Finishing the final touches of my lipstick, my friend yells, “the uber’s here!”
We pile in like a can of sardines, already tipsy from pregaming.
“It’s hot girl summer!” My friend excitedly announces as we step out of the Uber.
We clamor about until we make it to our favorite local club. I’ve been itching to dance for a while now. Once inside, I order a beer and we all start to dance when a cute, fat guy steals my attention. Dark brown hair well put together, green button down flannel that might be regrettably hot, a pair of dark blue jeans with vans. He’s sitting off with a small group of people, a few dancing beside him. Part of me desperately wants to capture his attention, but the other part is terribly shy. I wouldn’t know what to do once I made eye contact.
So, I continue grinding on my friends. One member of his group targets my friend to dance with and we make eye contact. Perfect, keep dancing, I tell myself.
I grab another beer and keep stealing glances. He’s so big. Most of his friends stand or dance but he remains seated, belly prominently in his lap.
After a while, I realize I’m going to have to make the first move. Fuck. Another beer it is.
As fate would have it, he appears next to me at the bar to order and his large arm gently bumps into me.
“That’s okay.” I pause. “What are you drinking? I got it”
I cut him off. “I know the owner,” and as if on cue, cooper greets me.
“Hey baby, what’ll it be?”
“Hmm, still thinking.” I give the hot fat guy a sly smile. When cooper leaves, the fatty returns it.
“Nice. Whatever you’re drinking is fine. Thank you. You don’t have to do that.” Seeing him up close and in such close proximity to others at the bar, he looks even bigger.
“No worries.” When our drinks come, we clink the glass bottles and cheers.
“So, who do I have to thank?”
“Nice to meet you, Leslie. I’m Alex,” we shake hands.
We strike up conversation and he swears he knows me from somewhere, but I would’ve remembered him.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask.
“Oh, no. I don’t dance. I think there might be a weight limit anyways,” he smirks and I look away, flustered.
“Well, I’m gonna dance for a little. Hopefully you’re still here after,” I hop off the stool and look back at him, hoping he’ll watch me for a little.
As I hoped, he does. My friends and I grind on each other and dance rhythmically to the Spanish songs that come on. Once I’m sure he’s still watching, I pull my friend in and we kiss. When I finish, I’m looking for him for a reaction. He’s locked eye contact and gulps down the rest of his beer.
I use this as an opportunity to excuse myself from the dance floor and ask if he wants another drink.
“That was hot,” he has to lean closer so I can hear him over the music, his breath warm on my neck.
“Was it?” I feign innocence.
“Yeah, and you know it was.” He looks at me for a reaction, but I neither confirm nor deny it.
I order us another beer and he jokingly says, “are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Of course not...why? Is it working?” His adorable smirk appears again.
“So, I don’t get it. All these guys,” he gestures around us. “Why me?”
“Well, for starters, I could snap you in half by accident.”
Again, I had to look away, feeling my cheeks burning.
“Oh NOW you’re shy?” He bubbles over with laughter.
“Why so shy all of a sudden?” He tries looking me in the eye but I avoid his stare and shrug.
“I dunno,” I whisper. He leans over closer to me.
“What was that?” His voice low, breath hot on my neck again, arm barely touching mine. I gulp and nervously lick my lips in response.
He shakes his head. “So, so shy,” he looks at me warmly. “It’s so hot in here,” he continues, unbuttoning his flannel to expose a black undershirt. With each button he undoes, I struggle to keep my eyes anywhere but there. He notices.
“Nothing.” I answer as confidently as possible.
“Oh, this? I can put it back on,” he offers, indicating towards his flannel he just took off.
“No! No, that’s okay. Why would you?”
“I don’t know. You look uncomfortable.”
“That’s not why.” The liquid courage gets the best of me.
“It’s nice,” is all I manage to say.
He’s trying to understand. “What’s nice?”
I hesitate. “You don’t need that,” I gesture towards his flannel. “You don’t need to cover anything up.”
“Oh,” a look of confusion sweeps over his face.
“It’s nice?” He’s still fixated on what exactly that means.
I nod, shyness creeping through my veins, competing with the alcohol.
He contemplates for a second then skeptically points at his belly.
I nod, refusing to break eye contact to steal another glimpse.
“Huh. And here I thought one of your friends put you up to this,” he shook his head.
“Oh my god, no! Why would you think that?”
