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Old 06-05-2015, 10:15 AM   #1
mostly harmless
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Default Negativity by Xyantha Reborn (~BHM, ~FFA, romance)

~BHM, ~FFA - A woman tries to come to terms with her preferences after being deeply hurt.

by Xyantha

Chapter 1

The beach was a terrific spot to sightsee. Of course, like all sightseeing, one had to look beyond the general landscape for the more...stimulating…features. Case in point, ten o'clock!

Jayne flipped the end of her long, soft ponytail against her lips, salivating. She hummed softly to herself as she carefully 'not-looked' at a man in his mid-thirties. Strolling along the water's edge, he was letting the cool water lap at his ankles, seemingly unaware of any other person.

Despite his looking down in apparent deep thought, Jayne had been caught staring enough to know that her attention was absolutely not appreciated, and took special care that her large, black sunglasses were turned away...while her large, black eyes ogled him.

Now, here is how the romance novel is supposed to go. He strode down the beach, his hair blowing softly as the water surged around him. Tight jeans hugged muscular thighs and a tiny waist. His muscular shoulders and huge arms rippled as he turned to look at her....his gorgeous face, tanned, green eyes...dangerous. Those eyes softened as they set upon her and almost immediately he recognized her as his won….twue….wub!!!! Blaaaaaarg.

The sudden jolt against her shoulder startled her. Turning her eyes upon her friend, Jayne saw that Lou’s chin was jutting expressively towards the man, a smirk playing across her face.

Louise raised her brows, tucking her chin in so that her glasses slid down her nose. "Psst. Check out the Fatottie at ten o'clock."

The word had originated as 'fat hottie', but over time she has slurred it to be fa-tottie. Like biscotti. Definitely something om-nom worthy.

"Don't pretend like you can't see him; he is taking up like half the beach," she added when Jayne appeared to cast about, studiously avoiding the object of her recent admiration.

"Shut up, Lou!" Jayne hissed, glaring balefully - which had zero impact, as the look was effectively rendered invisible by her shades. "He might hear you!"

"So what, I just called him a fat-hottie - as in fat AND hot." The slender woman rolled onto her stomach and rested her elbows in the sand, palms cupping her chin as she stared at the man. "I mean, he isn't my type, but he is soooo yours!"

She flashed an irrepressible grin. "Look at that stomach - it kinda ripples when he walks, and he has super chubby cheeks! You looooveeee it!”

Her tone was sing-songy, feet kicking around childishly in the air.

Jayne twisted herself onto her back midair, the soft sand providing a surprising amount of resistance, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She stared up at the sky, squinting into the brightness. "You suck."

"And you love it." She made a smooching sound. "I mean, half the guys you ended up with was because of moi!"

She batted hot sand onto Jayne's legs.

The mild burning made her yelp and jerk away. "I'd also like to point out that the last relationship I was in got me 'all messed up' in your words. Look, I'm not even sure what I want in a man anymore, either physically or mentally or...whatever. Like, well, I thought I knew what I wanted, but now I am not so sure. I don't think I am ready for a relationship anyway. All I would be doing is bringing my baggage with me and making both of us miserable."

"You love the fatties! You always have!" That was one of the problems with Louise. The positive, straightforward attitude that made her an excellent friend also rendered any deep thought or considerations seemingly impossible. She wasn't simple, but in some ways she was as innocent as a child. If she wanted something, she took it. She never seemed to hesitate at all, and any hard knocks seemed to pass her by, or leave her unaffected. Even the ones that hit her only caused her to scramble back up with a grin and a ‘Wow, did you see that??’

"I don't want to talk about it."

I CAN'T talk about it, Jayne thought, anguished.

It was too close, too deep, too messed up. It was hard enough on her that Lou knew her weirdness, and it was all she could do to prevent her from practically announcing it to everyone. "Hey, this is my friend Jayne - she likes chubby guys *wink*, why don't you ask her out for a drink? Oh hey Tom, is that your wing man? Because I know my girlie would just loooove to meet a man of such substance."

Jayne shuddered to think what her friend would let slip if she divulged her fantasies to her friend, let alone what had happened to make her into a sexual recluse before the age of thirty.

"You are going to have to get over whatever happened eventually. It's been over a year, chicka...you know what they say...if you don't use it, you lose it." Green eyes met hers, winking.

Jayne snorted in spite of herself. "Well, if my vagina falls off from lack of use I'll be sure to let you know. You are such a loser."

Jayne glanced at the man - whose pants were hugging meaty thighs, and were tight around his waist. She could only tell by the bit visible between his softly hanging gut and bulging love handles. Some romance novel. A fat hero, and a heroine who was so messed up she cried during sex?

"I just like to come to the beach and look. Eye candy. I'm not ready yet, ok? Please, just stop pushing." Her heart was thundering loudly, and she could feel her throat start to tighten. Not now.

Lou sat up, hearing something in Jayne's voice that stirred even her placid nature into attention. "Are you SURE you don't want to talk about it, ‘Nay-‘Nay...? I mean...you can't keep shit inside. It festers..."

At Jayne's adamant shake of the head, she ventured, "Have you thought about seeing...'the rapist?' again?" A cute term for a therapist. "I mean, that’s what they are there for."

A feeling of dull panic settled over her. An adrenaline rush flashed over her hot, leaving her cold as her limbs trembled.

"Look, I know how to self analyze, I don’t need a therapist!" She bit out, feeling tears start in her eyes. "I'm not afraid of dating anyone! Just because I haven't found a guy doesn't mean I can't or won't! Why is it so important that I have to be with someone?”

The fat man walked by them as she finished hissing. Each step, landing firmly in the sand, caused his tubby lower belly to ripple. And as his feet sunk into the sand, it caused his arms to swing, causing that belly to crease up against his love handles, and those love handles to push up into his back fat, as his back fat pushed down. It was erotic.

Sometimes Jayne wondered if she was more masculine than other girls, or if she has lesbian qualities or something - because the only other people she saw who seemed to feel this, were men staring hungrily at women's breasts. There was something so alluring, yet so stimulating. She wished she could get up and talk to him. Or better yet, lay him down in the sand and ride him right here, right now. Gads she was horny!!!

“Because you are lonely, lovey,” Lou said quietly.

The man must have noticed her staring, for his pudgy cheeks flushed and he set a thick hand on his belly as if to stop its pendulum like motion as he set his eyes resolutely in front of him. As he passed within a couple feet, he growled 'bugger off', and turned his face to glare.

Jayne recoiled as if slapped, shame drowning out every other emotion as she exhaled shakily. Her cheeks were so hot the sun felt cool, and her head felt so light that she wondered if she was going to pass out. What was WRONG with her? Why did everything she liked about guys make them feel like crap? Why couldn't she just like the typical body type? What had made her be so mis-wired? She turned her face and buried it into Lou's neck, wishing the sand would swallow her up.

Over Jayne's shoulder, Lou met the man's eyes, which were now startled, as he paused. His head was turned back questioningly.

She thinks you're hot, Lou mouthed to him, stroking Jayne's hair silently. The man looked startled, glancing down at himself. Or more specifically, his gut. He touched it, seemingly without realizing it. When he glanced up, guarded, Lou stared at his gut pointedly before returning her eyes to him.

Yeah. That. Chubby Chaser! She mouthed again, enunciating the last silently. She pointed her free hand down at her friend in the least subtle way possible. If Jayne had seen she probably would have expired with shame, right on the spot.

The guy did a double take, glancing around as if he expected cameras to pop out like some reality show. When nothing happened, he scratched the back of his head before pulling out his wallet. He thumbed through it briefly before dropping his business card on the sand by her hand, pointing at Jayne. He didn't seem to want to stay though, for he started to turn away immediately.

Lou winked saucily and gave him a thumbs up before tugging the card into her bikini top.

Jayne had pulled away to wipe her eyes, ignorant of her friend's staunch efforts to land her a date in spite of herself. When she looked up, the man was standing near them, looking awkward, as if he was about to leave. Why was he still here?

I got it, ok, I am all messed up, can’t you just leave? She demanded silently.

Suddenly, he shuffled closer and leaned down, causing his belly to push forward and hang with torpid grace over his belt.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. You took me by surprise, thought you were staring. The name's Greg," he said, offering her his hand. His voice was pleasant, and at this angle, with Jayne on the floor, she was nearly eye level with that burgeouning ball of lard.

It was only after Lou took her hand and put it in his that Jayne remembered to mumble her name. Greg half smiled, and pressed a business card into her hand.

"If you want to…," he half stated, half inquired. When she just stared up at him blankly, he stood, ruffled his hair and sighed. "Er, right then. Anyways...Have a great day, ladies."

He cast a slightly reproachful glance over his shoulder as he left.

Jayne fingered the card, staring at it in a sort of abject horror.

"Look at that!" Lou's delighted squeal sounded in her ear. "You got the fatottie's chasing YOU now. You should go on a date with him. What a cutie! And that voice – ah!”

"What..." Jayne's face hardened, and she flipped her sunglasses over her head. "I don't know what you did, but what the ....!?"

"I didn't say anything! You heard me!" Lou protested, raising her right hand. "Scout's honour!" She added. Taking the card Jayne was holding with her left hand and examined it. "Ouuaaaaahhhh," she said. "Lookie - a lawyer! Hot, and smart!"

Something was off here. Jayne knew it, but was too miserable to push the subject any farther. She had NEVER seen a fat man who had the confidence to just ask her out – and he had just been glaring at her. She felt like the big, gaping, festering hole Randy had left had been ripped wide open again.

Pretending to take the card back, she buried it in the sand. No way was she going down that path again.

I would rather be alone the rest of my life, she thought viciously as Lou nattered on. But...maybe she should see someone. Not to get back into dating, but she seemed to make everyone around her uncomfortable or miserable because of her fucked up fetish. Maybe she could figure out a way to get back into a normal sex life? Surely she could be put back to rights again?

She glanced over her shoulder for the tubby guy, but he was nowhere in sight.

(Continued in post 11 of this thread)
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:15 AM   #2
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Chapter 2

Lou was a dumbass, and she was a dumbass for listening to her dumbass friend. The minute - no, the second - she had stepped across the threshold, Jayne had realized this was a critical mistake. How could she talk to a stranger about the most intimate stuff in her life, if she couldn't confide to her friends? Besides, no matter how highly recommended he came, there was no way some random therapist could just talk her out of this when she had tried too hard to do PHYSICAL things. Reconditioning, the websites had called it.

In her bedroom it had seemed so reasonable. She had tried for several hours to masturbate to porn, but couldn't even get damp as the muscular, hugely cocked men thrust before her eyes. She tried lube, but all it made was the discomfort of chafing go away. Her body refused to participate in the farce. All she had to do, according to the websites, was teach her body what it SHOULD be attracted to, and she could re-train it.

Frustrated, Jayne eventually flipped to youtube. Like a guilty addict, she slowly, shakingly, agonizingly typed the words 'belly jiggle BHM'. Within two minutes, her breathing had swallowed as she approached orgasm, her middle finger cupping her slippery sex, thrusting with shaking abandon.

Dropping her phone, she worked herself into a frenzy. Her cooch tightened around her finger hungrily as she thought about Greg, the hottie from the beach. This Greg was eating ice cream on that hot beach, water droplets clinging to that round belly. He was licking at it so eagerly the scoop fell onto his belly, causing him to yelp. The yelp turned into a moan as her eager tongue cleaned the melting liquid as he turned back to the icecream vendor and order two triple stacked cones.

"Ms Hart?" The receptionist asked, smiling.

Jayne started, sucking in a deep breath. Apparently she hadn't remembered to in a while.

When the receptionist received a hesitant nod, she extended a hand across the desk warmly.

"Welcome. Here is some paperwork we need you to fill out. We really need you to answer the questions as honestly as possible in order for us to make the most of the sessions. I want you to know that our clinic specializes in issues of a sexual nature. Our methods are atypical but if you end up needing to be transferred, we will refer you to another doctor – whatever is best for you! Not only can you be assured of our confidentiality, but I also want you to remember that any sexual inclinations you have are not only normal, they are shared by someone, somewhere. Ok?" She finished, cocking her head.

"Uh...ok," Jayne said, taking the clipboard automatically. Glancing around, she settled herself into a large black leather chair and began the questionnaire. First and last name? Address? Health conditions? She flew through the answers until she came to the flip side of the page.

Please chose from the below list of sexual preferences. If not listed, please select 'Other' and list the preference. If not applicable, please select "N/A".

Jayne glanced through the list. Bondage....Dominance...Submission...She selected Other, and began writing. Before the first letter was written, she stopped. A slow burn in her face told her she was blushing, and she hesitated several long minutes before moving to the next question, scratching out that letter so viciously the paper tore a little.

In what age range in which you had your first sexual experience. Next.

When did you first discover your sexual preference? Next!

How did you first discover your sexual preference? Next!

How many times, on average, you orgasm in a week? NEXT!

What sort of messed up questions were these? Jayne put the pencil down, her neck and chest now burning. Her traitorous mind offered the answers to her, even if her fingers refused to record them.

Under ten.

When I was watching Charlotte's Web. I thought the rat was the hottest thing at the Fair.

Not nearly enough!

Standing, she was about to place the clipboard on the desk when the large wooden door at the back of the hall opened. Glancing over reflexively, Jayne swallowed. Her doctor was, as Lou would have termed it, a 'fatottie'. He must have been at least six feet, with heavy arms and shoulders, balancing out a soft middle which was 'flatteringly' covered in a nice blue button down top and open suit top.

"Ms Hart? Tom Fitatti." His voice was a low rumble, with a raspy growl to it that sent shivers down her back and caused her nipples to harden involuntarily. He strode with calm confidence down the hall, took her chart, and offered her his meaty palm. He towered over her by at least a foot, and she tilted her head to look up at his round face. Clear grey eyes looked down at her, framed by black lashes. His beard was so closely shaven as to give it that sexy stubble look, and the hair bunched, darkening under his chin as he smiled.

"Please, come into my office. May I take your coat?" He asked with simple courtesy. Those eyes were astounding. He had that look that women would kill for; long, lush lashes, clear, bright colour, and large pupils.

Shrugging out of her light jacket, Jayne suddenly realized how vulnerable she felt without it. His body heat was astounding against the cold air of the office - or maybe that was just her reaction to him? Either way, he was watching her with a quiet, pleasant expression as they exchanged the typical pleasantries. She sucked in her stomach, raising her ribcage a little. Damn, he was fine.

"Thank you for seeing me….on such short notice...I was worried you would not have any openings..." Her lungs heaved as if she couldn’t get enough air. Stringing together a sentence was impossible with him so close. He was probably analyzing every word, gesture, and subtext. What was the point of coming here? She knew she was being examined and judged, so how could she talk honestly? And she was instantly attracted to him.

Hi Doctor, can you just lay back and talk to me while I screw you silly, and I’ll tell you alllllll about me? Oh gods and goddesses, why did she do this to herself? Just make it through, she reasoned with herself. Just get through this without losing it, and you don’t have to come back.

"Not a problem. I am more specialized in my field which means that I do not tend to see the same volume of clients that others do. You probably noticed that the waiting room was empty - I like to keep my appointments spread out. How can you feel comfortable, if you feel that people in the waiting room might hear you, or that you need to spit out as much as you can in less than an hour so the next person can get in here? And how can I really understand your problems if I am serving up mental solutions like a cashier at Mcdonalds? Not that I don't like McDonalds," he grinned as he opened his office door.

Yeah, you do, her brain purred lustily as her eyes dropped for a split second to that wonderful area on a fat man - just around his belly button, where the shirt showed a little indentation. She slapped it back, trying to return the smile. She realized it was probably too wide, tried to make it less, realized it looked sickly, and sat down with her legs crossed, looking with studious interest at every object other than his fantastic person.

Whatever her expression, Dr. Fitatti laughed out loud as he took a seat on a wide couch opposite her. "You look conscious. Don't worry; I AM in fact judging and overanalyzing everything you are saying and doing, so you can stop 'worrying' about it."

His eyes crinkled when he smiled, she noticed. "But I will tell you what; I need you to be open and honest - probably more honest than you have ever been with anyone before. And in return, I will be open and honest with you. Agreed?"

He shifted his bulk forward on the couch as if to seal their bargain in a handshake. His big belly compressed and his breathing hitched as he did so, causing her to inhale sharply before meeting his palm with her own. That contact made her tremble. That palm was scorchingly hot, and the brief contact send a jolt up her arms and down to somewhere behind her belly button. She realized that she was well and truly screwed. How was she going to talk to a fat guy about her preferences for fat guys?

A brief pause, in which his heavy breathing punctuated the silence.

"So, the obvious question-" he said as he glanced at her sheet, "- is, why you are here today?"

"My friend, Lou, she said I needed to talk to someone..."

His agate grey eyes met hers.

"And you took her advice."

She nodded.

"You must trust her a great deal."

Another nod.

"But you could not talk to her about this?"

A shake of the head. Settling back, Dr. Fitatti ran a hand over his lower face, his beard creating a scratching sound. "Well, would you like to know my initial impression?"

Jayne looked at her hands, irritated that he already had an opinion on her (like she was some textbook head case) and already resenting any observations that he might make. It wasn’t as if this was her first time around the psychoanalysis merry go round.

"You aren't going to ask me more?" She could hear the bitter, sardonic tone, old grievances rising.

"Are you going to simply tell me more?" he inquired, dimpling. "No? Maybe? Most people are not comfortable talking about themselves, let alone about their deepest, darkest fantasies or issues. The goal with today's session is simply to establish a method of communication and a preliminary trust between us."

Jayne noted his wording. "Why do you need to trust me?"

He hadn't said 'you need to trust ME'.

"I need to be able to trust you to listen to what I say. The immediate response to discomfort is to move away - here, you can't, so you will want to lash out. It is a normal, healthy response. However, just because I am here to help doesn't mean I want to be an emotional punching bag." He spread his knees a little as he leaned back on the couch, leaning his head comfortably on the sofa cushion. She noticed with a little thrill that his thick neck and double chin kept the top button on his shirt from fastening. That double chin rippled ever so slightly as he spoke.

He wasn’t like anything she had encountered before. "I want to do is provide you with the honest observations I am making, so you can correct me and lead me to where you want to or do not want to talk about." He glanced at her chart again, then back to her.

"Ready? I spy, with my little eye, a woman who has had deep sexual gratification. The pressure you exerted when you selected the option "Other" indicates you know EXACTLY what you want. However, the fact that you began to write something and stopped shows me that you have had some sort of trauma. The fact that you crossed out what you began to write so violently tells me you have tried to reject that portion of your sexuality."

Jayne kept her eyes fixed on his, feeling a roaring in her ears. He looked so earnest, calm and kind. He didn't seem to expect an answer, so she saved herself the trouble of untying her tongue and left it cleaved to the top of her dry mouth.

Getting up, he made himself a coffee. She demurred his offer with a shake of her head, so he offered her a cup of water instead.

"Drinking in uncomfortable situations isn't just a convention," he said conversationally. "It actually serves a real purpose in giving our hands something to do."

She couldn't help but noticed he put an awful lot of sugar and cream in his coffee. Such a naughty chubster.

Sitting back down heavily, he levelled a firm gaze at her. "I am going to have to ask you some very direct, intimate questions, and I need the information to assess your current state of mental health. You left the questionnaire unfilled." He smiled. "Which, by the by, tells me your sexual fantasies are secret. And that you are very private, and under normal circumstances would be unwilling to answer my questions."

Granted, his observations were pretty general, but they hit close enough to the mark to burn.

"I don't want to talk about my current sex life, I want to figure out how to fix it to make me normal," Jayne retorted, lifting her chin stubbornly.


"Indeed." She snapped back, feeling humiliated, but a little naughty. What would he think if he realized one of her new fantasies would be riding him on that very couch as he ate a cheesecake from her fingers, wearing nothing but that tie dangling between his moobs. That tie wouldn't be long enough to reach his deep navel when she was done. She shivered.

He noticed. "Well I need to identify what you think of as being abnormal first. Have you ever achieved orgasm with your fantasy?"

"Y-yyes." She stuttered, eyes straying everywhere but his gut.

"Have you ever fulfilled that fantasy with another person?"


"Did that person reciprocate?"

She hesitated, throat constricting.

He moved on as if she had spoken after a pause, asking more questions. Are you currently in a relationship? No. How long have you been single? Over a year. Have you dated in the interim? No. "Why?"

"Why what?" The questions had been fired so rapidly she was caught off guard.

"Why have you been single so long?"

The question itself was simple and didn’t appear vindictive - his eyes open and searching. However, it stung. Why did everyone treat her like a freak for not being with someone? Just because she wasn’t particularly hard on the eyes didn’t mean she was obliged to be in a relationship! "Why does that matter?"

"You are an attractive young woman in her sexual prime. You know what you like sexually - have achieved it in fact. It is more than 90% of the population can boast." He seemed not in the least perturbed by her insolence, and willing to answer openly. "So my question is, why have you chosen to stay single for so long when you could be fulfilling your fantasy?"

He tilted his head with a warm smile. "Ah, I think that is where a key symptom to your problem lies."

"What problem?" Was this guy a quack? You can’t just diagnose something within minutes…

"I am not talking about the cause, I am talking about the symptom to your problem. You are obviously an intelligent, take charge person." She certainly didn't feel like one.

"If I tried to use some of the more traditional treatment methods, you would not only be insulted, I would be more likely to drive you into yourself. You expect my questions and have pre-canned answers ready, tending to answer in monosyllables to avoid releasing more information then you are ready to impart." He flashed a hand impatiently, bringing them back on track. "You know why you are here, and what you want. I do not, yet. We can go round and round and pretend that you don’t know, or pretend that I am just an innocent bystander in this, but we both know it would be a lie. So let’s be blunt - why haven't you dated?"

His lips thinned, and he looked at her with a dash of impatience.

"The last guy I was with hurt me pretty bad. Yes, sexually," she snapped, before he could question her. He was original, that was for sure. He alternated between friendly, calm, and antagonistic, like an internal father-good cop-bad cop routine. She decided to give him what he wanted and see what he would do with it. Most therapists had a tendency to draw out sessions over months or years…and not necessarily because the patient needed it…it was the money. How did he plan to make money off her if he ‘solved’ her issue so easily?

He bestowed upon her a look of delighted approval at her honesty. Her heart stuttered, and she looked down, pulling a pillow into her lap. She toyed with the edging. "Not...physically, it just got really...weird."

She took a sip of water before continuing. "We had been together over a year, and for the first few months everything was fine. He knew my fantasies and even seemed to like it, a little. After a few months though, he started...changing. He seemed to hate it so much I..." she hesitated, looking under her lashes at him. This was actually hard. This was the first time she had spoken this aloud…

His placid look gave her confidence. She exhaled shakily. "It was like, every time I got horny and wanted to screw him...that is...everything I liked he hated. What kind of screwed up person am I, that I like what makes someone else miserable?" she burst forth breathlessly. It hung in the air so long she almost thought he wasn't paying attention.

"The term 'screwed up' in this case is meant to denote how far from normal you are. I want you to leave normal behind right there," he pointed at the door to his office. "Normal has no place in the bedroom, or my office."

Jayne tittered nervously, her mind transforming his words to be 'Normal has no place in my bedroom'- spoken in that sexy bedroom growl. She wished that was what he had said.

