. He had shown up at the diner in states like this before, and Josie had always helped him feel a little better about things.

It helped that she always seemed to know what he wanted right as he walked in the door.

“Ooh, is it a biscuits and sausage gravy kind of day?” she asked as she delivered another table’s food and turned to see him walk in. Her voice was like a warm hug. “I’m thinking side of bacon and a big glass of orange juice, too.” She went to put the order in at the window while he looked for a place to sit. It had been a couple weeks since he had come in, and after realizing just how big he’d gotten, he was a little scared to sit in a booth. Still, that was where he felt most comfortable, so he squeezed in, his belly brushing up against the edge of the table.

What am I going to do when I can’t even fit in these booths anymore? he thought sadly. He really was a wreck. He stared out the window blankly, fiddling with the silverware on the table. In what seemed like no time at all, Josie showed up with his food. She spoke with the one other waitress and let her know she was going to take a short break, then sat down in the booth with him.

She pulled the table an inch or so toward herself. “We don’t have them bolted down, so don’t be afraid to make yourself comfortable.” She smiled at him. That little gesture almost made him start crying into his gravy. She’d known it was a little bit of a tight fit for him, had fixed the problem, and that was that. It was so small, but so kind.

She reached out a hand across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. “Rough morning?”

He nodded and took a moment to work himself up to saying, “Esther’s leaving me.”

Josie’s jaw dropped. “No!”

Charles could only nod.

“Chuck! This is… news!” She was clearly biting her tongue, and Charles appreciated it.

“She didn’t leave without some choice words first.” He took a bite of sausage gravy and felt a little weight slip off his shoulders.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Josie said, pursing her lips and looking away for a moment.

“Probably for the best.” He opened up one of the biscuits and scooped a little more gravy into his mouth. He gave a happy sigh and swallowed, then added, “I’m just mad I didn’t have the guts to leave her first.”

His friend cracked a smile then. “I hope this doesn’t sound callous, but it’s a huge relief to hear you say something like that.”

Charles laughed a little and took a sip of his orange juice. Josie had been right—it was just what he needed. “It doesn’t at all. Thanks for being here this whole time. I…” He cleared his throat and looked down at the table. “A lot of my friends didn’t really stick around when things got bad.”

She clucked her tongue and rested her chin in her hands. “Chuck, you know your diner family is here for you. If you need help moving, or a lawyer, or just a safe haven while you figure out what’s next, we’ve got your back.” And he knew it was true.

He thanked her, and she changed the subject, giving him a chance to relax and eat and enjoy her company and the peace of being in the happy little diner.

***

A month later, the divorce was hashed out. He had gotten out of it relatively unscathed. They’d sold the house—and good riddance. It was a box of unhappy memories, and he was happy to see it go.

True to her word, Josie and some of the other diner regulars had helped him move into a little house not far from the diner. By the time he was finally settled in, he felt safe and pretty damn okay with things. His panic attacks had become less frequent now that the main trigger was gone.

And once the divorce papers had been signed, things had changed with Josie. Or at least, he was pretty sure they had.

It wasn’t a secret that Josie liked big guys. As far as any of the diner patrons knew, she’d never dated anyone under 250 pounds, and that was on the slimmer side of her tastes. She joked often with longtime patrons about how half the reason she even ran a diner was to find hot dates. This was, as far as everyone knew, patently untrue. Dating someone she served at the diner would’ve violated natural law to her. “Don’t fuck where you eat” and all that.

But still… Charles couldn’t help but feel like there was something going on. He had started to eat there most mornings because it was a nice start to the day, even when Josie wasn’t working. When she was there, she doted on him, and in a way that seemed bigger than just being nice to the recently divorced guy. She’d bring him cups of fruit cut into cute shapes along with his breakfast, or bring him an extra shake or dessert (or both) on the nights he had dinner there.

When they talked while she was at work, she seemed to be leaning in closer than he’d ever noticed before. He’d catch her looking at him across the diner while she served someone else. She’d also invited him out a few times—always as part of a group, and with an open invitation for him to bring anyone else he wanted. Somehow, though, they always ended up sitting or walking next to each other, and he couldn’t help but notice how often she touched his arm or his hand without thinking.

That was silly though, right? He didn’t even know if he was actually her type. Sure, she said she liked big guys, but did she really? Even if she did, he couldn’t imagine she’d want someone as big as he was. And he was fresh out of the shittiest relationship on earth and still raw from it. He wasn’t ready to date.

And yet. And yet.

Josie also lived near the diner, so they started running into each other as he got comfortable in the neighborhood. He’d see her at the grocery store, the farmer’s market, at the movies or the park. She was always happy to see him, always interested in hearing how his day was going and talking about her own even if they’d just seen each other at the diner earlier in the day.

About six months after the divorce, he wandered into a local ice cream shop and ordered himself a scoop. “I’ll pay for his,” he heard a familiar voice say. It was Josie, of course. And when he turned to look at her, she was biting his lip.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, unable to keep himself from smiling.

“Hey,” she said, her smile equally bright. “Hope you don’t mind me butting in. Thought it would be nice to get ice cream together.”

“I don’t mind a bit. Always happy to let a pretty lady treat me.”

She glanced away, clearly trying to hide her embarrassment at the compliment.

When they both had their ice cream in hand, they sat down on a sturdy bench outside. It creaked a little beneath Charles’ weight, and he winced internally. Did he even really need the ice cream after all?

They both ate in silence for a bit. Then Josie turned to him and asked, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Charles snorted. “Josie, you’re beautiful. It’s like staring into the sun. And not even just because you’re maybe the kindest person alive.” He was being a little over-the-top, keeping his tone friendly and a little jokey.

“That means a lot coming from you.” She put a hand on his knee. A gesture that could be construed as sincere, friendly, or… something else.

“Oh, please. You don’t need a guy like me to tell you that. It’s clear as day.”

She scooted closer to him in a way that was decidedly more than friendly. “Maybe I do.”

His breath caught in his throat as he looked down into her eyes. Tried not to feel self-conscious as she pressed the side of her body into the soft rolls along his side. It had been so long since he’d flirted, so long since he’d felt desired, and the first time he’d ever felt someone’s raw want for him since he’d put on so much weight. But this was Josie. She was beautiful, and she was also his best friend. So he was honest. “I have no idea what to say and I’m so scared I’m gonna screw this up,” he blurted out.

She laughed and set both their cups of ice cream aside, resting one hand on his belly as she leaned her face toward his. “Then don’t talk. Just kiss me, like I’ve been trying to get you to do for years now.”

“Y-years?” he asked, heart racing in a way that made him feel happy and tingly and alive.

“Years,” she assured him before leaning up to kiss him. Instinctively, he pulled her in close, and she moaned a little, her slim body molding around his as she pressed in as close as she dared while they were still out in a public space. His tongue slipped into her mouth and he loved feeling her respond, loved feeling how much she wanted to be here. And most of all, he loved knowing that he wanted this. He wasn’t just being acted upon, wasn’t just being pursued. He was pursuing her in return.

When they broke apart, both of them were breathless. She reached up a thumb to wipe away the smeared lipstick she’d left around his mouth. Like everything with her, the touch was simple, tender, full of care and kindness. He placed his hand gently around her wrist and watched her as she did her best to put him to rights. He didn’t plan to let go any time soon.