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

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magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 6

Scott could not figure out what her end game was.

The things she said, the ways she looked at him. To him it seemed somewhere halfway between arousal and disgust. Two reactions that never co-existed.

Like what the hell was she even doing right now?

Playing with his fat? But why?

On the one hand she could just be fixating on the nearest thing that’s out of the ordinary, because she’s high. She could be mesmerized by the feeling of his flesh, because it was so different from her own. Her firm stretched over bone and muscle flesh.

Or maybe she wasn’t even really playing with his fat, maybe it just seemed that way to him, because he was self-conscious. Maybe she just wanted to touch him in a flirty neutral sense. Because really, if she just wanted to touch him, how else could she really do that without seeming to be playing with his fat? There was nothing else on his body but that. There was literally no part of his body that she could grab or touch, that wouldn’t count as playing with his fat.

She was seated on top of him, looking very comfortable as if he was a bench. When he looked up at her he could see the lace from the side of her panties through the gap of her loose athletic shorts. He wondered if that was the reason, she was sitting like that, to subtly flash him. It was almost comical how skinny her legs and thighs were. Smaller than his arms for sure. Standing together the two of them probably looked like different species. She was pretty short but looking at her legs from below like this made them look long and spindly. Their shape was so defined, he could see the outline of each muscle, in both her arms and her legs really.

At first, he thought she had been looking at his face, but really it seemed she was honed in on his chest and arms. He had always hated his chest, he had disproportionately large man tits from an early age. At the weight he was now, he thought things had sort of evened out. Anyone would expect someone his size to have full hanging moobs, it was just how weight tended to distribute. His didn’t really hang that much, they still stuck out forwards a bit, but it wasn’t as noticeable anymore now that his stomach stuck out so much further than them. The only thing he actually liked about his weight distribution was how it tended to settle more horizontally, or in other words it made him look very wide rather than very round. He thought it gave him more of a strong look, like how those extreme lifters were shaped, except with way less muscle. Whether other people thought that or not, he wasn’t sure.

“Does it hurt?” Her eyes look innocent and almost sad. A third confusing expression of hers, if she’d looked at him that way before he definitely hadn’t noticed.

“When I fell from heaven because I must be an angel?” He asked, laughing slightly at himself for the cheesy reference.

She rolled her eyes, “Oh my god! Shut up,” she laughed.

He answered seriously, “Nah you’re good. I mean you could be more careful with the nails, but it’s fine.”

“I don’t mean what I’m doing, I mean…” she gestured vaguely to his body, as if it were obvious what she was talking about.

“Sitting on me? Not at all, you’re very light. I can barely feel the difference.”

She looked frustrated, “No I mean… like all this?” This time she touched him instead of gesturing, his stomach area mainly.

“I’m not getting what you’re talking about. Like…” he clearly got what she was talking about, but was incredulous that she was really asking that, “What…Are you asking if it hurts to be fat?”

“…Yeah… But I mean like to be…very morbidly…like extreme… to be… like how you are?”

He stared at her. My god, she really had no filter right now. But he couldn’t be offended, he told himself, because she was definitely very high.

“Nah. Not really.”

It would’ve been true if someone had asked him that a year or two ago. He thought about all the aches and pains he had throughout the day now. He’d never admit it to her out loud, but it hurt quite a lot to be this size. His feet, his knees, the base of his spine, just spending slightly too much time in the wrong position and they’d all be on fire.

She looks reassured, “Nice. Nice…”

He hesitated, he wanted to know why she would even think of that question, but he also wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“Why would you ask me that?”

She answered quickly, “Just cause I don’t want to feel guilty.”

What the hell does that mean?

“Guilty for what?”

She smiled, then tried to cover it up with her hands. She bit her lip trying to stop smiling but ended up laughing. She started laughing harder and harder till her eyes were dripping and she was drooling slightly out the corner of her mouth. She began to collect herself, but was still laughing a bit, “I don’t know! It really isn’t my fault at all is it? I barely even know you! I certainly didn’t do this to you. You were already like this when I found you!”

Okay…whatever she’s high for the first time. Everything she’s saying probably means nothing, he thought.

“And it’s not like you’re immobile or anything crazy like that. I don’t want to make you immobile, not really. Maybe in theory yeah. But like really? That’s crazy man! That stuff doesn’t happen in real life!” She continues laughing.

Her words were beginning to have a disturbing edge to them. He felt unsettled, but he didn’t fully understand why.

The other side of the record came to a stop.

Had it been that little time? He had no sense of time anymore.

She looked up, “Ooh you pick something this time! I’ve got a pretty solid collection. Well, between the three of us we do anyways, it isn’t all mine,” she said swinging her legs off of him and standing in one swift motion.
He looked across the room at the record player and thought about standing up.

But suddenly he wasn’t sure how. It was like he’d completely forgotten how to get up from this position. He pulled one of his legs up (from a laid flat position into a bent knee position).

He attempted to lift his chest up and pull himself onto his elbows, while still leaned back. But he couldn’t. He felt pinned down by his own mass. Again, he tried to gather enough energy to propel his back upwards into a sitting position again, but he all he managed to lift was his head. He looked forwards, seeing the gargantuan dome that was his own stomach, trapping him, keeping him pressed against the floor. He looked back at her, she was standing looking through her records, paying no mind to him.

Dread and panic washed over him. Had she done something to him? Or has it been that long since he’d laid down flat on the floor, that he hadn’t realized he was way too fat to really do things like that anymore? Cool it, remember you’re on LSD right now, you’re processing information incorrectly, he told himself, but it was no use. He had begun to freak out. He couldn’t breathe. His body felt like a prison.

He tried to shift himself onto his side but found this impossible as well. There was simply too much weight in his mid-section, it felt like lead, or some kind of disgusting tumor. It was confining him. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. And the sick truth was, he'd done it to himself. It was a prison of his own making.

He was simply too heavy to get up.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
I'm glad you're posting this here!
Yeah because of all the Covid-19 stuff I came on this website again for the first time in years looking for a story to read. Then I saw this old story was one of the most recently commented on ones, so I read it again expecting it to be a cringe disaster, but I actually liked it a lot and felt inspired. So I've been writing it and thinking about it a lot ever since. Procrastinating on work, now that we have to work at home, really makes me productive on fun stuff like this.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 7

Looking up from her records, she glanced at Scott. He looked like a fish out of water, writhing on the floor trying to get up. She knew he’d have a tough time from that position.

“Need a hand?” she says, her tone teasing and light.

His face was bright red, and his eyes wild. He looked up at her, and she could see the terror in his expression.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Oh fuck, was he having a bad trip she wondered. He was meant to be her trip guide! He couldn’t be scared; she was the one who was supposed to be scared! He was supposed to be the calm collected expert!

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” he panted at her, sounding more afraid than angry. She was taken aback.

“How?? What are you talking about?”

“I! Can’t! Move!” Now he sounded more angry than afraid.

She took in a deep breath, “Okay calm down. Breathe in. You’re okay. We’re okay. Nothing bad is happening. I’m gonna help you up.”

She stretches a hand to him. His clammy hand grabs hers and pulls. Hard.

So hard it hurt her shoulder, as if he were yanking her arm out the socket. Instead of the intended effect of pulling him upwards, she crashes down into him. It should’ve been obvious really, of course she wasn’t strong enough to just pull him up like that.

His belly feels softer as she falls into it than it had when she was touching it before, like his body was one big pillowy mattress. As she fell into him, they both yelled out, but the sound seemed to come from somewhere outside her. She had made a high-pitched squeal and him a frustrated surprised yell. She attempted to push herself off of him, her arm sinking way deeper into his stomach than it had before.

She got back up, he was still stuck in the same position he had been in, but now he looked even more crazy eyed and panicked.

“Okay, we’re gonna try a new strategy.”

She stepped around to the other side of him, sinking her hands into his flabby upper arm and beginning to push, “we’re gonna roll you onto your side.”

He almost looked like he wanted to cry. She prayed he didn’t cry; she wasn’t sure he’d want to see her again if he’d embarrassed himself to that degree.

This was more difficult than she’d expected. He was barely budging. She decided to try lower on his body. She pressed into his side, squishing her hand under his back to try and get some upwards traction. His globs of fat pushed back against her, when she’d give him a shove all it seemed to do was shift around the position of his fat at a surface level. It wasn’t moving his full structure at all.

She didn’t want to be turned on by this, but she was. Like holy shit, this was something out of her deepest fantasies. Her pussy felt distractingly engorged.

Cause damn.

She was literally having to roll this man over like a helpless beached whale.

He must be so humiliated. Just wow. She moaned involuntarily, then quickly looked at him in fear he might’ve noticed. It seemed he hadn’t.

Thank god.

This was going to be impossible; she began to realize. She was far too weak. Again, it should’ve been obvious, if anyone had asked her plainly if she thought she could flip over an estimated 450 (at minimum!) pounds of dead-weight she’d say no. But now, she suddenly thought she was superman?

Suddenly he began to move, he was turning over onto his side. For a second she thought her efforts were working, but then once he kept moving without her pushing she realized he had just gotten a grip mentally and was moving on his own.

