Fat, Black, Virgin.

By Ashley Bradley

Twelve thousand ways to suck a dick? Krystal could not comprehend why there would even be one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Bradley
• Release date: Jan 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386652281

Book preview

Today was Krystal Vandross' thirtieth birthday and she was still a fucking virgin. Krystal was determined not to usher in the next thirty (twenty at most, let's be honest. Krystal is fat and is definitely going to be dead from diabetes soon) years of her life with unparted vagina hairs.

Today, Krystal was going on her first online date. Her first...date...that she procured online. She was not going to date someone over the internet. Online is where she met her date person. Outside in real life is where the date was to occur.

Krystal set up a profile on the popular dating site Pretty Please three months ago. Under her interests she listed reading, classical music, recipes, and kayaking!. For her body type Krystal selected curvy even though, really, she had the shape of that nice refrigerator her older sister just received as an anniversary gift from her husband (Two years strong!). For her profile picture, Krystal selected a lovely photo of herself standing like a popular and beloved woman in the shoddily lit bathroom of her gynecologist's office. (The yeast infection has multiplied but Dr. Asmesgeradth believes that if Krystal just loses fifty pounds it will go away, so...good things all around. Krystal's fortune cookie was wrong. Sometimes leaning very far over edge of cliff is best view, her ass.) 

The first message Krystal received, an hour after setting up her profile, was from a man named Squirts. No last name. The message read: hai mommy. Krystal was a fucking virgin, so there was no way this Squirts person was her child. She declined to respond. Two whole months later, Krystal received her second response from a man named Jim. Hello, Krystal. What a fine, lovely jug of chocolate milk you are. How much do you weigh? Would you like to meet me at a buffet? Krystal did sort of want to meet Jim at a buffet. Though, she was a bit incredulous about how he didn't specify which buffet. Just any old buffet? Krystal was very particular about buffets. The ones that provide Chinese food offerings are the ones Krystal will not set foot in. There are just some things you don't need to be scooping up with tongs and plopping onto a cafeteria tray. Krystal had standards. Hard, solid foods like chicken and corn bread and that steak-looking stuff. None of this loose-ass wormy oriental shit. There's a time and place. 

Which buffet? Krystal messaged back to Jim.

It depends. How much do you weigh?

Krystal did not know why Jim's buffet choice depended on her weight. Clearly, Krystal liked to eat. Any buffet would do, Jim. Well, any buffet that does not serve dirty ass warmed over soy sauce noodles and sushi rolls which by the fucking way are not even a China thing Krystal had to say once to this Chinese girl she was talking to on a message board when she kept telling Krystal about how full she was from all the sashimi she was constantly eating in China, Earth. This was the first red flag that Meow Ling was not really whom she said she was. Krystal had no idea though why Meow would lie about her identity. They were on a message board discussing the critically hated-on by haters, but super popular anyway despite haters TV show, Sexy Teens. Why did Meow need to create a false identity to talk shit about how ugly Sexy Teens heartthrob Milo was with that fucking big ass mole on his cheek? It's like a little poop from God on his face D: Meow said like every time Krystal brought up Milo which totally annoyed Krystal because Milo was really sweet and his girlfriend on the show had flabby upper arms, which Krystal thought was super progressive of Sexy Teens to have this fat ass girl be the girlfriend of the show's karate yoga-taking heartthrob. Too bad the actress who played her killed herself and so Milo started dating his (90lbs soaked in semen) karate yoga sensei Rachel.

Um. Why do you want to know how much I weigh? Krystal messaged Jim instead of committing suicide like that fat arms actress from Sexy Teens who was nominated posthumously for a Teenz Choice Award. Best supporting actress on a television show. She lost to that chick on Nun Prostitutes who had a big gambling addiction storyline last season.

I have to figure out what I want to watch you eat, Jim messaged back. If you're below three hundred, ribs are out.

Krystal really wanted ribs now that Jim had mentioned them. But she only weighed around two-seventy. Could she...? Um. I don't know. My weight fluctuates. But I'm probably pretty close to three.