"Let us establish some ground rules. Normal is a value placed on society to trigger conformance to social normative values. It has a negative connotation. Ie; that isn't normal, he isn't normal, that isn't normal, normal people feel and say and do this. The other word I do not like to use is fetish. It also denotes that you like a person or thing in a way outside of the norm."

"You can't seriously tell me that every weird and gross thing people get off on is ok, Dr Fat-titatti!" Jayne ejactulated, stuttering over his name. Damn, damn Lou. Fitatti the Fatattie? Her hands clenched the pillow so hard that the fabric creased her fingers. He didn't seem to notice her slip.

"Tom, if you please. Under the right conditions, every sexual act has its place. There are societal, physical and emotional boundaries. I believe that any sexual act, within the scope of consenting adults that does not cause harm to the parties involved, - or not directly involved - is fine."

"What about..." She cast about for something to make her point. "Necrophilia?"

"What about Necrophilia?"

"Why do you keep doing that?" She demanded irritably.

"Doing what?" He queried calmly.

"Repeating my questions!"

"What about necrophilia isn't really a question. You didn't ask MY opinion on it, or what it IS, so I needed more context. You seem do not tend to complete sentences when you are uncomfortable." he observed coolly.

Gritting her teeth, she bit out, "What is your opinion on necrophilia as it relates to normality?" her tone was facetious. She glared when his lips twitched. "What?"

"Are you a necrophiliac?" His lips twitched again.

"No!" she was outraged.

"My thing -" she emphasized the word "- isn't anything as, as messed up as that!"

"No? Then why are you upset?"

"I’M NOT!" She shouted back, standing up. "Look, I don't need to come into some office and feel attacked - I'm supposed to come to you for help!"

"And what do you need help with?" Tom asked with that same infuriatingly level tone.

"All I wanted was help dealing with the fact that I like fat guys, to get over it and like normal guys again!"

Tom seemed astounded, for his eyes widened before he fiddled with his pen, looking down. "That’s it?"

"THAT'S ‘IT’?" Jayne nearly shrieked. Now her fetish was tiny? Like it was some sort of joke fetish?? She started to walk away; turned back; turned away again.

"I came here because something is wrong with me - but what the heck is wrong with you?" she finally ground out before slamming his office door.

"Ass!" She hissed before flouncing out of the office.

Well, it didn't feel like flouncing at the time. It was only afterwards, when she sat in a booth at her favorite indie coffee house that she started to feel foolish. And not just normal scale foolish. Epic scale foolish. She replayed their session over and over in her mind. Each repetition caused her to feel more and more miserable and ashamed. The whole thing seemed disjointed and nonsensical.

So. You decide that you need help because you are all 'messed up'?


You try and fix yourself all by your lonesome. Instead, you end up getting all wet and heated over some random fat guy jiggling his gut on the internet.


Then you realize maybe you are SO messed up that you need professional quality help.


So you go to a highly recommended sex therapist, but could barely talk at all, let alone talk about your problems because you were so horny, cuz he was hooottttt?


Then, when he does his job and starts nailing all your crap right on the head and asking you questions, and figuring you out better than you know yourself, you throw a temper tantrum and storm out?


Oh, and don't forget that not only does your so called problem seem manageable from his reaction, it seems like it may be minor. So of course getting OFFENDED that your fetish is minor is a totally normal reaction to the last fourteen months of beating yourself up over the extremity of the ‘wrongness’.

P.S. - Dumbass

Jayne groaned and buried her head in her hands, fingers splayed across her face. Dumbass! Stupid, ugly, idiotic...No wonder no one can love you, you nutcase! She raved, tugging at her hair anxiously. She picked up her phone, dialing the office.

“Hi, this is Jayne Hart? I wanted to call and apologize for earlier, and….can I book another appointment?”

Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:16 AM   #3
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Chapter 3

She could tell that he was amused, because that thick lower lip was twitching, but he looked very composed otherwise.

"How was your weekend," he asked with an air of gravid politeness into the awkward silence.

"Fine," she mumbled, blushing. She fiddled with the pillow in her lap, she swallowed hard several times. "I wanted to apologize for yelling at you, and running out of our last session..."

"It happens more often than one would think," he admitted, waving a hand dismissively. "I would also like to apologize for pushing you too far, too quickly."

"No!" Jayne shifted, curling her feet under her on the couch. She blew a breath out from between puffed cheeks before continuing. "I realized after I left how stupid...I mean, how irrational-, " she amended on seeing his sharp look at the word stupid. "- it was for me to act like that. I went from being all messed up about my thing, to being insulted you didn't even think it was a thing."

"Your thing?" He smiled warmly, chubby cheeks dimpling. "You mean your ‘fat’ thing?"

"Y-yes," she stuttered. She swallowed. "My fat thing."

He looked so approving and proud that Jayne felt a small glow start inside her.

"Tell me about your 'fat thing'. How do you know you like it? How does it make you feel? How fat is fat?"

He patted the couch beside him, moving to the opposite end of the couch, inviting her from the desk chair where she sat. "Sit by me.”

Shifting over to the other couch, Jayne hooked her knees under her chin, facing him.

"Well...I know I like it because, well..." She stuttered out, and remained silent, unsure of how to proceed. That was, until she realized he would patiently wait all session for her to talk. "I get really excited....sexually excited, when I see a handsome fat guy in public, or even think about it..." She began, a heated flush coating her cheeks.

"And how fat would he have to be?" He tilted his head, gesturing to his own plumpness. "Less than me?"

The tone he used was odd. It was the first time she had heard him use a self-depreciating tone, almost as if he was saying 'you couldn't possibly like a guy bigger than ME'. Somehow, his hesitance made her feel a little bolder.

"No...230 is more of a minimum," she decided, weighing his body with her eyes.

His eyes were fastened on her chart as he took some notes. It took him a moment to respond. When he did, he glanced at her with a crooked smile. She realized he smiled a lot, it suited him, and that he had nice teeth.

"230, eh?” Was she right about his weight? “So, does that figure excite you? Hearing it? Seeing it written down?" He was writing, not looking at her again.

"No - yes.” She admitted. She glanced at him, feeling unaccountably shy, but utterly safe. It was as if she had been trapped in her bedroom after having a nightmare, and unable to get out of bed for fear of the closet and under the bed, when an adult had calmly walked in and made it better.

"It isn't just about the number, but it kind of denotes...like a mark away from normal. Ugh, I mean, average? Like, bigger than life, you know? It's not like I wouldn't date a guy that was skinnier, but I always seem to end up being more attracted to guys around that weight."

"What do you find attractive about all fat guys?" His calm eyes met hers briefly. He turned towards her more fully, crossing his foot over his knee to give himself a more stable surface to write on. It caused his belly to bulge to the opposite side, which happened to be towards her.

"It's not ALL fat guys...it's like not all guys like ALL girls with big boobs."

He nodded his understanding.

"I really like...the way that their belly sticks out, especially how it gets so wide near the belly button...And so soft...and I really like the way..."She found herself stuttering to a stop, voice barely above a whisper, and lowered her eyes so she couldn't see his expectant face.

"Really like what?" His voice prompted softly. "Imagine that you are in a sex shop. Call a dildo a dildo if it is one. Use the words that you say to yourself. Picture your ideal man in your mind. Describe him to me. What do you like?"

The eroticness of describing her fantasy TO her fantasy was so odd. This was impossible! Then a thought struck her; she could just describe HIM - he WAS her fantasy!

"He would have a big round belly...and it would droop in the front over his belt, because it's too tight." She kept her hands over her face, words stumbling faster. "And he'd have big love handles that I know would be perfect for grabbing during sex. He'd have a nice thick fat strong back, and his arms look muscly but soft, same with his legs. And a round f-f-f-face with a double chin, and i'd just want to s-s-s-sink my t-t-t-t-eeth into h-h-him and bite him he looks so good!" she cried out, shivering. "He is tall, too, and his has a bit of facial hair. Like he doesn't have a baby face, he looks really manly."

"And what sort of dirty words do you use when you think about it?"

"Like, chubby?"

"Sure. When you are laying in bed masturbating, what words do you use to make yourself orgasm? Do you say it to him?"

"I like chubby, f-fat, jiggle, belly."

"Come on. Santa is fat with a belly full of jelly; that’s not dirty.” He laughed.

“What do you REALLY say?" His tone was coaxing.

“To you it may not be,” she countered to the first, blushing. It was silent in the office for a moment. His deep breathing filled the silence.

"Pig, piggy, piglet, fatass, lardass, tubby," she finally whispered. "But not in a bad way!" she hurried to explain, finally turning her face to him. “I don’t do it to be mean.”

"And what does he do?"

"He...likes it, and eats a huge dinner." She looked up at him, dashing away wetness in her eyes. "Sometimes I feel like I am the only one in the whole world who feels this way. I know I'm not, I see stuff online...but I've never met someone like me. I mean, I don't just want to date some fat guy because he is fat and I get off on it, that seems so...so gross! Like I am using him. Like I used Randy," she whispered.

Tom silently refilled her water and handed it to her. He courteously waited until she had calmed herself before asking, "Let’s talk about Randy in a bit. The last two sessions have been pretty intense. Why don’t we calm this down a bit and talk about when you first realized that you liked fat guys.”

Jayne turned her face to his. His broad, earnest features were turned to her with gentle inquiry. Never before had she admitted to a single person what she had just admitted to him. Lou might know, but only because every boyfriend she had ever had, had either been fat or plumped up after being with her for a while.

In two weeks, she had met the single person to whom she could comfortably open up to. And after opening up her most shaming secret, the strongest feeling she had wasn’t shame. It was regret that she couldn’t have met him AFTER learning to be comfortable in her own skin, with her own preferences. That she could have met him on the street or in a bar and asked his handsome self out.

Tom’s stomach growled fiercely after a long while, causing him to laugh and redden. He patted the front of his stomach depreciatingly. “Sorry, the engine isn’t used to being empty for long.”

Jayne felt her eyes flick to that motion before returning to his.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how late it is getting, you must be starving!” She exclaimed after glancing at her phone. “I had to no idea it was so late…thank you so much for seeing me tonight.”

He rose, groaning as he stretched. He walked to his office door with her, turning off the lights and locking up. “You are right - it is getting late. Do you need a walk to your car?”

“Oh, no, thank you.” Jayne shook her head, smiling. “I didn’t drive. I hoofed it here, I am sure I can hoof it back.”

For the first time, his brows lowered and knit together. “You walked? In this neighborhood.” His tone was flat, gaze level. “Let me call you a cab.”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just a few kilometers, I’ll be home in less than an hour.” Jayne smiled reassuringly.

“The devil you’ll walk home in this neighborhood,” he snorted. “I can’t in good consciousness let you do that. I insist.”

Jayne rolled her shoulders. “I don’t…do cars.”

“Don’t. Do. Cars,” he drawled slowly.

“Or any motor vehicle.” She grinned a little at seeing the other side of his ‘work face’. Instead of inquiring in that pleasant tone, his tone was one of irritated disbelief. “My parents died in a car crash when I was only seven. I was in the car with them. We went into a lake.” She stopped there, swallowing. It wasn’t a new pain, but wasn’t something she wanted to bring up right now. Usually that was enough to make people back off.

“Well, I can see that, then…” he murmured, and slid that thick hand over his stubble in what she realized was a habitual gesture. He narrowed his eyes at her. “I really can’t see you walk off into the darkness in this neighborhood. In the daylight it is one thing, but at night?”

He shook his head. “If I was more money minded I would be able to move my practice to a better location. Perhaps I should look into that now. How many young ladies have been forced to walk home late at night?” He looked troubled for a moment before returning that steely gaze to hers. “Allow me to walk you home?”

“Really, it’s fine, I don’t want to cause any trouble.” She smiled reassuringly up at him. “I’m flattered but I’ve been doing this for years. I am fine, really. Have a good night!” she said hastily, forestalling any further entreaties by beginning to walk away.

She moved swiftly and surely, sighing regretfully. Nothing would please her more than having him walk her home, but he wasn’t just some guy. It would be awkward. Besides, it wasn’t his fault she couldn’t get into a car, so why should he be inconvenienced? Turning at the next intersection, she headed north for several minutes. A man tottered out of the darkness towards her, moving jerkily.

“Heeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyy pretty laddyyyyy,” he slurred. “Whadda pretty lady. You got a lighter?”

He put an unlit cigarette in his mouth, grinning and swaying.

Quickening her step, Jayne made no reply other than a shake of the head. One thing she had learned over the years was that engaging with people was NEVER a good idea, especially when drunk, or high. Just keep moving – it was like a mantra, really.

“I’m talkin’ to you!” he bellowed, staggering towards her. When she only walked on, he lunged forward and grabbed her purse. The pressure from the strap caused her to reel around to face the man. “You pay attention to when a feller is talkin’ to you, ya hear? Little whore.”

His face was close to hers, a lewd expression plastered over it – and then his hands where on her. She slipped out of her coat, and dropped her purse, twisting to get purchase.

Her knee caught him dead in the junk, but he only growled and began twisting her arm. Jayne smelled the reek of old alcohol, and saw track marks up his arms. She smashed her forehead into his nose and felt a sickening crunch as his nose broke. He yelled wildly, but didn’t release his hold. He had her right arm twisted so high up her back she could almost feel it breaking, and his other hand was rolling and grinding her knuckles together so hard all she could do was make an incoherent noise of pain.

Suddenly he grunted and dropped. Staggering back, she gasped raggedly, looking up wildly into the face of Dr. Fitatti.

She would never forget the look in those orbs, boring into hers. The smiling, genial, calm and collected man was gone. In his place stood a hulking man, rage and other emotions chasing each other across his face. His hand was at her elbow, dragging her forward with him for two or three blocks. He looked down at her while they waited at a light, and his expression softened.

“Here now, shhh. It’s going to be ok.” His voice was gentle, even while his features retained a harsh aspect. “I’m sorry I took so long to get to you. I’m not really used to running anymore.”

He released her, and Jayne suddenly found herself unable to inhale. Everything became blurry and she almost sank to her knees from literal weakness. She realized just how close she had come to – beating, rape? No matter what his intention, it was nothing good. It was only due to Tom that she was safe. Her arm was numb with pain, and her hand was starting to swell, but she barely noticed. Distantly, she realized she was in shock.

Gathering her up, he held her and offered her a napkin out of his shirt pocket.

“Sorry, there’s food on it,” he said wrly, and would have taken it back had she not snatched it from him to blow her nose. He didn’t mention how he was right, or anything that he might have justly said at that moment. Instead, he offered her a tight smile and his arm.

“Can I walk you home?” He repeated the question firmly. As in, I am going with you, this is just a formality.

“P-please, thank you,” Jayne managed. She realized after a moment of standing still that he had no idea of her address, and provided it with a blush. She leaned into his arm and his warm side, shivering in the cool night air, her heart still thundering.

“Damn, I didn’t think to pick up your coat.” He held her purse in his other hand, she realized. “Was anything important in it?”

“Only my cell phone.”

“You’ll need to call in and have it suspended.” He was so calm and in charge that is seemed natural to defer to him.

“Here,” he said, slipping out of his suit top and helping her shrug into it. Except it was so huge it almost slid right off her. He snorted, waving away her thanks. “I never realized how tiny you are. Look at how big that is on you!”

Jayne smiled herself, feeling more tears trickle down his cheeks. It was pretty ridiculous. Her arms only came halfway down the sleeves, and the bottom of the jacket covered her knees – not to mention the copious fabric which clung so enticingly to his form could have swathed her twice over. “Thank you. For coming back.” Her voice sounded so thick she was surprised he could even understand her.

He only shook his head. “Do you have anyone you can call? It will be better if you can avoid being alone tonight.”

“Yes….” She took his phone and then stopped, bursting into tears. “I’m so stupid!” she managed thickly, thrusting the cell back at him. “I don’t even know her number!”

“I’m not surprised – in today’s age, what with contacts being in our phone, the age of remembering numbers by heart is at an end. That is even before considering you just had a traumatic experience,” he reminded her in an aggrieved tone, giving her a reproachful look.

“Now, here, stop, look at me,” He said, gently turning her to face him. “Are you ok?” At her nod, he gave a brief squeeze to her hands. “It’s going to be fine. You had a scare, nothing truly bad has happened. Why don’t we walk to your friend’s place instead?”

She shook her head. “LouLou lives like ten miles away.” She stared down at their joined hands, then gazed up at him from under lowered lashes, wondering if he felt a jot of the same attraction she felt for him. Except for a touch of color to his cheeks and a little out of breath from his run, he seemed totally calm and collected. He offered a close lipped smile in return to her tentative one, and the hold he had on her hand was not the gentle hold of a lover, but the firm one of a parent guiding a child as he ushered her alone.

He was quiet and watchful the rest of their walk. Unable to think, Jayne walked quiescently at his side, looking forward desperately to the safety of her house. When they reached her house, he halted on the sidewalk and watched her in gravely. “Have a good night.” His tone was grave, and he sighed, rubbing his hand over his face again.

“Thank you,” Jayne called miserably, voice choking with tears again as she put the keys in her lock and let herself in. The last thing she saw before she shut the door was his form, his face hidden by darkness. She let her head rest on her front door. You are such a nutcase. You need to get these feelings under control!

And now you need to lock your front door.

There's a girl.
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:17 AM   #4
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Chapter 4

“How are you doing, Nay-Nay?” Lou asked her cheerfully.

“Great,” Jayne responded reflexively, gently tossing green beans in a pan. They sizzled and let off steam. The simple olive oil and salt mixture was making her mouth water.

“Uh oh, you are cooking. That either means you are super happy, or super unhappy.” A bus almost drowned out the last part of her sentence.

Jayne held the phone between her ear and shoulder, opening the oven with the other. “I’m fine, LouLou.” Sliding the freshly baked bread out of the oven, she set it on the countertop to cool.

A loud sigh on the other end of the phone made her wince.

“Jayne,” Lou said warningly. “You are my sissy and my bestie. If you think for a minute I don’t know something is up, you are a dummy.”

The beans rolled around softly in the pan, and the pan seared steak sat on the counter. “Ok, why don’t we meet for lunch tomorrow?”

“You said that last week, and the week before, but you always find an excuse to cancel last moment.”

“Sorry – ”

“So I am coming to visit you!” Lou crowed delightfully. “Surprise!!”

No. Nononono. She swung her head around wildly. “Now is not a good time, hun.”

“Too late!” A knock at the door echoed simultaneously through the phone. “Open up, bitches! Let’s do shots!”

Hesitating, Jayne slowly made her way to the door and opened it.

“Hey chicka, it smells delicious, like fresh bread! Mwah, baby – OH MY GOD WHAT THE ,,,,?” Louise dropped her bag with a tiny shriek and gazed at her living room. “Ques que frick?”

Jayne looked around at her living room too, her face heating slightly.

“I just…needed to feel more secure,” she said lamely.

“By having steel shutters installed over every window? Very ‘I Am Legend’, or ‘Walking Dead’. Are we expecting brain eaters?” Lou demanded, spinning about to take it all in. “What the hell?” Taking Jayne’s shoulders in her hands, she gave a little shake. “You haven’t been like this since the car accident and you moved in with us. What. Happened. Chicka?”

Jayne felt tears rise to her own eyes as Lou’s wide green eyes met hers. “I just, kind of…had a run in with some guy. He kind of…tried to hurt me.”

Lou clasped her to her, then dragged her to sit on the couch. “Did you kick him in the balls?” She demanded, offering her a tissue from her pocket.

“Kind of. I was near my therapists office, he saw and saved me.”

Lou glared at her. “You started seeing the rapist, and you didn’t tell me? What the hell, Naynay?”

Typical Lou, missing the forest for the trees. Jayne blew her nose, avoiding meeting her eyes. “I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to fix myself quietly and at least take credit, for once, of not needing help! Or at least pretend to,” she finished quietly, taking another tissue.

Lou tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean very time something goes wrong in my life, can’t fix it myself! Everyone else seems to manage just fine – they just think it, and their issue is gone! I always seem to need someone to help me through it – my parents, this…”

“Um, well I guess….yeah, your parents dying in the car crash was super sucky. I don’t know how most people would have gotten through it at all – but you did! And who cares if a doc had to help you through it?” Lou flipped her bangs from her face by blowing upwards. “I mean, what eight year old can psychoanalyze and crap?”

Jayne nervously shredded the tissue between her fingers. “Ok, even accepting that, why can’t I just be cool about this?”

“This?” Lou’s eyes glazed over slightly, a vacant look filling them. Poor Lou. She was sweet, vivacious…but not introspective or intellectual by any means. Sometimes she seemed insightful, but other times…she was just lost.

This was it. Jayne opened her mouth, ready to tell Lou everything. Tell not just her best friend, but the daughter of her parent’s best friends, who had adopted her when her parents died. Never once had they judged her, never once had they treated her as anything less than their own – somehow while still respecting her parent’s memory.

“I dunno. Do you want dinner?” her mouth said. Jayne was utterly mortified at herself. Why couldn’t she do the simplest thing? How hard was it to jus frickin say some words?

“Sure!” Lou said, brightening up with a smile. “You are the best cook ev-ar!”

Jayne forced a smile and bustled into the kitchen to plate the meal, feeling herself curl in tightly around her emotions. “Plain bread, or I can whip it into garlic bread?”


“So,” Tom began, leaning into the deep cushions of the couch. “How are you feeling after the incident a few weeks ago?” His slate eyes met hers and held them.

Jayne, in her turn, blinked. “Fine, I guess. No lasting harm done – though my shoulder was pretty sore for a few days.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Lou’s visit had rattled her enough that she had booked her next session.

“Hmm.” Although obviously suspicious, he left the subject alone. “Well, making your appointments earlier - like today - will help prevent any reoccurrences…and I will make sure we don’t go over time. Are you ready to dig deeper today? Good.”

He sipped at his thick, frothy coffee and sighed contentedly. “Now, in our last session, you mentioned you felt that you had used someone named Randy. Randy is…?”

“My ex.”

“Now, used is a strong word. Brings to mind parasitic relationships, where one suffers in order for the other to grow. Interesting choice of words. Now, why would you use that word?”

“I don’t see what else I could call it. I mean…” She trailed off, puffing her cheeks in an exhale as she searched for words.
“I like fat guys.” Jayne stilled. Why could she say so easily what she had been unable to talk to Louise about? It literally tripped off her tongue with Tom.

Tom flashed that gorgeous smile. “Good. Keep saying that out loud as many times as you can, like we discussed last time. Say it until everyone rolls their eyes and says they know.”

His six o clock shadow was less, this early in the day. “The weird thing is, when I met Randy, he was pretty fit. He asked me out, and we started dating…I really was drawn to his confidence, and his appetite. For such a fit guy, he could really pack it away. He was some sort of athlete wannabe.”

“Interesting. So it isn’t just the physical representation of someone being fat – the act of eating and gaining weight is erotic?” He noted it in her file, ignoring her reddening cheeks. “Continue.”

“Well, I kind of…encouraged his appetite, and cooked for him. I love cooking,” she added as an aside, smiling. She really did. It was incredibly fulfilling. “We started spending more and more time together, and his sports and other activities fell off…He started gaining weight.”

He had blown up so quickly Jayne had hardly been able to contain her glee. Within two months none of his pants fit, and after six his belly had started to sag, jiggling with every step. The sex had been AMAZING.

At first.

“The sex was great, and better when he…started getting fat…” It was slowly, slowly becoming easier to say these words aloud, at least here.

“And then?”

