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BHM Acid Orchid ~FFA, SSBHM, Friends with Benefits, Romance

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magodamilion

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Author's note: This is my first piece (well chunk of a piece) on here so I hope you guys like it. Many of the longer realistic settings pieces on here seem to deal with more of a meek insecure type of BHM so I wanted to try the opposite and see how it worked out.

Acid Orchid​

Scene 1.

Katie was convinced she would eventually meet her soul mate at Taco Land.

The restaurant stayed open til four AM and was located on the same street as the city’s most popular bars. It had become their unspoken ritual, she and Mia would walk there at two after all the bars closed. The somewhat small building would be packed to the brim with half-drunk people in their twenties. People would be forced to share tables with strangers due to sheer lack of space, and if said strangers looked good to each other maybe no one would have to go home alone that night.

The two girls, who had been friends since the beginning of college, were completely dissimilar both in terms of who they were and the types of people they were attracted to. Katie’s type varied. Lately she had gotten it in her head that the reason why all of her past relationships ended so badly was because she kept dating guys that weren’t ‘mature’. Mia thought Katie’s definition of mature was problematic, as it seemed to exclusively refer to preppy white guys with rich parents. Most of these guys would always clash with Mia when Katie would introduce them. In her opinion, they were almost always too sheltered and over-privileged to have anything interesting to say or to understand many of her beliefs.

Mia generally went for guys who reminded her of herself. Guys who were intelligent enough to ignore the social conventions they didn’t agree with. Guys who were a little misanthropic, but at the same time nice to most people. Guys who understood all of her opinions, even the controversial ones and the overtly feminist ones.

These were the things she told people when they asked her what her ‘type’ was. This often led them to believe that she was open to a broad array of types of people physically. And on some levels that was true: she didn’t have any racial preference, she didn’t care what they did with their hair, she didn’t even care whether they were clean shaven or had an intense Duck Dynasty type beard. However, she did have one preference that took precedence over even her personality tastes.

Nothing turned her on more than a guy who weighed at least over three hundred pounds. To the point where she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to handle a relationship with someone that big, because she’d probably just want to have sex constantly every time she even glanced at him. The closest she’d ever gotten was with her ex-boyfriend of a year and a half ago. He weighed two-twenty which at 5’8 was definitely bordering on fat. It was enough to keep her attracted to him but not enough to really satisfy her.

It was chilly outside. The two girls were running across the four lane street to get to Taco Land. They hadn’t done the first part of the ritual, the bar hopping part, for very long. Since Katie came to the realization that she met better guys at the restaurant then in the bars themselves, she no longer prioritized getting there significantly before one. Mia didn’t understand how Katie wasn’t freezing to death in her tight faux-leather tube dress. She herself was wearing skinny jeans and a blue flannel shirt and she was still shivering.

Thinking about their outfits made her wonder for a moment if they looked like a couple. Both had expressed bi-curious tendencies (for Mia it was because as fat was her primary turn on gender occasionally became secondary on some people and for Katie it was possibly because she thought it made her seem more interesting) but they hadn’t tried anything with each other before. The thought of it made Mia shudder a little even though Katie was beautiful in her opinion, with shoulder length jet black hair, olive skin, and full eyebrows. They were both Dominican though they looked nothing alike. Mia was darker skinned with big tightly curled brown hair that fell to the middle of her rib cage and covered the full width of her shoulders when she wore it down. Katie was tall and willowy while Mia was pint-sized.

They arrived at Taco Land. The brightly lit restaurant looked like a human watering hole against rest of the desolate dark street. The line stretched deep into the middle of the store. As they waited, Katie’s vigilant eyes scanned the room for the finest piece of ass.

She rapidly tapped Mia on the shoulder “We should talk to them.”

Mia looked over to where she was pointing. There sat a group of slender light haired guys in polo’s with a couple of girls sitting with them.

“Pretty sure they’re with a bunch of girls,” she replied sounding unintentionally condescending.

“Yeah I know…” replied Katie wistfully. She continued to look around the room as they got to the front of the line and ordered their food.

It was at that moment that a guy caught Mia’s eye. He was sitting toward the back of the room with one other guy. He was massive. She couldn’t see his entire upper body, as the table was in the way, but everything should could see was enticing. His shoulders were immensely wide, not because of natural body structure or muscle but from pure flab, she could tell even from a distance. She could see the outline of his soft bulky man tits through his black t-shirt. He had gotten to the size where he didn’t even have a double chin anymore, just a thick mass of uninterrupted fat from his face to the base of his neck only obscured slightly by a short well-kept beard. His hair was so dark brown it looked black. At a glance, he looked a bit like a fat version of young Billie Joe Armstrong.

Now it was her turn to tap Katie’s shoulder rapidly.

“Let’s sit over there,” she whispered with excited anticipation.

Katie’s eyes widened “Oh my god let’s!” she agreed enthusiastically.

Mia turned her head sharply at her in confusion. Why’s she agreeing to this?

Only then did she notice the second guy at the table. Dressed like he was about to go golfing, with short side parted hair; he was exactly Katie’s current type. At this point she began to notice small disconcerting details about his fat friend as well. For instance, he had the exact same preppy haircut as the other guy and was wearing Sperry’s. Katie had already begun walking over to them.

“Got room for two more?” Katie asked using her flirting voice.

The skinny guy looked up at her. He looked interested “Yeah for sure!”

The two sat down on the bar stools across from the guys. Mia wondered how the fat guy was able to use these relatively small bar stools. She bit her lip slightly in thought, it’d be really fucking hot if he was using two bar stools…

“Uhh my shoe’s untied,” she muttered, kicking herself a second later for saying it out loud and drawing attention to herself.

She dropped to the floor to pretend to tie her shoes. She was right, he was sitting on two bar stools at once. His huge thighs were splayed out covering the upper part of each bar stool. She could only tell that there were two by looking at the legs of the stools. They looked tiny in comparison to the guy’s legs, there was no way he could have used one. The lower section of his belly fell slightly between his thighs. She could feel herself getting turned on just looking at him from this angle. At that point, she noticed the shoes she was wearing did not, in fact, have laces. Aghh, better stand up before anyone else realizes.