Once he was on his side, he was able to get onto his arms and eventually pull himself back into a standing position. He looked incredibly relieved. They both paused to catch their breath. Why was he even out of breath, she wondered. She was the one doing all the work physically. He must truly be wildly out of shape to be so winded just from rolling onto his side and standing up. She was searching for the right words to say.
He found his words first, “I’m gonna go.”

“What! Why?”

He started looking around on the tables, she assumed looking for his phone or his keys.

“Please don’t leave.”

He threw his hands outwards in exasperation, “I’ve been really thrown off. This space is throwing me off. I can’t stay here; it’s freaking me out. I can’t be in this setting.”

An excuse occurred to her, “You can’t drive! Like not for another what ten hours?”

“I’ll take the risk.”

“We could take a walk! Hang out outside?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “It’s not the space. It’s you. You’re being strange and it’s fucking with my head.”

When she was silent, he continued, “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to offend you. It’s just the things you’re saying, how you’re touching me. You’re making me overly aware… of my body and it’s very uncomfortable. I don’t like talking about that stuff, or thinking about it that much, and you’re making me do both.”

She was beginning to get desperate, “I don’t want to be stuck high on acid for the next however long alone! I didn’t sign up for this! I didn’t even really want to do this; it was just the only excuse I could think of to be able to hang out with you!”

He drew his head back and rolled his eyes to the back of his head in disbelief, like he didn’t know what to make of this confession. Still half-yelling he said, “What is your deal with me?”

She grew quiet. So quiet she could hear the clock on the wall ticking.

Sheepishly she mumbled, “…I like you.”

Now it was his turn to be silent for a moment too long. His expression rapidly flitted from anger and suspicion to something she couldn’t place. Sympathy? Confusion? Intrigue?

“Well…” he paused again, “We can hang out again then. Eventually. Just right now I need space.”

“I can give you space! Stay here, stay in the living room maybe and I can go in my room. Then when you’re calmer, maybe we can be in the same room again?”

He looked like he was considering it, “Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t drive right now.” He glanced at her couches again. They really did look flimsy, even to her eyes now. She felt vaguely guilty for having lied to him that they were sturdily built. Really, she had bought them at Ikea, years ago, her freshman year of college and they’d been battered around a lot since then. Was that a form of minor gaslighting? Gaslighting him into feeling even fatter than he really was? After having tried to move him she knew those cheap shitty couches couldn’t hold him. It made her feel sorry for him, it must be frustrating to have to worry about things like that. And to have to worry about it constantly.

“Could I take your bedroom though?” he said, “And you stay in the living room?”

She even wondered whether her bed would manage to successfully accommodate him, “Yeah sure.” She led him to her room.

He winced at the sight of her small twin bed but kept any concern out of his tone when he said, “Thanks. Come get me if you start feeling bad or need something to focus on or anything.”

She smiled and walked out. How considerate, he was still thinking of her, even after all that humiliation. She began to realize, maybe she read him way wrong the night they first met.

**

She didn’t go find him that night. She could sense he didn’t want her to. Instead she snuck off into Chao’s room and hung out with them. They served as a suitable distraction from both her disappointment with Scott and riding her through the rest of her trip.

Once her mind cleared up in the morning, it became painfully obvious to her how badly she’d handled the situation.

She shook her head to herself; you can’t just fist someone’s fat rolls the first time you hang out with them! The first time you’ve ever touched them! Of course, that’d freak anyone out! Much less a guy like Scott, he seemed like he was used to being in charge. Being treated like a non-sentient slab of meat must’ve been completely bizarre for him. And he was clearly very sensitive about his weight, yet here she was casually dropping feeder fetish terms around him, as if it had been something they’d discussed before.

She hoped she hadn’t scared him away permanently.

How could she get him back on her side, she wondered. How could she make him forget all of this?
Maybe she needed to seduce him the traditional way. Focus on attracting his interest, with her own body, instead of focusing solely on the arousal she got from his. Let him feel like he’s in charge for a little bit. Then maybe, once she’s built him up, she can let loose again.

But first space. He needed more space.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Two Weeks Later

Scott was serious this time. He was going to lose weight.

Obviously, there had been times in the past that he’d tried before. But they were all somewhat half assed, motivated by things he could get over easily. Or forced upon him by his parents, they’d tried everything to get him to lose weight many times throughout his childhood and teenhood.

This time was motivated by the sheer terror of confronting his inevitable future via tripping. Now that some time had passed since his acid trip with Mia, he’d thought a lot about the feeling had during it. The helplessness, the claustrophobia, the existential panic of temporarily feeling immobile. How in that moment he was simultaneously so distrusting yet completely dependent on a creepy girl he barely knew.

He had told Mia when he left that morning that he’d text her and maybe they’d hang out again, but honestly he had zero interest. The association between her and that awful feeling was too strong for him.

He never wanted to be in that position in real life, needing another person to take care of you and help you, despite having no way of knowing whether they had your best interest at heart. Or worse, whether they were actively trying to harm you. It made him sick to think that real people live like that. Every day trapped in their beds, completely at the mercy of someone who was getting some form of sick pleasure from their misery.

Not to mention, he could hardly stand the boredom of having a semi-dwindled social life, imagine how devastating it would be for him to be trapped in one room. He’d rather die. Being immobile wasn’t something he’d ever really thought about before that night, but it had now become one of his worst fears. And every small sensation associated with it, every pain in his knees, his unnatural level of exhaustion from walking a couple yards, sent him into a brief panic spiral. He wanted this weight off of him. He couldn’t take it much longer.The worst thing about it was knowing that if he kept gaining weight at the rate he had been, he would likely end up in just that position by 30 years old.

He couldn’t keep freely eating. Something had to change.

The first thing to do was face reality. So, he bought a high capacity scale online. It was set to arrive tomorrow.

The second thing to do was have one last meal. One last binge meal that is.

Feeling overly stuffed was probably Scott’s favorite feeling. That was half the reason he had such a problem with his weight. He couldn’t quite explain what he liked about it. But the fact that feeling too full and being on heroin were often described using the same terms (warm, comforted, heavy, soothed) must mean he was on to something. He loved way it seemed to dull his other senses, making his mind almost hazy. Relaxed.

The only problem was, he was a bottomless pit. It took so much food to get him to that place. Trying to lose weight, would very much mean never getting to feel that way again. At least not until the actual organ of his stomach shrank down to such a size that he could feel that way on reasonable amounts of food. Who knows how long that might take, possibly never.

So, he headed to the cooked food section of his nearest Kroger. He found the cooked food section of supermarkets was a great place to buy in bulk. Often times restaurants didn’t sell in those quantities. Supermarkets were selling portions for whole families or barbecues, and that was honestly how much food he needed alone.

He bought a large bucket of fried chicken, a tub of macaroni and cheese, a tub of mashed potatoes, Hawaiian rolls (party-sized, 24 in a pack), butter (in case he was out, he wasn’t sure), a large sweet tea, tortilla chips and guac, an entire tres leches cake, a six-pack of a locally brewed Imperial Stout, and two pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Looking into his cart at the full display, he felt a little ashamed. He told himself, he wasn’t really going to eat all of this just tonight. But he fully intended to, in fact not finishing it would go against the purpose of even buying all of this.

Tomorrow he wasn’t going to eat any of these sorts of things. It was going to be reasonable portions of grilled chicken and vegetables from there on out.

When he reached his apartment, his stomach had already begun to growl, despite the fact that he’d last eaten only two hours ago. Losing weight was really going to be a challenge for him, he didn’t know how he’d manage. He sat down, leaving all the food in the grocery bags, placing them on the coffee table in front of him.

This is the reason why living alone is hyped up, he thought.

He took off his constricting shirt and shifted his weight in the chair to try and find maximum comfort. For a moment, he felt acutely aware of how much of his couch he took up. He couldn’t even comfortably lay down on the couch, as his side spilled over the edge when he did. The only way to lay down was to find just the right angle so he was at a diagonal, not quite on his side and not quite on his back.

Normally, he’d try to push these thoughts out of his mind, but now he was welcoming them. These were the kinds of thoughts he needed to sustain any motivation to lose weight. As he opened the bucket of chicken, he could already feel that motivation evaporating. There was no way he wasn’t going to want to eat like this again tomorrow. But let’s ignore that, he thought. Let’s ignore tomorrow completely.

Once he started eating, he got worked up into a feverish frenzy. Shoveling whole Hawaiian rolls drenched in butter into his mouth, without much pause for air. It was like he wanted no gaps between sensations. No pauses of nothingness, just a constant high-speed train of dopamine. The hot grease from the chicken seared the roof of his mouth, but he ignored it. The flavors and textures were amazing.
He’d get too focused on one food, then realize he needed to switch to another so he wouldn’t run out of one too quickly. He used a serving spoon to eat the mashed potatoes and mac and cheese, normal sized spoons only frustrated him with their irritatingly small capacity. Dessert would be the final thing he ate, and he’d eat the cake and ice cream together, dumping both into a large bowl he had (one that was likely intended for potluck sized servings). Before that he would end his savory food with the chips and guac, mainly because it took the longest to eat, so he enjoyed it the most only once he was already stuffed.