“He figured out that I liked him fat, even though I never said anything.” A lump formed in her throat. “At first he just joked, but then…he started changing.” She blinked tears away and smiled a little. “It got so bad, every time I got…aroused, he would get angry because he figured it was because he was looking fat, or gained weight.”

Tom looked at her gravely, the only motion captured in his eyes, as they moved from her hands to her face.

She realized she was clutching a pillow to her stomach tightly, shredding the tassels with her fingers. Releasing her clutch, she inhaled slowly, exhaled. Slowly, painstakingly, she started to relate every dirty particular. Every painful moment. Jayne clenched her jaw.

“It started off ok, he would kind of grimace when I got excited. Sometimes he’d even eat more so he’d be sure I’d be in the mood. But eventually it got to the point he would…” she faltered, throat closing.

Tom’s deep breathing filled his office. When she finally mustered enough courage to meet his eyes, he smiled encouragingly, motioning for her to continue.

“It’s stupid,” Jayne muttered. “It’s probably not even important.”

“Good thing I’m the one who gets to decide that,” he replied cheerfully. “Talk on! Avoidance is my favourite indicator for a reveal.” He winked.

She snorted at his flippant tone, but smiling a little. “He would…get soft, ya know? Like, I would get excited, and he’d realize it was because he was fat, and he’s get too soft to even get it in, or sometimes he wouldn’t be able to finish halfway through.” Jayne swallowed, rolling her right shoulder. “I mean, this might sound dumb…but guys are supposed to be the ones who are, well, ‘into it’. What does it say about me - that guys I date can’t even get it up?” When she was done, she raised her eyes to look at him.

He gazed back at her thoughtfully. “It is true to some degree that men are generally able to achieve a faster sexual response, and are generally the aggressors during sex. However, studies are showing more and more that men have similar sexual problems to women. The pressure to perform is very detrimental to the whole process. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy. The man has some issues, and becomes self-conscious, so he stresses about it, making it happen more. Even if he achieves an erection, he is so desperate for it to stay…well, let’s just say most men don’t perform well under that kind of pressure.”

Sipping at his coffee he reflected a moment. “I am not saying this is true in your situation – but just keep that in mind. The chances of it being related to you directly are not very likely.”

She stared at him. “Really?” she managed finally. The thought of it having nothing to do with her hadn’t even entered the realm of possibility for her.

He nodded, his cute double chin popping out. “Women tend to be very cerebral in their sexuality. Men are generally – not always – more straightforward. To the point where it can create awkwardness. It doesn’t matter what we want, where we are, or who we are with – it just happens…or doesn’t. There is no Machiavellian plan, I assure you. Now, you mentioned ‘guys’ – plural. Did this happen more than once?”

Jayne frowned, splaying her fingertips as she did a quick mental count. “Um. Yeah. Every time.”

“Five boyfriends, and all five times it happened? It is unusual, but my stance doesn’t change,” Dr Fitatti reassured her, seeing her look of alarm. “I get the impression there was more to Randy than you are letting on.”

For some reason, Jayne felt her cheeks flush. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Your body language changes when you talk about him, or approach subjects that seem to be connected to him. Beyond any preference for him being fatter, and any shame associated with it.”

She started, staring at his hands. “Shame?” she repeated, the word riveting her.

“If you dislike it, I can use another…?” Tom offered easily, waving a hand.

Jayne kept herself perfectly still. “No…No, I mean, why shame? Why that word? Why do you think I am ashamed?”

His head tilted, examining her. For the first time, he seemed to pause to choose his words. “Pride is exhibited in multiple ways. It can be flamboyant, factual, or embedded into our very nature. If you were proud of your sexuality, you would be vocal. You would invite people to examine it, like a prized painting. Even if it wasn’t to their taste, it would be your prize.”

Tom itched his nose. “If it was factual, you wouldn’t be here…you may not bring it up in company, but everyone who was intimately acquainted with you would know. Or if anyone asked you, you would tell them in the same way you would tell them that you prefer tall men, or men with blue eyes.”

He gave a half shrug, continuing, as she remained still and silent. “If it was intrinsic in you, you wouldn’t think about it. The very idea of HAVING or WANTING to confess it would seem odd to you. As personal and as natural as you preferring it missionary style. You know it, but wouldn’t dream of bringing it up – why bother?”

“But…why shame?” Jayne persisted, fretting.

“It is an extreme view, but you are either proud of something, or you are ashamed. It could be argued that indifference plays in…but I have my own views on that. Shame manifests in different ways. Sometimes it manifests in physical responses – blushing, fidgeting, turning away, lack of eye contact. At times, it can be seen in general behaviours like avoiding topics, places or situations. It can also be seen in self-destructive behaviour…self-hatred, blame, victimization of oneself, or anger and hurt towards others.” Tom finished quietly. “You display all of these.”

“I don’t know if I am ashamed…” Jayne murmured, frowning. Was she ashamed? Well, ok, yeah, she regretted not being able to just kind of be ‘cool’ about her thing, and wasn’t exactly bursting with pride about her inability to talk about it…but ashamed? “Maybe…I’m just shy?”

Tom grimaced. “Shy you are not. Your personality flashes when you are comfortable or angry. I don’t like the term shy. Ultimately, it comes down to pride and confidence. People often mistake being shy for being ashamed. If you are shy, you may be the last person to speak, but would speak promptly and clearly when addressed. People tend to say they are shy or introverted, when really, they don’t have confidence or pride.

"Example: You have never spoken in front of crowds. You join Toastmasters – you learn how to do it in a supportive environment that creates confidence and pride. The feeling of shyness may persist, but you are capable of speaking in public very well. Conversely, people say they are shy when they can’t speak up in a group.

"When I have challenged people on this, it always comes up that they ultimately do not feel their worth, or the value of their ideas is equivalent to those around them. It can be especially difficult for people to gain confidence in the ‘real’ world – because those who have that confidence are not only louder…but they enjoy debating and proving each other right or wrong, or simply expressing their ideas.”

He sighed, raising his brows. "Thinking of this as shyness will become a crutch. You will take refuge in the thought that, if only they understood what it was like to be an introvert, they would ‘get it’. Ironically, many of the people you think are extroverts, are introverts who have taken painstaking effort to come out of their shells. I am an introvert. Yes, I am,” Tom told her with a chuckle. “I don’t like to be the centre of attention in large groups. People seem to drain my energy, and being alone revitalizes me. I prefer to have a few intimate companions, than maintain a vast network of acquaintances. But I still go to conferences and spe, I still have a job that requires me to go outside myself daily, and I still network as part of my job. It will just never come naturally to me.”

It was a lot to take in. For the first time, Jayne felt like Tom wasn’t going to lead her to this epiphany. She mulled over what she had been told. Nothing came to her. The clock ticked away, and his heavy breathing punctuated the silence. Her heart began to beat faster. What the heck was wrong with her?? He obviously expected her to connect the dots, and all she could think was literally ‘wow, that seemed like it was important information.’ Why couldn’t she ever think on her feet?

Tom snapped his fingers peremptorily. “Hey. What was that?” He demanded suspiciously. “What were you just thinking?”

“Just…Just that I wanted to be able to answer your question, and nothing was coming to me, I can never think on my feet…”

Tom nearly glowered at her, leaning forward. “You were just self-hating. In my office, right in front of me, and you didn’t think I would notice?” He softened his expression. “Jayne…you are putting far too much pressure on yourself. I didn’t ask you a question, and I wasn’t expecting you to make a mental leap in a time frame. I just wanted to provide you context. I was waiting for you to stop thinking, not to talk.”

Jayne met his gaze. “Sorry…”

“Why for?” He flicked a hand. “Words are cheap. I’d much prefer you actually start talking to people about your preferences, like I asked. Yes, I could tell you hadn’t.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Just like my Toastmasters example…learn to talk about this with your support network BEFORE you tell other people. The more you say this out loud the more – and I can’t believe I am using this word – ‘normal’ it will seem. You mentioned ‘Lou’ – I want you to tell her before the next session.”

The conversation slowly wound down, and as Jayne was walking to the door, Tom stopped her for a moment by casually announcing, “I did some research on your preferences.” He shuffled some papers. “From what I can see, you are the equivalent of cuffing your partner with fuzzy cuffs bought from the local sex shop, not tying them up with a ball gag and whipping them. If what you are telling me is true, your preferences are pretty tame in that ‘circle’.”

She heard his coffee cup clink as he set it down. “I mentioned shame before as a negative thing. Shame seems to be somewhat intrinsic to the preference…explore that, off session please. Not ALL shame is bad. Sometimes it can add some spice to bedroom activities. Naughty schoolgirl. Bad patient with a nurse. Getting too fat for clothes you just bought. Getting too fat to fit on the scale? As long as the shame only adds zing…by all means, enjoy it.”

Jayne glanced at him, shocked and immediately aroused, but he only waved. “Have a great day, Jayne.”
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:17 AM   #5
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Chapter 5
The new saying was ‘winter is coming’.

Winter is ALWAYS coming in Canada – or else it is already here, Jayne thought as she huddled deeper into her long coat. The light changed, and she walked across the street quickly, fingers shoved deep into her pockets. Though it was only late autumn, the sun was weak – more of a source of light than heat. Last week they had been dumped on, and everything was going typically ‘Toronto Grey’. The sky was grey. The buildings were grey. The streets were grey. The snow was grey. It was too soon in winter for the people to be grey yet, but after Christmas everyone would begin to look dull and pale.

She felt dumb and pale already. Although Jayne considered herself relatively intelligent and thoughtful, she did not necessarily consider an introspective person. Working with Dr. Fitatti had reinforced that. She realized she didn’t really think about the why she did things, and the why behind that, or the social and physical factors that pushed and pulled at it. Since she had begun her sessions, she had been forced over and over to challenge things she had just taken for granted. And not in the typical ‘and how does that make you feel?’ way.

Stopping at a shop window, she stared inside it, lost in thought. She had never been in a sex shop before, she realized. Not once – not even for a bachelorette party. Actually, come to think of it, she couldn’t really remember having any real girlfriends. Other than LouLou, of course.

It was hard to believe that half a year ago she had been crying on the beach, just wanting to forget about her lusting after fat guys. Now, she had someone telling her that it was normal, healthy, and she should not only accept it…but go with it. She felt like she was on the constant verge of a headache, trying to come to grips with this. Yet…she wasn’t despondent like she had been in the past. Winter was always a cruel time of year, when the fatties covered up even more, and it was hard to tell what was insulation, and what was insulation.

He had told her that she was the fuzzy cuffs version within her preference. She wasn’t even sure that she understood what that meant. She knew the ball gag comment was a sex toy thing, but she didn’t really know what that had to do with her. Jayne smiled at her reflection. She had never heard Lou so ecstatic as when Jayne had told her she wanted Lou to take her to a sex shop. It never really occurred to Jayne before, but after reflection she did have to concede that she had never really pushed her comfort level with anything. And sex in general was kind of a big, blobby area of uncomfortableness.

Did she lack confidence? That comment had haunted her strangely. If he had called her a name, or insulted her beliefs, she could have come up with a rounding retort, she was sure. But, to just tell her she didn’t have confidence or pride? She just sat there and took it, like she didn’t have a jot.

Afterwards she had railed bitterly in her own mind, replaying his words and fighting them viciously in her mental re-enactment. Of course, she emerged victorious. Once she had worked herself into a lather and given herself a headache as the adrenaline had left her system, she had reasoned out every rational argument against his statement. Of course, he had agreed with her, retracting his statement.

Prove him wrong, Jayne had willed herself as she looked into the mirror. Tell Lou about it. She never enjoyed looking into the mirror. She always looked tired, or angry, or sad…even when she wasn’t feeling that way. As if her face didn’t match her emotions. And her body…she frowned. She always kind of pictured herself as more attractive than she was, in her own mind. Then, whenever she saw herself side by side with someone beautiful, she realized how plain she was.

Yet…something inside Jayne told her that what Tom had said wasn’t true. She was good at her job. She was a good friendster to Lou. She took a lot of pride in her cooking. She could argue and push back - when it really counted. She wasn’t a saint, but she had steered cleared of the hard drugs and was always responsible with drinking – no one had ever managed to lead her astray when she was younger.

Lou had arrived and pulled her inside, cheeks aglow with red spots between her fuzzy pink skull earmuffs. She looked gorgeous – windblown, blooming and relentlessly cheerful. Her pretty, tanned face contrasted sharply with Jayne’s own plain, pale one in the mirror on the opposite wall. No matter how many times she had thought she was jealous, Lou proved her wrong. It was hard to be jealous of someone who genuinely thought you were beautiful, awesome, and perfect in every way. Even if they were wrong

“Loulou!” they exchanged a brief embrace, and slung their coats over their arms as they unwound their scarves, took off their gloves, and removed their head gear.

“Hi gorgeous! I am so super excited!” Lou exclaimed, stomping snow off her boots energetically. “I can’t believe you wanted to come here! It’s so unlike you, and so awesome!”

“Is it really that out of character?” Jayne inquired softly, stuffing her gloves into the pockets of her jacket.

“Toats! Like, sex and stuff has always been off limits with you. Now you want to come out and look with me? I’m so excited!” She repeated, rubbing her hands together. “Where should we start first?”

Stifling a grin, Jayne shrugged in calculated nonchalance. “The fuzzy cuffs section?” Maybe she was a coward. Why did she need Lou here to help her?

Lou laughed heartily. “Yeah! Let’s start off with the most vanilla stuff, and work our way up!” Grabbing her hands, Lou sashayed forward playfully. “Now, here are the baby toys,” she giggled, pointing to a section of the wall that had body glitter, flavoured condoms, and fuzzy handcuffs.

Jayne watched her face and body as she nattered on. Lou was confident, and full of pride. She gazed at everyone directly, and immediately turned her body to invite them in. Jayne had never really appreciated how touchy Lou was until just now. Every few moments she was patting, touching, leaning, engaging. Lou fidgeted, but it was an attention drawing move such as threading her pony tail through her hands, or blowing her bangs out of her face with a loud puff.

“La!” Lou grinned. “The next step on the road to deep, dark, dirty, delightful sex!” She flourished a hand dramatically. “Edible underwear, and body chocolate! Actually,” she leaned in with a stage whisper. “I don’t suggest the chocolate, especially with a hairy dude. And the underwear? Well…it’s kind of like fruit rollup…it, uh, sticks. Just, make sure you wax down there first. Don’t shave, for heavens sake! Oh, the itching!”

“You ate the chocolate?” Jayne asked, a little startled. It had never really occurred to her that the guy would wear it. She had always kind of figured it went on the girl.

“What? I like chocolate!” Was the unrepentant response. “Come to think of it, it gets sticky too. Try it once, that’s usually enough! Then we move on to our…GASP! VIBRATORS!” She announced it so loudly that a few patrons nearby smiled.

Waiting for the floor to swallow her up, Jayne noticed a younger guy approach the wall and remove a dildo about as long as her forearm, and thicker, along with the largest container of lube on the wall. He noticed her looking and smirked, but Jayne withdrew her eyes, feeling her face heat.

“Don’t need to tell you about these,” Lou said matter of factly, staring at the vibrators. Then, seeing Jayne’s face, her pale brows arched. “Really? Never? Really?”

Wow this was awkward. “Uh,”

“Can I help you ladies?” A cheerful voice asked at their elbow.

Nope. THIS was awkward. “Uh,”

Lou turned to face the young woman with a grin. “Yeah! My chicka here has never had a vibe!”

“Uh, I don’t…”

“Oh, nice!” The girl said, obviously thrilled to be able to help. “I can definitely help with that today!” She seemed perfectly at ease, and not at all embarrassed to be talking about this to strangers. Which, considering it was her job, was probably a good thing… “Do you find you achieve orgasms more from your clit or your g spot?”

Jayne stared at them both, flummoxed. They both seemed so…matter of fact. Finally, she swallowed. “I usually…use my finger,” she managed eventually. She chewed her lip, before she realized she was doing it and forced herself to stop. Great. Just Great, now she was going to be super self-conscious about every little gesture and tone she made!

“More like this, or like this?” The girl, whose nametag said Becky, asked, holding her hand at the level of her pelvis, finger at a straight downward angle. Then she curled her finger inward, with her wrist following the motion. The sales woman looked at her expectantly, smiling at another customer who walked in the door without moving from her position.

“More…more like the first?” Jayne hazarded, trying to appear nonchalant. He hands felt funny. Almost like they weren’t really attached to her body, and she felt her peripheral vision darkening a little as her anxiety mounted.

“Ok, no probs! I don’t know how much you are looking to spend – BUT I have to tell you that my all time favourite is this baby.” Becky opened a glass case and pulled out a white box.

Lou ushered her closer, looking excited. “Oh, I love shopping here! It like shopping for new shoes!”

“This is the Lelo.” Becky took the vibrator out. It was a streamlined, pink, and vaguely penis shaped with a handle on the end. “Now, one thing I like about this is the amount of customization you can get with your orgasms. You can hold this for a really deep clitoral orgasm, or you can insert it for a gspot one.

The nice thing about this little beauty is that you can not only control the amount of vibration – ” she turned it on from a dull buzz up to a rapid sound – “But you can also control the speed. It has a whole bunch of settings to actually change up the tempo.” She demonstrated, varying the steady buzz to a rapid burst of shorter, to a slowly increasing buzz with sudden stops. Here, feel it.” She pressed it into Jayne’s hand.

Jayne’s fingers wrapped over the slick, odd material, feeling it pulse strongly against her palm. She glanced around, caught herself, grimaced, realized she did that too, and schooled her face into a sort of smile. That’s right, look normal. This was awkkkkwaaarrrddddd…..

“I love this one because it is water tight – you can just rinse and go without having to dissemble it,” Lou confided. “I mean, who has the time when you are in a hurry, right?”

Jayne stared at her, then at the sales woman. She didn’t see any good way out of this situation. If she said no, she’d be a prude. If she confessed her ignorance…well, that wasn’t an option. “I’ll, uh, take it?” she half asked. Just please, stop talking about this.

Wait, was that shyness or being ashamed? It wasn’t confidence or pride. That was ridiculous – you could be neither proud or ashamed, it wasn’t as extreme as he said it was!

“Great choice!” Lou squealed, hugging her. “I’m like, totally taking your sex shop virginity! And girl,” she said, deepening her voice in mock sexiness. “I’m going to give it to you good today!”

No, that was being ashamed, Jayne determined finally. Look at how openly they can talk about masturbating. Wow, it was galling that Dr. Fitatti was right. Spurred, she smiled at her friend, lifting her chin stubbornly. “Great. What’s next?”

Lou led her back and forward through the shop. Whips, ball gags, suspending chairs, ties, full masks…Jayne felt like she was drinking from the fire hose, but she was startling to get an inkling of what Tom had meant by calling her fluffy cuffs.

“I guess that guy who picked up that huge dildo and lube is about to make his girlfriend very happy,” Jayne told her two companions once they had gone to the checkout, about half an hour later. They both started laughing so hard they almost had to hold each other up. “What?”

Stifling her whooping, coughing, Lou wiped her eyes. “Oh, NayNay, I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. That wasn’t for a girl. That was for himself or his boyfriend. Get it?”

Jayne stared at them both as her brain clicked over, then buried her face in her hands as they broke out into peals of laughter again. “Oh god,” she cried, muffled. “I’m such a loser!”

Later that evening Jayne poured herself a rum and coke, holding the vibrator in her hand. It was just kind of fun to touch – it had a funny texture that was fun to touch. Very…space age.

Today had been…fun. Really fun, actually. Her face still kind of hurt from all the blushing and smiling she had done. The whole thing kind of made her feel adventurous. Was she really that serious all the time?

Her iPad rested on the arm of the couch, where she had placed it after pulling up her favourite Dimensions stories and reading them, as well as reading the ones which (however well written) weren’t exactly up her alley. She drummed her fingers against the vibrator and sat back down with her feet on the couch, towards the screen.

It was clear now why people used these things. It was a lot easier on her hand, that was for sure. She grinned. Plus it was easier to scroll through her fat ‘word porn’ while it had buzzed away contentedly between her legs, the iphone cradled on her chest.

She realized she was pretty ‘fluffy cuffs’. 230 was a nice low end ideal weight, but her max was probably around 350, she figured. Although it all depended on build, height, yadda yadda. She wasn’t really into immobility… that big didn’t seem sexy anymore. The thought of having to wait on someone hand and foot as well as do all the household tasks, work and carry a mortgage took away any sexiness. Though she could see the appeal for others. She was just way too much of a stickler for equal things in every part of the relationship. The idea of having to do everything by herself actually kind of made her feel…resentful? It was fun to imagine, but that was it.

She enjoyed cooking – and although she had never actually fed someone she was pretty damn sure that it would be up her alley. But…the idea of the sheer extremity of the stuffings online was kinda…well…hot in print, but she was leery about it when she thought about doing it ‘IRL’.

So basically, she was pretty ‘middle middle’. Average, really. It was kind of a world shift for her. Never before would she had imagined ‘Jayne’ and ‘average’ in the same sentence when it came to sex. The whole health issue - real, imagined, or both – still made her fret, and she still couldn’t tell Lou….but…

Overall, the sex shop had been…liberating. Liberating to realize she wasn’t an extremist…not in the grand scheme of things, and not even in her own preference! Some of the stuff at the sex shop had made her raise her eyebrows. Not that she was one to have the right to be judgey…but still. Kind of put it in perspective.

Screw it. She opened up her email and sent off a message for her next booking. She hadn’t told Lou…but she needed to talk to someone.
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:18 AM   #6
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Chapter 6

Jayne ran the end of her pony tail across her lips, staring into her fire. “Of course, I would love to have you over for Thanksgiving. Christmas too! Absolutely!” She switched the phone to her other ear. “I know, I know…I am sorry…things just got so busy with life, you know?”

She pushed a coaster on the table with her toe. “Mm. Got a promotion…yeah, thanks! Manager of Operations. It’s been kind of stressful. What?”

“I said,” her adopted mom repeated, “What is wrong?”

Jayne closed her eyes, strangled the phone in her hands, and then calmly said, “Nothing, Mama, why do you ask?”

The soft voice on the other end chuckled. “Jayne…do you think I just met you yesterday?”

“Oui?” Jayne muttered.

“None of your sass, missy.” Wendy told her in mock sternness. “If you don’t want to talk about it I won’t press you – but remember we are here for you, ok? I know you don’t drive, but we can be down to you within an hour or two if you ever just want us to come by and visit. We miss you girls…”

“Mamaaaaaa….” Jayne wailed quietly. “Don’t make me feel guiltyyyyy…..”

“Left us, allll alone with just each other. It’s a surprise we are still together.” The receiver was pulled away from her mouth. “I said it’s a surprise we are still together!”

Jayne heard her adopted father move closer to the phone and say loudly. “I miss you! You girls left me alone with her!”

“Stop it, Paul!” Wendy cried, giggling. “I am trying to talk to our daughter!”

That was one thing she loved about her adopted Mama and Papa….they had never once, in all the years, made her feel even the tiniest bit less of their own daughter, but still somehow allowing her the space to love and grieve her mother and father.

“Hello?” Her Papa’s voice said in her ear.

“Paul, get off the other phone!” her Mama scolded.

He chuckled. “I want to talk to Jaynie too!”

An exasperated sound. “Paul Joseph Emmans, if you don’t get off that phone…!”

“Your mother has failed to realize that she is on a corded phone,” he told his daughter in a conspiratorial voice. “She could come stop me but she would have to put down her phone first.”