“So what’s your name?” she could hear Katie asking as she got up.

“I’m Ben” replies skinny guy, “And this is Scott.”

Scott raises his over-sized forearm off the table in a half assed wave.

After more about ten minutes of talking, the conversation shifted to what they all did for a living. Mia shuddered a little at the thought that they were talking about that, she felt like a real adult and like a drab cliché simultaneously.

“I work at a law firm right now. It’s has its perks I guess,” Scott says dripping with false modesty.

“Wait how old are you?” Mia asks
.
“We’re both twenty-three,” Ben replies.

“Hey us too! Well she’s twenty-two actually, but same difference” Katie said with an absurd amount of enthusiasm.

“You already finished law school and got a job?” Mia asks, as she was aware that law school generally takes three years. She hoped it was clear that she was calling bullshit, not being impressed.

“I didn’t finish it. But it isn’t really necessary to be so by-the-book, when you know the right people,” Scott replied in the same faux-nonchalant tone.

“The right people?” Katie asked her eyes wide, “Do you know any celebrities?”

Scott grinned with only one side of his mouth, “Yeah I’ve met a couple. We were actually at this guy we know’s yacht party out in Malibu last month, and guess who was there…”

Mia frowned at him, as she tuned him out distracted by her own thoughts. His cockiness was simultaneously disgusting and compelling to her. Disgusting, because she knows it likely stems from the type of over-privileged upbringing she disliked so much. Compelling, because it’s so rare for a man of his size to act that way. Compelling also, because of how enticing it made the idea of dominating him, breaking him down, and taming him.

After an hour of talking, the restaurant had almost entirely cleared out. Mia was surprised at how well Ben and Katie were getting along. She and Scott interjected one liners into the conversation every so often, but mostly just sat and observed. For a while she at least got to be entertained by watching Scott eat. As it was three AM, the rest of them had gotten two to three small tacos. Meanwhile he had ordered two massive burritos, a side of nachos, and a large soda which he refilled twice as they conversed. He shoveled the food into his mouth rapidly, taking large bites and by the time it was done he still looked unsatisfied.

“Wow that’s amazing that you got to study abroad in Spain” Ben says visibly captivated by his conversation with Katie, “There’s so much culture there. Spanish is such a beautiful language, I wish I spoke it.”

Scott smiles slightly like he has something to say on the subject. His smile is cute, Mia observes. It contrasts against his serious eyes and straight eyebrows making him look more interesting. He opens his mouth to speak.

“I pretty much already know all the Spanish I need to know: limpia mi casa puta. That means clean my house bitch,” he laughs loudly.

Mia shook her head. He was gradually confirming all of the expectations she had of him, “We know what it means. We’re actually both Hispanic.”

He laughs harder, “No fucking way, I thought you were black and she was… like white-ish Arab or something.”

“Well next time cover your bases before making jokes like that…bitch,” she added that last part as a tie in to what he’d said, so as not to seem too offended. After all she wasn’t offended, she was far too attracted to him to feel offense. It was a fact that bothered her. Though, she rationalized to herself, everything he’s said so far has been pretty benign. He’s a harmless product of his environment. Thus, fucking him wouldn’t make me a hypocrite at all. Au contraire, it would show that I’m open minded.

When they finally were ready to leave, her eyes were glued to Scott as he heaved himself up from his two bar stools. His belly accidentally smashes against the table pushing it a few inches. The table loudly scrapes against the smooth gray flooring and the few people still there all turn to look at him. For a moment embarrassment registers across his face, but he quickly collects himself and moves the table back as softly as possible. Mia expects him to say some lame self-deprecating joke, but he says nothing.

“You ready to go?” he asked Ben as he walked over from behind the table, allowing Mia to see his full body in all its glory.

Standing up, he looks enormous. He appears to be about 6’3, so a little more than a foot taller than her. The fabric of his shirt is stretched over him as far as possible to cover his broad mid-section. His belly bulges out at least a foot in front of him. His arms are positioned at a slight angle because he’s too large for them to fall straight down by his sides. His fat is fairly evenly distributed, every area of his body looks extremely well-padded.

He notices her looking him over. Automatically he crosses his arms in front of himself defensively. Instead of hiding his body, this only causes her to pay attention to how difficult all the excess fat makes it for him to be able to even get his arms across himself. He looks puffed up and uncomfortable in that position. Under her continued gaze, his face again reddened slightly. At that point she looked away, feeling slightly guilty for making him most likely feel like she was judging him.

This display of vulnerability, again makes her wish she had the chance to dominate him sexually. The fact that a simple eye movement of hers has the power to make him this uncomfortable gives her a slight power trip. At that point she knew, she didn’t care about who he was as a person. She had to have sex with him at least once. She needed to.

While Ben was getting Katie’s number, she sauntered over to Scott.

“So…what’s your number?” she asked awkwardly.

He looked entirely caught off guard, “Why do you want that?”

She scratched her head losing her resolve, “Uhh… in case…I…ever want to buy shrooms… Cause you said you know a lot of people who sell good ones? And I uh…might want your expert opinion sometime maybe…?”

During the past hour he talked a lot about the drugs he liked the best, and she had mentioned her curiosity and lack of experience with hallucinogens so she figured this might be the most natural sounding excuse.

He shrugged, “Okay. I’ll put it in your phone.”

She places her phone in his hand, observing how thick and big his hand looked in comparison to her own. He fumbled with the unfamiliar device.

“Nice phone,” he mumbled sarcastically as he typed.

“Yeah I’m not part of the cult of Apple.”

He snickers handing it back to her, “So I’ll hear from you?”

Intrigued by the fact that he said that she tilts her head to the side with a smile, “You’ll definitely be hearing from me.”
 