By the time he’d finished four of his beers, his sweet tea, all of the chicken, most of the mac and cheese, half the mashed potato, and 11 Hawaiian rolls he felt sickeningly full. That was the level he had to get to for the desirable full feeling to last all through the evening. He had paced it reasonably well today, he thought. The best feeling was getting to the level where he was uncomfortably full, while still having enough food left to look forward to.

He grunted trying to get comfortable again. He was actually a bit too warm and heavy feeling. He wanted to turn on the fan but getting up sounded like a task. Another thing he hated about being this size was how much contact there was between every part of his body. There were few spots on him where his skin wasn’t touching or pressed up against more skin. He wished he could air out all of these parts at the same time, but the most he could do was lift these areas by hand, letting the cooling fresh air briefly touch him, before moving on to another spot. The worst of it was his belly apron, because that he couldn’t really lift, and it covered the most surface area. He used to be able to lift it, but now it was both too heavy and too far to reach easily. This’ll be another thing to look forward to about losing weight, he though, being able to reach every part of my body.

When the excess fullness had begun to wear off, he reached for the mashed potatoes again. They’d gotten cold, but he didn’t really mind. When he was in this headspace, after a while, the taste of the food didn’t really matter to him. Just the process of stuffing himself was satisfying enough. These mashed potatoes could really use more butter, he thought, reaching across the table for it. He dropped a scoop in and gave it a stir.

By midnight, he’d eaten every last crumb of all the food he’d bought. He passed out asleep on the couch, over-stuffed and blissful.

The next morning, he received an email from Amazon saying his package had arrived. He knew what it was immediately, the scale he’d ordered.

It seemed the universe itself was telling him, today is the day.

The old him of yesterday might’ve thought it too much effort to go all the way downstairs just to pick up a package and have to go all the way back upstairs. But he was a healthy living guy now.

When he returned upstairs, he felt sick. He wasn’t sure if it was from the exertion or anxiety over being on the cusp of finally finding out the extent of the damage he’d done to himself this past year.

He opened the box and put in the batteries. He felt like he was going to throw up. He really did not want to know how much he weighed. It was going to be bad; he could feel it. He hoped he wasn’t five-hundred pounds. Seeing that number would drive him over the edge. It sounded so irreversible. Like a circus freak. And he used to think that about four-hundred pounds, but his standards had gotten so low that the lower four-hundreds sounded like a dreamy best-case scenario.

It was possible, he thought. He could be somewhere around 440. That’d be tolerable, he’d only need to lose a hundred pounds to get back to the weight he’d been in high school. That was his implicit goal weight, 340. Still technically morbidly obese, he realized, but he felt comfortable at that size. He was never in any physical pain, there were no health concerns, and he felt attractive at that size.
He took a deep breath.

Placing the scale on the ground, his heart started to beat even faster.

He stepped on.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 9

528.6

Jesus fucking Christ.

His heart sank. He was over five hundred pounds. Worse than he’d even imagined. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, nothing had changed after all. He just had real information. It felt un-true. He didn’t think he looked like a five-hundred-pound man. In his mind, that was exploitative documentary level fat. He wasn’t there yet! He still had his shape, he imagined someone who was over five hundred to have that shapeless melted candle look to them. Or that look where they’re almost flat, like they’ve been molded by sitting down for so long. Though perhaps, maybe he does look like that to other people. Maybe he was just so used to what he looked like that he couldn’t see himself accurately. Maybe everyone who saw him, his friends, his family, job interviewers, Mia, were looking at him and thinking of him as a freak of nature level, TLC special level, grossly obese trainwreck.

Or maybe that number was wrong. Maybe part of that was bloating from last night’s binge. Or water retention. Is that the same thing? He wasn’t sure.

He stepped back off, then stepped on again.

The numbers fluctuated a bit, before slowly stabilizing.

528.8

Ugh. Dejected, he made his way back to the couch and dropped himself down. Again, his mass seemed to fill an absurd amount of space. It would really help his mood if he had a bigger couch.

Okay, let’s re-group, he thought. Where to go from here?

He wasn’t entirely sure what the first step was. He knew the obvious thing, whenever he feels like binging, just don’t. But still, it felt like he should be doing something right now. That’s the weird thing about weight loss, it is the absence of doing something, rather than something you actually do.

Maybe he should find out more of his stats, like his basal metabolic rate. He remembered much of the old information from his weight loss attempts before. He probably ought to to calculate how much he’s allowed to eat in a day. These were things he hadn’t really taken seriously before, but now that he was in serious mode he probably should.

After some googling, he now knew to maintain his weight he’d have to eat 4,100 calories a day, which didn’t sound like very much to him. No wonder he was perpetually gaining. Even sticking to maintenance sounded like it’d take some genuine effort.

Also, his BMI was 69.7. So, he was 19 points over the category threshold of super morbidly obese. Lovely. The first BMI calculator website he’d even tried to use gave him an error message when he hit enter.

He was beginning to feel overwhelmed and stressed.

And he was really starting to crave some IHOP.

Specifically, a stack of blueberry pancakes, maybe some red velvet pancakes as well. And bacon. He could really use a ton of bacon. Cinnamon French toast might be nice as well.

Why bother trying to lose weight really? He was over five-hundred pounds. People that large never really managed to successfully lose weight, he thought. He was a lost cause. Far too deep into an addiction to food to stop now.

No, shut up brain, he tried to focus on his physical discomfort
.
But he wasn’t particularly uncomfortable in that moment. He felt fine actually. Maybe he was being dramatic before and over-blowing this whole thing. Maybe it wasn’t that bad, and he didn’t need to lose weight. Maybe he should order some pancakes right now.

No. Shut the fuck up brain. Jesus, you really can’t last even one hour.

It occurred to him, what he really needed. Something else to look forward to. Something to take the place of his usual weeknight binges. He reached for his phone. He needed to do some bar hopping tonight.

**

The streets were slick from the rain a few hours ago, reflecting a bright yellow-ish glow from the streetlights above. Scott, Ben, and Trey had been pre-gaming on a mix of Sonic slushies and tequila in the car on the way to 7th street. It was a small group, but those were usually the only two friends he could still round up on a consistent basis. They were doing the usual Friday night rounds, except on a Thursday. Partially they came to hit on strangers, Scott especially wanted to find someone fresh after how weirdly the last 7th street rando had gone (e.g. Mia). Partially to hang out with each other, and partially to get fucked up in the most socially acceptable way.

They had barely been there fifteen minutes when from across the room, showing their IDs to the bouncer, he saw them.

Mia and that friend of hers from the night they met.

What the actual fuck, was she stalking him?

Ben’s face broke out into a wide smile, he started walking towards the door. Oh shit, Scott had totally forgotten he had seemed interested in Mia’s friend that night. Had they been talking this entire time? If so, Ben hadn’t bothered to mention it. But then again, they didn’t always talk about their personal lives to that level. After all, he hadn’t mentioned to Ben that he’d hung out with Mia. The thought of mentioning that never even occurred to him.

He headed back to the bar to order another drink. He knew he would need it, if they really were coming over here.

It looked like they were. The two girls had joined Ben and were making their way back to him and Trey.
Before they got there, he kinda wanted to hurry and tell Trey about the off-putting night he had with Mia but couldn’t find the words. Not in a way that wouldn’t equally embarrass him. What could he possibly say? She was jiggling his body and shoving her hands between his folds and it made him feel disturbed and gross? She talked about wanting to make him immobile in theory? It made no sense and wasn’t something he could tell anyone.

Instead he said, “Wanna go outside and smoke?” He knew it was a good move to bring a blunt to the bar. Trey agreed and they went outside, before Ben and the girls could notice where they were.

His efforts were short lived.

“Heyyyy,” he heard Ben yell from somewhere behind him. Ugh they’d found him. Ben continues, “Ya’ll better have saved some of that for me!”

Trey passes the blunt over to Ben as the girls step forward into their circle. Scott pointedly makes eye contact with Mia, no use in pretending she’s not there forever.

She put some effort into her look today, he realizes slightly surprised. He’d only ever seen her in flannel and gym clothes, with her hair tied up in a bun. Tonight, she’d gone all out. She was wearing a skin-tight orange mini dress, with sheer fabric dipping low to show extra cleavage. Her tiny fit body had never been so on display in front of him. Thinking about the contrast between the two of them, he had to admit was somewhat appealing. It made it even more strange how aggressively she was gunning for him. Her hair was down, also for the first time in front of him. It softened her vibe, the long full curls completely overwhelming her slight shoulders. He kind of wanted to play with it, mess it up a bit, see her disheveled.

“You stalking me, Mia?” he said, hoping to sound playful. It was generally a strategy he liked, say whatever awkward thing he really wanted to say, but in a joking tone. People responded well to it and it allowed him to get his real thoughts out there instead of letting them simmer all night.

Her eyes widened and she looked at the floor, “Um…”

Katie jumped in defensively, “Hello, this is the same strip we met at? You think we’re just never gonna come back here again? We came here for Ben, not you.”

Damn, that reaction was a bit overkill, he thought. Maybe she really was stalking him.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 10

“Straight guys hate being fawned over! It makes them feel emasculated!” Katie had advised when Mia told her about her struggles with Scott. Of course, she didn’t tell her the full story. She left out all the feederism stuff, she wasn’t ready for her friends to know that side of her just yet.

