Datenight: Chris

  The knocks came at the door. A decently audible knock followed by two much weaker sounding knocks. It was no secret who was beyond the door. Without even checking the peephole or the window, the door was opened. Chris stood there coyly, her feminine frame betraying the pounds of muscle coursing through her. Her pose asking the question, “how do I look?”

Chris was surprised at the response she got to her proposals for valentine’s dates. Albeit over a week after, she was still happy to get one going. She suggested a simple walk, maybe time to talk.

She turned to her side, showing off more of her figure, and stuck her arm out. Chris’ pushed towards proper date etiquette, so delicately locked in arms, they went. Fabric around Chris’ arm shifted as she tightened her arms grip; belaying her excitement.

Over the next hour Chris’ walked her date, trading small stories.

“So,” her date asked, “how did you get so big?” [Anonymous question, DeviantArt]

“Well, I worked at it. And I’m still working at it. I go to the gym almost everyday now. Sometimes twice a day, but I do take weekends off.”

“Yeah, but I mean your… uh. chest? How can you be so fit and busty? Are they fake?” [Anonymous question, twitter]

Chris’ let out a laugh, tightening her grip on her date’s arm before letting go and stepping back.

“Well I used to be a chubby, like… really chubby. It’s why I started working out, but pretty much my boobs just never went down from the size I was when I was a fat girl. So… no they’re real.”

Chris lifted a boob and did what she probably imagined to be a feminine flex, but quickly realized that wasn’t proper date etiquette. 

“Oh look, a bar!,” Chris changed the subject, trying to distract from her own embarrassment. Reaching quickly around her date’s arm, dragging him into the bar.

Chris’ thought maybe some alcohol would soothe her obvious nerves or at the least let her cool down about grabbing her boob in front of her date. 

Drinks started easy enough. Chris’ wanted to keep up any resemblance of feminine etiquette in this date and ordered one appletini. Something she thought would eschew daintiness. Then came the second, third, and fourth drink. A cosmopolitan, mailibu cocktail, and a mojito. Chris began to buzz and dropped any semblance of poise. Her drink orders soon came in as simple rum and cokes, then to just plain shots.

Chris goaded her date, who was still on his fourth drink, into trying to keep up. She laughed, remarking her size benefits her ability to drink. The obviously inebriated Chris stands up, for whatever reason, and trips. Her heals go up, her legs spread, and her dress hikes up somewhat. 

Drunkenly, Chris moans out, “Honestly, I’m really happy to have someone for a date night.”