Tad

Dimensions' loiterer
Joined
Sep 29, 2005
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The great white north, eh?
I love that opening line! The rest of scene one is pretty sweet too, of course, but you had me hooked with that first sentence :)

Oh, and I slapped on our standard formatting. (not a big deal)
 

agouderia

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Interesting start. Looking forward to reading more.
 

magodamilion

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Scott pulled the 5XL light blue shirt over his upper body. The once standard fitted cotton polo was now skin tight. He tugged at the collar which was cutting into his neck, creating a thick roll that spilled out over the top of the collar. The bottom of the shirt could barely contain his massive belly. The cloth would gradually migrate back up every time he’d manage to pull it over it fully. The shirt was tight and restrictive around his back. He could barely move his arms. He glanced backwards in the mirror and could see that every back roll was perfectly imprinted through the stretched fabric. It squeezed his body, creating the illusion that his moobs were even rounder and fuller then they actually were.

He wasn’t sure when he had bought this shirt but he knew it had at least been after he’d graduated. Facing the mirror he groaned. How could I possibly have gotten bigger? Since finishing college, or really since April of senior year when he officially found he had been rejected from all five law schools he’d applied to, his weight had sky-rocketed. It had been almost a year since then and at this point he had no idea how much it was. As he’d always been big, he bought a scale that went up to four hundred pounds online years ago, when had first crossed over three hundred (the maximum of most standard scales). So based on that, he knew he had passed four hundred nearly a year ago so it bothered him that now he couldn’t even fit in a shirt he’d bought around that time.

Being slightly over three hundred pounds had been mostly awesome. He had been that size throughout much of high school and the beginning of college. At parties his college freshman year, girls would automatically assume he was a football player, a lineman. It made sense. Lineman were generally the only guys as big as him that acted as loud and over-confident as he usually did back then. He’d go along with it, as it seemed most sorority girls really wanted to fuck football players. Even when that didn’t happen, he was able to attract girls pretty easily.

All of that stopped once he passed three-fifty. No one was attracted to him. Not even any of the girls from before. People stopped wondering if he played football, and started wondering how it was possible for someone to let themselves get that big at such a young age. At least that’s what it felt like people were wondering. Junior year was really the first time he felt that his size actually limited him.

Actually no that’s not true, he thought. In high school it had posed a slight limitation, he was the largest person in his small pretentious school and that occasionally bothered him. Some girls did seem grossed out by his size and people would make comments about it every so often. But fortunately for him he had money, social skills, his family name, and cool friends which all combined fully distracted people from focusing on his size. His dad was a corporate lawyer and his mom a successful photographer for a travel magazine. They had once donated a ton of money to the school, enough to renovate one of the buildings which now carried their last name. His older sister Becca was among the most popular girls at their school. So needless to say, simply being part of the Pafford family gave him a lot of social mileage back then. This of course, wasn’t the case in the broader world of college. Hence part of why junior year of college was his introduction to feeling like a freak.

He got through it by actually focusing on his studies for the first time ever, and lying to his frat brothers about his shitty sex life. Even with those last two years of celibacy and hard work, he hadn’t made it into law school. Those years probably fucked him over more so than they did any good, because they caused him to get idealistic about his chances and apply exclusively to really good programs instead of a spectrum. This in turn, was the final push that sent him into the state of misery that caused him to gain fifty pounds in six months. And then some.

He pulled the shirt over his flab a third time and held it down then let go. It rose up a second later. He grunted in annoyance and sat on his bed. The movement in his shoulders from an upright standing position to slouched stretched the fabric even more around his upper back. It made a tearing sound. Shit, he peered over his shoulder. The rip was small but noticeable. He took off the shirt and threw it on the ground. After putting on the same shirt he wore yesterday, which he at least knew covered him all the way though it was still pretty tight, he opened his door and walked outside.

He lumbered down the stairs outside of his apartment complex. It was Monday so he had to go to work. Technically he had been honest when he told those girls Saturday night at Taco Land that he worked at a law firm. He distorted the fact that it was a law firm owned by his Dad’s good friend who had pretty much just handed him the job to make that sound like it was a good thing. And he’d completely hidden the fact that he was basically just a glorified secretary there. He was only doing it to pass the time while he searched for a real job.

**
Her room was hazy with marijuana smoke. The ground was cluttered with clothes, pencils, and sketches. The sky outside was pitch black. The combination of dim lighting and red curtains made the room seem warmer than it felt.

In the background played the song form the diner scene on Pulp Fiction, a mid tempo instrumental piece with bright guitar chords and a bluesy walking bass line. She was dancing shirtless. Hips swaying to the beat, her hair alternating between covering her chest and exposing it as she moved. Scott was there in her bedroom tied to a chair he was too big for, his flesh overflowing over the armrests. Black ropes were wrapped around him, one set under his belly and the other across his vast chest. His arms were handcuffed behind him.

She made her way over to him, sat on the small area of his lap that wasn’t covered by his belly, and began stripping his clothes off. The back of the chair was positioned directly against her bed. Once he was naked she climbed on the bed towards him and pulled his face backwards so it was resting on the mattress. He looked up at her with a crooked smile.

She kissed him upside down like Spiderman before moving further along his body exploring him with her hands and mouth. By the time her face was at the middle of his belly, her crotch was over his face. She sank her hands and face deep into his flesh as he began to go down on her.


WHAM

The door slammed shut as Mia’s roommate Chao left the apartment. The walls were so thin, he always woke her up when he left around eight every weekday.

She slowly opened her eyes, finding herself alone in the same room she’d been dreaming about. Damn. Her curls piled into a loose ponytail at the top of her head flopped into her face as she sat up. She hated when her dreams were better than her reality.

The sun poured in through her blinds. It was Monday, but she didn’t have anywhere to be til around eleven. Lying back into her bed she grabbed her phone and went on facebook. She wanted to shove her brain back into her dream, and figured the closest thing to that would be to creep on his facebook page. She didn’t know his last name, but figured she could find him based on what little information he’d given her.

She knew he had gone to UC Davis, she knew he was a Phi Gamma Iota, and she knew, like her, he had graduated last year. After finding the facebook page of his fraternity, she began to look through event pictures to find him. Surely enough after looking through a couple rows of images, there he was. Dressed up in formal clothes with his mouth open in a frozen mid-laugh, he was standing in a fancy room with a group of generic basic looking people. She kept clicking through the pictures of this event, whatever it was. He stood out in these pictures featuring crowds of thin people, because he took up so much room. Like a whale moving through a swarm of krill…Actually maybe I should think of a less potentially offensive analogy. Hmm…Like the only normal flower in a bouquet made up solely of baby’s breath. Then she chuckled a little at the ridiculousness of her own thoughts.