“Oooh!” was the irritated response. “One of these days…!”

“You will voluntarily put down the phone?”

Jayne felt a smile spread over her face, and happy tears rise to her eyes at their gentle bickering. “I miss you Mama, I miss you Papa.”

“We miss you too, Jaynie-Boo!” his deep voice said softly. “Are we coming for Thanksgiving?”

“Yes, we are! I was just trying to ask her why she is sad!”

“We already know why she is sad!” He told his wife. “I am rolling my eyes at her,” he told his daughter.

“No we don’t!”

“Yes we do, she just said she misses us! Why are you going to ask her a question if you don’t listen? Honestly, woman!”

“When I get off this phone….!”

Jayne bit her lip to keep from laughing. “What do you guys think? Turkey, ham, or roast?”

“Turkey is traditional,” Wendy offered.

“It’s also dry. I know I would personally be much more ‘thankful’ for a nice tender roast, dripping juicy blood…” He sighed longingly. “I miss your cooking, little boo. Your mother overcooks my food.”

Interrupting was essential. “Ok, well I actually have to go soon…but you promise you guys will come out and see my new place? It will be nice, I’ll cook both, ok?” Jayne asked desperately, knowing this could go on for hours.

“I have to go too, I have to get a head start on your mother when she comes to beat me. Love you!” The phone clicked and he was gone

“Grrr…I love you too dear, take care, and I will call next week,” she raised her voice, “when your FATHER ISN’T HOME!” More gently, “Bye!”

“Bye…” Hanging up, Jayne threw her head back and stared at the ceiling. The past week had been so…tiring. She wanted to get out of the house but didn’t have the energy. Now that it was getting dark so early, her nervousness at walking out alone late at night had started to creep back.

She closed her eyes, just letting exhaustion tug at her. Maybe she just needed a vacation…She started when the phone rang.

“Hello?” She asked, her voice thick with sleep.

“Hiya, Naynay! Ready to go this weekend?”

Jayne rubbed her eyes. “Go where?”

“To the party this weekend!” Lou reminded her reproachfully.



“I really don’t…”

“Come on, chicka, it’s going to be a rocking party….” Lou’s voice was becoming increasingly tragicic.

“Nah, it’ll be late by the time I get home, and I’ll be tired.”

“You NEVER go out late anymore,” Lou whined into the phone. “It’s like you are a reverse vampire, like the darkness of shadows will kill you or something!”

“I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking and working and need alone time, ok?” She rechecked the lock on her front door in what had become a reflexive move.

“Bored!” Lou half bellowed, exasperated. “You think too much!” Sighing, she relented. “Promise you’ll come out to girls’ night soon?”

“Promise, chicka.” She curled up in her living room, fire blazing cheerily. “Oh, the Parents say they love you.”

“Oh, tell them I love them too!”

Jayne snorted. “Or you could call them and tell them.”

“I do, like every week!”

Jayne paused. She had used to call almost every week too…She felt guilt rise. They deserved better than that. Just because she was busy didn’t mean she couldn’t spare a few minutes just to say she missed them…

Lou interrupted her thoughts. “Soooooooo….how goes the therapy? Are you ready to screw fat boys like a bunny yet?” She demanded

Jayne rolled her eyes “Crass, Lou. Crass.”

“But there is something…I can hear it. Spill!”

“There is really nothing to tell. I mean, there is a guy, but I can’t date him – don’t ask, it would just never work.” Tom wasn’t an option. It made her really sad. Ironically, he was probably the one guy who would have been like ‘You like fat guys? I AM a fat guy! Perfect!’ and she never would have had to think about any of this every again. He was so safe! She had actually done a little guilty research and realized even IF he did like her, he could actually never, ever, ever date her. Even if she never saw him again, as a former patient he was banned from that kind of interaction, at stiff legal penalties and at the cost of his license to practice. It wasn't fair!!

“Impossible,” Lou asserted loyally. “If he is worth it he will make it work, or he isn’t worth your time. Hmm. What about that lawyer guy, from the beach a few months ago?”

“I lost his card ages ago,” she fibbed, casting her eyes at the ceiling and examining the light fixture. “Besides, who actually hooks up like that?”

“Um, everybody? There are like whole websites built around it, dummy! And don’t worry, I have a copy of his card!”

Jayne pulled the phone away from her ear to regard it suspiciously. “Lou, darling, what did you do?” She asked with extreme pleasantry.

“Nothing! I just didn’t want you to lose the opportunity of dating such a cutie!”

“Louise Melody Emmans….!” Jayne warned her sister. Oh god, she was becoming her mother.

“Jayne Theresa Thorpe Emmans…!” Lou repeated her threatening tone, then giggled. “We sound like the Parents!!! Look, I got your back, kk sissy? I’ll drop the card off on my way to work tomorrow. Give him a call, ok?”

“Sure, LouLou.” Sometimes it was better to just agree with her than try and reason with her. “I gotta jet! Love you!” She didn't have to follow through with it.

“Love you too, babe! M-wah!”


Jayne fiddled with the card in her hand. She ran the stiff cardboard quickly across each finger of her left hand. Stopped. Looked at the email. Ran the card over her lips, holding it there. Should she? The words on the screen blurred as she thought deeply. She realized the card had glued itself to her bottom lip as it absorbed the moisture, and she gently held the card away from her mouth until it unfastened. Wincing, she tapped send.

She put down her ipad, heaving a sigh of relief. At least the email was sent, and now she could relax. He wouldn’t get to his email until tomorrow, so she could deal with whatever came, then. She walked into her kitchen, shivering at the cold tile, and topped up her vodka with orange juice. Or put vodka in her orange juice. Whatever. Wee! Her buzz was live and she giggled at herself for daring to send that email. She would show Lou...something. She couldn't recall exactly why she would show her, or what...but she had done it! Cheers to another drink!!! She had the fridge open and her head inside when she heard the buzzing coming from the living room.

She cranked her head around, peering over the top of the fridge door for a long moment before padding back and picking it up.

Good evening Jayne,
Thanks for reaching out to me – I had almost forgotten about that day on the beach.
Drinks at Up Yer Kilt would be great.
When would you like to go? I am free Thursday and Friday this week, but I can make myself available most evenings with enough notice.

Jayne sat down. It was more reflexive than voluntary. It had been so long since she dated that she had forgotten how fun could be. She was excited, and nervous. And hungry. What if he was a creep? What if Lou had gotten the card mixed up, and she was asking out some random? She vaguely recalled a fatotti but his exact appearance simply wasn’t coming back to her. Damn. Ohhhhhhhh!!!!!

Tapping rapidly on her screen, she pulled up the company’s website and clicked on “Our Team”. Scrolling through the pictures, she found the only Greg. Last name match? Thompson? Check.

“Oh. Yum,” she murmured to her screen, sipping at her juice. He was a cutie. And a chunky monkey. She shivered, pacing around the room. She hovered her hand over the send button. Retracted it. Hovered. Hovered. Hovered….No. Yes! She tapped send quickly, dropping the pad with a borderline squeal.

Sorry for disturbing you! I had no idea you would be up this late. Thursday actually works really for me. 7pm?

Her pad dinged a few minutes later.

Ha, I pretty much live with my phone, no worries!
Great! Looking forward to it.

Well. Her first date in nearly two years. When she was sober she was going to hate herself! She giggled.

"Psst...Loushas voicemail...when Lou checks in with you can you tell her I am drunk? Oh, also...I am going on a date so I need her to help come and put my face on before it, ok? Byyyyeeeee!!!"
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:18 AM   #7
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Chapter 7

“I can’t do this,” Jayne cried, following Lou around the main floor. “I told you, this was a terrible, terrible mistake!” All week she had been kicking herself and trying to think of a way to retract that email without coming across like an idiot.

“La, you are so strange.” She genuinely seemed confused, but unaffected by her sister’s panic.

Jayne snagged her sleeve. “Lou, I can’t do this, don’t you understand? I need to cancel!!"

Lou forced her to sit on a kitchen chair. “You can’t go on a date with a hot, successful guy?” She patted liquid coverup under Jayne’s eyes and along the bridge of her nose, as well as around her chin to cover up the little bit of adult acne she still had. “You deserve it.”

Her jaws were clenched so tightly it was a wonder her teeth didn’t shatter. “Baby, he isn’t hot to you, he is fat, remember?”

Lou’s green eyes were fixed on her face as she gently brushed powdered coverup over her canvas. “Who said that I said that?” She asked absently.

“He’s fat.” Jayne reiterated, fidgeting.

“Mm, yes?” She rooted through her bag, dabbing some moisturizer around Jayne’s eyes and mixing the coverup for a flawless finish. “So? That doesn’t mean I don’t think he isn’t handsome. I mean, I don’t get off on a guy being fat, but I can still appreciate a looker…” She pulled out liquid liner and began tiny, gentle, sweeping strokes. “Look up.”

That was too close for comfort. She didn’t want to talk about that. Her fingers scrabbled at the seat of the chair. “Lou, I can’t do this, I can’t, I can’t!”

“Stop moving or you will end up with clown eyes.” Lou flicker her ear. “I said stop it!”

“Ow!” Jayne glared at her.

“What do you want as your primary colour?” At her blank look, Lou sighed. “What are you wearing?”

Jayne snatched a brush and threw it on the floor. “Nothing, because I am not going!”

“HEY! That is an expensive brush, and one of my work tools!” Lou snatched it up and placed it away protectively. She whirled around and marched away, towards her sister’s bedroom.

Darting up, Jayne padded down the hall in her socks. “Lou, what are you doing? Stay out of my room, you little brat!”

Before turning into the room, Lou stuck her tongue out and pulled down her lower eyelid in a childish taunt. “I’m going to pick you out an outfit. I can’t do your makeup properly until I know what you are going to wear.”

Her bed met her ass as Jayne sunk down with a groan. She watched her sister rifle through her closet for a good ten minutes before she came across something she liked.

“Voilŕ!” She dragged a black cocktail dress out.

“Oh no, like hell!”

“It still has the price tag on,” Lou grumbled. “I bought you this to show off your hawt body!”

“If I had your body I could wear it, but I don’t!”

Lou made a face. “I can’t do this style. I gots no boobies.” She took the tag off and threw it at Jayne. “Strip!” She began pulling open drawers until she found the black lacy bra and the tiny silken undies Lou had bought for her at the same time as the dress. When Jayne just stood there, Lou got a mulish look on her face.

It was very, very rare that her sister put her foot down on anything, but when she did, she was immovable. Seeing that look in Lou’s face now, Jayne slowly turned her back and stripped. She grimaced at the bra – it made her boobs so high that when she looked down it felt like her neck flesh was being forced into a double chin. The undies immediately slid up her ass crack, and the dress hugged every curve tightly.

“Here, let me get the zipper,” Lou said from behind. She tugged the little zipper up and fastened the clasp. “Oouu, very femme fatale!”

Jayne refused to look at herself in the mirror. “I am not going out in this getup,” she said hollowly.

“Ok, that’s fine, let’s just finish getting on your makeup so you can stay at home like a total loser and get drunk alone like an alcoholic,” Was the cheerful response.

“Just because I drink alone doesn’t make me an alcoholic.” Jayne sat down and gave herself up to the rest of the ministrations. “Just don’t make me look like a street walker, ok?” She felt her pad of tummy fat press against the clingy material, and refused to look down. Why had she sent that stupid email? And why, why had she opened her front door today? Actually, Lou was silly enough she probably would have frozen herself to death on Hayne’s own front porch, cheerily exasperated at not being let in.

“Okie dokie smokie!” Brushed of varying length and softness kissed her eyelids for the next five minutes. “Open?” A few more touches. “Yay, perfect! Put on your heels and go look!”

A prisoner probably felt this way, she decided, walking to the gallows. Shuffling as slowly as possible, she slowly went to the bedroom. She squared up with the mirror and raised her eyes.

“I can’t do this! I look ridiculous!” Jayne wailed. An overly curvy woman – and not in the perfect, exaggerated hourglass way – was packed tightly into a slinky black dress. The dress was too low cut, and her books were popping out, and it was so short she was sure her ass would fall out the minute she bent over.

“Hmm…You are missing a nice ’doo.” Lou immediately began styling her hair. “You are so gorgeous, look at your body!”

Loose curls began tumbling around her face. “I look like a common whore,” Jayne whined.

“Oh, shut up!” Lou said crossly. “You are wearing less makeup than me, you just aren’t used to it.”

“I’m fat,” Jayne said miserably, raising her arm to pinch a little pudge that peaked out over the top of the dress on her back, shaking her arm a little and watching the flesh move under her upper arm, then poking her little potbelly.

“I swear to cow, Jayne, I will take this curling wand and burn you with it. Shut the hell up! You have curves women would die for. Of course your stomach sticks out a little – you have extra organs in there that guys don’t! And yeah, the dress is tight, so your skin is going to be pressed a little! If it wasn’t it would practically fall off!”

“You never look like that,” Jayne groused.

“Yeah, because I can never put on any weight,” her sister retorted. “I’m doomed to look like a ditzy twelve year old the rest of my life!” She ran her hands through Jayne’s hair, then sprayed it with a few spritzes of hair spray. “If you don’t go to this dinner, I am going to tell Mama and Papa you are at a therapist again! For sex! No, I will tell them that you like fatties!” She crowed.

She whirled around so fast she almost lost her balance. “You wouldn’t!” Jayne gasped. “You’re the one who told me to go! You can’t blackmail me!”

“Just watch me!” Lou looked like an angry kitten. “I am sick and tired of watching you mope around! Go on this date, or face my wrath!”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jayne cried, confused and helpless against her sister’s pushiness.

Louise leaned threateningly close, her face grim. “You called me Lousha,” she hissed. “You KNOW I hate when people say it like that. You know the punishment!”

Aw crap. It was that damned iron clad pinky swear, from so many years ago. The last time she had slipped up, Lou had made her take her to a concert. One task to be done in return for her slip up. “Fine.” After all, it wasn’t like she had to actually arrive there, Lou just see her leave.


Unfortunately, her evil sister seemed determined for her to see this through. She actually flicked on her hazards and followed her the entire way, staring pointedly at the entrance until Jayne went in.

Jayne stopped around the corner and switched her boots for her strappy heels before moving towards the entrance. She felt conspicuous, and overdressed. Her anxiety had resulted in a faster than usual pace, so she had arrived a quarter of an hour early with chafed thighs from the rubbing. Stupid skinny women and their ability to walk without their thighs touching.

Walking to the bathroom, she sat in the stall, shivering with anxiety. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t. She would just…email Greg, tell him something came up.

And then she would walk home and pretend like none of this had ever happened.

After she reapplied deodorant to her legs so they wouldn’t rub.

She walked towards the entrance, struggling to maintain an appearance of calm. Greg was there, looking even better than his picture she had seen on the website. He was ruddy cheeked from the cold, and his brown hair was messy from his hat being taken off. An instantaneous heat flooded her face, and between her legs as his fingers undid his coat buttons and revealed a round, heavy belly pushing against his suit top.

His eyes seemed to meet hers, then slide away as she kept walking, refusing to meet his eyes. Pretend like you didn’t see him, that’s right, look natural, you are almost out!

Lou’s car was gone. The night was cool against her cheeks. She gazed up at the only two stars she could see. Guilt was already gnawing away at her. His face had opened a little, a little half smile playing around the corners of his mouth, and he had turned towards her tentatively before his face had fallen and closed up. Don’t look back, don’t look back, she told herself.

Of course, she looked back.

He was sitting on one of the benches in the front hall, looking resigned. It was that look that nearly broke her heart. It was the look of a guy who had been set up, and dismissed dozens of times. To the point even his pride was barely hurt. He didn’t look angry, or ashamed – he simply had a ‘sigh. Oh well…’ expression on.

He had obviously recognized her. She couldn’t…just leave him like that. That wasn’t fair. What if he had done that to her? Just saw her and walked out? She closed her eyes, praying to strength.

Jayne pushed open the door, heart thundering. “Greg?” she asked awkwardly after clearing her throat.

He glanced up, startled. “Oh, yes…” He said, standing uneasily.

“I must not have seen you, I was waiting outside…” She blushed, heart hammering in her throat. He was so handsome…

“Ha, I thought you had changed your mind,” He said, shrugging a little. He wasn’t too tall – his eyes were level with the top of her head. His relative shortness only emphasized his roundness.

“No, I didn’t see you,” Jayne fibbed, smiling shyly.

Green eyes crinkled up, and fat cheeks bunched as he smiled in return, a small blush also rising to his cheeks. “Oh…I thought you had a ‘nope!’ moment.”

“No! No,” Jayne repeated, shivering at the tangible heat that came off him. Through his winter coat, through the intervening space, and through her own coat. He smelled nice – clean but slightly sweaty after a long day at work.

“For two, then?” The hostess interrupted, hands hovering over the menus.

“Yes, please,” Greg answered, pulling off his winter coat. He offered his hand to Jayne to shake with another shy smile. He was wearing a very nice suit, tie, and shiny black shoes, Jayne noticed. Very nicely put together

The palm was velvety soft, warm, and dry. It sent a jolt up her arm so powerful she almost gasped aloud. His fingers were thick and chubby, his grip firm but not crushing. Her nipples instantly hardened, and goose bumps raced across her arms and around the nape of her neck.

“I have to admit, I was pretty surprised to get your email…I hadn’t thought to ever hear from you. Plus, you know, you saw me topless,” He wrinkled his nose, as if acknowledging the slim chance of her ever seeing him after that, but he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye in a way she couldn’t quite interpret.

Jayne, in the process of sitting, froze. She felt herself flush, and her tongue cleaved to the roof her mouth. She stared at her hands, struggling for the sentences she had pre-composed. Nothing came, and she fiddled with a button, not looking at him. She frantically cast her mind back over her favourite Dimensions stories…what were the lines they said when this happened??

Greg turned to the waitress. “Do you have any tables?” His voice was anxious.

“No, sorry, they are all taken, I’ll be seating you in the dining area in a window booth.” The hostess responded over her shoulder as she led them to their seats.

“Ah…” He mumbled. Turning to Jayne, he said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Greg ran a hand through his hair, one hand self-consciously re-doing the button on his suit that he had just undone. “You look fabulous, by the way,” He said, and seemed to mean it. He gazed at her admiringly, and his appreciation had a sexual flare without being creepy.

“Nonono…” Jayne felt her face heat up, and waited until the hostess had walked away before continuing. “I just…lost your business card,” she lied. “Or I would have emailed you sooner, but my friend had it, so she gave it to me.” She could have put her head down on the table and knocked it slowly. Great. Now you sound like a ditz. Just. Friggin. Confess. If he doesn’t like that you like his body, screw him!

Yes, screw him, the other half of her brain purred. Don’t scare him off now…We can catch him, he is too chubby to run fast… Reow!

His interest was plain, but his face reddened shyly, and he didn’t seat himself. “Oh – um…” He touched her elbow lightly. He leaned in slightly to whisper, “I’m too fat to sit across from you comfortably. The booth is too small. I am so sorry,” he apologized, looking a little awkward – but that same resignation came over his face too. It obviously wasn’t a new thing, and something that he was resigned to.

An erotic tingle started between her legs, and her tummy fluttered so hard she wondered if she would be able to eat a thing tonight. To hear a fat guy…just say it like that was so….wow. She stood up and moved back a little, shuddering a little at one of her fantasies coming alive.

He must have seen something of it on her face, because he blushed and pushed the table to one side of the booth, totally overlapping the opposite seat to make room for them both one side. “Will I crowd you too much if we sit like this?” He asked, anxiety visible in his flushed face.

Yes…but I think I’d like that. “No, not at all!” Jayne said and scooted in first. She eagerly watched him remove his suit top and loosen tie before sitting down beside her. He worked a good job, and his suit fit was impeccable – but without the protection of the sturdier fabric, his shirt clung enticingly to the rolls and bulges of his torso, which shifted and bulged as he angled himself in.

Greg fiddled with the buttons at his wrists before rolling his sleeves up. He didn’t look at her for long moments. When he finally did, the look in his eyes caused her breath to catch, although she couldn’t define the look. They were incredibly soft, and gentle. He was such a mixture of calm pride, resignation, and shyness…incredibly fascinating. He obviously wasn’t used to dating, because he appeared at a loss of what to say, or how to proceed.

“Do you…want to order some food?” She asked shyly, but eagerly. She smacked herself mentally. He might clam up, he just had to push the table over because he was too fat! As if in response, she heard his stomach growl fiercely.

He grinned sheepishly, face reddening. “Been on a diet the past few weeks, and the smells in here are driving me crazy.”

Ick, not a diet. Jayne heard Tom in her mind. Be open. Be honest. If you can’t be open and honest to your partner about what you need emotionally, financially, and physically, you don’t have a leg to stand on. Whoever you end up with should not only accept what you need, but provide FOR it. It will never be enough for you to be with someone who simply accepts your preferences but won’t participate. So stop settling, and just keep going until you find him.

She realized, suddenly, that this was the first guy she had dated out of the blue. Any other guy she had dated, she had known, or her friends had known.

His eyes were almost tender as they looked at her, that little redness hovering around his plump cheeks.

This was the first date she had been on, where she could simply, literally, and absolutely walk away with no bad feelings, no strings attached, and no awkward meeting up at parties later. She could…be herself, and not worry?

He looked so solid and dependable...so…perfect? She couldn’t define it, but she didn’t want to mess this up.

Laying a hand on his briefly, she bit her lip, feeling faint at her boldness, but strangely bold. “So, a big dinner to make up for it then?” Ooh, that sounded smooth. Nice one! Do that again!

A smothered smile. “Are you sure?” He glanced down at his mass doubtfully, then at the table.

Quick, say something clever again!

Ok, say something period!

Say anything, damnit!
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:20 AM   #8
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Chapter 8

“Let’s just get some appetizers, I guess?” She mumbled, fiddling with the tablecloth. Ugh. And there goes the moment.

He seemed a little disappointed, but nodded readily enough.

Their server appeared at Greg’s elbow, eyes quickly darting and taking in their odd seating arrangement. “Hi, my name is Sue, I will be your server today. Are you guys ready to order? Great!” she said in answer to their nods. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a rum and coke,” Jayne said.

“Light beer, whatever is on tap,” Greg said.

Boo. “Can we also get some appetizers? The spinach dip, potato skins, and nachos?” She was distracted and incredibly aroused, as the view of staring down at her menu also afforded her a delicious glance of his wide middle spilling heavily onto his lap. “What do you want, Greg?” Greg was a sexy name, she decided. The front was so nice and round and heavy, with that abrupt stop. It reminded her of a big belly, bouncing to an abrupt halt after a fat guy stopped moving.

“Oh! Uhm,” Greg glanced at her sidelong. “I thought all that was for both of us?”

“Well, I will share,” Jayne said with a giggle, then realized he might he talking about how tightly packed she was into her dress. She glanced down and tried to surreptitiously cover her middle with her arms. Her arms made her boobs pop out of her dress even more. Geh.

He noticed, because he swallowed and shifted a little, cheeks reddening again. “Actually, then, can I try the spring rolls? And I heard your corn dogs are delicious here, can I get an order of those?” When the waitress was gone, he tilted his head towards her. “Sorry that I am crowding you…I kind of take up a lot of space.”

“No,” Jayne sighed. “It’s great. I just realized I probably shouldn’t have ordered that,” Her eyes fell on her stomach again and she frowned.

