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Repost after repost, I trace the picture back as far as I can, which lands me to Kara’s personal account. She has over a million followers.
What the shit?
As I peruse her public photos, I can’t even believe it’s the same girl. The rest of her pictures are at least two years old.
She’s still hot as hell in them, but I don’t recognize her. With that much internet fame, I feel like I’m supposed to.
Her curves back then were as phenomenal then as they are now. Anyone would be lucky to fuck her at any size. I can fucking say that with a smile.
But my curiosity is piqued. I scroll even further into her gallery.
My god, this girl used to be a plus-sized model. No fucking wonder people follow the fuck out of her.
I take a heaping spoonful of my dinner. Goddamn, that’s good. See, just like I said.
When you’ve been starving all day, that first bite tastes so much better than it would have had you not waited for it.
I wonder what made Kara decide to lose all of that weight. Seriously, she’d be perfect at any size. She’s got such a gorgeous face and such delectable proportions…more of her just means that there’d be more of her to love.
She’s gorgeous now, too, of course—and with a little training, she’ll look even healthier. But the world isn’t always kind to women with curves like that, no matter how fucking stunning they are.
It takes me a second to realize it, but I’m actually fucking worrying about this girl. I’m the kind of man who usually pumps and dumps, but Kara has me all concerned about her well-being and shit. Probably because, judging by the way she was trying to lift today before Chase and I came along, it’s obvious that someone needs to take care of this girl.
It’s not just me being over-protective, though. I’ve never been so intrigued by someone, especially someone I just met. And now I have all of this empathy for her, and I want to get in her head.
Huh. I genuinely want to help this girl be happy.
And I think I have a good start to how I can do that.
I return to my feed, littered with Miss Sexy Universe ads.
I think Chase and I can mold her into our model. We can sponsor her with Protein Plus, enter her into the competition, and make her the face of our brand.
She has the model strut, she has the looks, and she definitely has the right backstory to melt hearts in our name. We’ll just need to get her on board.
And with a little convincing, I think we can have that in the bag, too. I take another heaping bite of my food and wash it down with a full glass of water.
I pull up my text conversations and find Chase’s thread.
I have a plan, I send him.
He responds, not even a minute later, What else is new?
I reply, It’s for Protein Plus. The plan is Kara.
Kara? he asks. Shower-fuck Kara?
Exactly. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going to be our face in the Miss Sexy Universe pageant. And we’re going to win, hands down, I explain.
Fucking genius, bro. When are we telling her?
Tomorrow. Before we start our workout. I know exactly how we’ll ask..
Sweet. Fucking awesome, he sends back.
I can’t wait to see the look on Kara’s face when we give her our idea.
In fact, if I have anything to say about it, she’s going to take it just fine.