According to the tags on the pictures, his full name was Scott Pafford. Biting her lip, she clicked on his profile. Her eyes darted around across the screen, not sure where to focus. She noticed it said he’d been tagged in 1,112 pictures. Her eyes widened and a slow smile spread across her face. Eleven hundred and twelve pictures of this dude? Aw shit! It was like she’d hit the masturbation fodder jackpot!

As she went through the photos a myriad of emotions passed through her. First she was horny, as was to be expected. Then gradually she felt a little jealous of his active social life. He was everywhere it seemed. She clicked through images of him at bonfire parties, to average college beer-pong type parties, to neon colored raves, even a couple of yacht parties as he’d mentioned. She thought back to her own social life. Most nights she spent at home by herself watching Netflix, working on some project, or on her Xbox. She only partied like once every three months perhaps? Probably less than that. Only when Katie, her only friend who was into that scene, invited her to something.

Grimacing she continued perusing through Scott’s page. The further she got into the past, the more fun his life seemed to look. There he was in a tux with a gorgeous red haired girl under his arm. There he was on at a football game with a ton of other pumped up people their face painted blue and yellow. There he was at what looked like a rooftop party.

Yeah he’s way out of your league. Way way way out of your league. You’re delusional for even considering calling him. Compulsively clicking through, she began to experience feelings of anger. Anger at herself being lame and desperate enough to have a wet dream about a guy she had no chance with. Preemptive rage at him for rejecting her. She was aware that hadn’t actually happened yet, but it didn’t matter. It was inevitable. Inevitable if she decided to ask him out anyway. She had made up her mind earlier that she’d call him Wednesday, but now she wasn’t sure.
She closed her laptop realizing it was getting close to be time to leave. Angrily she yanked off the t-shirt she’d slept in and threw on another equally crushed shirt.

She was a web designer/ freelance illustrator/ comic book writer/ starving artist. Right now she had several projects going. She was making brochures for a local not-for-profit organization, making a comic about a sex addicted zombie girl (who rapes, kills, and eats men then gets angsty about it) with some rando who found her website and liked it, and she had a part time gig doing web design which was where she was now about to go.

As she drove to work, it hit her. Duh, after what you said to him that night even if you do call him he won’t have the chance to reject you. Because he’ll think you’re calling about finding someone to buy shrooms from. She shook her head internally laughing at herself. She was worried for nothing, she had a built in excuse for calling him that left her with the ability to duck out if it ever became clear that ducking out was necessary.

There was only one problem left, she realized as she imagined the hypothetical phone call. If he believed that she was calling him for that very singular purpose, then they would have no reason to meet up thus putting her back in the initial situation of having to ask him out. She needed an excuse. An excuse to ask him to not only find shrooms for her but to do them with her. A concert maybe? She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. Could she make that sound casual enough?

Heyyyy fellow taco enjoyer. We met a couple nights ago, hope you remember. Actually guess you knew that already, as I began my greeting with a reference to the night we met ha. Anyways there’s this concert coming up and I think a concert totally sounds like the optimal environment for using some of those hallucinogens we discussed. Where can I get some? And by the way wanna come with?

She shuddered. What she needed, was a way to ask him to hang out with her in the most subtle and accidental looking way possible. It had to appear to have fallen into her lap. Maybe she could lie that she won some concert tickets and had no one to go with because it was so last minute everyone had plans? No that’s terrible.

Maybe she could keep it simple and straightforward? Call him up like “Hey I like your vibe let’s do something.” But then again, she didn’t particularly like his vibe. In fact she kinda disliked his vibe, she simply thought he was hot.

Yeah why are you over-thinking this at all? She thought to herself. It’s not like you want to date the guy. You just want to sleep with him. And there’s no way he’s going to straight up reject you for that right?

She nodded, gaining some conviction with this new train of thought. Yes! I should just do what a guy would do in this situation. Fuck all these mind games, I should just text him at two AM like “Yo you dtf?” and let it roll from there.

She rubbed her fingers against her scalp. Then again, he might just think you’re mocking him if you do that. Take it down a notch. Based on her experiences with being hit on, what would generally be considered down a notch from a late night booty call text was an afternoon “What are you doing tonight” phone call.

So that’s what I’ll do. Right after work. That’s what’s happening.
 

Anjula

the bitchy one
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I really like this story! It's so different then the others and i love her little sex dream 😁 btw it's good to know that I'm not the only person who thinks Facebook is basically a big book of masturbation lol
 

magodamilion2

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Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
73
Location
Philadelphia
Despite being out of college for a year, it still wasn’t clear to Scott what exactly people were supposed to do with their lives on weekday evenings.

He wasn’t the type of guy who could find much pleasure out of sitting still. It made little sense to him how the majority of people could enjoy watching TV for hours on end. It made him restless, twitchy, psychologically itchy. He wondered, why do people hype up living alone so much? At least with roommates, there was always noise. Always some activity in the periphery, you could have a sense of how to spend your time, because you always had a sense of how other people were spending theirs.

Independence is boring. Mind-numbing, even.

And independence paired with an awful prospect-less job was absolutely soul-crushing.

For a while, people were willing to still hang out on weekdays, even if they weren’t willing to go out out. Quite a few people still lived in his hometown, and at first, they were excited to see him when he’d moved back. It had been years since he’d properly lived there after all. But gradually it began to dry up. His old friends weren’t really that fun to him anymore. He wasn’t sure if he’d changed, maybe California made his entertainment pallet a little too selective, or maybe they only ever had stuff in common because they were around each other all day back then. But regardless, socializing had gotten far too sporadic for his taste. And he wasn’t sure what to do to fix it.

So in the meantime, he focused on tackling the immediate pressing issue: making time go by a little faster. Which is to say, he spent pretty much every weekday evening drunk or high, or both.