“You look amazing,” Greg said again stoutly but very gently. His eyes were warmly approving as they swept from her head to her legs – all that was visible. “Besides, I will probably end up saving you by eating the majority of everything anyway,” he added ruefully with a chuckle.

He kept alluding to his size and appetite in a way that had her squirming in partial pleasure, and partial panic. She wanted to divert the subject, and at the same time talk about this forever!!

“Oh, good, my eyes are always bigger than my stomach.” Jayne said, tingling from his looks. God, he was so perfectly, deliciously, enticingly fat. He was way fatter than Tom. Greg’s body had moved past the big belly stage, and had acquired delicious acreage along his lush and rather large love handles. Those mounds of fat had worked their way over his belt, bulging outwards triumphantly. Towards the top, they met with his back fat, creating a delicious fold that kept catching at his shirt.

He blushed and mumbled something about not having that problem. “You don’t…have to stay, you know,” he said after a few moments of silence. “I just want you to know that.” He met her eyes and he shrugged.

“What?” Jayne stuttered, disappointed and sorry. Was he that shy?

“I just know,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “That I am a big guy, and that isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.” He rested his hands on his stomach unconsciously, and Jayne almost orgasmed her way under the table and onto the floor as she saw his chubby digits sink into the softness, creating little dents. He swallowed and continued. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to stay – dates can get awkward.”

This was the time she should tell him. Or lean forward and touch his belly. Instead, she froze. Words didn’t die on her lips, because her brain hasn’t provided any. She couldn’t meet his eyes, and instead her eyes fell – right to that bulging prominence. She felt her neck begin to heat as well as her cheeks, and she swallowed hard a few times. And here was where it all fell apart.

“Here are your nachos and drinks!” The waitress chirped, and was gone.

Greg swallowed, and the back of his chubby fingers slowly brushed the back of her hand.

She raised her eyes to meet his, shivering at the contact. Oh, it felt so good to have a man touch her after all this time…

He blinked a few times, not dropping his hand immediately. When he did, he had a smile playing around his lips, and he picked up a nacho. He dipped it in the guac and then bit into it with the irresistible air of a hungry man settling down to eat his fill. “So, you know what I do, what do you do?” Greg asked, taking a swig of his beer.

The tension wasn’t broken, but some hurdle seemed to have been overcome, though Jayne couldn’t determine what it was. Their conversation flowed back and forth as their remaining appetizers arrived. Jayne, prepared to flee herself or watch him run, was caught on her left foot for a while. Something seemed to have made him more comfortable, but she couldn’t determine what. He was a great conversationalist, once he started. And it was easy to answer him while she watched him pack away most of the nacho plate, only picking and plucking at a few pieces herself.

“Can I have another beer? A Guinness, please. Another rum and coke for you?” Greg asked, turning to her warmly.

Mm. Full bodied beer for a full bodied man. “Please…” A desperate sort of repressed hope was rising in her chest. He was too good to be true…he had to be. Sweet, smart, sensitive. He probably had bodies in his freezer.

Greg shifted a little, chuckling over their remaining appetizers. “I think you over ordered,” he told her, but willingly worked at polishing off the dishes. Scooping a healthy amount of dip onto a chip, he guided it to her lips playfully. “I can’t be the only one eating…” He seemed to feel the sexual tension between them, becoming playfully bolder.

It was impossible to say no. Accepting the offering as cleanly as she could, Jayne hung on his every word, enraptured. He seemed smart and sweet, although they didn’t seem to share any direct common interests.

After a rest room break, she slid back into her seat. She had gained a little bit of courage, seeing the strange creature in the mirror before her in the ladies room. The dark, almost black eyes were sparkling and luminous, her cheeks flushed, her lips curled. She actually looked a little bit pretty.

Her phone buzzed. How is it going?

Terrible. I will hate you forever, she typed back, cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

Woohoo! Go smack that chubby ass!

When Greg scooted in after her, she let her thigh touch his, shivering with anticipation.

At first, he leaned away, thinking he was crowding her. However, a brief glance at the room on his other side told him she was taking up more room than before.

When he let his thick, soft thigh press into hers, Jayne smiled and offered him the last corn dog.

Greg groaned, but took it. “I am going to have the worst heart burn,” he groused a little before it disappeared. His eyes had relaxed and glazed over with the accompanying food buzz his heavy meal was giving him. Combined with a few drinks, he was relaxed enough – or full enough – not to suck in, and his heavy belly pushed insistently at his shirt buttons.

Her eyes were drawn to that belly like a moth to the flame. Occasionally he slid his palm down the expanse of his middle, or fiddled with a button. She kept having to remind herself to raise her eyes to his face, or look somewhere else. Jayne had been flirting with the desert menu for the last few minutes, and was actually really temped to get one for herself, even if he wouldn’t join her. Deep fried mars bar? Hells yeah! Om nom nom to that…

Her partner’s eyes followed hers, and he let out a huffing groan. “None for me!” he declared with finality.

“Ok,” Jayne agreed. “But I want to get one.” After all, she hadn’t eaten much dinner – surely the calories would balance?

When it came, the heavenly scent of the batter, melting chocolate and whatever the filling inside the thing was, caused her to sigh in delight. The first mouthful made her moan a little out loud, and when she opened her eyes Greg was alternating his gaze between her face and fork with a mix of lust and greed.

“Do you want a taste?” Jayne asked, offering him a bite from her own fork hopefully.

He squirmed in his seat a little. “No,” he said finally, but watched every move of her fork with such intensity he made her laugh.

Scooting a little closer, she raised the fork again. This time, she could feel his self-control snap, and he took the bite ecstatically. “Mmm,” he mumbled, accepting a few more bites as she guided the fork between his lips.

His sudden curious look made her realize she was leaning towards him, lower lip caught hungrily in her teeth as she watched him chew. She leaned back abruptly and dropped the fork. Freak.

Fortunately, Greg didn’t seem to mind too much, only casting her another sidelong glance. When the bill came, he tried to pay, but Jayne snatched it from him.

“Oh no, this one is mine!” She informed him.

The look on his face was priceless. Multiple expressions chased their way across his face. Somewhere in the mix was a bit of miffed manly pride, relief, and regret. “Ah,” he said finally, withdrawing a bit. “Alright.” He obviously misunderstood her wanting to pay as some sort of closure to their date.

“After all - you’ll get the bill next time?” Jayne asked hopefully, voice almost cracking.

Slowly, Greg raised his light eyes and met hers, grinning from ear to ear. “Yes. Yes, I would like that.” He stifled a burp behind his fist, his chubby cheeks puffing out. “Sorry,” he grinned. “Overate.”

Oh yeah. This was SO going to happen.

Now all she had to do was 'fess up to wanting to dump her icecream over his belly and lap it up like a kitten. Well, maybe in a bit. Don't want to scare him off.
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:20 AM   #9
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Chapter 9

“So, tell me about this guy,” Tom said, smiling at her. “You are positively aglow.”

“Well,” Jayne began, suppressing her grin. “He is only a little taller than me, he has a good job, and he is super sweet.”

Tom passed a broad hand over his mouth, smoothing his new van dike. It suited his face – it framed his lips, emphasised his round cheeks, and defined his sexy double chin. “And?” He prompted, laughter in his voice. His grey eyes examined her face, and his brow quirked suggestively.

“…And he is nice and fat,” Jayne giggled, squirming a little.

He leveled his eyes at her like a spear. “And have you told him about your…’predilection’?”


A sigh was her first response, followed by a tsking under his breath. Tom fiddled with his pen, eyeing her.

“I don’t want to scare him off…” Jayne mumbled, rubbing her hands together. “I don’t want him to get all freaked out and run…”

“I’m not suggesting you go on your second date, look him deep in the eyes and tell him you want to dip him in chocolate and lick it off him,” Tom told her crossly, then chuckled at her starry eyed expression. “All I’m saying is that you should tell him you appreciate his body. If you don’t, this will come to bite you later.”

She frowned. “So let’s be hypothetical – if you were on a date with a woman, and she was all like ‘Hey, I love that you are so fat, it’s kind of my thing,’ you’d just accept it?”

His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. “Are you saying I am fat?” Tom asked, looking aghast.

Immediately, she froze, eyes going wide with panic. Oh shit oh shit…

He immediately burst into a deep belly laugh at her mortified expression. “Oh, I am sorry…” He wiped a tear from his eye. “How did it feel to tell a guy for the first time?”

Liberating, damn you.

“I am sorry, but that was too good an opportunity to resist. To answer your question…Yes, I would like it. Let me be blunt – I AM fat. I love food, and I only have a flirting relationship with exercise. Considering I am unlikely to lose significant weight, I would find it reassuring that the woman in my life would appreciate my body for what it was, not in spite of what it was.”

Well, that was one way to look at it. “But what if he is freaked out by it? What if he leaves?”

“Then your relationship doesn’t exactly have much of a chance of succeeding long term anyway, now does it? Better to scare him off now, than try and hide it and hope he never finds out.” He flipped a page, examining it for a moment. “As an illustration, let’s revisit Randy.”

“Do we have to?” Jayne sighed, trying to suppress the grimace that flitted across her face.

“I’m going to go with…yes.” He rolled his stunning grey eyes slightly. “If you had told Randy about your preferences, he would have…?”

“Never gone out with me,” Jayne mumbled.

He fiddled with his pen again. “And then you would not have been hurt. Thus you could have avoided that situation?”

“Well…I guess.” But then she would have been alone. Like she was for the last two years. Or had been. She struggled to suppress a grin at the thought of Greg. She was conflicted. Tom was still super sexy and she felt an undeniable pull towards him, but her body was a-tingle with sexual focus was on a dark haired, green eyed man, who was supposed to meet up with her after this.

She tried to concentrate on Tom, but thoughts of Greg kept intruding. That soft look on his face was so god damn irresistible. Screw the tough, sexually aggressive guys in today’s romances. She was falling for the soft spoken, gentle eyed man. Who had touched her hand so softly, and looked at her with such sweet shyness at the end of their first date she had broken her rule and kissed him goodnight.

Tom smoothed a sheet of paper, eyeing her closely. “Jayne, you need to find a man who is willing to participate in your fantasy. I cannot express to you how rare it is to even find your sexual preference. The fact that you own up to it, and to some extent have found a sort of online ‘community’ is outstanding. You know what you want, you have people to talk to and establish a sense of acceptance. You have such an opportunity to explore and fulfill your fantasies…it pains me that you are so hesitant.”

The pen he habitually held in his hand while thinking waved slightly, and he levelled the tip at her. “It will never be enough for you to just date a fat man without being able to fully indulge in your fantasies – even if it is only once. You obviously have many regrets throughout your life – and not knowing what could have been will be a force of regret for you.”

Glancing at the clock briefly, he returned his gaze to her. “Many people are willing to either settle for someone. Any man or woman will do as long as they are not terrible. Others find a mate who they fall in love with but is unwilling to participate in their fantasy. They love that person in spite of that lack…in essence, their love bridges that gap. From what I have seen of you so far, I can’t imagine you being content to settle for someone, or to simply overcome your sexual preferences. Let me be blunt; trying to settle with a fat guy who you are unable to tell - it is like trying to circumvent the system. In essence, you are trying to fulfill your fantasy without the other person knowing or interacting. It is hardly sporting.”

Jayne sipped at her coffee, reflecting. Maybe she could tell Greg…but she was filled with dread at the thought. She really liked him already. If she scared him off, she would be devastated! “I don’t think I can…” She met his eyes, willing him to understand. If she messed this up and he let she would be devastated. There wouldn’t be a next time for the fat thing – she would wash her hands of it, and relationships, entirely. She had been this merry go round too many times to want to be hurt over and over. “Isn’t there anything I can do, otherwise to reassure him…like physically or something?”

Her only immediate response was a shrug. He seemed to reflect for a moment, catching his upper lip between his teeth. “All I can tell you is this. Fat, in today’s society, has a distinctly negative connotation. Do you know that in recent surveys of children, fat is synonymous with lazy, mean, lying, stupid, and greedy? That under the age of ten, children already have this notion imprinted on them?” His dark head shook, his expression pained. “That sort of perception persists into adulthood. Those even slightly overweight feel subpar. Those who are truly heavier are met with…a lot of negativity.”

“But…” Jayne frowned. “Why do I have to be explicit? How will that even help?”

“Let me put it this way. After a certain threshold, weight impacts more than your perception of yourself. It can impact your legitimacy at your job, and your chances of promotion. Society says that it is acceptable to comment on weight. You come under fire from friends and family for being heavy, and if you happen to lose a few pounds, are immediately complimented even if you only lost weight because you were sick. It impacts your sexual relationships – the majority of people do not cherish a heavier body, and sex becomes cooler. It impacts your health in many cases, and your ability to do mundane things.”

Immediate guilt ate at her. That was one thing that she had not been able to wrap her emotions around yet, and something they had not really touched on – the possible health side effects of her preferences.

Tom seemed to take note of her reaction, but leaned forward to regard her earnestly. His belly sunk down a little into the open space between his legs. “With all that negativity in his life, doesn’t he deserve to know how you feel? Even if you are unwilling to do it for you, isn’t it worth it for him? Also, keep in mind your preferences are going to drive you to cook for him, feed him, and touch his body. That about of attention could be misconstrued. In fact, I think that is the source of lot of your relationship problems in the past.”

It was hard not to snap and push back as her defenses immediately snapped up. So it was all her fault? Jayne waited until she was calm before trying to speak. “What relationship problems?”

Tom shifted back, rubbing his face. “From our sessions, it seems like every one of your relationships has followed the same track, give or take. Meet a guy, fall for him.” He ticked each point off on his thick fingers. “He gets heavier and or notices you have thing for his fat. He gets uncomfortable, you get uncomfortable, your sex life falls apart, and you end up splitting up.”

Now that was not a fair assessment! She leaned forward, putting her coffee on the table between them. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“Hear me out. Why are you so adverse to telling him straight out that you are attracted to his body, when he will eventually figure it out? This is NOT a secret, Jayne. Your friend Lou knows, you told me that. Each of your significant others has figured it out – you as much as told me that yourself. This isn’t even a secret, at this point! So tell me, why can’t you just come out and say it to him?”

Jayne froze, feeling like a deer in the headlights. Wasn’t it her secret? Unbidden, Tom’s words came back to her about confidence. How could she have let on to so many people about her preferences…and yet be so cowardly as to not talk to him about it?

“Keep in mind that he is the one who will have to bear the scrutiny and condemnation of the world for being ‘weak’. You can sit quietly and appreciate him in your head and in the bedroom – but he is the one who will have to physically attest to your preferences, because he will be fat! Are you just going to sit there and let him brave that storm alone, without even the strength to know that you fiercely adore his body?”

The earnestness of his gaze was probably the only thing keeping her seated. “All that does,” she managed finally, throat unclosing with difficulty. She cleared her throat, battling tears. “All that does is make me feel even more guilty! You make it sound like I am in the corner, cackling as I take pleasure at his pain!”

“Not everything is about you,” Tom informed her calmly, brows contracting. If she didn’t know any better, she would have almost called it a contemptuous look. “Especially in a relationship. Only fifty percent of it is about you. The other half is about him.”

“So I have to only do half of what I need for me? That’s the worst advice I have ever heard!”

His look of exasperation was brief but obvious. “You only have to worry about you half of the time - because your partner will be worrying about your other half! It is a reciprocal thing – both of you are just as worried about the other’s happiness as your own. As your happiness IS their happiness and vice versa, it creates balance, and means that you both strive to do what is best for you BOTH. In a healthy relationship, this becomes a supportive, equal thing. If one of you isn’t willing to do that, it isn’t a healthy relationship.”

He scrubbed a hand across his face. “All I can tell you is that him not knowing is going to create conflict later on. Address is now, and you can probably prevent it from occurring. If you try and hide this both you and he will be dissatisfied. Ultimately, however…it is up to you.”
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:21 AM   #10
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Chapter 10

“Hi,” Jayne said, unaccountably shy. She was still trying not to let tears fall after her meeting with Tom. It had been an emotional session, and was hitting too close to home, considering her seeing Greg.

“Hey…” Greg responded, giving her a brief hug. He smiled at seeing her, the same happy expression as their first two dates crossing his face.

Jayne sucked in a breath as she was literally engulfed in softness. Her tummy swooped, and her nipples tightened in response. She felt herself sink into his belly a bit, and her arms automatically wound themselves around his torso. They slipped into that delectable roll of fat that forms between the upper part of his belly and ‘extended moob fat’. Her chest tightened at the unfamiliar feeling of safety she felt in his arms.

“You seem happy to see me,” Greg chuckled quietly, holding her softly. When she didn’t pull away immediately, he kissed the top of her head where it was nestled between his chest mounds.

It felt so safe to be held in his arms. “Yeah, I am,” she responded softly, looking up at his flushed cheeks. She raised herself up a little bit on her toes, feeling her stomach slide along his. The blubber there was lush and supportive, and pressed into her own stomach in a way that had her shivering. Oh. My. God.

His eyes widened somewhat, but he obliged her by pressing his lips over hers in a whisper soft caress.

It was probably meant to be a gentlemanly kiss….but it was hard to keep it PG. His lips were warm, soft, and ever so slightly damp. When they touched hers, a little thrill went down her back, and she pressed into him more firmly. Her arms found their way around his neck, pulling him closer. His chunky thighs pressed into hers. She was so close that the only thing preventing her from leaning into his crotch pudge was his insistent gut.

When he finally let go he looked a little breathless, but pleased. Those soft green eyes were alight, little crinkles at the corners of his eyes as his chubby cheeks bunched in a smile. Looking down at her face, his expression tightened into a frown. “What’s wrong?” He trailed his thumb along her cheek, wiping away a tear.

“I just had a really bad day,” Jayne choked out. “I’m just really happy to be with you.” She swiped at her face impatiently. “Sorry – you must think I am an emotional nutcase!”

His head was shaking before she had finished her sentence. “Not at all!” He loosened his hold slightly, but only to rummage in his pocket and come up with a little packet of tissues. Tugging one free with his chubby fingers, he caressed her face free of tears. “If it is too much tonight, we can always postpone to another night, you know.”

His belly sagged into her heavily, and she reluctantly loosened her hold on him as he let her go. “I’d really rather prefer to hang out with you tonight…” She took a deep breath in, feeling the cool air revive her somewhat. “Actually…Do you want to come to my place – I can cook you a nice dinner?” She asked hopefully. Cooking was exactly what she needed right now. For her new…boyfriend? Maybe?

“I’d love that,” Greg answered honestly. “It’s been a long, long time since I have had a home cooked meal. But…are you sure?” His bright green eyes examined her face intently. “Just…You don’t know me that well yet…are you sure you want me in your home?”

“Yes. I am sure.” She could feel her cheeks warm. “I am a great cook…It’s relaxing for me, and I’d like the opportunity to impress you. And I’ll tell my sister you are coming over, so she knows.” Unwilling to give him the wrong impression, she forced herself to mumble, “Just dinner though.”

“No, I mean, I don’t, didn’t…” He raised his hands, back peddling.

A laugh burst itself from her throat, and she moved closer for another hug. “I didn’t think that you thought that!”

Although still looking foolish, he obligingly enfolded her in softness again. He felt so right, every curve and bulge in the perfect spot. “I really am looking forward to a home cooked meal,” he mumbled. “I can cook a bit but I am usually so tired by the time I get home that I can’t be bothered. It’s been…A year? I guess last Christmas was the last time I had a real home cooked meal.”

Murring into his chest contentedly, she breathed in his scent happily. He smelled like autumn…the smell of warm soil and dry leaves. “Well, get ready to be amazed! I am an amazing cook. Are you hungry?” She couldn’t help asking archly. “Because you should come hungry.”

That chubby hand passed down his swollen middle nervously, and he chucked a little. “I am pretty much always hungry,” he mumbled with a laugh.

“Good,” Jayne said softly, entwining her fingers with his. Her body shivered in anxiety, waiting for his response. It was the closest she had ever come to confessing, sad as it was….

Greg raised his gaze to hers, eyes searching. His cheeks were pink, and he seemed very shy. “I’m really glad you’re not put off by my weight…?” It has just enough of a lilt to be a question.

Wetting her lips with her tongue, Jayne took a deep breath. You don’t have to tell him that you want to lick chocolate off him, she reminded herself. Just tell him you like his body. “I think you are really sexy, Greg…” she managed after a blush. “All of you.”

Her comment seemed to hearten him up immensely, and he smiled broadly. “I’m glad,” he murmured.

Fumbling with her phone was the only outlet she had for the rush of adrenaline that was surging through her. She obligingly texted her sister. Hey chicka!!! I just wanted to let you know that I’m bringing Greg over to my place for dinner…so call to check on me around 1am, tay? Make sure I am ok.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately. Wow! I am so, so happy for you, baby!

Thanks. I really like him. Like, really like him.

You gonna smack that chubby ass?

On a roll, Jayne’s hands shook as she typed in, Mmm, and maybe get some belly action! She paused in momentary dread of the response she might get.

LOL!! Doooooo it!

Maybe Tom was right – this wasn’t really a secret. Was she fooling herself? She felt giddy with power at her own admissions, drunk on adrenaline.

“Everything ok?” Greg inquired, slipping his fingers around hers.

“Awesome…” she returned brightly, pocketing her phone. Jayne had felt really self-conscious about meeting her date today. Her first date she had been made up by a professional makeup artist. The next time, Jayne had asked Lou to tone it down. And this time, she didn’t have anything on except a little mascara and a touch of lip gloss.

However, the looks he was giving her showed an obviously undiminished admiration of her. Every guy she had dated was in his twenties, and their immaturity was obvious – including their attraction. She hadn’t realized that Greg had almost eight years on her, but he was obviously in a totally different place in life.

Already established in his career with good pay and looking for a woman, not a girl. When she had mentioned her age he seemed startled and mildly concerned, but confessed he would have taken her for older considering her maturity. She had striven hard to prove her intellect, mentioning she owned a house and had been employed with her company for five years. His face had relaxed, and admiring pride had shown on his face.

What he had said next had made her chest tighten. “Wow. So…what is wrong with you?” He had joked. “You seem too good to be true.”

“Ditto,” Jayne had shot back, feeling her own securities rise up. What is wrong with me? Um, well, I love your juicy, roly-poly body…and I want you to rub that belly all over me. Would you mind, if you fuck me from behind, to rest your gut on my back? Yeah, it isn’t quite bit enough yet, but someday?

He had rolled his eyes a little, chuckling in a dismissive way.

Now, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you want to take a taxi over?”

Damn. “Uh, I don’t really…do vehicles.”

His brows raised, and he observed her closely. “Any particular reason?”

Might as well just get this over with. “My parents died in a car crash when I was little. I was in the car.”

Instead of the looks of pity she usually got, his brows tightened in pain. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed her knuckles to his lips tenderly. “Then we will walk.” Greg said matter of factly.

Surprised, Jayne walked with him quietly for a few minutes. “What are you thinking?” she ventured after a while. He seemed thoughtful, but not upset.

His eyes met hers briefly before he huffed a little, rubbing at his nose self-consciously. “Just…thinking about the future, and re-planning some dates I thought of.”

“Sorry, it’s such an inconvenience…”

“Shh…I can’t imagine the pain of the experience, but I also can’t imagine the amount of stress you have to go through, explaining that over and over again. You don’t have to justify yourself to me. Walking a little more won’t kill me!” He said cheerfully, offering another one of his even, white smiles.

