Meghan’s Misadventures (Chapter 8): “The Weakened Warrior” (Patreon)

Meghan and Zeke's one-night stand transitioned to a weekend sleepover.  After a Saturday of feasting and fornicating, the pair slept through Sunday service.  Not that Meghan had anything appropriate to wear anyway.  The slinky dress she had worn to the bar on Friday night was meant for people to worship her not Him.

She was overdressed for the rest of the day's agenda, however.  The couple spent most of it in their Birthday suits, celebrating on the bed, the table, and even the stairwell.  In between, they would slip back into their underwear to raid the fridge and refuel.

That wasn't ALL they did, of course.  They spent a few hours participating in a televised King of the Hill marathon (the closest thing to exercise the couple engaged in other than sex) and Meghan even helped decorate Zeke's farmhouse for Christmas.  She thought it was way too early but didn't say anything.  It was hard to say much at all with her mouth full from all the treats Zeke kept bringing her.

By Sunday evening, they were both a bit stir-crazy so Zeke offered to treat to a fancy new Italian place called Giorgio's that featured BOTH a fiddler and a wine cellar.  When Meghan again lamented her lack of wardrobe, Zeke told her to take a shower (he didn't mention it, but Meghan was ripening in more ways than one) and that he would take care of the rest.  After a quick trip to the mall, he returned with an expensive dress two sizes larger than the tag on Meghan's snug underwear suggested.  Of course, he clipped away that incriminating bit of evidence before presenting it to her.

Cleaned up and nestled into an elegant dress that flattered her figure rather than fought it, Meghan looked beautiful.  Zeke beamed with pride as he entered the restaurant with her on his arm, and relished the attention they received from the staff and fellow diners, coveting the appreciative stares from the men and the jealous sneers from the women in equal measure.

"Zeke!  How you find a girl so pretty?"  Giorgio, the restaurant's owner and namesake asked halfway through their decadent meal.

"Prayer," Zeke said as Meghan smiled through chubby, pasta-filled cheeks.

"You better pray I donna steal her!  She's a keeper!"  Giorgio clapped his hands as another course was delivered.  "Mangia!  Mangia!"

Zeke nodded as his gorgeous date dug into a fresh plate.  She was, indeed, a keeper.

Too bad he'd have to throw her back once she was over the weight limit.

                                                                    ***

Monday morning brought a cold front and, with it, a cold dose of reality.  Meghan awoke to a beam of sunlight in her face.  It was annoying until she realized just how bright the ray shooting through the gap in Zeke's bedroom curtains was.

Then it was alarming.

"Shit!"

Meghan sat up and searched for her phone, but couldn't find it.  Her throbbing headache and blurry vision weren't helping matters.  Apparently, she had ditched Friday night's beer goggles only to go blind on Sunday wine.

Suddenly, she felt its touch against her tush after it slid out from under the covers and into the trough created by her weight.  It was open to the camera app and a photo of a naked chubby chick filled the screen.

That must be Zeke's phone, Meghan thought, as she stared down at the mystery girl's floppy tits and bulging belly.  The horndog must have documented his conquest of some fat hussy for posterity.

And he said he hadn't been with another woman in months!

Meghan grabbed the phone and was about to freak on the still-sleeping Zeke when the onscreen image shifted to a close-up of her face.  Between too much wine and a heavy dose of denial, it took Meghan longer than it should have to realize the app was in selfie mode.

And even longer to accept that she was the fat hussy on the screen.

Before the gravity of the situation, or that of her figure, could fully sink in, her eyes focused on the time at the top of the screen.  8:15 AM.  She had to be at work in fifteen minutes.

"Shit!"

Meghan bolted from bed and scurried across the frigid floor to the bathroom, gathering her undergarments along the way.

"Shit!  Shit!  Shit!"

Flipping on the light switch, Meghan froze as cold as the floor--first from the harsh fluorescent assault to her senses, and next from the even harsher-looking reflection staring back from the mirror.  It wasn't the only thing staring at her.  Standing beside the mirror, the physician's scale cast a steely gaze that seemed to say, "I dare you, fatso!"

After a deep breath and a silent prayer, Meghan accepted its challenge--

"SHIT!"