The fact that her advice still felt accurate, even without that key information, really proved to Mia she’d been going about this the wrong way. Now she had a plan.

And she was whole-heartedly committed to winning him over. Mostly because it was so unlikely she’d find another guy as large as Scott, that was also the same age as her, good-looking in a general sense, seemingly intelligent, and relatively ambitious. He was a damn unicorn. A dream boy, custom made for her.

She had taken full advantage of the fact that Katie and Ben had initially hit it off so well. She’d kept Katie fully up to date throughout the week, before she met up with Scott and after. And Katie excitedly adopted wing-man duties. She had enough guys on rotation (must be nice having not so niche taste in men) that after the night they met, Ben wasn’t that on her radar.

Only after things had started to go downhill with Scott, had Mia begged Katie to do her the favor of linking back up with Ben. So these past two weeks, that she’d been giving him space, Katie had built up Ben’s interest enough that Thursday night when he posted a video on Snapchat of him in the car with Scott pouring copious amounts of tequila in some sort of take out cup with a caption like ‘the right way to pre-game’, it seemed perfectly natural for Katie to slide into his DMs and ask to come with.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to let me give you a makeover,” she said giddily, applying false lashes to Mia’s lids.

Mia wasn’t entirely sure why Katie was being so helpful with this. It seemed she was just excited by the novelty of helping her win over a guy. Or of being asked so directly for help. Perhaps she enjoyed feeling useful or being this conniving.

She borrowed one of Katie’s body-con club dresses, she didn’t have any of her own that were that level of sexy.

She looked in the floor length mirror at the final process, cocking her head to the side.

“I kinda look like a pageant child…. From the 80s. Or a drag-queen.”

Katie rolled her eyes, “No you don’t. Trust me. You look like a model! A short model.”

Mia was growing increasingly skeptical about their plan, “Are we doing too much?”

“Fuck yeah we are! But sometimes you gotta be extra to get what you want!”



As they drove closer, Ben told them they were at The Dirty Hawk, towards the back. Mia groaned, “That’s not a bar you can dance at! How am I supposed to do the plan if we can’t dance?”

Katie shook her head, “You don’t literally have to dance. Just flow with things. Just be cute, maybe talk to other guys there.”

“Ugh we should’ve pre-gamed ourselves.”

By the time they arrived at the bar, she could feel her heart pounding in her head. As soon as they walked through the door, she spotted Scott standing with a guy she hadn’t met but had seen in many of his Facebook pictures. There was no missing him, he took up about as much space as three of the average guys in the room smushed together. He looked happy, carefree with a drink in one hand while the other gestured wildly. He must’ve been telling some story.

“ID?” her gaze broke from Scott, moving to the bouncer.

“Oh right,” she reached into her wallet, sifting through credit cards and discount cards. After he cleared her, she looked back towards where Scott had been, searching for him. Did he leave? She scanned the crowd. Surely, he must’ve, cause if he was there, she would’ve seen him again by now. Had he seen her and left? That’d be painfully embarrassing. She was beginning to feel quite certain she was going too far with this.
At that point, Ben found them. They greeted each other and chatted amongst themselves in the front of the bar for a bit. He bought both girls a drink. He must really be into Katie, Mia thought. Guys only buy both the girl they want AND their friend a drink when they’re truly infatuated.

“We should probably go find those guys,” he scanned the room for his friends, “No idea where they went.” He smiled back at them, looking mildly embarrassed, “I dunno I guess they’re hiding from us.”

Hiding from me more like, she thought regretting the entire evening. She looked ridiculous, Scott would probably take one look at her and think she was a damn crazy person. She was itching to put her hair back up in a bun, but had no scrunchie. Or at the very least take off these goddamn ridiculous nails and lashes.

“Maybe they went outside,” Ben said his eyes still searching the room, “They wouldn’t randomly just leave though. Unless something happened, I dunno.”

They followed him outside to the bar’s back porch. She was standing behind Ben, so she couldn’t fully see beyond him, but she knew he must’ve found them cause he through his hands up excitedly, “Heyyyy! Ya’ll better have saved some of that for me!”

Some of what, she wondered, walking around him. At that point, she saw him again.

Standing facing away from her, he looked like an endless wall of flab, back rolls stacked on top of one another, leading to the great expanse of his shoulders.

There was a slight downward slope from his upper back to his neck, as if his upper back had been so over-padded with fat it created a slight hump. She hadn’t really appreciated his neck before, it was ridiculously thick, meaty looking. He had at least three neck rolls, probably more, but the upper portion of his neck was covered by his hair.

Here goes nothing, she walked around him completing the semi-circle formed by the three friends.

He immediately looked straight at her. She couldn’t place his expression. It was serious, matter of fact, one eyebrow was raised ever-so slightly, as if he were challenging her.

“You stalking me, Mia?” he sounded unsurprised.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!

Katie jumped in to her defense. Scott looked stunned and amused by her outburst.

“Help! Your girl’s trying to fight me,” he looked to Ben laughing.

Ben laughed scratching his neck awkwardly and mumbled, “She’s not my girl, man.”

Scott rolled his eyes, still amused, “God, all you fucking people need more alcohol.” He took one incredibly long drag of the tiny little blunt stub Ben had passed him until it was finished. He outed it on the brick wall and dropped the base of it on the floor. “Come on, I’ll get us all shots.”

Back inside the bar, he’d gotten them all shots of gin. When he spoke, he focused only on his friends or addressing the group as a whole. After they all took the shot, he started wandering around talking to other random girls in the bar. It seemed outside of his initial reaction, he had barely registered her presence. She wasn’t sure how to go about this seduction plan, when he was so easily distracted.

How in the hell was he even capable of so comfortably flirting with random strangers like this, at his size? She never imagined she’d have to be competing with other women tonight! Was that patronizing of her? No, she thought, it was just realistic! She remembered Chao and Anoushka’s reaction to her even expressing interest in him. That was normal, she thought. Surely, these other girls had to be put off at least a bit by his weight.

Right now, he was parked beside some blond girl who hadn’t put in a quarter of the effort she had into her look. She could’ve just worn her damn normal clothes. This wasn’t even a dance club, she realized looking around that her and Katie were the only people who were even in clubbing attire.

She felt a presence behind her, “Hey can I buy you a drink?”

A tall slim guy with black-framed glasses and tattoos stood a little too close on her, with a toothy grin on his face.

Oh right, I was meant to be flirting with other guys wasn’t I, she thought.

Playing hard to get, for a guy who was it seemed genuinely impossible to get.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 11

He was finally getting to the level of drunkenness he needed to be at to comfortably flirt with random women. The level at which he was too uninhibited to even notice his size, he operated more like a body-less spirit being, saying whatever he wanted, moving however he wanted, talking to whoever he wanted. He wished he could feel this way 24/7.

A song that had been very popular about five years ago, his freshman year of college, one of the most fun years of his life, came on. The girl he’d been hitting on and him locked eyes and both burst into a smile.

“YOOOOOOO!”

“AHHHHHHHH!”

They both yelled in unison. Yeah, she must’ve been about his age to get so hyped for this song. He couldn’t help himself, he started dancing right where he stood. It didn’t matter that this a dive bar, a very non-dance-y one. The girl grinned up at him and started dancing as well. He cupped his hand on the side of her waist, or at least he tried to. But he couldn’t get that much reach without pulling her closer to him, because of his own bulk on his side and below his arm, in the way. So, he pulled her up against him. She didn’t seem bothered by this, so he took her other hand and danced a little faster.

*

“Are you from here originally?” This guy had one of those faces where it was clear, he wasn’t intending to smile right now, but his face just perpetually looked like he was.

“Yeah I grew up here. But I was born in Miami actually and moved here as a little kid,” she was bored. How does anyone flirt with anyone? She glanced at Scott out of the corner of eye.

What the fuck man. Was this guy really dancing? Here? She could never pull that off, without feeling super weird about being the only person doing it. But he looked effortless. And that blond girl, she sure did look into him. She was practically draped over him, standing slightly to his side. Probably because if she stood directly in front of him, his belly would be too in the way for her to get that close.

They looked like they were both mouthing the words to the song together. Or no, more than that, they were yelling the words to the song together!

“Miami, no way that’s awesome!’ The guy noticed her eyes looking over to Scott, “You must be a great dancer then?”

She wanted to roll her eyes. How the fuck does that make any sense? Being born in Miami makes a person have the ability to dance? Bleh. But despite herself, she appreciated the segway. This was a great opportunity to look like she was enjoying herself as much as Scott was.

“Fantastic, to be honest with you. Wanna dance right now?”

The guy laughed, “Oh noooo, I was born in Milwaukee. I’m a shit dancer.”

She pounded her fist on the table, whoa she must be drunker than she realized, “Nuh uh, you suggested it, now we have to do it.” She took his hand and led him over to the area where Scott was.

It wasn’t a dance floor, so this was a harder feat than she imagined. They had to zigzag their way through the dense crowd of drunk people, to an equally densely packed corner in the back of the bar.

The guy, with his feet firmly in one place, bent his knees up and down and bobbed his head to the rhythm of the song.

Damn, he really wasn’t lying about his dancing skill.