Oh. She felt gratitude, and also a little guilt – but then a burning sort of happiness rose in her chest as she realized the meaning of his words. He wasn’t just talking about now or planning on tonight – he was already looking into the future. She couldn’t deny the amount of irritation her inability would cause him, but he was taking it with such grace. Never, in any of her previous relationships, had she felt so much hope for the future.

“What do you want for dinner?” Jayne asked, pressing into him a little for warmth as a particularly cold gust of wind tore through her coat. “Do you have anything you don’t like?”

He seemed to consider for a moment. “I’m not particularly fussy. The only things I can’t stand are canned tuna and marzipan.” His cute nose wrinkled as he said the words.

She couldn’t help laughing. “Those are two pretty random things!” She felt his love handle shake enticingly against the back of her forearm as he walked, making her mouth dry and her palms moist. She had been constantly dreaming -and day dreaming - of his body. For the first time though, she didn’t feel like a pervert. When she had mentioned feeling like she was the only woman with a sex drive, Tom had thoroughly disabused her of that notion.

“Yeah, well, when I was a little kid I ate like two pounds of marzipan in a hot car in the middle of summer and made myself horribly sick…I haven’t been able to touch the stuff since! And tuna is one of those super diet foods that I got really sick of after trying to use it as my primary protein source for months at a time. ”

So you’ve always been a naughty, pudgy boy. Tsk tsk, what shall we do with you? “Do….do you want me to make you a diet meal?” she ventured, unable to completely stamp out the disdain at the “D” word, but needing to know. He had alluded to it a couple times now – enough to bother her immensely.

He shook his dark head. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll figure it out later. Just make me whatever you want!”

She pointed out her house, and they walked to the front door. “Come on in…” She said as she opened the front door. “Can I get you a drink?”

He entered, looking around with open curiosity and approval at her neat little place. “Sure, what do you have?”

“Probably a question of what don’t I have…what’s your favourite?” She helped him hang his things, making her way to the kitchen.

“Mmm…Probably a pina colada,” Greg said, following her.

“That’s easy enough!” She grinned at his look of surprise. He had no idea of how much she loved – and was good at – cooking.

He glanced doubtfully at her little dining set before settling for leaning against the doorframe. His eyes followed her as she took a can of coconut milk from the back of the fridge, turned it upside down, and opened it. His look of curiosity faded as she drained the water, leaving the cream, which she began whipping in her kitchenaid. “Are you…making home made coconut cream? I thought you would have some pre made mix or something.”

In her element, Jayne grinned, cutting up a pineapple. “I’m going to convert you, and make you unable to tolerate anything less than the best.” She dumped the pineapple in her juicer.

His look of fascination was obvious, and he began salivating, licking his lips as the aromas rose into the air.

Jayne measured out the rum, fresh pineapple juice, and coconut cream into a glass and handed it to him.

He mixed it and took a sip. Immediately, his eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned, mouth full. “I am so doomed,” he moaned again, taking another draw. “Your evil grin promises even more to come,” he teased.

She planted a kiss on his lips which he returned with interest, making her toes curl. “You bet! Sit…” she gestured to an armchair, hidden in the corner of the kitchen.

After he had drawn the chair closer, he sat comfortably, sipping on his drink. He chatted with her about his day, but seemed more interested in watching her cook. “Are you making home made pasta?!” he gasped as she put the dough through the machine.

“You said I could make anything…I was feeling for homemade chicken alfredo,” she teased, closing the oven on the chicken and setting the whipping cream and freshly grated parmesan on the stove. She turned away to grab the ingredients to make him a second drink, and top up her own tequila sunrise.

Jayne wouldn’t have seen it except for the reflection in the hall mirror. He made a little whimper as he set his finished drink down on the table. He placed the palms of his hands on the sides of his gut and gave a squeeze, mouth moving a little. That pressure caused his belly to ball up in his hands, drooping out the front of his grasp heavily. When he let go, it gave a monumental jiggle before smaller waves lapped at the edges. Immediately, she felt herself grow wet, tearing her gaze from his delectable softness.

By the time she turned around his hands were not on his middle, though he still looked…rattled? His large gut was resting comfortably in a heavy hang over his belt, the bottom of his belly touching his upper thighs when he leaned forward.

It wasn’t long, however, before the second drink combined with the heavenly scents in the kitchen. His disturbed look became one of greed, and when she set down the heaping plate of fresh pasta and sauce he began devouring it with gusto.

“Is it ok?” she asked anxiously, desperately wanting to impress him. “Is it too much?”

“I’m doomed,” he repeated with relish as he met her gaze. “You know, if you spoil me like this, I’ll come to expect this every night!” His tone was teasing, but also hopeful.

“I’d love that…” she replied, heart pounding. To come home and cook for her man? Heaven! She had a sexy fat man in her kitchen, happily stuffing his face. And god was he sexy. His heavy double chin wiggled as he chewed ecstatically, his cheeks puffing up as he inserted another mouthful. His paunch, heavy and weighted, slowly and subtly distended.

Her hands itched to feel that pliable ball…she could imagine how tight and firm his upper belly was getting, his lower belly bulging outwards in a high pressure roll. All her touches has been glancing, but from what she could tell, he had the perfect belly. It was shapely with just enough sag – and the texture was soft without being sloppy.

“The fresh parsley is such an amazing touch,” he said, eyes glazing over. “This is so filling,” he said in a tone of disbelief, frowning at the relatively small plate before him. It wasn’t a ‘proper’ portion, but it was certainly less than he could have eaten from packaged food.

“It’s because it is made out of real food and not fillers,” she mumbled, trying not to stare at him too obviously as she inserted a few bites into her own mouth. And it was super high calorie, she thought guiltily. Between the coconut cream, the 25% whipping cream, and the entire piece of parmesan, he was easily downing several thousand calories. “It’s pretty bad for you…but it is a cold day, and I figured I might as well wow you from the start.”

She swallowed. “There is only a little left…because it is fresh it won’t keep at all…do you want…?” Unbidden, Tom’s words came back to her. Keep in mind your preferences are going to drive you to cook for him, feed him, and touch his body. That about of attention could be misconstrued….

He nodded frantically at her words. “You have no idea how good this tastes compared to crappy restaurant food – and way better than the diet stuff I have been having lately!” This batch was disappearing more slowly, and he had subtly shifted his stance to remove the pressure from his stomach.

Again, that reference! Drat it, why was she always doomed to deal with that damnable concept?

He must have seen her look, because he pushed his almost empty plate away. “What’s wrong? You frown every time I mention my diet…” He tilted his head, a frown on his face.
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:22 AM   #11
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Chapter 11

Jayne looked at his round, handsome face. “I don’t like diets,” she confessed fretfully, shifting around. “I don’t think you need to diet.” She tried to quell the anxiety rising in her. It threatened to close off her throat. This was happening too soon, too fast. A part of her brain scolded her for being nonsensical – this was exactly what Tom had TOLD her to do. The other part, whose voice was far more loud from years of practice, decried even this admission as the death knell of this relationship.

Greg snorted, lip curling a little. “Are you short sighted?” He said, tone roughly teasing.

His disbelief and irritation pained her. It mortified her. And made immediate tears start to her eyes. She turned away, all thoughts of coming clean with him abandoning her. Why did handsome fat men hate themselves so much? Why couldn’t they just accept that she preferred them that way? There were fat men who seemed at peace with themselves…why couldn’t she ever find one?

Because you aren’t confident yourself, dear, the mean part of her mind hissed vindictively. Why do you deserve a confident guy when you are so pathetic yourself?

He noticed her emotion and drew her gingerly into his lap. “Hey now…” he wiped at her eyes with his thumb gently. “What’s all this?”

The tenderness he always shown made her chest squeeze painfully again. If she was going to lose him, she should lose him now, Jayne realized with sudden clarity.

She had only been on three dates with him, and already she was falling hard for him. He was perfect in so many ways – sweet, smart, sensitive, and sexy. Even in the short space of time she had known him, she realized he was her intellectual superior…and that was exciting, after dating so many stupid men. He was sweet and sensitive – in a way she could only call gentlemanly. There was nothing false, nothing fawning…just a soft, guanine caring.

But this pain…she couldn’t do it again. It just hurt too much. She had worked for MONTHS to come to where she was with herself. If she was ever going to start something serious, she needed to come clean.

Tom had said that he wouldn’t mind…maybe Greg wouldn’t either? And even if Greg didn’t want to participate in her fantasies, at least he would know how she felt, right? How could such a smart, sweet, sensitive guy treat her the way her past boyfriends had? She tried to imagine his round, gentle face contorting with hatred and loathing – and couldn’t.

And if he didn’t like it, he could bugger off. She wanted to fuck a fat guy without guilt – what was so wrong with that?

“Greg, I am a chubby chaser,” she finally blurted, flushing furiously at the term. Like, I wanna chase your chubby ass into the bedroom… That brought on an image of him naked, making her even more flustered.

He tilted his head, considering. “Your friend indicated as much that day on the beach,” he said quietly after a pause. “Makes sense why you wouldn’t like diets, I suppose…” He looked at the ground, lips compressing.

Her head snapped up. “What?” She squeaked.

It all made sense. Lou’s innocent expression on the beach that day – and her just ‘having’ his card? Did she swipe it from the sand after? When had Lou had time to tell Greg that she liked fat guys?

“I’m going to kill her!” Jayne gasped, teeth clenched. Here she had been agonizing over telling him, when he had known all along?? “She is always butting her nose in, I don’t need her help!”

“You should probably thank her.” His expression was grave and sad. “I never would have given you my card if she hadn’t,” he admitted. “I had just gotten up the courage to go shirtless that day, and here was a beautiful woman just staring at my huge body like she couldn’t look away from such a disgusting sight. It was humiliating. And even if we had met elsewhere, I honestly would have thought you were just interested in my money.”

That smarted, big time.

He continued, eyes downcast. “But the thing is, Jayne, that I am not just ‘chubby’. I know there are girls who prefer ‘teddy bears’, but I’ve gone far beyond that. I’m just fat. Really fat. I weighed myself this morning, and I am two hundred and seventy three pounds. On a guy who is only five eight, that is a lot. I’m probably already getting too big for you.”

His eyes met hers sideways. “I really like you, Jayne. You are not going to want to date a blimp. I need to keep my weight under control if this is going to work.”

Greg obviously expected the confession he had just made to turn her off, make her agree, and silence her. Instead, it revved her sexual drive and made her squeeze him tightly, causing his fat to mush into her arms. “I’m not into you for your money,” she mumbled. “I don’t care if you never buy me a single coffee –”

“I know that now,” Greg interrupted. “What I meant was that normally, I couldn’t see why you would want to be with a tub like me,” he drew the conversation back to the main point.

Burying her face in his neck, she shivered at the feeling of his soft, giving cheeks and neck fat. “I guess chubby chaser is a bit of a misnomer,” she muttered. “I like FAT guys, Greg.” She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes as the words tumbled from her lips. His hand came up to rub her back softly. The contact was soothing, and she relished the feel of it. “I love your body. I don’t think you are too fat – if anything I think you are perfect, and if you got skinnier or heavier I would love that too.” Scalding tears rose to her eyes.

Ironically, it felt anticlimactic. You like fat guys, and he is fat…well, that’s convenient. Like a little kid solemnly leaning over his cereal bowl to whisper ‘I like cheerios, don’t tell!’. At the same time, it felt like she had ripped out her beating heart and laid it on the table for inspection.

Greg’s silence made her dread pound in her veins with a deafening beat. Eventually, she looked up at him. He was still holding her on his lap, one hand still gently caressing her back. His brows were knit as he stared at her floor.

“I really like you too,” Jayne whispered, repeating his words. How had their third date got so goddamn intense? His eyes met hers, and she struggled to maintain the contact. “And I know I am a freak and it is weird and I am sorry but I can’t take you saying mean things about yourself and I can’t not love your body because it makes me so excited –”

The run-on flow was halted by his kiss. “Are you saying you…prefer fat guys?”

She nodded, eyes downcast except for when she peeped at his face.

The handsome and rounded face tilted. He seemed to absorb that for a moment. “You get off on it?”

Here, she grimaced a little, but nodded. “You make it sound so…” She squirmed.

He was shaking his head. “Jayne, please don't dissemble and act shy. I want to speak very seriously now. This is important.”

This was it. She could feel it. All the agonizing, all the introspection she had gone through, all the practice with Tom.

She deserved to be happy, and he deserved to know.

Stilling her fidgeting, Jayne raised her eyes to his. “Yes, I get off on it,” she choked out. “I love it so much. You have no idea how excited your body makes me.”

He blinked rapidly several times, eyes wet. “You are going to have to give me a bit of time to come to terms with this,” he rasped finally. “I have gone most of my life being the fat guy that girls look to ‘as a friend’. Now you come along and tell me that not only are you sexually attracted to me, but that you are attracted to me for my body - and wouldn’t even mind if I got fatter.”

Her FFA ears perked up at him ignoring the part where she said skinnier – as if that would never happen.

“Considering how much enjoyment you seem to have watching me eat and cooking for me, I think it is going to be a logical consequence.” He finished with a mumble, shaking his head with a deep exhale.

“Sorry that this got so serious so fast,” Jayne whispered, afraid to breathe in case he disappeared from her life as quickly as he came. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

The line between Greg’s brows eased, and he blinked at her as he came out of his reverie. He shifted her on his lap so she was leaning on his torso. “No. I’m glad,” he admitted. “Like I said, I really like you and I am too old to play the silly relationship games.” He took her hand and placed the palm on his belly. “You really like all this?” He looked doubtful.

She had never received an invitation to touch a belly so openly before outside of the heat of sex. Sliding her fingers along his expanse, she felt her nipples harden and her breaths grow shallow as she nodded. His mouth beckoned, and she kissed him slowly.

Suddenly, she felt his belly ripple and jiggle against her palm as he shifted his leg for balance, causing his upper thigh to jostle his belly. Her teeth sank into his lower lip as she struggled not to gasp out loud.

His eyes, so close to hers, blinked in astonishment, then narrowed with realization. Pulling back slowly, he held her face between his hands, regarding her with intensity. “I think I am the luckiest man alive. Still waiting to figure out what’s wrong with you…” His lips descended again.

“I’m all messed up, I like fat guys,” Jayne moaned against his hot breaths. Oh, to finally say it…

“Then that’s my kind of messed up,” Greg panted against her. Pulling back reluctantly, he smoothed her hair, kissing her forehead softly. “This is going to take me a while to wrap my head around…I had figured that I was already too fat for you, and that you hadn’t called me after the beach because I was already too big.” He chuckled. “That’s what triggered my last dieting attempt.”

“You lost weight?” was her concerned response.

He laughed outright at her expression and tone. “Well I tried. If I was good at dieting I wouldn’t be the size I am now. I got down to two hundred and fifty five or so, but stress at work and no time to cook and eating out…well…” He patted his gut, then laughed again as Jayne likewise patted it with soft shyness.

Wow. She salivated at the thought of all those pounds pouring over her fingers.

Greg cupped her face in his hands and smiled into her eyes. “I am so glad I met a woman who knows what she wants. I couldn’t have dealt with girly bullshite.

I want to give this,” he gestured between them, “A serious go.” Another kiss was planted on her nose, and he smiled warmly. “Thank you for being so honest about my body…I’ve been dreading the topic coming up for a week.”

“You…you don’t think I am crazy, or that I am trying to fatten you up so other girls won’t find you attractive?” It seemed to be a reoccurring theme in her relationships, and one she wanted to disabuse him of at the outset.

An eyebrow rose. “Don’t care if other women find me attractive, so long as you do,” he grunted. Besides, I’m already fat.”

“A little chubby, if anything.” Jayne interposed with a cheeky smile. Already her shyness was fading. This, she realized suddenly, was the difference between a boy and a man. She didn’t feel like a shy, silly little girl dating a boy – she felt womanly, and Greg was very masculine. This wasn’t a game of secrets and tittering - it was two grownups laying it all out in the open to make an informed decision.

The look on her man’s face was priceless. Suspicion warred with excitement, and he caressed the back of her neck and shoulders as he thought. “So…” he seemed unable to let it go, mind continually returning to it. “You really find my weight…an attractant?”

There was only one way to prove it. Luckily, that was the way she had always been better with – talking had never been her forte. And for once, she didn’t have to hide her touches, or disguise them for something else. With that in mind, she tentatively placed her hands on his chest.

Greg inhaled sharply, hands slipping down to her hips. He caressed softly, face open and curious. His eyes followed her hands as they slipped softly and slowly down the pillowy mounds on his chest.

Allowing her hands to rest on the upper part of his stomach, Jayne sighed happily. I’m coming home.

Taking her left hand, she trailed the backs of her fingers along the curve of his stomach, following it to its logical conclusion. At his overhang, she gave a gentle squeeze, feeling her panties dampen instantly. Her breath left her in a huff as she gently wriggled her fingers under his softness. His belly was full and heavy, trapping the tips of her fingers against his pants – which she could tell were too tight. She tugged at them, her wriggling fingers causing him to giggle.

“Is my sexy man ticklish?” she asked, hands shaking as she stared into his eyes. Are you ok with this? She asked silently.

His expression was curious, but also vulnerable. “Very,” he returned, meeting her eyes, as if to both questions. His cheeks were slowly becoming as red as apples.

Sweeping her right hand downwards, Jayne allowed it to land on the heavy pouch of fat surrounding his navel. His shirt was stretched tight over the lushness beneath. She allowed her fingers to tighten slightly. An inadvertent moan escaped her lips, stifled too late.

Greg’s eyes widened, but an insistent firmness rising against the backs of her fingers trapped under his belly told her he wasn’t too upset. He cast his eyes down and let his breath out explosively. “Wow, you can’t even see your hand under my gut,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t know what to think of that.

“Mmmm…” Jayne hummed in approval, making him laugh. “I like your laugh,” she informed him.

“I like everything about you,” Greg murmured back, looking awestruck.

It was impossible not to blush at such an outrageous compliment. “I hope we aren’t moving too fast…”

He made a face, still staring down at her hands as they kneaded his middle. “Compared to what? Is there a predefined timespan in cases like this?”

“Good point.” She withdrew her hands with great reluctance and he exhaled, blinking. “So...what is your kink?” she asked, curiosity rising. She felt…clean. Open. Healthy.

“Ehhnn…” Her date responded, suddenly awkward.

“No fair! I fessed up to my kink, and now you can’t tell me yours?” That was…what had Tom said? ‘hardly sporting…’

He rolled a shoulder, not meeting her eyes. “It’s dumb,”

Jayne stared at him levelly.

His eyes rose to hers and rolled. “Honestly, it’s stupid.”

She quirked a brow. “Compared to mine? I like fat guys.” Damn. Tom was right, it was getting easier with each repetition. And hotter. Fat guys, fat guys, fatguys-fatguys-fatguys!!!! Her brain sing triumphantly in a sing song voice.

“Nah, that’s just…convenient and handy,” Greg protested. “Mine is dumb.” When she seemed intent on getting an answer, he bit his lip. “You can’t laugh,” he warned her. After a long pause he swallowed and said, “It’s…I just get off on being pampered and idolized.”

Jayne didn’t know what to make of that information. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“No…I mean…” he seemed flustered. “Pampered and idolized as in the classic example of worshipping some demigod. It’s some pretty serious hubris, considering I am such a fatass.”

This required a moment of consideration. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “So you are telling me that you would get aroused by me splurging attention on you? That’s TERRIBLE,” Jayne snickered. “However shall I manage it?”

Secretly, she was flummoxed. The only thing that could have been better was if he had fessed up to being into weight gain too. Seriously? Where were the odds that their fantasies would mesh so completely? The chances of having NOT found him were so astronomical that her brain shied away from it.

“No…” He seemed distressed, so she calmed her laughter. “I mean like…idolized. Like, the whole lay on a bench in a toga and have nymphs feed me grapes kind of thing.”

“I remember something like that in Fantasia.” Now that was a truly fascinating piece of information. The anxiety she had felt moments before was written plainly on his face. Slowly kissing him, Jayne let her hands meet at the nape of his neck. “That’s awesome.”

That eyebrow twitched again, and she touched it with her index finger. “See…my kink…” She wriggled a little, grinning at the irony. Oh, to know that what she was about to confess would actually reassure him, not turn him off. “How to put this…the idea of you laying on the couch as I lavish food and attention on you is so damn hot – you have no idea.” And now that she knew he liked that, she was going to take full advantage.

He seemed a little doubtful, but accepted her words without protest. “Well.” He seemed to package up the whole intense conversation to be examined at a later date. “Enough of that, we can talk on that later.”

“So…what do you want to do?” Jayne asked her date archly, her own arousal undiminished. She had said only dinner, but…what did Lou always say? Oh yes, ‘it is what it is’.

An expression of guarded anticipation crossed his face, and his lips quirked in a smile. “Maybe we can move this party to the couch?” He proposed, his hands once again finding their way to her hips.

She didn’t need to answer him in words.
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:22 AM   #12
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Chapter 12

Despite her intentions to ‘get her some some-some’, Jayne found herself unbearably sleepy from the emotional intensity of the day. She didn’t even realize that she had fallen asleep until she sleepily came back to consciousness. Greg was leaning his back against the arm of the couch, one leg thrown off the side, the other trapped against her side. Her head was resting on his soft, pliant pudge. Her own legs were curled up in the remaining space on the couch.

Shifting her head slightly to get a better view of him, Jayne examined his face through slitted eyes. One of his hands was slowly drifting through her hair – which was what had probably put her to sleep in the first place. She adored having her hair played with. Good thing he wasn’t a creep, Jayne reflected with a silent laugh. Bring him into your house and fall asleep, good job.

His eyes were open, and a deep crease was between his brows. His expression shifted from joy to incredulity, to concern, and back again.

Jayne couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking – but didn’t want to be that girl who was always asking ‘What are you thinking? What are you thinking now?’ Besides, just looking was amazing.

He had a magnificent double chin, and at this angle it looked like a muff of soft sexiness, couching his face. That face itself was delightfully full. His chubby cheeks framed full lips. Neat but thick eyebrows swept above his startling green eyes. His lashes weren’t as striking as Tom’s, but they were still very nice for a guy.

His body, she could not see. But she could – and did – take a tactile delight in feeling her head rise and fall slightly with his breathing. She had never really appreciated the width of his thighs until now. They were even softer than his belly under her shoulder.

And that belly. Pretending to shift in her sleep, she moved her head, luxuriating in its softness. And she was pretty sure she was becoming obsessed with his burgeoning love handles. When he walked they actually rippled. And half of his impressive depth and width were owed to those hefty bumpers.

“What are you thinking?” Greg inquired, gaze meeting hers.

Damn. “How did you know I was awake?” Jayne asked with a guilty grin.

He responded with a snort. “It isn’t often that those who are sleeping grin like the Cheshire cat with a bowl of cream.”

Instead of answering, Jayne rolled over a little bit. “Can I touch your again?” she whispered, biting her lower lip. Hopefully he wouldn’t think she was body obsessed…but oh…to be so open.

He chuckled, his expression unreadable. “You can touch me anyplace you like, my dear.”

“Oh?” She said, revived after her nap. Rolling over all the way, she planted a kiss on his belly. “Here?” He nodded assent. “Here?” she inquired, hands traversing the increasing softness of his thighs as they approached his balls.