Fluctuates? :/

Krystal never heard from Jim again.

––––––––

It was only four days ago that she received her third message via the site. This one's name was Cort. Right away, Cort seemed legit. His first message to Krystal was a simple: Hey, read your profile. You seem like a cool chick. Want to meet up sometime?. In Cort's profile picture he was posing on some snow and shit with skis and shit. Legit. Under his interests Cort listed reading, music, fun, and - guess what? - skiing! It all added up! Also, Cort was really handsome. He was Caucasian but not in that creepy way. He had probably green eyes and his hair wasn't wet-looking. Krystal was instantly smitten and messaged back immediately. She'd arrange a date with Cort as a birthday present to her old, decrepit, untouched vagina.

Wow! Krystal felt maybe she was coming on too strong. She had never uttered the words wow ever before in her non-wow ass life. Hey, she decided on instead. You seem like a cool dude, yourself. Krystal cringed. Deletedelete. You seem alright. Yes, play hard to get. I'm going out for beers Friday. You can come along if you'd like. Yesssssssssss. Perfect. 'Come along if you'd like.' Brilliant! You're so detached and like, whatever! You'll have him eating out of your hands! Except...what if he's weirded out by you just randomly getting beers by yourself on a Friday night? You didn't specify that you were alone and that it was a Friday night...maybe he won't notice. OH GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

Cort messaged back instantly: Beers Friday sounds good. Time and place?

––––––––

Krystal and Cort arranged to meet at a tapas bar near Cort's office (lawyer!) at eight on Friday - Krystal's birthday. It was all so normal and like a TV show. Krystal had never been on a proper human romance date before. No one ever asked her out. There was that one time when Krystal was riding the bus and a homeless man came to lay his head down on her lap to sleep. He stayed there until Krystal had to get off at her stop. He tried to bite her when she went to push his head away. That was Krystal's only experience with dating and also sexual intercourse. Why did I take so long to try online dating? It's a minefield. Three whole responses within three months?! Sometimes Krystal could go whole weeks without one person speaking to her. (She did not count her roommate or boss as they were sort of obligated to speak to her for rent/business reasons and not for funtime reasons like cupcakes and butterflies. She meant real people speaking to her for human things. Like, saying excuse me or something if she's in their way, which probably she is. Usually people just pushed and spat.) Online, though, Krystal was practically a celebrity. Like, Jim had almost taken her to go eat ribs! No one - ever - had almost taken Krystal to go eat anything anywhere. Not even her parents, who did not believe in eating in restaurants when there was perfectly good expired shit in cans Krystal could heat up over the stove except not really because you sold the stove for crack money, remember, mom?

The tapas bar was called Mike's. The place was packed full of mingling singles sucking on taquitos and whiskey sours and having the young time of their lives. Krystal felt exhilarated. Here she was on date night doing normal date night shit with all the other normals. She clutched at her bubbling tummy, I shouldn't have eaten that bowl of oatmeal before coming out. Krystal always had to anxiety-eat a bowl of carb stuffs before leaving her house. In the mornings before work Krystal usually had herself a bowl of potatoes au gratin. If Krystal was going out to the sort-of suburbs to visit her rehabilitated, born again Christian parents, she'd eat a basket of pizza crusts she saved over the week, dipping them into a jar of mayonnaise. Krystal decided to try something new for her new dating self. She decided on oatmeal. It was a bad choice. She had sprinkled a lot of sugar on top and now that sugar was violently raping all the flora in her gut and probably Krystal would have to excuse herself in the middle of charming Cort to go shit her soul out all over Mike's probably nice bathroom floor. Sit on the toilet and not the floor, Krystal reminded herself.