This had been a particularly boring Monday, so tonight it was both. Mezcal, bourbon, and gin were his top three favorite liquors. And for a young person, he had quite the collection. His dad had taught him early on how to appreciate these things at a more defined level. How to recognize the subtleties and flavors. Which isn’t to say he couldn’t equally appreciate getting hammered on shitty cheap drinks as well, but he knew how to class it up and could find enjoyment at multiple levels.

He realized this was not a sustainable solution, but it sure did make sitting at home way more tolerable. And watching TV a lot more entertaining. And it made food even more fantastic. Not that he needed help in that department.

What was he in the mood for tonight? Hmm. He scrolled through the options on UberEats. He kinda felt like some of the greasy deep-fried goodness of the nearby Chinese buffet’s sesame chicken, but he had no desire whatsoever to go back outside again. He really wished there was some way to translate the buffet model onto take-out food. He had to be in a very specific mood to be willing to go to a buffet (that specific mood being completely wasted/ borderline black out drunk enough to not feel the hot sear of embarrassment at being an over four-hundred-pound man binge-eating in public). So, he only went there like… once a month at most. Okay, maybe twice a month.

He looked for something similar, some authentic artery clogging Americanized Chinese food. There were a few options, but he wanted to find the cheapest one so he could buy as much as he wanted, while still being able to feel like it wasn’t really that much he’d bought. If you spend under $30 on a meal, then that must be a reasonable perfectly fine meal, right? Nothing crazy, you’re not really that disgusting of a person if you only spent $30 on it.

Jade Garden, 3.1 stars, one-dollar sign. Sounds solid.
He began to order. Two plates of sesame chicken, pork fried rice, beef chow mien, and hmm some sort of dessert maybe? He wondered if four entrees were really enough for the evening. He hated when he’d go through all the trouble of waiting for the food to get there, having to walk all the way downstairs, searching for the delivery guy who’d inevitably get lost in the winding courtyards of his apartment complex, having to deal with the delivery guy looking at him and realizing all that food was likely for this one guy and the judging looks they’d give. That last part might’ve been all in his head though, cause how judgmental they looked seemed to correspond very evenly with how bad of a mood he was in. Though perhaps not, because how much food he’d ordered also evenly corresponded with how bad of a mood he was in.

Ah! Bubble tea! He added a large brown sugar lava bubble tea to his order. Eh let’s do two actually, he thought, clicking the add button. He skipped to ‘buy now’. Worst case, if he was still hungry later, he did have his impressively well stocked pantry. He tended to over-buy whenever he went grocery shopping, from the same silly ever-present concern that he’d run out of food.

Ugh, fifty-two minutes at best, he mentally added, that’s ages. The screen read, “Your order is scheduled to arrive between 5:45- 6:15.”

He couldn’t wait that long to eat something. He was ready now. He leaned forward to heft himself off of the couch to grab something from the fridge. He was starting to move like an old man, it was something he’d become very self-conscious about. He couldn’t comfortably move quickly anymore. This was a very recent development, and he knew it must mean he’d gotten even further away from four-hundred pounds than he allowed himself to think about.

Staying in denial was necessary. How was he supposed to get through this time in his life, if he had to restrict his eating on top of everything? He couldn’t be bored, lonely, job-hunting, AND starving all at the same time. He’d lose his goddamn mind from the total lack of stimulation.

He grabbed a pack of Oreos to bring back to the couch. This should hold him over, for the next 50 to god let’s hope it isn’t 80 minutes. He really ought not to have picked such a faraway restaurant, he hadn’t noticed the location when he’d chosen it.

He glanced at his phone to check if there’d been any progress, though he obviously knew there couldn’t have been. As he opened the app, the screen switched to black, showing a call from a number he didn’t have saved coming in.

Oh shit, this might be those people from that interview!

He cleared his throat and put on his professional/totally sober voice, “Hello?”

“Hey, is this Scott?” it was a woman’s voice, but his interviewer had been a man. Maybe they have someone from HR do the hiring calls. Or maybe this is from one of the interviews from ages ago.

“Yes, this is he! And who am I speaking with?”

“Oh um…” he heard a stilted laugh on the other end. Who the fuck…?

“Sooo… yeah this is actually, well not sure if you fully remember me or not, Mia! From Saturday? We were at Taco Land? You were with your friend? And I was with mine yeah? Do you remember that? I guess you were kinda drunk. I was too I suppose. I guess that’s why we were at Taco Land, right, haha, that’s the place for that, I guess. But yeah, she was the one in the… like… really sexy dress and I was the one who wasn’t?”

He wasn’t sure how long he was gonna let her go on like this.

It was pretty hilarious and refreshing. She sounded so nervous, like a teenage boy about to ask a girl to prom or something. She sounded like she was intimidated by him, which was pretty surprising to him considering how she’d come off when they met. If anything, he’d thought she found him annoying, she seemed like the argumentative type. He remembered she hadn’t really said that much, but when she did speak it was mainly to contradict whatever random drunk nonsense he’d been saying.

“Oh right, yeah don’t worry I don’t forget people that easily,” he was already smiling. No one had sounded this attracted to him since… well since high school probably. Just the sound of her stumbling and he could feel himself turning back into his real self. Someone in control of his life, who could flirt easily with no stakes, who made other people nervous.

“Ha nice. Yeah,” she paused, obviously thinking of something to say.

“So what are you up to tonight?” He didn’t want to put her on the spot and ask flat out why she was calling him.

“Not much!” She sounded relieved at having a question to answer, “Just at home, looking at Reddit honestly. I was thinking about what we’d talked about?”

“You’re gonna have to remind me.”

“Oh right. Um about how you knew a lot of people who sold like… mushrooms and acid and things of that nature.”

So that was why she was calling, right. Maybe she wasn’t nervous about him then, maybe she was just a drug noob who was scared asking for an acid plug over the phone would lead to the police immediately kicking down her door. The wash of confidence immediately started to fade and was replaced by embarrassment. She isn’t attracted to you, obviously, do you have no idea what you look like now? The way she had looked at him before they left the bar flashed back into his mind. She’d given him that same look the delivery guy’s do, her eyes moving up and down his body as if she were in shock that someone so young could’ve let himself go so badly. That holy shit, how is it even possible to be that size so early in life, look.