She, unfortunately, was lying about hers. The way that guy danced was a carbon copy of how she normally would’ve, had she not been drunk and on a mission to put on a show.

*

What was this crazy woman doing?

Scott watched Mia drag some gawky Midwestern looking dude right over to where he and the girl stood dancing.

She really couldn’t dance. It was obvious she was trying hard to be sexy, grinding her body onto the guy, facing the guy’s back. Sure, the guy was into it, but that didn’t make the whole display look any less goofy.

It was a scene straight out of a rom com, she was really trying to smash her body onto this unsuspecting random, for his attention. It was hilarious. And adorable. And manipulative, but in an okay way. He had to admit, he appreciated her effort.

She deserved a reward for her efforts even.

He made eye contact with her again. She froze mid-twerk and looked at him.

He stopped dancing too. The girl he was with looked up at him, confused. He didn’t care. He knew he ought’ve, things were going well in terms of the girl’s interest level in him. But she was a bit boring. Why keep putting all this effort into her when just one look at Mia was enough to stop her in her tracks like this?

He smirked at Mia, “Just come here already.”

Without any comeback or sass, like he expected, she walked right over to him.

“You’re really tryna dance with me huh? It’s okay, you don’t have to beg,” he leaned down to her level and said into her ear.

She laughed and rolled her eyes, she yelled something to him, but he had already stood straight again and couldn’t hear her over the loud music. It was even more difficult to reach her waist, because of how short she was. He angled himself so she was more on his side and rested his hand on her back. The only part of her he could comfortably reach.



*

“It’s okay, you don’t have to beg,” his voice was low and velvety, in her ear, intimate halfway between a whisper and normal speech.

“You haven’t even seen begging yet!” She slurred at him as he stood back up. She wanted to say something witty, to knock him down a peg, but only that nonsense came to mind. She realized she’d over-flattered him by making such a dramatic pull for his attention, and he was loving it.

But whatever, she was dancing with him now. That was her goal, and she got it.

She tried to stand directly in front of him, and put her arms around his waist, basically cupping his enormous stomach. It was quivering constantly with his steps. Her arms sank right into the soft bulk. She marveled at how her arms could be fully outstretched and yet she could barely get them around even the front half of him.
It was strange really, how she could be so pressed up against him and still feel like he was far away from her. As if his fat was something separate from him that was getting in the way, and not a real part of his body.

He must’ve had the same thought, because he stepped back slightly and moved so she was at his side. She felt enveloped by his form, surrounded by all that fat. She felt a bit closer to his face now than she was when she stood in front of him. But she also had much less control over her ability to stand, in this position. Every movement he made was enough to throw her off balance. He seemed oblivious to this.

She lost her footing and started to fall. He grabbed her wrist.

“Whoa, I think you might be drunker than me.”

“You keep knocking me over!” she yelled back, barely able to hear herself.

“Oh! Well then…we could try…” at that point he one swoop he scooped her up off her feet, resting her against the front of his body.

She gasped, damn he really was bold.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 12

Now it was her turn to be bold.

She didn’t have access to his face before, both because of their height difference and there being way too much fat in the way. She looked him in the eye and kissed him.

He responded enthusiastically, from the feeling of his mouth at least. His hand shifted to cupping under her butt, pulling her higher on him, closer to his face. Her head was now slightly above his. It didn’t even feel like he was carrying her, it felt more like she was just sitting on his belly again. She wanted to start touching him all over, but she held back. She knew if she got too loose with that, she’d start making him uncomfortable again. She couldn’t trust herself to only touch him in normal, non-fetishistic ways.

He had no such restraint, she was pleased to notice. Now that she was higher up, he’d started making his way down, kissing her neck, then eventually her chest. He shifted her further up again and kissed the exposed part of her cleavage. Then he stopped himself and looked up at her, “Did you drive here?”

“Katie did.”

He nodded, looking back towards her cleavage, “Nice. Neither did I, we came in Ben’s car,” his voice breathless.

She kissed his forehead, that was the only part of him her mouth could reach now, but she wanted to get back to making out again. She really had no physical control when it came to things with him, she began to realize. He was just too huge. The fact that he had to pick her up like this for her to even be able to kiss him was ridiculous. If she ever wanted to take control with him, she would have to make some expectation adjustments.

He took the cue and lowered her down a bit. His eyes were twinkling, and he had the smallest warm smile on his lips. She couldn’t help but kiss him again.

This time, he pulled back, “Wanna get an uber back to my place?”

Her eyebrows raised reflexively. Damn, had this been the most successful plot anyone’s ever come up with? She never imagined she’d win him back so easily. And now, what was this? He was already ready to hook up with her? Were they gonna have sex tonight? She almost couldn’t take the excitement.

“Abso-fucking-lutely!”

Scott laughed, he looked flattered again, but this time in an almost innocent way, not at all like he’d looked the night they met, “Well okay! Let’s go then!”

Gently, he lowered his arms, letting her slide her against his stomach back down to the floor. She pulled her phone out her pocket and started to book their ride.

*

Scott looked like he was dying.

Red-faced and sweaty he asked, “Why did you get one of the ubers where you have to walk to it?”

“They’re cheaper!”

“By what!? Like three bucks? How broke are you?”

She checked her phone, trying to find the intersection on her screen. They were going to be late and she was going to get a $2.00 late charge. Not a big deal really, but it always felt so high pressure.

She didn’t mean to walk so fast. But they’d already started off in the wrong direction and walked that way for quite a while. They had only a minute to reach the intersection now, and it wasn’t fully clear to her that they were going the right way.

She glanced back, Scott was so far behind her now. His gait looked so strained, like he could barely walk. That guilty feeling came back for a moment, could she really date someone this fat? Moments like these reminded her how limited and slowed down her life might have to get if she was spending all her time with someone Scott’s size.

She looked up at the coming street sign. Ah! This was the right spot!

“Okay I found it! We’re here.”

He was stopped even further back leaning on a wall, with his hand against his chest.

She wasn’t sure if he could even hear her. She looked at her phone. The car was nearly there, a red Toyota Corolla. She scanned the road, should she walk back for him? She wasn’t sure she’d have enough time to get back to meet the car, if she did.

It looked like he’d started slowly walking again. Finally, he started to reach within hearing distance.

“Are you okay?” She yelled.

He didn’t say anything, after a bit he gave her a thumbs up. She guessed he was too out of breath to speak.
Eventually he reached her before the car did. From the tracker, they seemed to have missed a turn on a one-way straight and were circling back at a snail’s pace.

“Sorry I was moving so fast. I thought we’d miss the car if we didn’t hurry.”

He groaned, leaning himself against a wall again, “Yeah you’re good,” he panted, “I’m fine. I shouldn’t have been dancing so much. Normally, I can walk this far no problem.”

She realized she’d inadvertently made him ‘overly aware of his body’ yet again. He sounded very embarrassed.

“Where are they? God, I need to sit down.”

The glowy beautiful mood they’d both been in had been shot dead by this walk. Where the fuck was this uber? It seemed he was really suffering, and it was making her anxious.

Then Mia saw the car from further down the block and alerted Scott.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he said under his breath when he saw what kind of car it was.

“What’s wrong?” Aghh had she done another thing wrong? She had no idea how to make things easier for him, in so many ways.

He was silent, looking like he was trying to figure out how to phrase something. He shook his head, “It’s fine, I’ll make it work.”

The car pulled up beside them. Scott made his way to the front passengers’ seat, but found it was filled by another person, “Ugh fuck sorry. Forgot this was a pool.” He looked at Mia, exasperated before making his way to join her in the back seat.

From inside the car, she watched as he opened the back down, his expression pained. He began to lean himself into the car back first, but found he could barely squeeze himself through the door. He stood back up.

Mia could feel herself getting turned on again.

This time he started by putting one leg into the car first and leaning as far back as he could as he moved into the seat. His belly scratched against the side of the door, but he managed get through.

The driver was looking at them in the rear-view mirror concerned, as if to say ‘you people better not break my car.'

As Scott shifted his weight fully into the car, she could feel the entire car seem to sink under him. Each time he adjusted himself, the car shook. He looked incredibly uncomfortable. He filled both the side seat and most of the middle. His gut lightly pressed against the driver’s seat, no matter how much he attempted to hold himself back. His hands were wrapped around his gut, in an effort to pull it in a bit so it stopped touching the driver’s seat, but he couldn’t get his arms all the way around the largest section.

His head was also touching the car ceiling, likely not because of his height but because of the thickness of his ass propping him upwards. His knees were spread, but both were also mashed into the front of the car. It looked painful.

She hoped the driver wouldn’t make a big deal about him not being able to use a seatbelt. Fortunately, he said nothing and began to drive.

Okay. They were on the way to Scott’s apartment. Hopefully he hadn’t been too embarrassed by this experience for her to get him back in the mood.
 
Last edited:

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 13

His knees and lower back had never hurt so much.

