There was a time when the consumption of chocolate was limited by law to only the Aztec nobility. But after Cortez arrived in 1502, that inequity was forever ended.
Since then, nobody has equaled (or for that matter exceeded) Aztec royalty in eating chocolate on a daily basis – until Robert and Barbara. Two people from different Midwestern towns who relocated to the suburbs of San Francisco after college, Robert and Barbara first met while ordering four-scoop Double Chocolate Medley sundaes at Baskin & Robbins.
Quickly realizing their common interest in chocolate, they have seldom been apart since. They begin their days with a cup of hot chocolate. Many evenings, they’d watch television while emptying bags of Hershey’s Kisses. When they took romantic walks, it is to restaurants offering exquisite chocolate desserts. You might describe it as cocoa-tonic love! Through it all, they never once admitted that anyone could eat too much chocolate.
Then came the fateful day – a Saturday – that would change their lives. Walking into their suburb’s downtown area, Robert and Barbara were heading for a diner that made fantastic fudge mousse, but they first passed a newsstand offering the latest tabloids.
“Ingredient in Chocolate Found to Make You Look Younger,” read a headline on the Weekly News World. Barbara scoffed, “With all the chocolate I eat, how come I still look 23?” But Robert noted that for some people, “eating chocolate gives you pimples, so you look like a teenager. But not me,” he added.
Rounding the corner by the commuter station, the two lovers received a gigantic surprise. A new store had just opened; one called “Chocolates of the World.” Like the name implied, the store offered chocolate-based candy from every nation on earth.
“Wow!” Robert said in awe. “Just think. In one afternoon, we could eat ourselves around the world.” Barbara agreed. She grabbed a cart, and the two began their trek through the store, snatching two packages of cocoa-buttered delight from each nation; acting – well – like kids in a candy store.
At the checkout counter, Robert had to nearly max out a credit card to pay for it all. The old man working the counter admonished them “not to eat it all in one day. I wouldn’t want you to get sick – or something worse.”
The two paid no attention to either warning they’d received that day. On arrival at Barbara’s apartment, they placed two easy chairs on either side of a table and dumped their sweet swag in the middle.
“Where do we begin,” Barbara chortled with glee. “The stuff that cascaded off the table onto the floor,” Robert advised with equal giddiness.
Then it was off on a candied trip around the world. The two started with chocolate bricks from Denmark, then chocolates shaped like shamrocks from Ireland, followed by brandy-filled bonbons from Austria. They continued to rack up different nations, Macao, Bermuda, Nigeria, Chile. After having at least one treat from each of six continents, Robert looked for chocolates from Antarctica, but was disappointed.
About the time they finished the fudge-crème-filled tortes from Brazil, Robert declared that he had reached his personal high for chocolate consumption for a single day. “Hey, don’t give up,” Barbara told him. “Look at all the countries we still have to taste.”
As they started chocolate bats left over from Mexico’s Day of the Dead holiday, the two began to feel their eyes play tricks on them. Robert stared at Barbara and remarked to himself how close she resembled the prom queen in his senior year of high school. Barbara similarly stared at Robert and thought how much he looked like the cute fellow she sat behind in sophomore trigonometry class.
“I haven’t noticed until now,” Barbara yelled at Robert between bites. “You look like you’ve lost some weight. Have you been working out or something?” Robert denied this, but returned the compliment, noting how much slimmer Barbara was looking, especially in her upper torso.
Barbara checked Robert’s claim. She stuck her index finger into one of her bra cups, and while the fabric gave in, she couldn’t feel her breast. “That’s it,” she thought. “No more over-the-counter bras for me. Monday, I visit Macy’s and make use of their professional brassiere fitter.”
Seeing Barbara grab a cocoa bar from New Zealand, Robert moved quickly to claim the other. As he reached the candy, his shirtsleeve flew over his hand, covering it. Robert rolled up the sleeve, thinking to himself that he had to stop buying shirts made in countries he couldn’t pronounce, as they obviously don’t measure the material properly there.
From then on, the two concentrated almost exclusively to their international chocolate quest, to the exclusion of everything else. They ignored the fact that their bodies were contracting and losing adult features with every bit of chocolate that crossed their palates. They were in cocoa ecstasy.
While attacking a box from Japan containing chocolates shaped like each of the 151 Pokemon characters, Barbara’s feet pulled upward out of her shoes. Seeing her dangling feet, she kicked them upward several times in giddy delight, causing her socks to fly off across the room. Robert thought that was funny, and began kicking his feet in a manner causing the ends of his jeans to flap madly.