“Well you know, someone’s gotta take one for the team. Our friends sure seem to be getting along,” he referred to my friend sucking on his friend’s lips.
“What do you mean, ‘take one for the team’?”
“Well, just that our friends want to go home together, probably. And someone gets stuck alone, or with me.”
“Stuck with?” I say incredulously.
“Well, yeah. No one exactly brags about hooking up with the fat guy at the end of the night.” He states matter of factly and downs another swig of beer.
At this point, I’m angry people have made him feel like a consolation prize. I bite my lip and place my hand on his arm.
“Absolutely not. I was so nervous to talk to you.”
“You nervous to talk to me?!”
“Don’t be.” His warm smile radiates. “So,” he hesitated. “You ever been with a...” he trails off.
He shifts in his seat which is obviously too small and I’m staring again.
“You wanna get out of here then? Or did you want to make out with your friend again for my benefit?” He teased.
“I’d rather make out with someone else,” the liquid courage in me winning over any shyness.
I’m about the same height standing next to his barstool and he gingerly reaches for my waist. His hands feel strong, protective. I lean in and feel his soft chest against me. Instinctively, my hands find his sides and my heart races. I’ve never touched a bigger guy before, let alone been this close. The softness is sinfully pleasurable. He pulls me in and our lips dance together, his hands around my slim waist. I feel his soft belly against me and I feel faint for a moment. This is what I’ve been dreaming of. It feels even better than I could’ve imagined.
Soft, fat, decadent. He whispers, “let’s go,” and I follow him, people having to move out of his way like he’s a giant leading me.
I text my friends and I’m in his car watching his belly jiggle with every bump. He watches me. “You like that?”
“It’s sexy,” I remark honestly. His tight shirt outlining the curves of his belly and moobs.
He reaches over and places my small hand on his belly. We don’t say anything, but I get to feel his fat the entire way to his house, jiggling relentlessly.
Slowly, I start prodding and squeezing his belly. He doesn’t look over at me, but I keep going. He hikes up his shirt so I can slide my hand under. It’s glorious. Unimaginably soft.
When we reach his house he gets the door for me and holds my hand, guiding me to the front door. My heart is pounding. Once inside, he immediately shoves me against the nearest wall with his belly. Involuntarily, I let out a quiet moan. He pulls my hands up over my head and squishes his belly even deeper into me. “Fuck,” I moan, feeling his girth against my small frame.
“You like that?” He whispers, breath already becoming labored. I nod. Our lips are desperate for each other. My tongue glides over his double chin and at this point we’re both breathing heavy.
Suddenly, he picks me up and as we continue making out, he drops me onto the couch. It creaks when he tries to maneuver onto it.
“Fuck, I’m too fat,” he practically pants.
“Good.” I sit up and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down so he can sit on it more comfortably. He looks absolutely massive. Belly splayed out over his lap. His body taking up half the couch. Straddling his lap, his belly fits between my legs. I lift his belly and drop it down on top of my lap.
“So fat there’s no room on your lap for me.” I’m mesmerized. The couch creaks in response.
Still facing him, I grab the hem of his shirt and tug at it, desperate to expose his fat belly. He leans his back off to help me and I stare in awe at his perfect body. So much fat. Belly completely covering his lap. Fat rolls that extend around his back. Love handles spilling over the top of his jeans. His body a slave to his gluttony.
Leaning over, I start grinding into his belly...I would say lap, but it’s covered. He kisses my chest as if to encourage me to continue. I can’t stop myself from grabbing everywhere. His squishy upper arms which lack any definition. His moobs, much bigger than my own boobs. His fat rolls indicating just how much of a fat ass he is - so obese that his fat has nowhere else to go but roll over on itself.
Even his thighs are massive. I need to see and feel more of him.
He’s breathless now even though I’m on top. I lift his belly in order to find his jeans so I can finally unbutton them. He takes his belly for me so I can unbuckle the way-too-tight belt. While fumbling with the stupid belt, I kneel down and start kissing and sucking his belly, even biting it a few times. He lets out soft gasps but I’m entranced. “That’s so good,” he moans, eyes closed. We make eye contact and he gently presses my face back into his belly. I swear I’ll orgasm without him even touching me.
That’s when he picks me up and takes me to his bedroom. He practically throws me down and he’s over me on all fours, his belly dangling tempting me, belt still hanging on. His hand finds my neck and squeezes.