“Right yeah! I do remember that,” his voice even sounded less smooth already.

She interrupted him, “I don’t really want to meet the person myself though. Would there be anyway you could just buy some for me and I’ll pay you back when I see you and we meet up then?”

What an odd request, she really was paranoid about this. But there was really no reason for him to say no. Maybe they could hang out that way, it’d be something else to do. Someone new to be around.

“Yeah… We could do it that way.”
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
73
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 4



It was Wednesday evening, Mia’s roommate Chao was in the kitchen, making his dinner. She was splayed out on the couch alternating between looking at the clock on her phone and searching for something to distract her from doing just that. What was she so nervously awaiting, you might ask? Well, tonight was the night Scott was supposed to come over to deliver her some hippie drugs she had very little interest in doing.

“I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into.”

Chao seemed very amused by her discomfort, “Do you want us to stay in the room when he gets here, or should we disappear?” Us, referring to his girlfriend Anoushka, who lived in their apartment about half the time.

Her nervousness was two-fold.

On one hand was the general anxiety that comes before any first date. Would she have enough to talk about? Would their expectations of the evening be similar? Would she embarrass herself in front of him or come off dumb in some way? Secondly, since this wasn’t a real date at all, would it even be possible for her to successfully get him to stay and hang out with her or would he want to leave right away? Thirdly, if she did manage to successfully get him to stick around, would that then mean she’d have to take mushrooms with him tonight? And if so, what if they made her sick or she had a bad trip and was lost in the hellscape of her own mind for the next four hours? Fourthly, what if she did get him to stay over but then was too scared of having to take mushrooms that she admitted she wasn’t really interested in something like that and he in turn thought she was some kind of loser who was too wimpy to take one of the safest most natural drugs? Fifthly, she didn’t know this guy at all, he was just a stranger from a taco shop. What if he was a rapist? What’s she gonna do realistically, if it turns out she invited some massive behemoth over, and it turns out he wants to attack her?

So, five-fold nervousness really.

“Kinda both? Like could you somewhat disappear fairly early on, but then maybe check back in an hour later? Like for instance, it’d be ideal if you could hang out for the first five minutes of him getting here, then if we seem to be flowing, maybe ya’ll could go into your room, then maybe pop back out later? You could say you’re getting a snack or maybe you could say you’re going to get something from your car when you pop back out, so it seems very organic and realistic. Yeah?”

“Ah I didn’t know you had a whole script planned.”

She sighed, “I’m sorry yeah you’re right I’m being neurotic and expecting too much from you guys. But since you asked…? I’ll owe you!”

He smiled, “Understood. Don’t worry, we’ll do as you asked.”

They both return to silence. About thirty minutes later, she gets a message from Scott saying he’s looking for somewhere to park.

She looks out the window and sees him getting out of his car, on the far side of the parking lot across the street. She can physically feel the anxiety rise in her chest like bile.

“Chao! Anoushka! Come back out he’s here! Let’s put some music on!” she yells, scurrying over their record player. Carefully, she dropped the stylus closer to the middle of the record, so it would seem as though they were casually listening to music together for a while before he’d arrived.

“Oooh I wanna see,” Anoushka runs over to the window beside her and squints out.

“It’s that guy? The one there?” Chao looks perplexed.

“No man, obviously not. It must be that one over there,” Anoushka points to a more conventionally attractive guy walking on the sidewalk near the parking lot.

“Chao was right actually… it is that one,” Mia says sheepishly. She’s never openly told anyone about her interest in larger men, and she’s especially never acknowledged out loud her interest in feederism. They had even met her last ex-boyfriend and heard her mention slim celebrities in the past that she’d found attractive. So, she understood why they would be surprised.

“Seriously??” Chao looked at Anoushka.

“Girl…” Anoushka looked almost concerned for her sanity.

As he walked over, it further hammered in how extreme Scott looked. He was perhaps, even fatter than what she’d imagined in her wildest feederist fantasies. It was taking him forever to waddle from his car to the nearer parking lot. Each step looked strained, he kept tugging down his shirt, despite it not really riding up. She badly wanted to know how much he weighed, just tossing numbers in her head was making her wet. Could he be five-hundred pounds? She mused, it hadn’t seemed likely before, but seeing him from afar made her think it might be within the realm of possibility. She thought through her mental catalog of gainer YouTubers she’d been a fan of over the years, he really looked no different from many of her favorites. And to think, he’d gotten to this size entirely on accident! Just through sheer lack of self-control.

“I sincerely hope you know you can do better than this.”

“What if you started dating him and one night, he rolled over on you in his sleep? You’d probably suffocate to death!”

“Nah her bones would be crushed long before that,” they both laughed.

As he got closer, she began to take in the details of his form. He wore khaki shorts and a casual pastel blue button-down shirt. The shirt skimmed over the massive dome of his belly, but could barely contain his arm flab, which bulged out the edges of his short sleeves like dough in an overfilled muffin tin. His chest and upper back fared similarly, strained the shirt so that the upper buttons had clear gaps between them, and you could see the curve of every back roll he had.

“Are we offending you?” Chao said, shifting his tone, “I’m sorry, we really do support you in whoever you choose to date. We’re just a little caught off guard.”

“Yeah yeah, it’s fine, I know you don’t mean anything. Just sit down and look like we’ve been hanging out this whole time.”

The couple looked equally bemused and curious, trying to contain their reactions as they got into their standard positions on the couch. Mia sat down on the other couch to the side of them, she wasn’t going to open the door until at least a minute after he’d texted her, so as not to look too thirsty.

Her phone buzzed, the three of them looked at each other. She counted down the sixty seconds.

“Okay, here we go.”

She opened the door.

“Hey, Mia.”