“Now that is not fair,” he protested, squirming. “You tell me ‘only dinner’, and then this?”

“I retract my decision,” was her wicked response as she struggled to find the button on his pants. She had just found the distressed piece of plastic, and hooked her fingers behind the fabric to leverage it out of its hole, when her fingers were trapped.

Jerking her gaze up to his face, Jayne felt her stomach drop in a flutter. He was grinning, and blushing, and oh, did he look naughty!

“Can’t find the button?” he asked innocently, while he maintained the pressure on her fingers by pushing out his middle. Greg reached forward and half lifted his belly, then let it drop as if clumsy. “Oops, sorry!” The act was a little forced and awkward, but still made her wild with desire.

“Greg, you are bad - you are mechant!” she blurted, French coming out in her haste. She tugged fruitlessly for release. The feeling of the large, flabby bottom of his lower belly lapping and crushing at her fingers against the fabric of his pants was so erotic, she felt physically weak from desire.

“Mechant?” Greg asked, eyes lighting up. “Moi? No, no if anything, I am a gourmand.” He grinned at her moan. “Excuise moi, my French is poor…” His pronunciation and grammer were atrocious, making her grin. “...but I think what you are trying to say is ‘Greg, vois etes si gros’!”

Holy crap…was he teasing her in (terrible) French? “You’re grammar and pronunciation are horrid,” she said instead, grinning manically against her will.

“Who cares, it isn’t Parisian French, its Quebecois – it’s already mangled.”

She panted, desperate to touch his body. With her hands trapped, she could only kiss at his belly through his shirt pathetically. She wondered what had brought on this sudden attack, but was in no humour to stop to ask.

“Jayne…” She looked up at his sudden soft inquiry. “Est-ce que ce pantalon me grossit?”

His accent was terrible, but she almost tore his pants off right there. “Oui,” she panted, finding it super kinky he was teasing her in French about it. “You are too fat for these pants - they should come off right now!”

He patted his belly, mocking a groan. “Trop mai vos doigts sont pieges sous mon gros, gras, ventre…”

Jayne couldn’t help laughing at his literal translation, distracted. “You know French, but it is like you learned it word for word – the grammer and emphasis aren’t the exact same, you know!”

His eyes were burning with desire as he patted his belly, looking shy but eager. “True – that is how I learned it. I can generally listen to a sentence and decompile it into the meaning…but my grammar is bad. I should just stick to words, eh? Porcin? Gros?” He leaned closer and whispered the words in her ear. “Faim?”

Jayne finally managed to loosen her fingers, which were numb. His pants were too tight – they were cutting into his poor tender belly! “What the hell, Greg?” She demanded breathlessly, aroused beyond measure, but also feeling like she had been caught flat footed. “What brought this on?”

He shrugged, blush deepening. “I did a little soul searching - and a little research while you were asleep. I am a laywer - finding information is kind of my job,” was his response to her surprised and guilty look. He trailed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “Also, I asked a fat friend and his response was as follows: a) that he hated my good luck in finding what he called an FFA, b) to stop being a pussy, c) to grow a pair. Oh, and to tease you relentlessly with my body because it would drive you wild. Is it working?”

“I don’t want you to force anything…” Guilt ate at her. Oh, how the tables turned! She had gone from feeling like she never got what she wanted, to worrying he was forcing himself for her! “Your body is sexy, you don’t have to…do anything special to turn me on.”

“Lies,” Greg grinned. “I saw the way you reacted, you liked that, didn’t you?”

“Well, of course I did, but –”

He scooted forward, drawing her so she was laying on top of him. “Guys like breasts and asses – you like my body in the same way, I think. I’m just trying to please you. You’d touch and tease yourself to please me too, wouldn’t you?” he asked huskily, staring at her chest.

“Like this?” She asked, cupping her breasts through the fabric. He grunted in approval, sliding his hands slowly up to her bra strap and releasing it.

“Now that,” he commented as they bounced free and lower, “Is a lovely pair of breasts.” His warm hands slid along until they cupped the bottom of them. “So heavy and warm.”

“Careful,” Jayne breathed. “My nipples are super sensitive, they hurt if you touch them too much…”

He nodded his understanding, stroking and petting the surrounding flesh until even her loose bra was too much for her over sensitized peaks to take, and she pulled off her shirt and bra in one go.

“Now yours,” she murmured, fully anticipating his suddenly turning shy and refusing. Oddly, the cruel voice in her mind was silenced by his avid gaze.

He did hesitate, and he did blush, but he grab the bottom of his shirt – with what she thought was a murmur of “Nothing she hasn’t seen before…”

She watched with eager anticipation. There was something so masculine about the ways guys removed their shirts – crossing their arms in front of their stomachs and grasping at the hem. It struck her with force that he was too fat to do that, and his reaching down was only to free the cloth from its tenuous hold beneath his waistband. That done, he grasped the back of his shirt with a hand and pulled it up. He only half succeeded, wrenching the fabric up to expose a soft ocean of pale flesh before it stuck on his moobs.

Jayne straddled him. She stared with unadulterated lust as he freed the fabric, and with a second attempt, rid himself of the shirt.

He was gorgeous.

Getting fat isn’t all that difficult for most. A surplus of calories gradually transforms their body into a pudgier version of themselves. Not all people can rock the fat look though. Greg rocked it. His proportions were exquisite – his breasts were largish, with large soft nipples pointing downwards, but the slope of them near his collar bone testified there was a large slab of muscle under there.

His arms were round and soft. Pudgy fingers - that began in little dimples where his knuckles would normally be - led up to shapely forearms. Above his elbow, his plump arms beckoned, meeting the sides of his chest.

Moving downwards, his rather large belly shot the curve between round and soft. This was no beer belly, but neither was it was flabby and loose. All of those calories had slowly infiltrated his mouth and exfiltrated their way over his belt in a hefty, indulgent, wriggling mound. Here and there, old stretch marks dotted his stomach. It met under his moobs with lush softness, holding up under gravity with a gradual swell to his navel. That tantalizing pit of darkness was buried in an opulent amount of pudge, and his navel wobbled a little with every breath and movement.

She slowly buried her fingers in it up to the second knuckle.

“Shit,” Greg hissed, belly rippling as he started in surprise.

It made her giddy. No movement, not even a breath, would be a secret. Each rollicking ripple testified his smallest movement. A glance at his face showed amazement written on his features – and lust. He had said he liked to be adored, didn’t he? She could do that…

He took in her mounting attention with mounting excitement on his side, his hands kneading her ass and fingering the edges of her hips. It took two fingers to fill that hole, and she unconsciously rocked her hips against him as she wondered if he would gradually plumpen up so that three fingers would be needed. She felt the overwhelming urge to fuck his belly button with her fingers but refrained – that might be going a little far, for now.

Instead, she kneaded the deep pocket of fat that overhung his button. “You are so gorgeous,” she murmured, slapping the side of his belly lightly and watching the resulting undulations crisscross his flab. “You are so goddam perfect. Just look at you. Fuck,” she swore, finding it the only proper outlet to her emotion.

His pupils had dilated, and he panted slightly, allowing her to have his way with him. His pants were being put under internal pressure, and he rocked his hips back into her to relieve it. “Holy crap, Jayne, what the hell?” he groaned.

If his tone had been revolted or even shy, she would have gotten ‘all messed up’ as she had told Tom. His tone, however, was wondering and lusty. He liked this – he really did! He got off on her getting off on him? She wanted to weep from the wonder of it all.

“I have bad news,” Jayne crooned, her breasts hanging heavily in his hands. “It’s going to be nearly impossible for me to keep my hands off you.”

“Oh, ok,” he managed, eyeing her contentedly. “I think the feeling is mutual…”

Reaching down, she tweaked his nipples. “Perfect,” she murmured adoringly, splaying her fingers across his chest.

Greg grunted at the painful pleasure of her ministrations, and asked, “Will you touch my belly again?”

No need to ask twice! Jayne stood up first though, working her pants and panties off together and stepping out of them. Green eyes raked her form, and he rapidly undid his button and zipper in answer.

His motions had created movement across the pale expanse of his middle. Once he shucked off his clothing, she straddled him again. Tongue caught between her teeth, she rubbed her sopping wet slit up his belly to his navel, and back down slowly, caught up in the moment.

His face spasmed a little in answer as he felt her arousal, and he awkwardly reached around her to grasp at his dick. It was obvious that he wasn’t displeased, so she continued, filled with excitement.

Placing one hand on either side of his middle, she began to wobble it lightly from hand to hand. That quiver started small, but soon grew as one wave of fat crashed into another. She couldn’t tell what she was saying, but he slapped her ass with a shout.

Spurred on, she began working a chunk of fat between her legs, allowing the bulge of fat to stimulate her clit, faster and faster. She nearly screamed from the pleasure. Suddenly, she felt his nails bite into her hips and he tossed her on the couch, on her back.

“You little gut slut,” he panted, belly flopping onto her as he leaned overtop of her, struggling to find her entrance.

She cried out a little at the feeling, flinging her legs around his hips as he seated himself with a gasp.

He stared down at her with narrowed eyes as he casually - with distressing slowness - pumped inside her. “Where were you ten years and a hundred pounds ago, hmm? Had to wait until I had fully ripened? So cruel.”

“You never weighed one seventy, not as an adult!” Jayne protested, hands exploring the deep rolls above his hips. This was a fatty for life!

He grinned wickedly, thrusting once so hard she almost bounced off his cock. “Who says I wasn’t? Can’t you picture me, a trim young lawyer, blimping up at his desk on takeout and expensive client meals?”

“Nope!” she managed, her arousal almost strangling her. “I bet you were always chubby!” Her hips rocked against him, fingers scrabbling for him to move faster.

“Chubby!?” he retorted, with another punishing thrust. “You call me chubby? You call two hundred and seventy plus pounds chubby?”

“I call it perfect,” Jayne cried out.

“What if I got even fatter?” He gritted out, thrusts coming faster and faster. “What if I ate my way out of these pants, and bloated up to three hundred pounds?”

There was something behind his words that struck her as important, that she wanted to stop and examine, but she was so far gone all she could do was cry out and cling to him desperately.

Even her silent acquiescence seemed to excite him, and he pounded into her breathlessly. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hand feed me dinner, then feed me desert while you rode my cock?"

Had he read every story on dims while she slept? “Only three hundred?” Jayne finally managed around moans. “You’d have to be at least three fifty to be plump enough to need that special treatment.”

His shock was palpable, and he froze, cock pulsing inside her as he came with a hiss.

Oops. Too much? Her fingers were firmly entrenched him his love handles, and the vision of him ontop of her, face red and sweaty as he spilled his seed, made her own sex clench in response. The shudder as he finished caused his belly to ripple against her hands, throwing her over the edge too.

He half collapsed on her, not meeting her eyes directly. Slowly, he pulled out of her. Thoughtfulness and grimness was not a post coital emotion she liked to see….

“Greg?” she ventured as he rose, dread rising up in her. It was too soon, the vicious voice in her mind broke in. You messed up. You misjudged, overplayed your hand, and now you lost him.

That deep line between his brows had returned, and his head jerked up. He threw his clothes on hastily. “Uh, yeah?” He seemed distracted.

“Greg, I am sorry!” Oh god he was leaving, what had she done? Nonono, she had pushed it too far. “Please, stop!”

He met her eyes, opening his mouth as he turned towards her. “I…” . The doorbell rang, and he closed it, his head jerking around.

Hastily pulling on her own clothes, Jayne looked through the peephole.

“Naynay?” Lou’s voice asked. “I called forever and you never answered! Come to the door this minute!” The door shuddered as her sister pounded on it.

Resting her forehead against the door for a moment, Jayne heard a deep voice murmur, “Shh, you will wake the neighbours. And stand behind me, for god’s sake! If there is something wrong you should be the last one to be in the front…”

Wrenching the door open, Jayne was faced with a deep chest. Raising her face, she sprang backwards, colliding with Greg, who had followed her to the door.
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:23 AM   #13
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Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.

Chapter 13

What the hell had gone wrong?

He had seemed so into it!

More than into it…

It was impossible not to feel betrayed. Not only on a physical level, but also on a deeper level. She had come out and confided in him, and he had seemed to caring. Maybe sex didn’t mean anything…girls always said that…

Why the hell had he felt the need to play along, if all he was wanted to do was have sex?

Did he think that she would only have sex with him if he DID play along?

All these thoughts flashed through her head as she opened the door – and were promptly strangled mid thought.

Lou peeped her head around her companion’s width. “There’s my lovey!” Lou shook her finger at her sister. “Bad, bad Naynay!” she scolded, sounding for all the world as if she would have smacked her with a newspaper, had one been handy. “Not answering your phone and making us drive all this way!”

Jayne let her words wash over her, staring at the familiar face in front of her.

Lou noticed her staring and grinned as she bounded into sight. “Oh, right! Intros!” She gestured to her companion. “This is TJ, he is my boyfriend – ya know, the one I have been telling you about the past three months, but you were always too blah to meet?”


Yes…she loosely recalled Lou talking about a new boyfriend named TJ. She had envisioned a frat boy, or some dude with an ear stretch. Lou had nattered on about him, but then Lou always did when she found a new guy. And just as frequently, she ended up half disappearing until the pizzaz had disappeared from her new beau. She never paid that much attention until Lou introduced them to her in person.

TJ looked almost as flabbergasted as Jayne herself, and looked as if he wished he could be anywhere at this moment. He actually looked to the right and then the left, as if searching for a crevasse to hide in.

“TJ, this is my sissy, Nay – I mean Jayne!” Lou corrected herself.

“TJ?” Jayne managed, her tone high and strangled. Behind her, Greg wrapped a protective arm around her, placing his hand on her hip. His large belly bulged into her side, and his soft but strong arm pressed into her back. What – was he all touchy again? Despite her hurt and confusion, his touch instantly reassured her, and she exhaled the pent up breath she had been holding.

The man on her doorstep shifted, his face alternating between ashen and dusky red. “Hi Jayne,” he greeted her with awkward politeness. One of his large hands raised up, then ran over his goatee nervously.

“What the hell?” Jayne thundered.

“Don’t look at me!” He lifted his shoulders with a scowl. “How was I supposed to know?” He snapped, running a hand through his hair. “She calls you ‘’friendster’ or ‘sissy’ or ‘NayNay’!”

“And she has been calling you ‘TJ’!” was her retort.

“My friends call me TJ,” Her unexpected guest told her crossly. “There were three Toms growing up, so we went with initials.”

Tom’s bright grey eyes took both her and Greg, his own arm wrapping around Lou. His head tilted, and he suddenly snapped his fingers in realization. “Oh my god, this is the guy?” he yelped, a huge grin overspreading his handsome face. “Ahahah! That’s awesome.”

Greg’s brow twitched as he took in the scene.

Raising her hands up, Jayne called a nonverbal all halt to this whirlwind of conversation on her doorstep. “Ok - everybody in, or everybody out.” The last thing she needed was for her neighbours to start poking their heads out. Especially after her screaming earlier. She felt her cheeks heat as she realized they might have heard

Despite having looked like he was going to run only moments before, Greg immediately stepped back into the house with her. Lou traipsed in, bold as brass, and looking as unconcerned as could be. Tom hesitated for a moment, then followed his girlfriend inside.

“I need a drink. A big drink. A really, really big drink,” Jayne announced, pulling out some rum and some coke, planting them all on the table. “Help yourself,” she told her guests, splashing in a hearty dose of alcohol before dousing it with coke.

Greg seated himself on the couch beside her, pulling her into him a little. When she resisted, he frowned, looking down at her. “What’s wrong?” His voice was soft, and his face gentle.

“What’s wrong? You leapt up after sex, threw your clothes on and started to leave!” She murmured, unable to prevent the tears that sprang into her eyes despite her resolution to be angry, not hurt.

He grinned, cupping her face to kiss her lips. “Is that what you thought, you silly thing?” He jutted his chin towards their visitors. “I heard someone say something outside, and I wanted to check it out. I was a little worried it might be the cops, the way you were crying out,” he added even more quietly.

Really? She looked into his eyes, soft, content, and now with a masculine satisfaction tinging them.

Greg grinned and kissed her nose, tsking. “Really, Jayne? After all our heart to heart today? I am disappointed.” He might have said he was disappointed, but his tone was both amused and smug.

Lou sat on the couch opposite her with a glass. Tom joined her. His comparative huge stature – both height and breadth – made Lou seem even tinier, like a little porcelain doll. Her sister kicked her feet under herself and cuddled into her boyfriend. Her look of bright eyed curiosity moved from one person to another. “There seems to be some awkwardness, but I don’t get it,” she confessed into the silence.

Tom grinned and planted a kiss on her head, despite a ruddy glow still clinging to his cheeks.

His obvious affection for her sister made tears of happiness rise into Jayne’s eyes. Actually, Tom’s happiness pleased her too. She had never seen him so at ease – that tight look around his eyes was gone, replaced with sheer contentment. He didn’t look like he was analyzing and judging, or like he was thinking about word choices and implications…he just looked like he was enjoying himself…if a little awkwardly at present.

Jayne noticed her sister’s hand rested on the apex of her date’s stomach (the logical place to place one hands when cuddling a big boy) and she burned with jealousy – until she realized with an internal laugh that she could do that too.

What a dummy! Curling into Greg, she let her hand rest on his tummy – which was much nicer, if she did say so herself.

Greg’s eyes slid to her and he smirked, pressing her hand into his stomach under the pretense of squeezing her hand. It was a wonderfully unique sensation. Normally, she had to fight against gravity and the natural outward pressure the belly exerted against her hand by its sheer weight. When he pressed her hand in for her, the fat seemed even softer and squishier, as if in its purest form. He met her eyes and winked as she inhaled sharply.

Lou clapped her hands. “Hey, eyes front and centre or get a room!” She was smirking too. “I am so glad that you found yourself a fat-hottie!!” she emphasised the words a little. “What’s his name?”

“Greg,” he answered her in his soft voice.

“Well, Greg, I approve!” A wink met his surprised gaze. “Any man who can make Jayne scream like that is awesome!”

“Lousha!” Tom rebuked her gently, a grin tugging at his mobile lips.

Greg flushed a little, but he was grinning too. “Told you I heard them outside.”

And they heard ME.

Jayne hid her face in Greg’s chest, mortified. At first the dichotomy between Greg’s shyness and his apparent ability to deal with these comparative strangers confused her. Until she realized that if anything, having made her bring the roof down was some sort of male badge of honour. Slowly, a grin overtook her face, and she peeked out at Lou to stuck her tongue out.

Lou returned the gesture and poked Tom’s belly, which jostled in response. “How do you know my sissy?”

Rather than answering directly, Tom turned inquiring eyes on Jayne. His face was still, not revealing anything.

Screw it. “He’s the rapist.”

The expression on both of their faces was priceless, for vastly different reasons. Tom’s face blanched, and his hands shot up defensively. Lou’s jaw dropped and she punched Tom in the arm as she laughed.

Greg’s eyes bugged a little, but realizing something else was meant, settled for eyeing them all with curiosity.

Lou continued to laugh until she cried. “Oh, that is too funny!”

“I didn’t, I’m not,” Tom stammered.

Wiping her eyes, Lou reached over to kiss him. “Therapist. The rapist.”

Understanding dawned in Tom’s eyes. “Was, not is.” Turning to Jayne, he regarded her with a solemn and earnest expression. “I hope you understand and don’t take it personally, but I can’t continue in that capacity. It wouldn’t be ethical, now that I know I am dating your sister. And I don’t see the situation changing any time soon.”

The subtext was clear, and made Jayne grin. This was going to be a long term relationship. Good. She deserved a steady relationship. “Yeah.” Well, she had always thought Tom seemed like a great guy. Now she would get to know him better.

Greg stroked her hair. “For your car accident?” he inquired, at a loss.

It would have been easy to avoid…and yet…just coming straight out was even easier, wasn’t it? “Nah,” she said with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “Went to him to work through issues with me liking fat guys…thought I could get over it at first.”

A blink, a tilt of the head, and finally a grin. Greg winked a little at Tom before returning his gaze to hers. “Have I converted you?” A brow quirked.

“Once you have fatty, you can’t go backy!” Lou sing songed, making Tom blush a little too.

Greg sniggered, until Tom joined in, their combined laughter ringing through her quiet house. Lou’s infectious grin made Jayne smile until her cheeks hurt.

“Since when have you liked fatottis?” Every other guy Lou had dated had been ripped, or at least lean. Very conventionally handsome - if one was into that type.

“Since I started dating a Fitatti,” Lou quipped, patting her date’s stomach again. “Seriously though – It just kinda happened. Didn’t mean to steal your thunder.”

Tom nodded. “This one,” he indicated Lou with a jerk of his chin, “Walked up to me, bold as brass, and told me she wanted to dance with me at a bachelor party at a local club. When I told her I didn’t dance, she told me ‘don’t worry, all you have to do is hang onto me.’”

Jayne could readily believe it. “But what possessed you, Lou? He’s more my ‘type’ than yours.” It suddenly struck her with force that for the first time in her life, she was literally surrounded by people who knew her fat preferences. And their conversations were – if not running on that topic, at least brushing it repeatedly. It was liberating, intoxicating, and terrifying.

Her habitual openness with Tom, coupled with her developing trust with Greg made it easy to talk. Ironically, it was Lou who she now felt a little odd talking about it to, despite her being the first to kind of know.

Lou shrugged. “He was super hot and I needed a dance partner. The question should be why I kept him. It’s cuz he is super hot, obviously, but he is also the best guy ever! And hot. Doesn’t he look like a werewolf?”

It was true – those stunning eyes and stubbly in his darkly handsome face did combine to make him look like a werewolf. Like a werewolf who habitually overfed more often than the night of the full moon.

Tom rolled his eyes and tapped Lou lightly on her nose at her verbose praise. “Why don’t we let Jayne get back to enjoying her night, and head out ourselves? We can hang out soon.” He still seemed a bit akward.

Not that Jayne was totally at ease herself…but she was with Greg and Lou, in her own home. After the first shock of seeing his face had worn off, it kind of seemed natural. Of course Lou would find that one person in her life who could make things awkward. Of course Lou would bring him over just as she was screaming her head off from her first (real) orgasm with a guy. Because Lou was Lou. She was crazy, unabashed, and retarded.

“Screw that, I’m sleeping here tonight in the spare room.” Lou said, pulling Tom up with her. “I want morning girl talk with my sissy.”

The look her former therapist cast her made Jayne chuckle. It would be a little weird…but Tom was – however temporarily their relationship might turn out to be – family. She might as well get used to it now. “You’ll figure out it’s futile to resist her soon enough. Go ahead – really! That’s what the room is there for.”

Lou dragged him along, listening to his muttered objections in her ear with perfect unconcern.


Later, after Jayne had persuaded Greg she wanted him to stay, she lay with him in bed. He had curled up, fully clothed except for his shoes and belt. His deep breaths had slowly rattled into loud snores, waking her. She slowly eased around in his arms to face him.

Her perfect man. In every way. Sometimes she wanted to snatch at him just to make sure he was real, and that he wouldn’t just disappear. Every time she tensed, he woke enough to stroke her hair or back, murmuring softly. Was it possible to be any more in tune with him?

Unfortunately, even the safety of his arms couldn’t stop her brain from whirring away. The whole day had been an intense rollercoaster ride. Her brain struggled to cope with the reality of it all.

An intense session in the morning with ‘TJ’.