“You want me on top?” I nod excitedly.
“But I’m so fat...I’m too heavy,” he teases. “Look at me, I’ll crush you.” With those words I’m grabbing voraciously at him, willing his huge body on top of mine. He smirks.
“God, you want it bad huh? You really think you can force all this weight on top of you?” He’s enjoying the hell out of this.
“Please...let me feel your body. I need to feel it. Please.” I continue to beg. I sound needy and helpless but I do need it.
Without breaking eye contact. He grabs my hand and makes me feel his fat belly dangling above me.
“You want this on you? All this fat?” I’m nodding and biting my lip, trying to contain myself.
“I’m so heavy baby,” I can’t tell whether he’s playing up the labored breathing for my benefit, or if he really is that out of shape and can’t hold himself over me this long without struggling.
“Please...” is all I manage to squeak out.
Without warning, he finally releases his weight onto me. I see stars. He comes back up and I take a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” He asks seriously.
I nod, unable to speak yet.
“I’ll be more gentle.” This time, he slowly releases his weight onto me. It’s even more sensual feeling his fat cover me inch by inch. I’m grabbing at his fat back and pressing him further into me, although it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. When he comes back up, he glides his belly over the spans of my small body. I arch my back trying to get even closer to him. He’s sweating and panting from the exertion it took to hold his obese body over me for so long. His arms are shaking.
“God you’re so fat. You can barely hold yourself up,” I tease.
“Yeah, and you love it.” He shoves my face into his belly and I moan. When he releases me, he flops onto his back and the mattress creaks, his belly fat jiggling then settling. He looks so obese with his fat double chin and chubby cheeks. I climb up and straddle him, kissing his round cheeks. It amazes me how every part of him is soft. My tongue explores his double chin and down to his moobs. My hands exploring the huge expanse of his body. No matter how much I prod and squeeze, it’s never enough. I need more. I need to be closer to him. I need handfuls.
“Can i feed you?” I blurt out.
He doesn’t feign surprise. “What? You want to feed me?”
Normally I’d be embarrassed, but instead I nod.
“What do you want to feed me?”
He grunts as he sits up, belly spilling further into his lap.
“Let’s look.” He grabs my hand and leads me to the kitchen, fat jiggling with each step.
I place my arm around his back as he opens cupboards.
“What about these?” Brownie bites. Perfect.
Back in the bedroom, I straddle him once again, but this time with fattening treats.
“I’ve never done this before,” I confess.
Slowly, I pop one into his mouth. He closes his eyes. “Mmm.”
He places his hand on the side of his enormous belly as I feed him. I begin slowly prodding his fat, pushing empty calories past his willing lips.
“That’s it,” I encourage. He moans in response.
Shoving another into his mouth, I tug on his jeans, letting him know it’s time. He has to help pull them off and quickly does the same with mine, still chewing.
“More,” he knows this is what I want to hear.
I prop myself onto him and continue feeding him.
“So greedy.” He nods, accepting another morsel.
I start grinding my hips into him. The faster I go, the faster I shove food into his mouth. He shakes his head but I don’t care.
“More.” I whisper in his ear and he opens his mouth obediently.
“If you want to cum you’ll eat them all.” I threaten. He groans in response.
“Baby...” he pants, “I’m so full,” he places a hand on his tightening belly.
“Come on. Just a few more,” I hold it up to his mouth and suck on his neck for encouragement. He obliges.
I’m thrusting harder and faster, his belly jiggling mercilessly, a sea of fat. There’s only a few brownies left and I’m edging so he can finish them by the time we both cum. At this point, we’re both moaning messes, begging to finish. I shove the last two into his mouth and simultaneously, we climax.
“Yes, you fatty. Good fatty.” I’m breathing almost as heavy as he is and collapse into him, his fat enveloping me. I suck the chocolate from his fingers and he lets out the softest moan.
“Fuck.” He breathes. I nod, tilting his chin so I can kiss his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d just devoured.
“Good boy,” I coo. “I didn’t think you were going to finish.”
“I HAD to finish...you didn’t give much of a choice.” He rolled on his side and pulled me in, his fat overflowing onto me.
“That’s right,” I stated proudly, slapping his fat belly.
Exhausted, we kissed until we fell asleep, the empty container taunting us for what we’d done.