First the dancing, they’d begun to ache towards the end, but he’d ignored it cause by then he was having too much fun with Mia. It wasn’t ideal for him to feel that carefree, he supposed, cause then he thinks he can pull shit like that. Dancing for like thirty minutes straight, part of which with Mia’s added hundred pounds on top of him. Normally he’d avoid even standing for that long. He should’ve known better than to do that without giving himself a break to sit down. Then the endless back and forth running, that had really taken it out of him.
Now finally, sitting in this goddamn midget car. Both his legs were tingling in pain from being so smashed up against the seat in front of him. He couldn’t wait to get back home and be able to stretch his legs out again.

And lie down. God, how he wanted to lie down.

Mia kept looking at him pityingly. It was really starting to irritate him. He wanted to reach his hand out and cover her face for the rest of this drive. Or erase her memory of everything from they’d left the club, till they got back to the apartment. Or like an hour past getting back to the apartment even, so he could have some time alone to recover.

She had been so hyped about going back to his place with him, he wondered if he’d over-promised somehow. He wasn’t sure how much fun he could really be. He kinda just wanted to sleep.

As they got closer to his apartment, he tried to energize himself again mentally. He thought back to how they were in the bar. He thought about Mia’s body, her breasts in his face, the feel of her lips, how she might look naked.

Okay, I can get back into this, he thought.

They arrived in his neighborhood, winding through the familiar suburban streets.

He thought about how nice it’d be to be back inside his place. Then it hit him. Oh shit, he had completely forgotten about the stairs.

There were only eighteen steps. On a normal day he dreaded them, but in the state his knees were in right now, he almost couldn’t imagine how he’d manage to get up them. He knew he would struggle, that he’d have to take his time and lean as much weight as he could against the railings. But he didn’t want her to see that. He’d look even more like an invalid.

Hmm maybe he could get her to stay in the car longer somehow. No that wouldn’t work, there was no possible excuse he could think of to make that happen.

They got closer.

Maybe he could get her to go up there before him. And what? Just hang out outside his door while he took the next thirty years to get upstairs?

Aghh there was no way out of her seeing this!

They arrived.

Here goes nothing.

He pulled one leg out of the car and tried to duck his head low enough to get it under the car door. The cold metal on the side of the door pressed against the front his stomach as he ducked his head under. This was so embarrassing; he did not need her to know this early on that there was an entire category of cars he didn’t fit into. He’d gotten lucky he was able to fit into the car at all, when he first saw it, he had his doubts. It had happened before, but normally he could just switch with someone and take the front seat. He’d never been unable to fit in the front seat of a car. Hopefully he’d never get to that point.

Standing had never felt like such sweet release. He gave both legs a shake, hoping they’d start feeling normal before he got to the stairs.

Mia looked at him, her face alight with excitement. She looked around, “This is such a nice building!”
Her excitement was a bit worrying right now. Since they decided to go back to his place, he’d also started getting nervous about how things were gonna go sexually. He hadn’t been with anyone since last December, nearly eight months ago. And he’d put on quite a lot of weight since then. Even then, it was much more challenging that it had been back when he was less fat. There was a lot of re-positioning, pillows, and direct communication required, to say the least.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. He breathed in deeply, placing one foot on the first step. He heaved himself upwards to the next one. Burning agony seared through his entire leg.

“Agh!” he winced audibly.

“Are you okay?” Mia sounded so annoyingly panicked again.

Ugh shut the fuck up please.

“Could you just go up there without me? I need some space…again,” he realized he kept using the same phrasings.

It took him a while, but eventually he made it to the top. It was the right call, sending her upstairs alone explicitly. It would’ve driven them both out of their minds for her to have to watch the whole ordeal. He felt he was limping, even though both legs hurt.

Once they got inside, he went straight to his bed. He couldn’t deal with not fitting in his couch right now. He realized he was being very awkward by talking to her so little, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than getting rid of the pain and getting enough air into his system.

“Sorry for this,” he said avoiding looking at her.

She sounded equally embarrassed, “Do you still want me to stay?”

No not really, he thought. “Yeah, of course,” he said.

“Why don’t you make us another drink?” the idea just occurred to him, but it was brilliant. It’d get her away from him for a couple minutes, and it’d get them back into the mood they were in before.

“For sure!” she scurried off into his kitchen.

He wondered how much weight he needed to lose for nights like this to never happen to him again. Perhaps he’d done permanent irreversible damage to his bones, and no amount lost would help him anymore. The thought depressed him, he didn’t want to try and have sex with Mia. He wanted to drink more until it made him fall asleep…Or eat until it made him fall asleep.

Ugh it probably was a good move to keep her over, having another person there would keep him from being so self-destructive. Maybe he needed someone to move in with him permanently.
 

Ffancy

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 20, 2017
Messages
51
Location
In a salt fog
The tension in this story is fantastic. There’s the awkward tension between Mia and Scott as their attraction is never quite in sync, there’s the tension of Scott’s desires to lose weight and to eat as he wants, and then there’s the tension of being an ffa who wonders if what she wants is actually enabling a fat man in an unhealthy way, which I’ve felt in real life. You’re really capturing all that here!
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
The tension in this story is fantastic. There’s the awkward tension between Mia and Scott as their attraction is never quite in sync, there’s the tension of Scott’s desires to lose weight and to eat as he wants, and then there’s the tension of being an ffa who wonders if what she wants is actually enabling a fat man in an unhealthy way, which I’ve felt in real life. You’re really capturing all that here!

Wow that is such great feedback! Thanks I really appreciate it! I didn't start out with this intention when I began this story, but somehow it developed this way, and I like that about it too. I think it's cause I have had conflicting feelings about being an ffa and experiences like this myself.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 14

She wondered how much his rent was.

This apartment was so much nicer than hers. Everything about it, the dark wood flooring, the sparkly black granite in the kitchen, the silvery modern accents on everything. And it had actual rooms! Like full-sized like a house would, even though it was only a one-bedroom apartment. His kitchen felt more like her parents than what she imagined any fellow 23-year old’s might.

His liquor collection was also much more parent-like than she expected. She found it easily, it was neatly organized on an open shelf. She selected two bottles, mezcal and some sort of coffee liqueur.

She opened his fridge to look for something to mix it with. He clearly wanted her to take her time. She could make a couple things.

Holy shit, she thought as she looked into his fridge.

While the rest of his place was impeccably neat and minimalistic, his fridge was a case study in chaos. Every space was packed to the brim with all sorts of food, both junk food and food to cook with, like sausages, cheese, and meats.

She sifted through the top shelf, having to take things out and put them on the counter, just to be able to see everything.

He had a lot of interesting juices to make a cocktail out of too. She pulled out some elderflower juice, a lime, coconut milk, and orange juice. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to make yet.

She wondered if the pantry and the cabinets were equally full and chaotic.

She swung his pantry door open. It was a walk-in pantry.

It was the same as the fridge.

But even more crazy.

Looking around, she didn’t even know where to begin. It looked like a doomsday bunker, but instead of dozens of cans stacked on top of each other, he had stacks of cookie boxes and other junk food shoved together in haphazard piles. Every corner of the pantry was jam packed with processed foods. She noticed a can of coconut cream and reached in for it, only to knock over two boxes of Cheezits. She couldn’t even get to anything without hitting over something, there was that much in there.

He was like some sort of hoarder, but exclusively for food!

This was something pathological, she grimaced, this guy was not okay. It should’ve been obvious to her from looking at him, it was common knowledge that people didn’t really get to that size without some sort of internal struggle. But his bravado and his intelligence had convinced her otherwise. He didn’t seem like he was struggling. He seemed perfectly happy and fine. Well… other than how he’s been since they got in the uber. Maybe this was just how he was when he’s alone.



*

Scott had given up. He needed a distraction from the pain. He was on his phone looking at pizza places on Uber Eats.

Yeah so, Mia was there. Whatever. He didn’t give a fuck anymore. He’d embarrassed himself enough tonight to care about embarrassing himself once more. She knows what he looks like after all, she ought not to be shocked by seeing how he eats. His desire to binge on something was much stronger than his shame.
Or maybe she’d finally feel awkward enough and leave by the time the food got there. Better yet, maybe she could go downstairs to pick it up for him, then get the hint that his mood had gone fully south and leave.

The bedroom door slowly started to creak. Mia poked her eye through the slight opening.

He laughed a bit, in earnest. Was she trying to be funny or sneaky?

“Come in.”

She opened the door fully. She was so smiley still. He wasn’t sure if it was cute and infectious or if he was annoyed by it. It was like he felt both things at the same time.

Seeing her in that dress in the slightly brighter light of his bedroom, as opposed to in the bar and outside, was something else. She had a truly fantastic body. Like fitness magazine cover girl level. His eyes trailed the curve of her hips and the way her thighs reached their fullest point right where they disappeared under her dress.
In some goofy accent she said, “I’ve brought your medicine monseeor.”

“Monsieur?” he corrected, “Merci m’dame.” He didn’t know any French, but he was pretty good at doing accents.

“Wow! Do you speak French?”

“Oui! Regarder mon nom est ou est salle de bain,” he was talking total gibberish.

“Oh my god! That’s so cool. I never would’ve thought! Where’d you learn?”

He laughed, “No I’m joking. I don’t speak any other languages. That was some random dregs I remember from like middle school French class.”

She passed him the drink she made, “Can you say, ‘clean my house bitch’ in French?”