Krystal checked her cell. It was eight-thirty. Cort was late. She'd already ordered two strawberry daiquiris and people were beginning to stare. You can't just sit alone by yourself in a crowded tapas bar on date night and think that shit is accepted by society. Why was Cort doing this to Krystal? Was it a joke? Krystal had heard about things like this. Guys asking women out and then, like, watching them sit alone by themselves through binoculars from the top of a building across the street from wherever the woman is sitting alone crying by herself into her third strawberry daiquiri. Krystal looked through the window, across the street. A bank. She couldn't see the top of the building. There was no way Cort was up there watching her through binoculars. Where do they even sell binoculars? Maybe...he was inside the bank? Krystal squinted to see if she could make out Cort's white face among all the other white faces populating the bank. Nope. Wait, are those people or mannequins? Is that a sportswear store? Fuck, I need my glasses. Or a cyanide pill would be even better. Krystal sighed, and then immediately the little window screen of her cell lit up. She had a new text message! How rare! Krystal flipped open her ten year old rickety ass cellular device so fast she nearly broke her fucking thumb.

Sorry! Got held up in court! Be there in five or less! ;)

Suddenly, Krystal realized that Cort's name was Cort. Court Cort. Lawyer Cort going to court. That could be a TV show. Cort's Court. Eh...maybe if he were a judge. Suddenly again, Krystal wished Cort were a basketball player. She'd always been attracted to basketball players. Her first crush was when she was eight on one of her older brother Kenny's b-ball player friends. His name was Malcolm and he was tall and thin like a broom. He had hair like a broom, too. Malcolm was always over the Vandross house selling their parents drugs and putting his foot up on their cat Sissy as if she were an ottoman. Krystal was obsessed with Malcolm. He was cool and tall and had no regard for the feelings of cats. Or humans. Malcolm was always making fun of Kenny and being mean to him and watching him pee. One time Kenny got himself a girlfriend. Her name was Alicia and she was light-skinned and had a weave that looked like real hair. This meant that she belonged to Malcolm and not Kenny so Malcolm just took her because who the fuck did Kenny think he was trying to be the boyfriend of a girl like that when Malcolm existed??? Krystal remembered laughing for many hours when she found out Kenny tried to kill himself over the loss of Alicia. Then he joined the Army which annoyed Krystal because that meant Malcolm wouldn't be around anymore. Kenny was so selfish and ugly.

Do they have court at night? Krystal now found herself thinking over her fond memories of Malcolm. She knew nothing about lawyers or law or court or things of that nature. It seemed sort of iffy. Did they ever have court at night on TV? Krystal watched a soap opera on the Spanish channel called Los Lobos about high-powered attorneys and stock brokers and plastic surgeons and elementary school teachers and their everyday lives and stuff. One of the main characters - Armand - was a divorce attorney. They never showed him in court or anything. Just usually in his clients. Though those scenes typically took place at night, they did not take place in court. Krystal was suddenly aware how unrealistic this show was. They never showed the other characters at their places of employment, either. The teacher character, Miercoles, was always at the beach trying to date-rape tourists. Like, don't your students need to be learning how to read and shit, Miercoles? How are you finding all this time to date-rape blonde college bitches from Wisconsin? Maybe...things are different in Brazil where the show takes place??? Probably. The stock broker character never wears a shirt ever. Surely, stock brokers in a normal country like the United States have to wear shirts all the time? But Los Lobos was just so good! Krystal decided she would not stop watching it even though it was clearly not based in reality - something that is very important to her.

Krystal?

Krystal looked up to see the slightly handsome white face of Cort. Cort Roberts, to be exact. Krystal Roberts. They'd have a liter of mixed-race babies with light eyes and curly little ringlets. Krystal began to imagine entering her racially ambiguous daughter (Jazzmen, she'd be called) into beauty pageants and dragging her around to audition for cereal and herpes medication commercials. Krystal hoped that eight years from now mixed-races babies would not be out. At least, not mulatto kids. Dear God don't let the new thing in eight years be, like, Egyptians or some shit. Jazzmen could pass for Egyptian, though, right? Krystal breathed a sigh of relief, Yes.