It immediately struck her how beautiful his face was. She hadn’t properly taken that in when they’d met. Unlike the night at Taco Land, his hair was un-gelled, messy, and wild. The dense tangle of thick black curls added an edge to his otherwise preppy look. She also hadn’t noticed his pale green eyes and how they nicely contrasted against his tan skin and Southern European-looking features.

She used to say she hated people who said your name in unnecessary contexts, it made them seem like they were trying to sell you something. But hearing him say her name just then, made her melt, his voice was low and slightly raspy. For a moment it annoyed her how little credit she’d get for pulling a guy this attractive, if she did indeed manage to pull him, just because of his size. It was like that erased everything else that might be universally appealing about him in the minds of the general public.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
73
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 4 Cont.

“Hey, come on in!”

He glanced over her apartment, with a look that was almost skeptical, as he stepped through the door.
Mia sat back down on the couch and motioned for him to join her, but he only walked over into the living room and remained standing. Oh no, he did think this was a give the stuff and leave type situation, she thought. Suddenly she felt as though her relaxed roommates and records situation was very transparently fake.

“Hey, I’m Mia’s roommate, Chao, and this is my girlfriend Anoushka!”

Scott introduced himself, then looked as though he just realized something, “Oh was I supposed to bring some for them too?”

“Oh no no no, they’re just here. Chilling. Listening to music. As you do.”

Anoushka stifled a laugh. The awkwardness was palpable. It was clear, no one really knew what they were supposed to be saying.

“I guess you guys are big fans of sixties music then? Or is that just for when you’re about to try psychedelics?” Scott couldn’t sound less interested in his own words.

“Mia is. Well she is pretty eclectic; she likes all the decades.”

“Wow all the decades, huh?”

“Yeah, she’s like that. Personally, I am only into the 1670’s,” Chao joked.

Mia couldn’t help cringing at their small talk. The fact that Scott is still standing up is really half the source of this scenario’s awkwardness, she thought. It made her unsure of how to move forward. He’s obviously trying to leave right away, but should I bother trying to convince him not to? Or should I just let it go at this point?

Scott reached into his bag, “Well, the guy actually didn’t have any mushrooms right now. So, I brought two tabs of acid instead. I paid, $50 for it. I figured it’d be better than telling you I couldn’t find anything, since you also had said you might be interested in trying that at some point. So, here’s that.”

Mia stood to take the bag from him, “Wow, that’s a little more intimidating.”

“Which part?”

“How long it lasts mainly,” she has to look up to talk to him when standing this close.

He shrugged, “You could just think of it as being more efficient really. More bang for your buck.”

“I don’t think I want that much bang.”

“Well I dunno, do you not want it then?” He was beginning to sound annoyed.

She bit her lip; this was really not going as planned.

Anoushka piped up, “Bet she’d be less worried if she had an experienced person to do them with her!”

Anoushka! My hero.

He raised his eyebrows, “What like tonight?”

Mia was now very unsure of how to answer. “Is that something you’d be down for?”

Anoushka looked at Chao, “We’re retiring to our quarters!” He laughed, as they got up and slinked back into their room.

Oh god, these damn people don’t know how to act.

Scott watched them as they walked away. Then he turned and looked back at her, “Mia, I hate to tell you this. But you’ve got weird friends.”

She laughed. He seemed to do that every so often, talk to her as if they were familiar to each other already, as if they were friends. It was like he had total control of the level of tension in the room and he could turn it off or on at will just by changing his tone.

“So, do you have some sort of exclusive relationship with IKEA? Or Walmart?” he’s got that pretentious asshole-ish tone he had the night they met once again.

Aaaand there was the awkwardness again. He’s roasting her furniture out of nowhere? How the hell was she meant to answer that? She hated playful roasts sometimes, the kind where you knew the person was joking so you couldn’t respond seriously, but you didn’t find the joke funny, so you’d have to fake laugh at it.
Then it occurred to her. He was scared her couch wouldn’t accommodate him! That’s why he was standing this entire time! He wasn’t really trying to leave right away; he was just trying to avoid a potentially humiliating situation. And by roasting her furniture, he was really trying to suss out indirectly whether or not he might be able to sit down without the couch breaking under him.

She matches his tone, to an exaggerated mocking degree, “I’ll have you know, this is actually a quality cedar-based couch, my parents got for me,” she was making that up, she just wanted him to finally feel comfortable enough to sit down.

“Oh is it now,” he made his way over to sit beside her. He eased himself slowly into the couch, it creaked loudly in protest the moment his body hit the seat. The foundation of the couch sagged deeply under his weight, tumbling her closer towards him.

His ears reddened slightly, “I should probably sit on the floor actually.”

A smile spread across her face, aw poor guy, how quickly his strong confident front has slipped off.
“No, you’re good, don’t worry!” She couldn’t help but marvel at how he dwarfed her couch, he looked like an adult sitting in a children’s chair. He was trying to support some of his weight by staying close to the edge of the couch and leaning forwards onto his tree trunk legs. In leaning forwards, the lower portion of his belly had spilled out of his shirt, sagged between his thighs. The skin looked soft, but densely packed and she could see the edges of bright red stretch mark lines that disappearing under the fabric of his shirt. It looked almost painful, like he’d gained a significant amount of weight very quickly and his skin didn’t have time to cope with his boundless gluttony. Almost immediately, he noticed and tugged his shirt down. This didn’t quite cover him, so he attempted to lean back and shift his overhang back into his shirt. All of this movement happened in a matter of milli-seconds, but her eyes didn’t leave his body as he struggled.

He squinted suspiciously as his eyes met hers. He looked like he was debating with himself whether to say something or not.

She didn’t want him to say whatever he was thinking, he caught her gawking at him again, anything he had to say about it couldn’t be great. So before he could speak, she said, “So wanna do this now or what?”

He looked surprised, “You really wanna take it now, like now now? Well I do have work tomorrow…”

He raked his hand through his hair and pinched the bridge of his nose in thought, “But fuck it. I’ll say I’m sick tomorrow.”

Yes! She’d gotten him to agree to stay!

