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Evan's Voyeur
by Ashley

Holly watched intently through her apartment window, binoculars firm to her eyes, a frequent evening event since she moved to the city about six months ago. The ritual always started shortly after she came home from weeknight rehearsals. She rarely even had time to remove her skimpy dance leotard or tiny skirt. And her fingers always ended up underneath that skirt, tickling between her legs as she gawked at the magnificent sight across the street.

It was already an unusually hot summer. Seated facing out the un-curtained window as he did every night, sweat trickled down his exceptionally fat belly, he ate bite after bite of his big dinner. Tonight it looked like pasta or something Italian. Some nights it was fast food, or pizza. It didn't matter though, as long as he ate, Holly was there to enjoy the view.

"My gosh," she whispered to herself, "what a butterball you are," as her fingers grazed along her panties. "Mmmm...you sure a good eater, aren't you?"

It all started back in the winter months, when Holly first moved to the city. A casual glance out the window became a pleasant revelation. There stood a round, dark haired figure. A closer look revealed his youthful clothing and baby face, perhaps he was college age like she was? She couldn't tell exactly how tall he stood, but guessed he was maybe six feet. She was much better at guessing weight and estimated him to be well over 300 pounds, possibly 325? He certainly had very broad shoulders and a wide enough frame to justify the number.

She watched him most nights from those cold February months onward, studying every nuance of his body. Initially, she was wholly mesmerized by his eating habits; how much he could put into his stunning body at dinnertime. But soon she started to notice the particular details of his form.

His belly was his most prominent feature and her brain became permanently tattooed with its shape. She took so much pleasure in the way his fat cascaded like a rolling hill down his front, coming to a climax far beyond his chest and just below his belt line. Sometimes if he shifted she could see his tummy wobble, well highlighted by the streetlights streaming into his apartment.

When he turned his back to the window, his breadth became even more noticeable. His belly not only gloriously hung in front of him, it wrapped around his body making for lovely folds of fat along his sides. His thick rear perfectly matched this width and was always gracefully supported by thick leg trunks strongly developed for carrying his bulk.

Holly's dessert always came at the end of his meal when he would lean back to get his hand underneath his belly and unfasten his belt to release his girth from the unforgiving restriction.

One exquisitely lucky night, she caught him post-shower, with a large white beach towel barely making the circumference around his body. His hold on it released and she was able to have a glance at his unclothed figure from the side. He quickly bent over to pick up the towel and his rolls of padding became further defined with the angle of his reach downward.

This visual had haunted her nights, as she imagined showering with this heavenly creature, soaping his entire body, her fingers rubbing between his folds, hands caressing around his paunch and under his belly. Then slowly and lovingly drying every soft morsel of his body with that big beach towel. She longed for his bare fattened body to crawl into her bed and meld with her own in a passionate symphony of kissing, licking, stroking and squeezing.

Now it was June, and Holly's obsession with her chubby hero became too much to remain an evening ritual that ended in no human connection. She knew she had to actively pursue him.

She planned to hurry home from her temp job, change into sexy denim low-slung shorts that hung off her waist and a wispy tank top that revealed a bit of her flat tummy. She waited around the corner from his place knowing when he would come home. Like clockwork, she saw him lumbering toward the building and a surprisingly fast pace.

She trailed him into the apartment building and with a glance behind, he let her in. Following his big body, she boarded the elevator with him and watched as he selected the 9th floor. He coolly looked at her to select a floor. Her heart pounding, she smiled, "Uh, same floor." She saw that up close his face was even more beautiful than she had seen over the distance of buildings; high-set cheekbones, a sexy double chin, round cheeks and an angelic, upturned mouth.

He spoke in a velvety rich voice, "Are you new here?"

"Well, kind of... I'm visiting a friend," Holly stammered through the white lie.

He just nodded. She briefly caught him inspecting her lean legs before he made a second glance back at her bare waist. She felt a surge of electricity but her massive crush on him overwhelmed any ability she might have had to make small talk. Fat guys had always intimidated her because she loved them probably too much for her own good.

Seconds passed like hours while she torturously stayed calm next to the boy that set her thighs on fire every night. They reached his floor and she followed him out of the elevator. He stopped at number 908, while she continued down the hall and around the corner. She safely hid for a minute, with her heart throbbing, waiting for him to get safely into his apartment.

After a few minutes she slipped back downstairs and checked the listings in the lobby below. "Apartment 908," she said to herself, her finger tracing along the list of names until it reached his, "Evan Mills," she read in a whisper. "Big, fat, Evan Mills." She hummed in her head as she skipped home. "My sexy tubby boy, Mr. Mills," she laughed inside to herself. "How will I make you mine, sweet chunky Evan?"

The next night she was back to her ritual, watching shirtless Evan eat his dinner, his sizable body glistening from another humid day in the city. Her desire for him flooded any level-headedness she might have once had. She decided she would send him two tickets to the musical comedy she was performing in.