You're more wide-screen in real life, Cort was saying before Krystal got her hand over to his to shake.

She laughed. Not because she thought what he said was funny, but because she had not processed the words. Krystal always laughed whenever someone spoke. Usually, people were trying to be funny. To make up for her delayed brain, Krystal would laugh at whatever the sounds were coming out of whoever's mouth. She'd figure out what they actually said later and react accordingly. Krystal had no friends.

It's just... Cort cocked his Caucasian head to the side, you look really different. He just stood there before the table staring down at her. 

Krystal did not know what to say. Was Cort accusing her of something? She looked different in person? Well, most people don't look exactly in their photos as they do in real life. Usually in photos, Krystal had semi-clear skin and a moustache. In real-life, she had cystic acne all along her jawline and rest of her face, but - plus side! - no moustache. Which mainly just had to do with the fact that she had facial alopecia. She drew her eyebrows on with a permanent marker.

You're really different. Cort shook his head and sat down.

Um. What do you mean? Krystal took a nervous sip from her third daiquiri. She managed to get some all over her lap even though she was using a straw. Pretend it didn't happen. It's so cold. Ugh - seeping into my crotch!

You look different, Cort almost snapped. Almost, because Cort was white and his snapping was nothing compared to the snapping she'd seen some Asian people do. It was mostly just cute.

I think I look mostly the same. From my picture.

Well, you don't!

The couple seated at the tiny table beside them glanced over. Krystal hoped they would think she and Cort had been married for years and had a toxic, tumultuous relationship. They'd go home later and say to each other: Let's never be them. Then the woman would get a kiss on the forehead and they'd have slow, sensual sex before their favorite talk show comes on. Ice cream? the man would ask before the show came on. The woman would nod greedily; happily. The man would go into the kitchen and stab himself in the fucking throat. 

"You're larger," Cort continued, his tone full of disgust. The couple glanced over again. Poor woman being berated by her husband for not losing the baby weight fast enough. What a dick. But...she has let herself go. What a depressing thing for us to be forced to witness on our romantic date night at Mike's tapas bar. 

Krystal had to admit that she used an old photo for her Pretty Please dating profile. The last time Krystal visited her gynecologist's office she took a photo of herself in the bathroom as a reminder to never go there again. There was no handicap stall. That was five years and forty pounds ago. But forty pounds? That was nothing! Cort was being a dramatic baby. He probably learned that behavior in law school. Krystal rolled her eyes. Malcolm would never get all indignant about Krystal looking slightly different from her dating profile pic in person. But, that was mostly because Malcolm was killed ten years ago in a drive-by shooting so did not have the ability to get indignant about anything. As he was dead.

It's a small picture, Krystal reasoned.

Cort leaned across the table on his elbows. The hair on his arms was bright red. Excuse me?!

The photo I posted on my profile is small. I took it with my cellphone.

Cort laughed from the back of his throat into Krystal's face. What?! Is this really happening?! 

The man-half of the couple seated beside them reached over to gently tap Cort on the shoulder, Sir. Do you mind...being nicer to your date? And quieter. 

Krystal's stomach rumbled loudly and the man glanced down at it, horrified. He pulled away from their table and back to his wife or girlfriend or sister-daughter. They proceeded to whisper probably about how they needed to fucking go. 

Did you see that? Cort rolled his sea glass eyes. "Did you see him...like...touch me?"

Krystal nodded. She had eyeballs and stuff. Not sea glass, though.

Cort turned to glare at the couple. The woman clutched her cardigan closed, which caused Cort to scoff, You wish, honey.

They immediately rose from their seats at this.

Cort looked to Krystal and laughed. Krystal laughed back. They were having fun scaring couples away from their tables at Mike's tapas bar! Cort would forget all about that nasty Krystal using a five year old photo on her dating profile business! 

Cort stopped laughing to squint at Krystal's head. Are you wearing a hat?