He tilted his head to the side trying to remember the word for bitch in French, “Ummm I don’t think so? Why would I… Oh!” he remembered his drunken ramblings from the night they met. He cringed, “Ugh yeah I’m a dumbass. Don’t listen to anything I say.”

“Noted,” she said smiling, she held her glass up to him.

“Cheers.”

He took a sip, Jesus this was sugary, “What’s in here?”

“Coconut cream, coconut milk, condensed milk, and coffee liqueur!”

Wow, he shook his head at the taste, just because he was fat didn’t mean he had the drink preferences of a fifteen-year-old girl. He almost said that out loud, but that sort of humor was not his style.

They chatted as they drank, he found her easy to talk to. It didn’t take much effort to have a conversation with her. Though he was somewhat distracted, the urge to order that pizza was still boring a hole in his brain.

“If I order some pizza, will you go downstairs to get it?”

Ironically, he realized, this is where living alone would probably actually be better for him. His legs were far too frayed to go downstairs to pick up any food, so if she hadn’t been there, he probably wouldn’t have been able to eat.

She looked at him skeptically, “Really right now? It’s like almost four in the morning.”

Never mind, he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough yet to feel shameless, “Yeah you’re right…I shouldn’t.”

She shrugged, her expression changing again. What was that look? It was almost like…desire?

“Well if you really want it, we can, I guess. I don’t mind going downstairs to get it…since you’re hurting.”

The pain had subsided somewhat. His legs still ached, but it wasn’t the nerve scalding pain it had been earlier.

He realized what he was doing should’ve played right into the fears he had before. He was literally asking the very girl who’d made him so uncomfortable, to bring him food to binge on, because he couldn’t get out of bed himself. He was digging his own grave, really. He should be bothered by that.

But the only thing he was bothered by right now, was his lack of pizza.

“Yeah let’s do it. Do you want any?” He pulled out his phone. He’d already decided what he wanted. Honestly, he’d already added everything to his cart. Two large pizzas, one sweet and the other vinegary. His two favorite pizza flavor profiles. The sweet one had bacon, ham, caramelized onions, candied jalapeños, and pineapples. The vinegary one had mushrooms, garlic, a white sauce mozzarella base, olives, pickled artichokes, and smoked sausage.

“Nah not really.”

“Agh come on, just tell me what you like, and I’ll get one for you. Even if you don’t want it right now, it’ll be good to have the leftovers. You can take it home with you tomorrow even,” he really wanted to order three pizzas, just in case he wanted more food after the first two.

Ugh, you’re sick in the fucking head, he told himself, how have you normalized eating two large pizzas to this level. It isn’t normal. You badly need to lose weight. You should order one large pizza, maybe even one small personal pizza. That’s the amount you’re supposed to eat. Why are you like this??

“I guess I usually like a vegetarian pizza, like one with lots of toppings.”

“Awesome,” he added a large veggie lovers to the cart, “Okay it’ll be here in thirty minutes.”
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 15

His mood lifted dramatically the moment she agreed to let him order pizza. Before as they conversed, he seemed reserved, low key. But now? He was chattering on giddily; the way he had that evening they took acid and he was giving her advice about it.

“Oh fuck yeah, it’s here. Agh where are my keys?” he looked around barely moving his torso, “Ugh I guess I have to get up for this,” he winced. He eased himself into a sitting position, then his face lit up, “Oh wait. I’m an idiot, I can just buzz you back up when you get back to the gate,” looking relieved he laid back down.

She stepped outside, the warm humid breeze hitting her as she opened the door.

When she found the delivery guy, she was shocked to see he had brought three huge pizzas. Was this an accident or was Scott really intending to eat all of this by himself? She didn’t feel like any food, she just told him her preferred toppings because he was pressing her on it.

The pizza guy looked her over. At this time of night, in her sexy dress with her fake eyelash get up still on, she must’ve looked like she was having some kind of afterparty.

But nope, she was just aiding one very fat man in slowly eating himself to death.

With that phrasing she was attempting to shame herself, but it only aroused her. That really was what she was doing right now. With this, she felt like she’d officially become Scott’s feeder. He just didn’t know what that was yet.

When she got back inside, she took a good look at him lying on the bed. In that position his flab seemed to spread out, making him look even wider than usual. The expectant look on his face answered her question. Yes, he definitely intended to eat all of this on his own. Right away.

“Should I bring it in your room or do you wanna eat out here?”

“My room is good!”

“Do you want a plate?”

He sounded like he hadn’t thought about it, “Oh yeah I guess so.”

She brought all three pizzas in the room and rested them on his bed beside him.

“Thanks for going down to get them,” he said enthusiastically, “You’re a life-saver Mia.”

She snickered, “Well that’s one way to put it.”

He pulled himself up a bit, so he was half laying half sitting. He rested the plate on top of his belly and reached over for his first slice. But he couldn’t reach where she had placed the boxes.

“Here, let me help you,” she took the plate off of him and slide one slice from each pizza onto it. The she rested the plate back onto the expanse of his soft wobbly belly.

“Thanks. Oh you gave me some of your one?” He had already begun to shove the first slice into his mouth.

She looked at him incredulously, was he seriously pretending that he bought one entire large pizza for her?
“You can have as much of it as you want. I don’t usually eat at this time of night.”

He didn’t answer her, he looked too mesmerized by the food now. His bites were huge, it only took him like three or four bites of the very wide slices before he got to the crust. He was shoveling it into his mouth as if he was scared it’d fly away if he didn’t eat it fast enough.

Watching him eat like this almost felt more intimate than sex.

Realizing he was on his last slice, she reached into the box and pulled out another three slices from the white pizza, resting them on his plate one by one.

He nodded looking greatly appreciative “Oh nice. Thanks!”

His eyes were closed some of the time, she wasn’t sure if he was trying to block out the fact that she was watching or trying to turn off his other senses so he could savor the flavors.

Re-filling his plate as he guzzled down eat slice, was so hot to her. It made her feel fully engaged, as if she was the one doing this to him. While the knowledge that in reality, he was doing it to himself, absolved her of the guilt.

And he looked so grateful that she kept re-filling his plate. As if the thought of having to stop eating was just such a chore to him, she was doing him a massive favor by allowing him to eat without stopping.

The first box was empty, “Oh no did I finish the vinegary one? Damn, that’s my favorite. I should’ve had it last.”

“Oh I didn’t know you had an order to this.”

He looked embarrassed, “Yeah… Normally when I’m by myself I try to have my least favorite things first and alternate between my favorites to keep it balanced. So normally I like to order a decent amount of food I don’t like as much, so I can have enough of a starting base, to make the stuff I love last longer.”

Wow he had a whole ritual. She remembered that was a thing she’d heard from watching documentaries about obese people, that sort of ritualized planned binge session.

“I guess you should have the veggie one next then,” she switched the boxes.

This time he didn’t even bother pretending he’d gotten that for her, “Yeah good point,” He held his plate out as she plopped on a new slice.

So much for his least favorite, he inhaled this entire pizza just as quickly as he had the first one.

My god, it’s a wonder he isn’t even fatter than this. This wasn’t even a meal, this was just a four AM snack!
He moaned, “I’m starting to get very full.” He rubbed the upper portion of his stomach. As he did, the rest of his belly shook and jiggled. Seeing him touch his own body like that was almost too much for her. She wanted to feel him on her, right now. She didn’t think she could wait for him to eat a whole other pizza.

She reached out and touched his stomach, “Do you want a massage?”

He looked suspicious again, “What like a stomach massage?”

She backtracked, “Well just because you said it hurt. And you looked like you were giving yourself one…”

“I didn’t say it hurt,” his voice was still skeptical, but he shrugged, “Yeah go for it.”

Hell yeah.

“But while you’re doing that, can you still keep re-filling my plate? I’m having trouble reaching the box, where you put it.”

I most certainly can, she thought, wishing she had three hands so she could touch her pussy as she rubbed his belly and refilled his plate.

She wondered what his normal calorie intake was, and if binges like this were enough to make him gain more weight. She couldn’t imagine having snacks like this could keep him at maintenance. As she toyed with the fat on his immense belly, she tried to imagine what it would look like if it was even bigger. What all of him would look like if he kept getting bigger.

She didn’t think he had much leeway before his mobility started to get impacted. They would have nights like this all the time. Him, in pain and ashamed of himself, needing the comfort of an onslaught of junk food. Her being ready at his side to take care of him and give him that comfort. Maybe someday they’d even get to the point where they could acknowledge what they were doing in words. She could tease him a bit.

She imagined what she might say.

Like, really Scott? You’re too fat to fit in an uber, so your immediate response to that is to further stuff your giant jiggly body with three large pizzas? Do you want to fill the entire back seat of the car instead of just most of it? Are you trying to get so big, you can’t fit through the car door at all? Or maybe you just so that you get stuck wedged in the middle of the car door? And I have to recruit the driver and the other passenger to oil you up and pry you out.

And you know you wanted more food than three pizzas, I can tell. If I wasn’t here you probably would’ve gotten four pizzas, a liter of sodas, and a dessert! Maybe a tray full of brownies, I bet you’re gonna go back into one of your sour little moods again when you finish eating this and realize you have no dessert. You’ll probably beg me to bring you some of your endless collection of little Debbie cakes and eat a couple boxes. You’re gonna be too fat for this bed soon.