But oh fuck, now she had to take acid.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
73
Location
Philadelphia
I'm excited this story is continuing, very hot. I can't wait to hear more!
I started to think this page was kinda dead so I began posting it on fantasy feeder instead. There is one chapter more on there now. Not sure whether I should continue on here as well or how much overlap there is between the audiences on the two sites.
 

Metallicalover99

Active Member
Joined
Jan 10, 2020
Messages
44
Location
United States
Maybe post to both? It's a great story and it seems like there has been some recent positive feedback.

I started to think this page was kinda dead so I began posting it on fantasy feeder instead. There is one chapter more on there now. Not sure whether I should continue on here as well or how much overlap there is between the audiences on the two sites.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
73
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 5


It looked like a small strip of plastic from afar and tasted like nothing.

“How long does this take to kick in?”

“Like thirty minutes or so,” he said lightly, “Oh right, let’s get something for you to watch! You seem like the easily freaked out type, and I say that not intending to freak you out, but I think it’d be good for you to have something concrete to look at and focus on.”

He had decided after all to sit on the floor. It was quite the ordeal for him to even get there. He had to hold onto the railings of the couch and slowly guide himself down. He couldn’t really bend his knees in the way that he needed to without losing his balance, so eventually he realized he had to sit on the edge of the couch, stretch his legs out straight and ease himself down from there. She wondered how it’d be possible for him to get back into a standing position from there.

It looked incredibly uncomfortable, the way he was sitting now. His legs were stretched straight in front of him, spread to make room for his belly. When he leaned forward even the slightest bit, the bottom of his belly would touch the floor. It looked like he was working hard to hold himself upright, there was just too much mass in the way for him to sit up with ease.

Even so, he seemed excited, energetic. Being told to be her trip guide had livened up a new part of him she hadn’t been privy to before. He was talking almost like a really enthusiastic professor. Telling her about the first time he ever tried it, his worst trip, what he thinks can be done to edge your mind in certain directions during it. How to make it meaningful.

“You sure know a lot about this.”

His expression shifted slightly, as if he thought he were being called out, “Yeah well. I guess I prefer to be in an altered state of mind.”

“That sounds emotionally healthy.”

This time he took it lightly. He snickered, “Of course it does, don’t I look like the pinnacle of emotional health?”

“Ooh very edgy, are we?”

“You bring out my inner troubled teen.”

About thirty minutes in she began to feel it washing over her. Physically, she felt almost normal, but she could tell there’d been a change in her thoughts. When she closed her eyes, she could see shooting colors, like fireworks across the edges of her vision. It was similar to what she saw when she closed her eyes after moving from a bright room to a pitch black one, except this time should could almost feel the colors at a non-visual level.

“Ugh, I gotta lay down,” he flopped backwards onto the floor, giving a sigh of relief. He stretched his spine out, making his entire stomach wobble. His shirt had come up again, but this time he looked oblivious to it. Or at least he no longer cared.

Panic immediately flared up in her, “Why? Are you feeling bad?”

“No no no, don’t get stressed. My back was just tired.”

He looked so enticing from this perspective. Seeing him in the context of her own apartment, further emphasized his how wide and huge he was. His body took up more than half the width of her rug. And her rug was pretty damn big, like a proper living room rug.

Laying down also made him look incredibly soft. She imagined how his skin might feel. She’d never actually touched anyone anywhere near this size before. She had no idea what he would feel like.

“Can I explore you?” The words left her mouth before she’d even consciously thought them.
Again his eyes were skeptical, struggling to read her. She could barely see his face peeking out from behind his belly. The only reason she could see any of it was because she was at a slight side angle. He had to lift his head up to look forwards at her, his jaw sinking into the fatty tissues of his own double chin, mashing it forwards. But she could tell he was smiling slightly like he was a little bit intrigued, he wanted to know where this would go, “And what does that mean exactly?”

“Like… Touch you? But a lot all over?”

He rested his head back on the floor, closing his eyes and nodded, “I guess. Make yourself useful though and give me a massage.”

She scoffed, make yourself useful?? Who does he think is in charge here? She flicked him sharply in the softest part of his belly overhang.

“Ayyy!” he said loudly in feigned protest.

“No bro. This exploration is for my own pleasure.”

Words really were tumbling out of her mouth before she could process them. For my own pleasure? Yikes, she thought she sounded like someone in a bad porn fiction story.

She snuck her hand under his shirt.

“Wow getting very comfortable now, aren’t you?”

She ignored him. Her hand moved towards a fold on his side. She shoved a finger into the fold, it was deeper than she would’ve expected. She continued to put the rest of her hand in. The skin around it pushed back against her on both sides. The texture surprised her, it felt dense and firm, heavy. Not soft like she had imagined. She thought she’d be able to easily sink her hands into the fat, but it gave a lot more pushback. Pressing against his bulging sides felt like trying to sink her hands into a freshly inflated balloon.

She followed the fold upwards as it got shallower, away from his back and closer to the main portion of his belly, till she reached unfolded skin. It amazed her the way that bodies did this. When there was so much excess fat it no longer had anywhere left to put it, it created folds, whole new store areas that can keep growing and piling indefinitely. He had so many folds, all along his sides (and likely his back, but that she couldn’t feel since he was laying down), each one smashing into the others beside it.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?”

She froze in her tracks. It was like for a moment she forgot he was a living being, aware of her touching him. How could she answer this without sounding creepy? “Um… what do you think I’m doing?”
“Stabbing me in the side with your nails over and over!”

Oh. Not what she expected him to say. She couldn’t see his face anymore from where she was sitting. All she could see was his enormous belly, really. She wanted to see more, unlike many men his size she’d seen online, a lot of his weight was distributed in the upper half of his torso. She could only imagine what his chest looked like with no shirt.

She pulled herself onto him, climbing onto his gut. The ground looked ridiculously far away from on top of him. His stomach was so wide, she could comfortable pull both of her legs up into a crisscross position and still have room on either side.

He coughed in shock, “Okay, you’re full-on sitting on me now. You do realize you’re sitting on me, right?”
All of her inhibitions and self-limitation abilities had melted away. Nothing really seemed that inappropriate to her right now. Curiosity won over anything other part of her mind.
 
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