In Krystal's profile pic her hair is long and sleek and she doesn't have a part because she's wearing a wig she got for two dollars at the party store the day after Halloween. Krystal decided three years ago that she didn't want to wear wigs anymore. She would wear her hair in its natural afro state.

She reached up to pet her mound of pube scraps, This is my hair.

Cort turned his whole face up. "Did you comb it? Did you even bother to brush your hair before leaving the house?" 

For some reason this made Krystal's heart surge. This sounded like something a mother would say to her wild, disobedient child. Krystal's mother never commented on what the fuck Krystal was getting up to with her hair or anything else when she was a child. Because Krystal's mother was a crackhead and Krystal wasn't made of crack, so...why would she pay attention to her???

I washed it and then it air-dried. Krystal hoped she and Cort would talk forever about her hair. Cort would remain incredulous for a while, but eventually Krystal would convince him to join Team Afro and then they'd feed each other hot dogs. 

Ever heard of conditioner? Cort snapped his fingers in the air for some bitch to come wait on him.

Krystal nodded. She had. I do a deep conditioner once a week. 

With what? Sawdust?

This hit Krystal to the core. Clearly, there were dust specks in her fro - again! Krystal was very anal about picking out all the lint and shit that was constantly in her hair before leaving the house. Krystal wanted to cry. She should have never taken the subway into the city. There was always some fucking pigeon flapping around in the sub cars. She probably had an entire family of beasts on her head. Someone had probably installed wi-fi in there during the five minutes she spent nodding off. Krystal reached up to pet her fro. She didn't want to give it any self-esteem issues. There, there. 

A pretty blonde waitress appeared before them. She had already served Krystal her three daiquiris. Her name was Sarah. Are you doing alright? Sarah asked Krystal as if Krystal were waking up confused in a psych ward.

Krystal nodded. Very good.

Sarah smiled like an angel. Krystal wanted to stomp all over her pretty angel face. Cort would fall in love with this dumb lovely bitch and leave Krystal and her hat-hair in the dust. Great! More dust in my hair! Can I get you anything else? You hungry? You should eat something with those daiquiris. How about some steak-

Hold on! Cort was being all loud up in Sarah's sweet, soft face. "Am I, like, invisible??" 

Sarah gave Cort a small smile, Would you like to order?

Um! Yes! Cort opened his mouth really wide and stared at Sarah. It wasn't in an adoring way. He appeared to want her to feed him. 

Sarah backed away a little from the table and gave Krystal a look. Suddenly, Krystal felt embarrassed for someone other than herself. 

Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Maybe! A menu?! Cort still had his mouth open really wide. It made his words sound garbled. But Sarah could understand. And everyone else in the restaurant as he was being super loud. 

A tall, Cort-looking type dude appeared beside Sarah. Is everything alright over here?

Sarah looked like she didn't want to snitch. Yeah, yeah, she nodded like some kidnapped bitch telling police everything is all good while her kidnapper (his name is Pete) has a gun pointed to her head from the backseat. The police can't see him because he's got a blanket over him. It makes Pete invisible. And also the gun he has sticking into Sarah's head. The officer writes Sarah a ticket for being a hottie. 

The dude gave Cort a once-over, This is a chill bar, dude.

Cort laughed and some blood sprayed from his nose. Can I get some fucking white wine, maybe? And a burger.

Krystal wanted to laugh but everyone seemed super-serious. Also, Sarah looked like she wanted to cry. If Krystal laughed in front of some white bitch about to cry she'd be cursed for life.

We don't have burgers. Would you settle for some mini-quesadillas? Cort-like asked.

Cort rolled his eyes, Well, I guess so!

And you, Miss? Cort-like directed at Krystal as Sarah wrote down white wine and mini-quesadillas, presumably. 

I'll just have some of his quesadillas. 

You will not, Cort corrected Krystal immediately.

