Kinktober Rewrite: Size Difference

A tall girl gets really into a cute boy who is very short and slim. Of course, he isn’t slim for long, and at a certain point, one has to wonder who the “big” one in the relationship is.

***

The first time he walked into the café, I was mesmerized. He had the sweetest face. I’d like to say it was his lips or his eyes that caught my attention at first, but it was actually his nose. He had a dainty little nose piercing that sparkled just a little, and a thin silver septum ring with it. It looked so adorable, especially since his nose was wide, flat, and set higher on his face, all soft curves and rounded edges. His eyes were similar–impossibly big and circular, the irises so dark you almost couldn’t see his pupils. His lips were so full I couldn’t help but think of kissing them. And all these features coexisted on a pleasantly round face.

I was just taking in his hair–dark, straight, cut short but just long enough to run my fingers through–when he came up to the counter and I had to go through my whole “What can I get you today?” spiel in my most chipper customer service voice. As I did, I noticed that I was looking down at him. Now, I’m not a particularly tall woman–I’m just about 5’8”–but I towered over this guy. He was so little–even shorter than some of my friends who I teased for being “half my height” even though they were like 5’4”. Between that and his adorable face, I was smitten.

“I’m actually not sure. I’ve never really had fancy coffee before, but I just started working in the shop across the street and all my coworkers said you guys are the best place to go for lunch around here.”

“We do have some really excellent ham and cheese croissants. The orange-cranberry muffins are super tasty, too.” I tried not to be too pushy about the food, or count up the calories before they were eaten. That was a bad habit of mine. He was really slim, and I liked my boys soft around the middle (and, if I’m honest, soft everywhere else, too).

His big eyes widened. “Wow! Those both sound really good. Can I have one of each?”

I nodded and went to put them in little paper bags. “Now, for coffee–how do you usually take it?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m actually more of a tea or hot chocolate guy. Coffee is usually too bitter for my sweet tooth.”

God, I knew he wasn’t flirting on purpose, but he was saying all the right things to push my buttons. “Tell you what–I’m going to make you something I think will satisfy that sweet tooth. If you don’t love it, come back here tomorrow and I’ll make you the best hot chocolate, free of charge.”

His smile warmed me up like I’d just had a few sips of hot chocolate myself. “I won’t argue with the expert.” He gave me his name and then went to sit down.

He downed the pastries so quickly I was sure he’d barely tasted them. A little after he was done, I called out his name and set his coffee on the counter. “Alon?” He stood up and got his drink, taking an experimental sip.

“Oh!” He took another, longer sip. “I kinda feel like I have to lie because I would love a free hot chocolate tomorrow, but this is spectacular.” He took another sip and hummed his enjoyment. “I think I’ll have to come back and order it tomorrow. And a hot chocolate, because your hot chocolate must be stellar.”

“Aw, you’re too kind,” I demurred. “Thanks for coming by. Hope to see more of you around here!”

“You definitely will. Thank you!”

From that day on, he was a regular. Whenever he had a shift, he stopped by, always picking up a few pastries and a ridiculously sugary drink. At a certain point, he even started swinging by twice every shift: once for lunch, and once for when his shift was over and he wanted something sweet for the ride home. If he came near closing, I was always happy to share some of the extra pastries that would otherwise be thrown out. There was always a little greedy gleam in his eye as I handed him the bag. I didn’t know it then, but he told me later that he always finished them all that night, stuffing himself full of triple chocolate cookies and blueberry muffins.

It didn’t take long for us to go out on a date, then another, and then start spending most of our free time together. Just like I loved that he was short, he loved that I was taller. He liked to say it was because I could reach all the goodies on the high shelves, but honestly? I think he just liked how snug he felt when we cuddled.

His sweet tooth and appetite seemed impossible to satisfy, but that didn’t mean we weren’t both up for the challenge. I told him early on that I liked “soft boys” and rather than recoiling, he’d asked, “How soft?” I had pulled him into my lap and rested my hands on his belly then.

“As soft as I can make them.”

He loved that. Just like he loved to gorge himself full of sweet things, he liked the thought of a pretty girl making him do things. When he started putting on weight in a big way, he liked it well enough, but mostly he enjoyed seeing me fall to pieces over how pretty and plump he was getting.

And god did he get chunky fast. Because he was so short, even a couple pounds had a dramatic effect on his body. He was definitely a belly-heavy boy, but his ass and thighs seemed to get thicker after every meal. I just wanted to eat him up all the time. And I did–after I stuffed him so full he could barely breathe.

All those syrupy-sweet coffees and heavy meals just made him bigger and rounder. At a certain point, I realized he’d turned into such a butterball that even with the height difference between us, people had started to perceive him as the “big” one in the relationship. Which made sense, because he was big. When I straddled him to rub that soft tummy I adored so much, my legs had to spread wide to accommodate his fattened up hips and thighs.

To me, though? He was still my little guy with a big appetite–one I was always happy to satisfy.