Followed by an emotional roller coaster ride in the evening with Greg.

Succeeded by mind blowing sex. Kaboom!

Oh, and don’t forget finding out your sister’s boyfriend is your sex therapist.

And now, she had Greg in bed with her. Her Greg. Jayne let her palm rest on his pudgy cheek. He smiled a little in his sleep and gave a contented sigh before resuming the same snoring that had woken her.

And everybody knew, now. That she liked fat guys. Oh, the horror. Oh, the humanity. Oh, the stupidity of it all. This was what she had been dreading for years? This was the culmination to all of her anxiety, avoidance, and just downright dumbassery?

Finding a great guy, who was totally into it.

What if you hadn’t told him? The little voice in her head asked her. Well, that was fairly obvious, now. She cast her mind back on the insecurity he had displayed over their last several dates, and her own feelings. He would have grown more and more insecure, she would have grown more and more desperate. He would have been unable to tolerate her juvenile behaviour, never knowing what caused it.

That isn’t true. LouLou told him, remember? Even worse. He would have always suspected her preference, and like he had said earlier, probably would have chalked up her issues to him being too fat for her, then lost weight. And the cycle would have repeated. Just like Tom said.

Her eyes were drawn to the clock on the bedside table. It glared 7:44 at her angrily. There was no point going back to sleep now. Slowly, carefully, and with infinite slowness, Jayne disentangled herself from Greg’s arms.

The lumbering sleeper in her bed gave a chuff of disappointment in his sleep, brows contracting for a moment as his arms emptied. Her boyfriend was so…manly? She couldn’t think of a word to properly describe the feeling of womanliness she received just by being in his presence.

That gorgeous tummy rolled out across the bed a bit, filling up the space vacated by her body. Her ‘heavy sleeper’ appeared to be a heavy sleeper, she grinned to herself as she accidentally bumped her dresser without waking him.

She had almost forgotten about her two house guests, and nearly started out of her own skin when she saw movement in the kitchen. She smothered her scream, clapping a hand over her own mouth.

Tom looked up from where he sat in the gloom of her kitchen, a glass of water in front of him as he fiddled with his phone. “Sorry,” he murmured quietly. “I hope you don’t mind me finding a glass…”

“Not at all,” she whispered back, trying to remove her heart from her throat. “I just forgot you were here.” Moving further into the kitchen, Jayne slowly and quietly started a pot of coffee. Turning her head, she grinned. “I know how you take your coffee,” was her teasing sally of the morning.

Tom appeared to be a morning person – or maybe he was insufferably cheery all the time? – but he chuckled. “Yes, please!”

It was quiet for a few moments as Jayne began preparing the items for breakfast. “Do you eat in the morning?”

He glanced up from his phone and smirked. “Do I look like the type who doesn’t eat at any meal of the day?”

Jayne raised her chin at this response, wrinkling her nose and sniffing instead of responding. It was difficult to cook while being very quiet, but after a moment of reflection she allowed herself to move more freely. Lou was a heavy sleeper, and Greg appeared to be too.

Tom was quiet, allowing her to get into her groove, and only looked up from his phone when she set down a huge breakfast in front of him. His brows raised, his jaw dropped, and his eyes slid sideways to meet hers. “Challenge accepted!” He told her, hitching his chair into the table.

It was a pleasure to see a man enjoy his meal, and Tom made is very clear that he was ecstatic. He ate more quickly than Greg did, greedily shoving in each bite. His eyes rolled as he bit into his first bite of her home made scalloped potatoes. She let him get through two of his eggs benedict, some pea meal and some toast before she ventured to introduce some conversation.

“I just wanted to thank you…” she began, toying with her mug and nibbling on a piece of bacon herself.

“Fo wha?” Tom managed, mouth full.

“For everything. I realized last night that if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have met with Greg. I wouldn’t have had the courage. And that even if I had somehow gotten up the gumption to do it, it never would have worked out.”

He swallowed a big gulp of his coffee before answering. “I don’t think you are giving yourself enough credit.”

Taking his coffee and refilling it, she smiled. “No…Greg was looking for a mature woman who knew what she wanted and was willing to come out and say it. Without you I would have gone right down that same path again.”

He accepted her offering, adding cream and sugar liberally. “Well, good on me then,” he grinned, leaning back in his chair and letting his belly bulge out contentedly.

“I also wanted to apologize for how…childish I was. Getting angry, getting mopey. Now that you are not my therapist – by the way I emailed your office last night and asked for my file to be transferred – can I ask what you thought of me?”

“I saw, I was finishing up the formalities on my end this morning.” He shrugged, eyeing her. “I don’t know if you want to go down that track.”

“How about I get your honest opinion…not as anything but as my maybe future brother in law?” She grinned at the surprised, then gratified expression he had. “You might as well take advantage of my lingering respect before I start treating you like family.”

Her guest leaned forward earnestly. “You don’t mind, then?” His anxiety was plain.

“Not at all. I think Lou couldn’t do better, and I really liked - like you,” she corrected herself. “I actually was mad at first that I couldn’t have known you as a friend.”

Her former therapist grinned, delight overcoming his face. He shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth. “Well then…to be honest it was frustrating because you obviously knew what you wanted but wouldn’t go out and just do it. I wanted to shake you and tell you to grow a pair. It was also really hard to shake you out of the ‘me’ mindset you seemed to have. All your thoughts seemed to circle around what you wanted, and how you felt, without any thought for the other party.”

Well, that wasn’t so bad. She could admit to the truth of that. Greg was everything that she wanted…but was he everything he wanted? Damn Tom and his ability to make her reflect!

Finishing a piece of toast, he sighed, slowing down his rapid inhalation somewhat. “And what did you think of me?”

“That it was ironic and cruel that I had to talk to a fat guy about liking fat guys,” she responded awkwardly. “But in the end I think that it helped. You always seemed so honest and nice, and I wished that you could find a girl who would like your squish too.”

“My squish?”

His tone made her laugh. “Tell me,” she said abruptly, looking up into his face. “Was it hard in the sessions because…well, are you one…?” Why was their no handy acronym that one could use to describe a fat guy that liked his OWN flab? She settled for gesturing to his middle.

Once he had toyed with her for a while with looks of mock incomprehension, he answered her directly. “It was a little disconcerting, I had to admit, especially with you making eyes at me. You have to understand that my size generally makes me a safe and non-sexual person to be around. For it to suddenly be the opposite was…unique.” He pushed his plate away, groaning in contentment. “And as my future sister in law, in future I will tell you to use your words, but for now I’ll take the initiative. I think what you are trying to ask, is if I am into food and weight gain?”

Jayne nodded her head, blushing a little. “Yes.”

“To be honest, I never really thought about it before our sessions. I didn’t really know it existed. I don’t know if that is my – ” he made air quotes, mocking her past inability, “ ‘thing’…but I definitely realized that I loved eating and there were women out there who didn’t detest food, eating, or a bigger body. It was pretty liberating, after being so asexual for so long.”

“And then you met Lou,” she said.

“And then I met Lou,” he repeated, his eyes softening in a familiar way. She realized with a start that that expression was what Greg wore when he looked at her.

It was love.

She reflected for a moment. Was it too soon to say it? Probably…but it wasn’t too soon to feel it. “I never would have pictured you with Lou,” she said instead.

“You sister is amazing. Do you know how unique she is?” He shook his head. “She is the only person who I have met who is so…true.”

That was Lou, in a word.

“It’s exhausting, to constantly be analyzing everything. It’s also made me jaded. Relationship after relationship where the women got all self-conscious and self-destructive. All the pathetic mind games, the pointless shyness. The insincerity of it all. Everything seemed so trite, overdone, contrived, or boring. Lou…emotes. Everything she is feeling just comes out, as is, without the filters that society ingrains in us. If she wants a kiss, she asks for it. If she asks how her ass looks in a dress, she truly wants your opinion. Everything she says to you is straight from her heart. And the fact that she is so sweet and sensitive goes to show what a real gem she is. I know she doesn’t mind my body, and for now, that is enough.”

“Well, that’s good. Plus she is stunning,” Jayne offered impishly. She felt a little guilty for burdening him with yet another head case – but then ‘selfishly’ shrugged it off. She got Greg because of it.

Tom flashed her a big smile. “That she is.”

“Who is?” A sleepy voice asked from the hallway.

Lou sat in Tom’s lap as he opened up his arms, barely conscious. Her blonde head rested on his chest sleepily. “Did you feed him up good?” she mumbled, eyeing the remains of breakfast.

“Fit to burst,” Tom announced.

Jayne put a steaming mug of coffee in her sister’s hands. It would take two to three to wake her up fully. “What woke you up?”

The cup was gratefully received and partaken of before an answer came. “TJ wasn’t in bed. Felt empty and alone so I woke up.”

“Sorry, pumpkin,” Tom murmured, feeding her a piece of bacon.

She heard Greg lumber down the hallway, calling her name softly.

“Jayne? Are you ok? I woke up and you were gone.”

Happy tears rise to her eyes, and she walked over to Lou. Taking her sister’s face in her hands she kissed both cheeks and her forehead. “Thank you, baby. Thank you for keeping that card, and telling him, and forcing me to call him, and forcing me to go on the first date with him. You were right. I love you.”

Lou’s bright eyes blinked, and she kissed her sister’s nose in return. “Of course - I am always right. I love you too – and I’ll always look out for my big sister.”

“And I’ll always look out for my little sister,” Jayne whispered, wiping at her eyes as she sat back down. “So you stay with Tom, kk? He is a great guy.”

“Oh, I’m not planning on going anywhere. I am pretty sure I have decided to keep him forever,” Lou replied with all seriousness from his lap, making his mouth twitch above her head. “He helped you find Greg too though, yeah? So he needs some thanks too!”

“Yeah, he did. Thank you again, Tom.” She gave Tom’s hand a squeeze, which he returned, before meeting Greg at the kitchen doorway with a kiss.
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
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Old 06-05-2015, 10:24 AM   #14
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“Jayne?” the man who must be her father yelped, visibly shocked. His small wiry frame froze, the door still clutched in his hand.

“Oh, they are here already? I though they weren’t coming until Christmas Eve! Does she need to be carried into the spare room until she wakes up?” What he assumed was her mother called out.

“…No?” The small man’s tone was bewildered, and he alternated his gaze between his two small daughters and the two huge men behind them. Well, he was huge in width, if not height, Greg admitted to himself.

Jayne let out her cute giggle, giving her father a huge hug. “Surprise!” she called out, Lou echoing her loudly from behind.

Tom nudged him, his arm sinking into the blubber of his side. Before he had met Jayne, he would have felt angry and miserable at the touch. Now, though it made him conscious of his fat, the irritation didn’t rise up.

“How…?” Her father spluttered.

“Did she get up here in a car without being drugged to the gills?” Lou crowed, throwing her arms around her father and sister. “Tom figured out that it wasn’t the idea of going fast that freaked her out, it was being in an enclosed space like a car! So Greg rented a convertible, and we bought warm clothes and seatbelt slicers and blasted the heat and Christmas carols alll the way up! Check it!” She pointed to the expensive convertible parked at the end of the driveway.

Jayne freed herself to introduce the men. All of them were ruddy cheeked and cold, but the mood was still light. Tom was a terrible singer, and he had joyfully belted songs out of tune with Lou the whole way up, making them all laugh themselves silly.

Greg had driven with Lou in the front, and he was pretty sure his right ear had been talked off. Tom had kept Jayne company in the back seat, having concluded that it would be easier for him to calm her down than Greg. He had only given in when Tom explained to him that in this case, fussing over her when she was already upset wasn’t going to help – and that she already had a sort of trust/big brother relationship with him because of their previous sessions. Plus – and Jayne had begged he wouldn’t tell Tom this - she told him that she trusted him more to drive.

She had only had three panic attacks the entire ride. Both times, Greg had seen Tom casually fling an arm around her in the rearview, and heard him talk to her brazenly about fat guys. Jayne had been so visibly titillated about his descriptions – which he termed ‘A day in the life of a fat guy’ – that she had been able to breathe through the attacks.

It was an odd thing.

To have even found a woman who found him attractive blew his mind. To have found a woman who found his body erotic was…words failed him. Every day he woke half expecting her to have gotten over her interest, and to chide him for his appetite, or to ask him to exercise.

Yet, somehow, every day, she proved how much she really did adore his body. The other day, he had walked into the living room without a shirt to grab his phone, thinking she was in the basement. He wasn’t…shy about it, but flaunting his body certainly wasn’t something he was used to. She had turned from the stove, and her mouth had gaped open. Immediately, long honed reflex caused him to suck in. Instead of a look of disgust, she had made a frantic, excited squeal in her throat and turned all the elements off. She was tearing off her clothes, in a frenzy to get to him. By the time she had crossed the fifteen feet, she was hopping on one foot to rip her last sock off.

Her large, dark eyes had burned with lust as she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back towards the bedroom, her plump lower lip caught between her teeth. Her fingers nimbly worked every button open, her hands stroking his skin, lips hungrily sucking on his.

It was good that she liked his body, because he was feeling particularly bloated and rotund lately. One thing she had said was proving very true – her cooking was so good that restaurant and takeout food was becoming wholly unpalatable – and that was great for his health. His ankles were less swollen, and he had more energy. Unfortunately, her food was delicious, and he was still eating more than he should. He was too scared to get on the scale, but his pants were tightening in accusatory way.

Even getting in the low convertible has made his face redden as he compressed, and his pants button popped off with a guilty ping. He was a little concerned about his health, but wasn’t precisely sure how to approach it with Jayne, knowing her love of his bigger body.

The man twisted around to bellow, “Wendy! Come –” he lowered his voice abruptly as she appeared. “-oh there you are. Look!”

Her mother’s face paled, shock stilling every feature. She burst into tears as Jayne hugged her. “Oh, my baby!” she howled. “Your parents would be so proud! I never thought you’d be able to drive again!”

It wasn’t exactly easy. It involved copious amounts of belly bribery and blubber chatting all the way up to reassure her.

Jayne kissed her on both cheeks. “I love you too, Mama! Greg and Tom made it happen.” Drawing them forward, introductions were made all around.

Her father led them to the living room. Their mother was still flitting about, occasionally stopping to stare with round eyes, hand on her chest. Occasionally, tears would rise up, and her husband would scold her for being nonsensical. Although the girls had prepared Greg for this type of interaction, it still took him aback. His family had been conservative in their behaviour, and traditional in their communications.

“So how did you meet?” Paul asked as they seated themselves in the living room.

All four of them shared a glance, smiles decking the faces all around.

Lou spoke up first. “Fate!” She announced cheerily.

“I like the sound of that,” Tom chuckled. “Let’s leave it at that for now.”

The wiry man looked so much like Lou it was uncanny, and he accepted the response with the same ease as his daughter before casting both girls – but especially Jayne - a hopeful look. “Are you going to cook dinner, my dear?”

“Of course,” Jayne said, kissing the top of his head as she passed with her sister.

Tom had settled his tall frame on the couch next to him, and the diminutive man across from them glared balefully at them both. “So.”

Really? Was he really going to have to suffer through the teenage boyfriend grilling routine at almost forty?

“So, Paul,” Tom began.

The other man huffed at his name. “Yes?”

Tom seemed a little taken aback at the level of aggression, his brows raising.

Fortunately, Jayne had told him this was coming, and told him how to handle it. Greg leaned forward, ignoring the metallic groan of his zipper. “Look, with all due respect, the girls have told us that you would approve us, so we might as well drop the act.”

The older man spluttered. “Oh, did they indeed?”

“They did indeed.” He returned. “Jayne is a beautiful, capable woman who makes her own choices. Although I don’t want to burn any bridges, it is Jayne’s choice as to who she is with.”

Paul covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile. “And who is she with?”

“A successful man, who loves her enough to know she will punch me in the teeth if she thought for a moment I had asked for your permission to date her. She is her own woman.”

He dropped his hand, revealing a grin. “That’s my little Boo! And what about Lou? You can’t tell me she is a capable woman,” he said blandly.

Tom’s shot him a ferocious look. “That’s my girl you are talking about!”

It couldn’t have been better planned. The older man cackled and clapped them both on the back. “Good, good. Don’t need any pandering yuppies here!”

Their mother walked in, looking distressed. “They kicked me out!” she said, sounding aggrieved. She set herself down on the chair, facing the men. “Oh, look at these handsome young men!” She said, smiling brightly. It was obvious that Lou got her personality more from her maternal side. She nattered at them, but Greg was distracted by the scents from the kitchen.

After a few minutes Jayne walked back in, settling herself between Tom and himself. It must have been a tight squeeze but she only sighed happily. “How goes it out here?” Her hand snuck around his back, palming one of his large bumpers.

“Fine, lovey. So, how are you liking your name change?” There was a sharp edge of bitterness to the older woman’s voice, as if from an old grievance.

Jayne rolled her eyes. “I know it bothers you that I changed it, but I needed a big life change.”

Tom exchanged a meaningful look with him. “Well, I hope it won’t bother you too much if both girls need to change their names again in the next few years.” The other man said openly.

“Why on earth would they need to change their names?” She frowned, looking confused.

Paul smacked his face with his hand. “He’s hinting at them getting married, dear.”

“Well, he should have just come out and said it!”

Jayne grinned openly, cuddling into their respective men. It wasn’t just idle talk. Both of them had talked about it in depth, knew what they were getting into, and knew where they wanted to go. Jayne was the more mature, stable one, but even Lou showed in many ways that she had selected Tom.

Speak of the devil. Lou walked in, laden with veggies and fresh dip. “And this is my contribution - now I am done!” She set it on the table with a flourish.

Their father chuckled at their expression once he followed the men’s eyes. “Figures that you got fat on Jayne’s cooking. Every man in her life has porked up.”

Jayne glowered. “Both Tom and Greg were fat before we met them, and we-”

“And we love them like that!” Lou broke in her, stamping her foot for emphasis. “Leave our plus sized hotties alone, Papa!” Her face reddened ominously, hands balled into fists at her side.

She defended both men with a level of ferocity that had surprised them all. When Jayne had asked her about it, her sister had folded her arms across her non-existent chest and replied, “My baby’s body is no one’s business but my own. And maybe yours, ’cuz you love big guys.”

The older man raised his hands in defense at their combined ire. It was impossible to imagine Lou angry until she was. It was very hard to upset Lou, but if you didn’t back down…hell hath no fury like an angered Louise! “Alright, alright, I got it!” He snagged a piece of food from the plate as he walked out the door. “Going to have to go grocery shopping with those boys in the house,” he muttered under his breath as he snagged his keys.


Sliding a hand along his bare arm, Jayne smiled at him. “I’m so glad I got to show you off,” she commented the next day. Their parents had gone out to get food. Again. The men were not light on the food bills.

His body had become something intensely special between them. Not only for the pleasure that Jayne took from it – but Greg also took great satisfaction from her attention, even if it continued to surprise him.

Sitting in her old bedroom with both of their shirts off, Greg looked around at the Star Wars sheets, Lion King stuffies, Spice Girls posters, and horse drawings on the walls. He opened his mouth with a little groan as she slipped crackers covered with cream cheese, salmon and dill between his lips. His hands splayed across his broadening, bared belly, feeling the increasing softness.

His eyes were half closed as he chewed and swallowed slowly. After he had finished, he frowned a little. “Jayne, can I ask you something?”

“Of course…” She looked alarmed

“I popped my pants today. My largest pants.” He flushed, but his erection bobbed with anticipation as she shivered, tongue moistening her lips. “Do you…actually want me to get fatter? If so, how much fatter? I’m just…a little concerned for my health, you know? But I want to make you happy.” He had been half dreading this conversation for weeks.

“You do make me happy. Can…can I think on that for a minute?” She reflected after receiving his nod, drumming ripples across his belly as she thought. “I think,” she began after a long pause. “I think that you are perfect as you are now. I don’t think I want to make you fatter, but I wouldn’t mind it if it happened because you enjoyed my cooking. I love to see you eat,” she confessed, raining kisses down on the soft flab before her.

Greg nodded, his eyes traversing her body as he jiggled his belly a little, knowing he was exciting her. “I can accept that. I don’t really want to gain hundreds of pounds or anything. But is there a…lower fat, lower sodium version?” He blushed, hands gripping and rippling his middle violently. “See, I don’t think I can eat less of your cooking,” He whispered guiltily. “So it should probably be as healthy as possible, generally speaking.”

Her beautiful eyes softened. “Of course I can make you healthier food, my love!” Her expression tightened. “You don’t want to…diet, though?”

Greg flushed and shook his head. “No! I want to eat a lot of your food…I just want them to be healthy…at least then I can justify it in my head. Not that your meals are bad or unhealthy, but the way I have been hoovering it back makes me worried…I mean ten percent of daily sodium is still fifty percent when you eat five portions….”

He struggled to sit up a little. Deep under the large roll of fat, and his zipper made a sound of protest as the teeth tried to reel in the doughy flesh above. “I mean…I ate five slices of bacon, six eggs, four pieces of toast, and half of plate of home fries this morning. Then I ate two muffins, an apple and a banana around ten. And when you put lunch on the table I ate half a pan of lasagna AND half a loaf of your homemade bread…I can’t seem to stop myself lately.” His stomach felt gravid, and his moobs shifted as he sat up. “Now I had all of those cracker things…and who knows what I am going to eat for dinner, and then desert? And I keep getting hungry before bed…”

She buried her face in his belly, suckling on the flab for a second, grabbing at his thigh pudge through his pants. “I see what you mean,” she said, unable to hide her rising arousal at his admission of gluttony. “How about tomorrow we tone it down? Maybe…half an avocado with a baked egg inside, some fruit, and a slice or two of pea meal bacon? A nice big salad for lunch with roasted chicken breast for lunch, and baked salmon and rice for dinner? Just make it a little smaller, and a little healthier?”

He brightened up. “That sounds lovely. You won’t be disappointed?” She loved feeding him so much…

She straddled him, allowing his belly to lap her thighs, crotch, and push against her all the way to her own belly button. “I dunno…Can I still overfeed you naughty foods occasionally?” She teased, leaning forward to give a hard suck to one of his nipples. He returned the favour, making her gasp and wriggle.

That had went well. “Mmm, promise you will?” He grinned, sliding his hands up her soft stomach to her even softer breasts.

“Promise.” She got up, sliding her pants off with a wicked smile. “I already got my perfect man…who cares if he goes up or down a few pounds? I still get to cook for you, and as long as you aren’t ‘dieting’, I don’t mind making smaller, healthier meals, and I don’t mind if you lose weight if you want to.”

“Really? What’s the difference?”

Jayne paused, her head tilting in its customary way. “I dunno. I never associated it with nice things – self hatred, loathing...feeling like you are not attractive. I mean, no one goes ‘wow, I am healthy and so hot, let’s diet.” She patted his tummy, peering at him. “But if you want to eat less and healthier, I am cool with that. I love you, and want to live a long life, and be happy with yourself. Are you ok with your body?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, I get to eat awesome food, and my girlfriend adores my body. So yeah, I think so.” Kissing her forehead, he met her eyes. “I’d prefer to be closer to two sixty, but I am ok with the size I am.”

“Well, ten pounds shouldn’t be hard.”

“Twenty. Gained ten pounds since we met.” The look of sheer arousal on his face made his balls tighten reflexively .

Bloody hell. I am doomed. He grinned, watching as she tugged his pants off. Ah well. There are worse fates than to be fat and sassy.

The End

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