Now Krystal was embarrassed for herself. She liked for everyone in the bar to think she was involved in some abusive relationship with a lawyer probably withdrawing from a coke binge or whatever it is lawyers do, but...to have him - her fake abusive boyfriend - reject her sharing his food? It was too painful. God, what people must be thinking of her. Probably half of the patrons at the bar were thinking Krystal had AIDS and Cort was justified in denying her fingers in his food. Krystal wanted to go home, sit on the toilet, and take a nap and die.

Um, Krystal trembled, trying to hold back tears. She was being so Sarah right now. I'll have the- she looked up at Sarah with her watery eyes. They matched Sarah's own watery eyes. Sisters. What was the...the steak thing you said?

Steak on a toothpick, Sarah sniffed. 

Krystal nodded. I'll have some steaks on a toothpick. 

Cort pffted but Krystal ignored him. She and Sarah were having a moment.

Sarah wrote down probably steaks on a toothpick on her little waitress pad, then disappeared with Cort-like off to the kitchen or heaven or wherever.

So, Cort was trying to suck something out of his cum-white teeth, do you raw dog?

Krystal thought do you raw dog? meant did she eat raw hot dog links in front of the fridge at two o'clock in the morning.

Yes, she did.

Upon entering Cort's apartment and seeing no refrigerator but many piles of videotapes, Krystal knew she had erred.

She managed to escape Cort's empty except for all the VHS tapes riverside condo by telling him she had to poop. Krystal could tell Cort was one of those people who didn't want other asses sitting on his toilet seat. Krystal could tell because she was one of those people.

Krystal had been battling with some mysterious intestinal disorder practically all her life. At least, this is what she told herself. If Krystal wanted to be honest, which she didn't, she'd admit she'd been battling with stomach issues ever since that time she tried to kill herself by ingesting eight extra-strength aspirin. The recommended dosage was no more than eight pills within a period of twenty four hours. Krystal had ingested eight pills in like one second! Surely, she'd die. Except she didn't. She went to sleep for like five minutes in a bathroom stall at El Tacos, then woke up to excruciating stomach cramps. Her shit aint been right since.

Anyway, Krystal liked having a toilet all to herself. Her junior year of college, the year after the suicide attempt, Krystal began rooming with five other females in a suite on campus. Krystal could not believe she wanted to kill herself before finding out what actual hell on Earth was like. One bathroom for six fucking bitches? ¿DÓNDE ESTÁ?

Krystal decided she'd keep herself alive just long enough to graduate college so she could get a job so she could get an apartment of her own so she could poop her loud painful poops in privacy. Too bad Krystal is fucking dumb as shit and it didn't work out that way.

Krystal had only one friend throughout her entire four years of university being at. Her name was Bianca and she was gorgeous. Bianca was half Puerto Rican, half Japanese or some shit. She had glowy buttery biscuit ass skin and long ass weave-like hair except that shit was real and grew out of her perpetually dandruff-free scalp. Krystal hated this bitch the minute she sashayed into the gymnasium on orientation day and sat down between two huge dudes at the bottom of the bleachers. NO BITCH WOULD EVER DO THAT ON THE FIRST DAY OF COLLEGE. But Bianca could because she was all pretty and shit and of course they would immediately make room for her. And the Dean, who had been speaking when Bianca waltzed in, would not give her a hint of side-eye. He would, however, ogle at her titties and stutter when he tried to pick back up where he left off before Bianca rudely interrupted by being the most glorious creature on Earth and having an ass that was practically up under her fucking neck.

If Krystal ever tried some shit like that she'd be kicked in the head by everyone in the auditorium and then some random woman would give birth to a baby in the middle of the gymnasium floor and hand it to Krystal and tell her to fucking take care of it until she gets back from Vegas which will be whenever she fucking feels like it.

––––––––

Bianca and Krystal found themselves rooming in the same wing at Urethra Hall. Bianca was roommates with a chick named Avery whose mother was sleeping in their dorm for the first week of Avery being at university all by her lonesome. Krystal bumped into Bianca in the halls on the second day of college-living, cursing to herself in Spanish-sounding words, completely naked. Krystal