Coffee Date |SSBHM| lovechunk

One; Getting Ready

"Fuck, I can't go.", Elijah mumbled as he tried to pull on his pants -- realizing very quickly they weren't even going to go up to his tremendously wide thighs. "Fuck, how much have I gained?" he groaned breathlessly, tossing the pants aside as he waddled over to his closet -- determined to find something else. His prayers were answered by a pair of wide-leg sweatpants. He tugged them over his legs and groaned, heaving to pull them over his mountainous rear. 

"Thank god they...*HUFF* fit.", he moaned as he wiped his forehead. He wasn't entirely sure how he got into this situation -- forcing himself into clothes he hadn't worn in weeks to go on a date. It was a first, and at 565 pounds, he'd rather stay home. At first, he thought it was a prank, but the guy's bio did say he liked bigger men. He just didn't specify how much bigger. 

He hadn't drove his car in months -- afraid he outgrew it. Instead, he took the public bus and lyfts, but he wanted to see if he could still fit. His car was a beautiful black Buick, and he'd hate to scrap it all because he was an unfortunate fatass who couldn't stop eating. How cruel the world was, right? 

He had two hours until he was supposed to be there, but given his size, he'd probably need those two hours and then some. His pudgy fingers dug loosely around the pocket of his sweatpants, fishing for his phone. 

He typed furiously to his date as he waddled into the living room, plopping his ass lazily down onto the couch, of course, not before getting a few snacks. 

E: We're still going on a date, right?
J: Yeah, of course. I wouldn't leave you hanging like that, handsome.
E: Alright. I'll see you then.
J: See you then.

God, he could feel the embarrassment already. Just going anywhere at his size was torture and humiliating, which was why he always chose to stay home. Why he chose to work from home -- Well, no. He didn't choose that, he just got so fat he didn't see a point in coming in person. Besides, he owned the place. It wasn't like they needed him 24/7, and if they did, they had managers. 

He never felt like doing anything anyway, the seats were uncomfortable, the building's cafeteria sucked, and they even tried to get him to diet there. He politely declined out of embarrassment -- maybe if he tried it, he wouldn't be pushing 565. 

His phone dinged in his pocket again and he scrambled to grab it.

J: Hey, I might be a little late. My mom needs me to help her finish moving in, and I don't know how long its gonna take. I'll get back to you when I can, handsome. 

Great, he was going to get stood up. He could've seen that coming from a mile away, nobody wanted to go out with him. It'd been that way for years, and it didn't help that he was morbidly obese. 

He heaved himself off the couch, waddling over to his fridge. "Fuck, there's like nothing in here.", he complained to himself, opening up the McDonald's app on his phone. Mindlessly, he began to order his usual order. Forty-piece McNuggets, three large fries, two double quarter pounders with cheese, and a McCrispy. 

And just like that, he was back to his usual self. Never getting off his ass unless he was answering the door for the delivery man or going to the bathroom, a constant stress-eater. 

He choked down his fries, scrolling for something to watch on Netflix. He shamefully bit back tears as he stuffed his face, what he was best at, eating. 

He let out an unattractive belch as he leaned back, crumbs covering his shirt. He began to feel tired, so he closed his eyes. 

He woke up after feeling his phone ding. He fished it out of his pocket again and opened a DM from his date.

J: We still on for tonight?
E: Yea.

He looked at the time, 5:35. He only had twenty-five minutes to get to the date location, a small cafe. He heaved himself up, waddling out of the door with a heavy pit in his stomach from the food he'd eaten. 

He squeezed into his car, belly pressing against the wheel. But he could reach the pedals fine, so maybe he could drive. He backed out of his garage, putting the GPS on. His stomach groaned and he let his left hand down to rub it, coax it.