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“You can still go to college. I have enough money for you to have the baby and then hire a nanny. I’m going to be with you in every step,” Daniel reassured her, firmly grasping her hand in his.
She shook her head, “You really think we’re going to be okay?”
“Yes.”
“I love you.”
And then they both leaned upwards and suddenly their lips were colliding. It was at that moment that they knew that no matter what happens now or what life throws at them, they will survive.
23. Humiliated at the Doctor’s Office
By: Naughty Nicole
Humiliated at the Doctor’s Office
© Naughty Nicole 2015 – All rights reserved
Published by Steamy Reads4U
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
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Warning
This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.
If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.
Chapter One
I couldn’t tell you why, but I’d always felt surprisingly comfortable at the doctor’s. Maybe it was the gleaming white surfaces and the scent of disinfectant that appealed to the clean-freak within me. Maybe it was the smile of the receptionist as she looked up my name on her computer. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was familiar. After the month I’d had, I’d been in desperate need of something normal.
As I sat in the waiting room, I let out a sigh, attracting a terse glance from an older woman sitting across the room from me reading one of the old magazines they kept in a box. As soon as she looked back down at the page, I pulled a face at her. It was childish, but it made me feel better. Sometimes, it just felt good to let everyone know what a miserable time I was having. Clasping my hands on my stomach in front of me, I went over the events of the last few weeks in my head.
Well, I suppose it had been more than a few weeks- it had started way back when I’d met Frank at the start of the year. We’d hooked up at a New Year’s party, where he’d drunkenly slurred in my ear how much of a thing he had for larger women (yeah, I know, I should have figured out what a douche he was as soon as he thought it was appropriate to tell that to a stranger). But I was tipsy, horny, and wanted someone to make out with when the clock chimed, so I went home with him.
Frank and I had sex- decent, not amazing- and he’d made endless comments about how much he liked my big boobs, my thick thighs and the curve of my tummy. Look, it wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate compliments. Far from it. I love being told I’m pretty as much as the next girl. But it was the way Frank did it, as if he was doing me some huge favor by saying I looked good. He didn’t seem to realize that just because I was a slightly larger woman that people still found me attractive and didn’t feel the need to reduce me down to my weight. I never really appreciated having my body type fetishized like that, but I was at a low point and it felt good to have someone call me hot after a long dry spell.
So, we had sex. And he stayed over. And he kept staying over. And we kept having sex. It wasn’t the great, all-consuming romance I figured a lot of my friends thought it was, but rather something easy and straightforward and a little bit routine. I’d been in love before, and it wasn’t quite that. It was one step down from love, something familiar and normal that sort of just became part of my life. We discovered a handful of things in common-foreign cinema, our alma mater- and it just made sense for us to keep seeing each other. Neither of us had the energy to go out looking for a new partner, so we stayed together because it was easier than heading out into single life again.
Then, of course, I discovered that he wasn’t holding back on looking for new sex partners- he just hadn’t bothered to break up with me first. Yeah, he’d been cheating on be for about three months by the time I figured out why he was avoiding my calls a few nights a week and why he seemed less interested in having mediocre sex with me. I guess everyone expected me to be heartbroken when I found out- especially when I discovered that the woman he’d been cheating on me with was a slim, conventionally gorgeous lawyer from across town- but I was more angry than upset. I didn’t compare myself to her, and simply shrugged and kind of waved him out of my life after that. He tried to apologize and I occasionally got texts from him now asking if I was still single and if I wanted to meet up and he was so sorry and he missed me, as I assumed his bit on the side had lost interest in him once their affair was revealed. I never replied to those texts. I wanted him to stew. Maybe next time he would think better of cheating on the woman he’s been with for eight months.
But much as I felt free- liberated by the loss of my crappy relationship- Frank and his girlfriend had left me with one little parting gift before I could forget them entirely. While Frank and I hadn’t exactly been at it like bunnies before the split, I was keen to get an STD test just in case, so I could present myself with a clean bill of health to all my future partners. And, knowing Frank, he was probably too dumb to wrap it before he stuck it in strange.
My mind drifted to the day I’d found her sexy snapchats saved on his phone. She was slim, with a little bit of a tummy like me, and waves of long blonde hair that fell to her small breasts. I remember feeling not hatred towards her, but pity, as I wondered how long Frank had been stringing her along and if she was prepared for the reality of a relationship with him when he slunk over to her looking to have his wounds (and his balls) licked.
The way everyone reacted, I figured that they thought I should be devastated over his betrayal, especially because it was with a woman who was so different from me, but I didn’t give a shit. If he’d been cheating on her with me, my curvy body would be used as proof that he’d taken a step down in the world. The way I looked would always be used to shame me, even if I felt no shame for my body or the way I handled it.
Glancing up, I caught sight of myself in the window, my reflection staring back at me with wide eyes. My weight had fluctuated right from when I started puberty- where I had once been washboard-flat, my body produced curves and rolls that I’d only ever seen on my friend’s big sisters before. I initially tried to fight against my womanly form, dieting for all I was worth, but I slowly grew to like the way my D-cup breasts filled out a sweater, and how my ass looked pinchable as hell in a tight skirt. Sure, the attention from boys helped too, but it was my own self-worth that mattered to me, not whether some dude wanted to stick his dick in me.
It took me a long time to accept the fact that I wasn’t going to look like the teeny-tiny skinny girls in magazines, but once I did my life became a thousand times better. I focused on making myself healthy, instead of skinny, and ate a bunch more- I learnt to cook a bunch of great meals from scratch, enjoying the way my body felt when it was full of good stuff. And I exercised more, turning the fat on my body into muscle. I still had curves, but I felt good in them now, enjoying the way my body moved and rippled around me. And the men I dated loved it, too- whether they just didn’t care what I looked like or if they actually sought our bigger women like me. It helped that I knew how to wear my size, rocking big dresses, ombre hair, and massive make-up on my almond eyes. I didn’t want to fade away into the background like so many women my size had been taught to do, I wanted to look as awesome as I could. And I knew I did.
I glanced across at the desk, looking at the receptionist behind it, and felt my heart do a little flutter. This kind of thing always happened once I was coming out of a long-term relationship with a guy- I would find myself drawn to women for a little while, my body reacting against the onslaught of dick I’d been faced with in the previous few months. I knew I did actually, genuinely like women, but I’d never plucked up the nerve to actually ask one out before.
I found myself constantly wondering what it would be like, ending up on a date or even in bed with the petite ladies who made my stomach flip. It wasn’t like I hadn’t made out with girls before, but the thought of going even further was becoming more and more tempting as time went on. The receptionist, and women like her had always been the ones to catch my eye- dressed smartly, with small, tight, curvaceous bodies and feminine features. I guessed it was my way of firmly rejecting masculine energy, going for a woman who was totally and sweetly feminine.
