Kinktober '22 #30: Can't See the Scale (Patreon)

I couldn't resist writing about the characters from this year's Kinktober button-popping story again. At this point, I don't really have a strong canon for either of them set in stone, but I'm really enjoying getting their personalities a little more fleshed out.

***

“Ridiculous,” he huffed as he stormed out of the doctor’s office. “Completely ridiculous.”

Adrian was furious. He could feel his pulse thumping, temples pounding as he marched to the elevator. He tried not to acknowledge how winded the short, brisk walk left him, but it was hard to ignore the sound of himself breathing once he was alone in the very echoey elevator. Should’ve taken the stairs, he thought agitatedly. Should’ve taken them a lot more often these last few years…

His doctor’s appointment had been uncomfortable in the extreme. He’d been greeted kindly by the nurse once he was called back, but the moment she’d begun to take his vitals, the nurse had gotten a stoic look, reading out the numbers as she recorded them. The weight she’d read out had astonished him. “Are you sure?” he’d asked. “Can we do it again?”

“Sir, I can assure you it’s accurate.”

“I’m afraid I insist. It can’t be correct.” He was used to getting his way, and the nurse seemed to know better than to argue any further. She had him step on the scale again, reading the exact same number aloud.

It was fifty pounds heavier than he’d thought he was, and the number in his head had already been larger than he would’ve liked.

He felt almost certain that their scale had to be off. There was no way he’d gotten that big. Someone would’ve said something. He would’ve noticed it himself. It just wasn’t possible.

After the nurse finished taking his vitals and got him situated in an exam room, he texted his assistant, Susannah. Please order the best scale money can buy and have it delivered to my home immediately.

Susannah replied immediately. I’ll do that right away. Any specifications? Weight limit?

Normally he appreciated Susannah’s quick thinking and insightful questions, but staring at those words on the screen irritated him beyond measure.

Just get the best, was all he replied. The doctor walked in right as he sent it.

His time with his doctor was just as unnerving as his interaction with the nurse. The word “concerning” was used more than once. She asked him questions like, “Have you been under a lot of stress at work lately?” as if she didn’t know he was the founder and CEO of one of the biggest companies on the planet. Everyone knew his name. Stress was part of his job description.

By the time it was over, his blood was boiling. He was astounded by the whole thing. Had he really gotten “concerningly” fat? Enough for his doctor to tell him they needed to check in six months down the line to be sure he didn’t need medication? Christ.

He looked down at himself in the elevator. He was big, but he’d known that before he walked into the doctor’s office that day. He knew he was heavier than he’d ever gotten before. But that big? No. Couldn’t be. Had to be some kind of error.

A car was waiting outside the office, and he climbed into the back and asked to be taken home. He got a text from Susannah. She confirmed that there was a new scale set up in his bathroom at home. She worked fast. He really had hired the best. (Though, now that he thought of it, maybe she was a little too good, always predicting his cravings, littering snacks everywhere he went, making sure he rarely had to experience the discomfort of clothes that didn’t fit or too-small furniture that might’ve slowed his gain…)

When he arrived at home, he made a beeline for the bathroom. He expected something small, like the little scales most people had at home. This was larger, a wide, silver rectangle with a little stand with a touchscreen attached. He tapped the touchscreen. It was simple, allowing him to choose whether he wanted to see his weight in pounds or kilograms, and whether he wanted the results read aloud. He stepped onto it… and quickly realize the design was a bit flawed.

The touchscreen came up to approximately waist height, perhaps a little lower. While the scale had certainly looked large before he’d stepped on it, the fact that he could feel his belly resting on the screen made him realize that it had likely been designed for someone with a far less generous middle. “Fuck,” he growled. He turned to the side. Thankfully, there was enough space for him to weigh himself that way, though just barely. He begrudgingly punched in the setting to ask for the results to be read out loud. It was, to his dismay, the exact same as what the scale at the doctor’s office had said.

Maybe, he thought, it’s time to tell Susannah I’m on a diet.