A small theater on the north side of the city, it was within blocks of her apartment complex. Without a chance to re-think her risky plan, she ran over to the local florist, ordered a delicious looking cookie bouquet and wrote the note to accompany it. "You have an admirer, Evan. You'll find me on-stage at the Lincoln Park Theater for the next few weekends. Bring a friend... or don't!" She gave the clerk the ticket vouchers for the show, signed the credit card slip and left.

On her walk home she had every second thought, her mind racing, "What if he's not single? No, there's never another girl over... What if he's gay? No, he didn't seem gay, being in show business, I KNOW gay, and he's not gay... What if he's not attracted to me? But I'm told I'm pretty... Of course, he might only like fat girls... I know that I refuse to date thin guys... And what if he hates theater? But it's a comedy, and everyone loves to laugh... What if he never comes? He's just got to! What have I done?!?" But it was too late. She didn't sleep that night, not even a wink, wondering what would happen that weekend.

Thursday night's show came and went; Friday, then Saturday, and still no Evan. She rarely had fragile nerves before a performance, but the highs and lows of waiting for Evan were starting to generate excessive pre-show jitters. She decided to be patient that week and hope for the best on the following weekend. Each night she continued to watch her favorite boy eat his big dinners, enjoying his new cookies and fantasizing herself to sleep with visions of Evan filling her bed.

Thursday came again, no Evan. The next night, as every night, she secretly watched from the stage balcony as the patrons filed in. In the distance, there he was. "Evan!" she exclaimed silently to herself. He looked so sexy in a relatively loose fitting button down shirt and khakis. Her heart raced like no performance had ever made her feel before. "Oh my God! How am I going to do this? How am I going to make it through this show?"

He moved down the aisle and seated himself off to the side, about eight rows back from the front. Holly ran back down the stairs to the back stage dressing rooms and gulped air. One of her co-stars grabbed her arm, "Holly! Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"No, No, I'm fine," she stuttered. "There's just, well... this guy in the audience," she trailed off and ran back to the dressing room to check her makeup. The whole cast was now buzzing, believing some big industry honcho or producer was in the audience, harvesting talent for their big breaks.

The lights went down and the curtain went up. As Holly watched the first act from off stage, she realized there were a number of women in the show, it was actually a pretty big cast for a mid-level theater production. Evan had no idea which girl (or boy) might be his admirer. This fact actually calmed her quite a bit.

It was time for her entrance and she waltzed on stage to do her feature piece, a racy, spoof of a song and dance number that always had the audience rolling in the aisles. The lighting didn't allow her to see Evan, so she cut her character loose as usual, hoping he would enjoy her performance.

After a couple more of her appearances, the show was over in what Holly felt was seconds. Exhilarated, she took her bows with the cast and ran off stage. While the rest of the cast moved toward the dressing rooms, she waited for the lights to come up so she could track down Evan. She was so close now, she couldn't let him escape.

There he was, still seated, waiting for the others around him to file out. It was her chance to meet him; to put them both out of the misery of wondering what that cookie bouquet was about. She still had performance adrenaline pumping through her veins so she boldly ran back out on stage, down the stairs through the pit and up on to the house floor.

There he magnificently stood. He seemed a like a king or a deity to her. His presence electrified every fiber in her body. She suddenly realized she was still in her turn-of-the-century dancing girl costume, in overly theatrical make up and a big black-haired wig. "Um, can you...? Just, um wait...? Like, for a few minutes... in the lobby? I just have to clean up and change quick."

He still stood there, wordless, motionless, in front of her. She smiled, turned around and literally sprinted back stage. She stripped, showered lightning fast, slapped on some light makeup and threw on some khaki capris and a flowery top. She was shaky but glowing as she ran back out to the lobby, finding Evan sitting waiting for her.

"Hi," she softly said, sitting down next to him, "I'm Holly," she extended her petite hand for his plump one.

He still seemed overwhelmed, then he looked at her intently, "You're the girl from the elevator," he blushed. "Are you...?" he paused and blushed more, "the same girl from inside...?" pointing toward the inside of the theater, pausing again, then looking somewhat confused.

"Yeah," she giggled. "I look a little different in costume," she explained. She then paused too and looked into his eyes for a few moments, a smile warming over her flushed face.

After a strained minute, he asked, "Are you the same girl who sent the...?" with more hesitancy.

"Yes, I am," she spoke softly through her serene smile, with hope and attraction in her eyes. They stopped talking again for yet another minute. Each glancing at each other and then to the floor.

He looked back up at her and whispered, "You're beautiful," as if he never meant to say those words out loud.

"So are you," she whispered back and took his hand, glancing along his marvelous contours.

With a confused look his eyes met hers and he looked down. Then he looked back up at her with a wince, "Are you sure you have the right guy?"

"The only guy," she was still warmly smiling at him. More moments passed and she finally stood up, her hand still in his, "Come on, let's go to the coffee shop next door, I can explain."

He stood up with her, walking out of the theater together, hand in hand.