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Old 07-25-2014, 05:43 PM   #1
Xyantha Reborn
- Actually Very Tame!
 
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Default Negativity by Xyantha ~BHM, ~FFA

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

Negativity
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)

Last edited by Britt Reid; 07-28-2014 at 09:36 PM.
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Old 07-26-2014, 05:36 PM   #2
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Oh this is so awesome!! Can't wait for more.

Look at me commenting on everything now that the PTB have forced me to sign in.
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Old 07-26-2014, 06:58 PM   #3
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Another awesome new one?! You are too good to us!
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Old 07-26-2014, 08:44 PM   #4
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Lovely!
Your writing is so much fun!
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Old 07-27-2014, 03:56 AM   #5
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BHM's on the beach - who cannot love that in summer????

Only 84 more hours for me until I get to go......

It's so good you've decided to rebirth yourself Xyantha!
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Old 07-27-2014, 06:17 AM   #6
Xyantha Reborn
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Its my own fantasy, considering how much i love it...and my bhm husband hates heat, sunlight, and showing his body in public. His statement: "chubby chasing is an INDOOR sport. Dont chatter your teeth that the ac is too cold. Fat boys retain heat. You should have thought of that before you fattened me up"
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Old 07-27-2014, 11:00 AM   #7
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Xyantha Reborn View Post
Its my own fantasy, considering how much i love it...and my bhm husband hates heat, sunlight, and showing his body in public. His statement: "chubby chasing is an INDOOR sport. Dont chatter your teeth that the ac is too cold. Fat boys retain heat. You should have thought of that before you fattened me up"
I strongly recommend a trip to a beach in Greece for a reality update on that fantasy .
Despite the crisis - which in the past 1-2 years has also let visibly malnourished women and children appear - it's still a paradise for BHM, even SSBHM spotting on the beach. Mostly nicely tanned and juicy, as well as relatively uninhibited. Being big for men is still pretty widely accepted there.

When do we get chapter 2???
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Old 07-27-2014, 12:50 PM   #8
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Keen to see more of this!
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Old 07-27-2014, 02:09 PM   #9
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Quote:
Originally Posted by agouderia View Post
I strongly recommend a trip to a beach in Greece for a reality update on that fantasy .
Despite the crisis - which in the past 1-2 years has also let visibly malnourished women and children appear - it's still a paradise for BHM, even SSBHM spotting on the beach. Mostly nicely tanned and juicy, as well as relatively uninhibited. Being big for men is still pretty widely accepted there.

When do we get chapter 2???
Yet another reason I need to go to Greece asap...
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Old 07-27-2014, 04:54 PM   #10
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Yea...*eyes sparkle*
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Old 07-27-2014, 04:55 PM   #11
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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?"

"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?"

"...yes."

"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'?

Yep.

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.

Check.

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

True.

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?

...Yeah.

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?

....uh….well…

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?”

(Continued in post 18 of this thread)

Last edited by Britt Reid; 07-28-2014 at 09:51 PM.
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Old 07-27-2014, 05:34 PM   #12
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This is getting interesting. Also:

Dumbass! Stupid, ugly, idiotic...No wonder no one can love you, you nutcase! She raved, tugging at her hair anxiously.

I praise your realism, even as I cringe in recognition.
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Old 07-27-2014, 08:14 PM   #13
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Oh, wow. This is SCARILY relatable. Being in that place is awful. But you are capturing it so perfectly.
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Old 07-27-2014, 09:06 PM   #14
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Oh, this is GREAT. I love the way you kept building tension in the scene with the therapist! Can't wait to see more of this story.
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Old 07-28-2014, 12:31 AM   #15
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It is such a relief to find out I'm not the only 'nutcase' on planet Earth who was hopelessly fascinated and infatuated by the fact that rat Templeton got so fat.....

Lovely story line, questioning the normal by the way.
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Old 07-28-2014, 12:55 AM   #16
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So damn hot. I don't know why. So damn hot
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Old 07-28-2014, 09:41 AM   #17
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Good: I hadn't logged in for a couple of days, so I got to read parts 1 and 2 together.

Bad: I didn't stay away longer, and now I have to wait for part 3! Ack, another really awesome story that is going to make waiting for each new installment tortuous.

In other words, wow, really awesome start, and I love all of the characters to bits already. It is always a great sign when you wish you could have the secondary characters in your life
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Old 07-28-2014, 08:25 PM   #18
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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.

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Old 08-01-2014, 02:26 AM   #19
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I think I like this one so much because it is so different. It's usually the guy who is somewhat self conscious or shy or whatever not the girl. It's really interesting to read about her struggles. Also the idea of a fat doctor is just insanely hot 😁
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Old 08-01-2014, 03:22 AM   #20
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interesting to read about the inner thoughts of a girl beeing this uncertain like me ;_)
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Old 08-01-2014, 06:15 PM   #21
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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.”

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Old 08-01-2014, 07:49 PM   #22
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Just to clarify before anyone gets offended (because some said it struck close to home)...this is For all those ppl who told me to suck it up and just be confident. Cuz its obviously easy and i am lazy!
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Old 08-01-2014, 09:33 PM   #23
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Thank you for writing this story. The topic really does 'hit home,' and I appreciate the exploration of your character's sexual preferences and her growing acceptance of those preferences. I think that, by reading this story, I may come to conclusions similar to the protagonist and eventually feel more comfortable with my own preferences. : )
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Old 08-02-2014, 02:01 AM   #24
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Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!
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Another great chapter, thanks!
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Old 08-02-2014, 07:17 AM   #25
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Great writing and story line. The story makes me think and explore my own "fat loving" demons. Well done indeed.
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