Chapter #4Becky & Laura are too fat to be Baristas by: Bobo the Hobo   “Hey, who’s covering café?”
“Oh, I put…” she tapped the clipboard and scrolled through the list of names, “Becky with Laura. I figured when Becky leaves for lunch then Kaye could—“
“Woah woah woah… you put Becky and Laura behind the counter together?” a brown brow furrowed slightly, “Don’t you think things might get a little hectic with all of… that going on?”
“What, do they not like each other or something?”
“No, it’s just… we try not to put them in the same place at the same time.” The boss alluded to as gently as possible, “They don’t really… They’re both… Y’see there’s only so much space back there, and the two of them together—“
***
“Can I get a venti Vanilla Bean Frappe with non-fat milk?”
The tall clear cup slammed down on the counter, immediately recovered by a thick arm and its plump sausage fingers. Bright blue eyes scanned the abbreviated code on the side of the cup, written in Becky’s curly-cue handwriting. A Vanilla Bean Frappuccino with non-fat milk. She could do that.
Tottering backwards a few good steps, Becky let out a labored grunt as she attempted to bend over. Her stomach pressed tightly against the black polo shirt she’d tucked into her slacks, noticeable even behind the green Starbucks apron that was entirely too small for a girl of her girth. Left breathless by the act and certain that she would either fall forward the longer she stayed hunched over like this, one of her thick arms plunged into the refrigerator and pulled out the half-empty gallon of whole milk.
She had to stand a good foot away from the counter so her gut wouldn’t press up against the blenders and stuff. But that meant having to reach past her ample front in order to mix the drinks.
Crème Frappuccino base, milk up to the green line, some vanilla bean powder, put it in the blender cup…
One doughy arm swiped across her forehead, wiping away the sweat that had already accumulated there. She poured the mix into the blender cup. What next, what next…?
Ice!
She held the cup out and waddled past the various teas for sale, towards the ice bin, when she met some resistance against the bigness of her belly.
“Whoops!” Becky exclaimed, taking a few steps towards the already suffocated cash register, “Sorry ‘bout that…”
It granted just enough leeway for Laura to squeeze her mighty mass through and reach the ice bin. She grabbed the venti ice cup, the largest of the four still looking comically small when compared to the great girth of her forearm. She poured in the ice, which clamored on impact with the clear blender cup, and started back.
By the time she reached the blenders again, she was out of breath. Her feet already hurt, thanks in part (probably) to the uncomfortable shoes she’d bought just for this job. She leaned on one pillowy pillar of an arm while she caught her breath, the blender whirring as she wheezed. When it stopped, Laura pushed herself off the counter with pitiful strength, bending down again to get the whipped cream—her polo coming untucked from the straining waistband of her black slacks, allowing a shimmying smile of back-fat to ooze out and over the belt-loops as she tested the limits of her only work-appropriate top.
She pushed down on the aerosol whipped cream can with one pudgy finger, putting a creamy white wig on the frothy Vanilla Bean drink. Some had been left on her finger, much to her delight. She suckled on it while wrestling with a large dome lid for the customer.
“Venti…Vanilla Bean with… Non-Fat Milk?” she huffed, sliding the drink onto the counter.
It was soon received by a little slip of a thing who matched Laura’s shaky smile of exhaustion. The big blonde barista turned back to her work station, leaning on the counter in a desperate attempt to ease the burden of her bulk that her feet bore. Her ample expanse of rolling back-fat poured itself next to the blenders, her belabored wheezing did not go unnoticed.
“You okay?” Becky asked over her shoulder, not wishing to miss the potential customers that stood a few feet away from the counter
“Yeah just… a little winded is all.”
With every breath Laura’s great gut swelled, drawing the strings a little tighter on her emerald apron and forcing them a little further into her fluffy sides. Her mouth hung open as she panted, creasing her no-neck as her soft chin forced it down. Her ass engulfed the counter-top, pushing one of the blenders back a bit as one of her heavy sacks of butt-blubber forced it away.
“You know you gave her whole milk, right?”
Another distinct huff, this time of disbelief, escaped the beluga blonde.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry…” Laura’s apology sounded more like a whine, “Do you want me to go grab her—“
“No, it should be fine unless she says anything…” Becky enviously watched the svelte brunette as she slurped unwittingly on a whole-milk Frappuccino, “You’ve just gotta learn to read the boxes. NF means non-fat, 2% means 2% and Soy means Soy. Just… y’know, pay better attention next time.”
Laura waited until Becky had turned back around to roll her eyes.
“Hey ladies, what can I get for you?”
A privileged little twig of a girl touched her chin tentatively as she and her three friends held a comfortable distance back from the counter, just enough to make hearing them annoyingly difficult.
“Yeah, can we get three tall caramel Frappuccinos aaaand aaa…” one of the others leaned in and whispered something in her ear, “a blueberry muffin?”
A pudgy pointer finger tapped on the touchscreen, tanned upper arm wobbling at the required force of impact against it.
“You sure I can’t talk you girls into getting ventis?” Becky’s smile dimpled her cheeks that and a time over, “They’re only a couple of cents more each?”
The privileged twig seemed to look her bloated barista up and down, watching as her green apron’d gut pooled on the counter despite the good distance she’d put between the two. A haughty little laugh of discontent was answer enough.
“Um, like, no thanks.” The little brat scoffed.
Four doughy digits palmed the tiny clear cups and separated them all across the counter, CRF written on all of them. Laura leaned over her own great girth and snatched them up while Becky rang up the trio of terrible tarts. She was handed Daddy’s platinum credit card, swiped it, and handed it back shoved between her two fat fingers.
“We’ll have it right out to you in a moment.”
With that the four of them separated, the customers shuffling over to the receiving end of the counter and the barista lumbering towards the bakery display case. She pressed against the sliding glass door, putting her weight behind it and forcing it unstuck. Becky bolstered herself on the lid of the display as she leaned in to get the last blueberry muffin. Beneath her thick black polo, she could feel her drooping gut brushing against the back-plated cheesecake and onto the shelves above it. | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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