Nothing got in the way of their chocolate. As their arms shortened, they merely moved further back in their chairs and closer to the table, an action that extricated Barbara completely out of her denim skirt and Robert out of his jeans. Both garments plopped to the ground unnoticed.
As the munching of chocolates and scrunching of their bodies continued, the two rose to their knees to better reach the remaining candies. By now, their eating techniques had deteriorated to the level of little kids, with each having a smear of molten chocolate around their mouths. While reaching for Ukrainian cordials, Barbara’s diminished arm slipped from her sleeve to out of the neck of her blouse. She giggled at the sight, but continued to gorge herself. A few bites later, Robert too slipped out of his plaid shirt.
Robert and Barbara finally shared the last uneaten candy, a package of Goo Goo Clusters from Tennessee. “What do you think of them?” Barbara asked in a now girlish voice. “They should replace the nuts with more chocolate,” replied Robert, in a voice more than an octave higher than when he started.
Finished at last, the two pushed themselves out of their chairs. They puzzled momentarily at the distance of the descent.
Landing on her bare feet, Barbara stared down at her very changed body, then over at Robert, who while her size, also looked very different. They were now all of 34 inches tall and no more than 40 lb. in weight; not unlike the average three-year-old.
Barbara tried to comprehend what had happened. She now had a chubby body with flattened breasts and barely noticeable nipples. She was wearing nothing but a now cavernous panty, which she was holding up with her stubby arms.
Robert was likewise diminished, with a similarly chubby body. He wore only his boxer shorts, which he had hiked up above his now shallow chest. He turned around, trying to make sense of how far away the ceiling now looked, how broad the room had become, how tall the furniture now seemed.
“Don’t things look a little strange now?” Robert asked, momentarily thinking back to the tabloid headline and the old man’s warning. But this thought evaporated when Barbara replied, “Sure do. This is the best chocolate buzz I ever had!” Robert agreed, as his head was beginning to feel strange. Suddenly overtaken by a childlike sense of mirth, he remarked, “Barbie, I see your titties.” Barbara blushed and hiked up her adult panties to hide that part of her anatomy. “You bad boy, Bobbie,” she giggled innocently.
“What you wanna do now?” Barbie inquired. Bobbie kicked some of the empty wrappers and replied, “We outta chok’lit.” “Race you to the store,” Barbie giggled.
Reaching her apartment door, little Barbie had to stand on her tiptoes to reach and manipulate the doorknob with both hands. She also needed both hands to pull the door open as well.
While Barbie did this, her panties sat in a silken heap on the floor. Viewing her smooth little tushie, Bobbie was moved to recite appropriate poetry, but he couldn’t remember the name of the English town in the first stanza, and stopped.
As the door opened, tiny Bobbie pushed past Barbie, who hiked up her grownup panties and gave chase. The two were last seen toddling in the direction of the commuter station.
Two weeks later, the editor-in-chief of the Weekly News World was reading a story submitted by his California correspondent. It was about two three-year-olds found running nearly naked down a suburban street who claimed that they were “really grownups.” The police and social workers reported that the tots sometimes talked beyond their years.
The girl had described the blouse and jumper in which she was being dressed as “not chic.” As a social worker braided her hair into pigtails, the girl added, “her hair dresser could do a better job.” The girl even claimed that she was “a computer programmer who designed web sites,” although she couldn’t explain how a computer worked nor what a web site was.
The boy likewise threw around big words, saying he’d “post bail if I can find an ATM.” He said he “operated computerized diagnostic equipment for a car dealer,” but when asked what a car does, he added, “goes vrooom.” The social worker chuckled that the kids must have heard those words on TV.
What mattered to the social workers was that the two were quite childlike in all other matters. And while they gave their names as Barbie and Bobbie, they had forgotten their family names, or where their parents lived. After nearly two weeks, neither had been identified or claimed, so the state was preparing to permanently place them in foster care.
When asked if they were really grownups, how did they get so young, the two would turn to each other and giggle, before claiming that, “we ate chok’lit.” Their temporary foster father, a dentist, said it would be a long time before they’d get any more chocolate, since it was bad for their teeth.
After reading the story, the editor scowled and declared it “too normal” before spiking it. “We have to give the readers of the Weekly News World something they can believe,” he said. “We’ll go with that story about Rosie O’Donnell’s clone imprisoning John Wayne’s ghost in an Encino horse barn.”