“Ugh damn, I can’t believe I finished that so quickly. I wish we had gotten some dessert,” she snapped back to reality as his words mirrored her fantasy.

She couldn’t help herself anymore, she pulled off her soaked panties through the bottom of her dress. Scott looked very caught off guard.

“Scott will you please fuck me now?”
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 16

“Scott, will you please fuck me now?” her face looked almost urgent.

Whoa! Where the hell did that come from?

“Uhh… I mean… I do suppose I could try,” he mentally slapped himself in the forehead. What the fuck kind of answer was that? Probably the least sexy thing anyone could’ve said in response to that.

But she needed to lower her damn expectations a bit, how could she really expect him to perform or get hard on the spot when he was this stuffed?

The way she slipped off her panties from under her dress was pretty fucking hot though. That alone had gotten him part of the way. Had she not done that right before speaking, the thought of sex might’ve seemed less appealing.

“Go stand over there and take your clothes off. Slowly,” he said.

She grinned excitedly and obliged.

He reached under his stomach, pushing back against the fat pad around his pubic area, and began to masturbate. To warm himself up.

“I mean it is only one garment, I don’t know I can take it off slowly,” he heard Mia muttering to herself from the foot of the bed.

She grabbed the bottom of her dress and began to pull it upwards, exposing her supple thighs. She pulled it up a little higher.

Wow a full bush. He wasn’t surprised, that seemed pretty on-brand for her offbeat tomboy feminist persona. It was nice, he actually preferred that to the bald pornstar look. He could feel himself beginning to get harder.

She smiled at him turning around, to show her cute little ass. It was small, but toned, shapely. She turned back around, pulling the dress up even more.

She had visible ab muscles, but maybe she was flexing. And hipbones, prominent ones. None of the women he’d been with in the past had ever been this small. He wanted to grab her by those hipbones, pull her close to him as he thrust inside her.

As she got to her chest, she looked mildly surprised, “Oh right, I’ve got two garments on!” She was wearing a neon pink strapless bra, a very padded one. He wondered how big her breasts would actually look once it was off. When she got to her shoulders, she started to have some difficulty. Her arms had gotten a bit stuck; she shifted the dress around trying to find the right way to get her arm out. He laughed, as conventionally hot as she was, she sure did manage to make herself unintimidating with things like this.

“Technical difficulties,” she said in a robot voice, her voice muffled by the fabric of the dress.

Finally, she pulled it all the way off, she took a deep breath and smiled at him. In one swoop she tugged her bra off over her head, her tits bouncing as she threw it on the floor. She got onto the bed on all fours and crawled over towards him.

He was fully hard now. When she reached him, she pulled herself onto him and kissed him. Now was the difficult part. How was he going to fuck her with all this excess flab in the way?



*

As she kissed him, her entire body was pressed into his meaty torso. She angled herself so she could rub her clit against his stomach. She spread her arms over him, feeling the expanse of his body and how wide he was compared to her.

But, how was this going to work? He was far too wide for her to be able to straddle him.
He seemed to be thinking the same thing, cause he shifted into a lying position and tried to position her lower down on his body.

Ah, he wanted her to try and ride him cowgirl style. But even from a fully flat position, his belly was still in the way. She shoved his overhang backwards, but only managed to successfully push it away on one side. The rest of it immediately flopped back into its original position. The weight of the one side she was pushing was too much for her even, her narrow little wrist buckled under it and she had to let go. Scott couldn’t hold it up either, he had tried to help her, but he couldn’t reach the bottom of his own gut.

“You know what? Let’s try this,” he said pulling himself off of the bed in a standing position, “Come on.” He walked out of the bedroom.

He stopped in the kitchen, beside the higher up bar style island. “Get on there, on all fours.”

She was allowing him to be the bossy one for now. It was their first time, she couldn’t have everything she wanted just yet. They had to figure each other out a bit first.

She got into the position he described.

Suddenly she felt a very heavy soft weight on her lower back. She turned back to look at him.

He’d lifted his belly up and rested it onto her back, to get it out of the way!

Wow it was so hot that he even needed to do that, just to be able to penetrate her. She felt him slip inside her. It wasn’t ideal, she would much rather be able to look at him while getting fucked and touch him especially. But she focused on the feeling of his belly on her back and remembered their feeding session from before, and that was enough.

She was loving this.

*

Despite not falling asleep till nearly 6 in the morning, Scott’s alarm woke him at 8. Mia was fast asleep beside him, loosely hugging one of his arms. Most of her was covered by the comforter, but her naked breasts and delicate shoulders were exposed.

What a whirlwind yesterday was, he thought. He thought back to yesterday morning, when his scale had arrived. It felt like years ago. If this is where confronting reality took him, he should do that with everything!

Speaking of confronting reality, it began to hit him how much of a failure yesterday was in terms of being his first day of trying to lose weight. How utterly disappointing. Usually, he at least was able to do well on the first day of a new weight loss attempt.

And to think, he’d actually been doing alright for most of that day. He’d been writing down everything he ate and counting calories to stay under 3500. He figured he’d better write down yesterday’s binge and find out how many calories that was, so he could avoid falling back into denial.

He stretched over to his bedside table and pulled his phone of the charger. He took a look at his calorie counting app. One day entered in. He winced at the sight of his entry; he’d done so well apart from that binge! It almost made him not want to enter it in.

Breakfast: One cup of frosted flakes with milk: 180 calories

Lunch: Einstein’s southwest egg bagel sandwich: 540 calories

Snack: Pretzels and hummus: 250 calories

Dinner: One lean cuisine, Asian beef and broccoli with rice: 400 calories

Drinks: 1 diet coke; Large Sonic grape slushy with Jose Cuervo; 2 Guinness; 3 shots of Plymouth gin: 620 calories

Total Intake: 1980

He had crushed it! If he could eat like that every day, he could probably get back down to four-hundred pounds by next year this time.

But no, he had to fuck up and eat an insane stomach bursting amount of food at a time he ought to have been asleep.

Hesitantly, he began to enter it in. Even though that was technically today, he wanted to consider it yesterday. It felt better psychologically to feel it was behind him. He wasn’t sure how to enter in the sugary monstrosity Mia had made him, but he felt like it was probably around 200 calories, so he added a different drink around that amount to the drink section.

Then he began to type in the pizzas.

Mellow Mushroom, great white pizza with added sausage, 490 calories per large slice. He looked up how many slices there were in a large.

Eight slices, he clicked the servings button upwards till it reached eight.

Pacific Rim pizza, 440 per slice, eight servings.

Veg Out pizza, 370 per slice, eight servings.

He refreshed the page, so it added everything up.

Total Intake: 12,580

He threw his head back in frustration. That was an unbelievable amount of calories! He knew that eating 3,500 calories over your maintenance level would make you gain one pound of fat, so that was basically 2.5 pounds of fat consumed just yesterday. But the worst part was, how well he’d been doing before it. He couldn’t be more irritated with himself.

If he kept this up, he’d definitely be six-hundred pounds by next year. And he didn’t think he could stop himself from getting there.
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 17

Mia woke up around noon the next day.

At first, she’d forgotten where she was, and for a split second thought she was in a hotel. The king-sized bed with the fancy bed frame, the yellow-ish glowing lamps on either side of the bed, and the clinical very un-bohemian décor through her for a loop. This place was so aggressively not hers.

The bed was empty. The empty pizza boxes that had been tossed on the floor were gone. She was still naked from last night, the vivid memory rushing back to her as she pulled off the covers. It bummed her out that she never got to see Scott fully naked last night. It all happened too fast! Had she taken her time, she would’ve pressed him to take his shirt off before they had sex.

She got up and walked to the bathroom. It felt nice having the bathroom be attached within the bedroom, another thing that made her feel a bit like she was in a hotel. She was used to her apartment where her and Chao had to share the one bathroom which was attached to the living room.

The bathroom had one of those massive mirrors atop a long granite sink area. She looked at herself in the mirror. All the walking around outside and the sweat from sex had frizzed her hair out from defined curls to a huge fluffy Diana Ross looking afro. It looked kinda good though, she thought, deciding to leave it down. She peeled off the false eyelashes and nails, leaving them on the bathroom counter. Ah, she felt like herself again with those off.

Stepping out of the bathroom she glanced at her dress, crumpled in a pile on the floor with her dirty panties. She grimaced, she really didn’t want to put those back on again.

So naked she remained as she stepped outside the bedroom to find Scott sitting on the living room couch doing something on his laptop.

“I know it’s a long-shot,” she began, “But do you have anything here that I could wear?”

He turned around to look at her. His eyes slowly taking in her naked frame from bottom to top. He grinned cheekily, “Nah. You can stay like that.”

She walked over behind the couch and smacked him at the back of his head, “I’m serious! Your place is very cold you know.”

She caught his gaze shifting to her hard nipples, stoking his smile a bit more, “I’m serious too! Why would I have women’s clothing just laying around?”

She shrugged, “I dunno. Maybe from an ex-girlfriend?”

He gave her a ‘really?’ type look. “Is that a normal thing to do?”

“I have some of my exes’ old shirts!”

“Well maybe it’s a bit more normal for women. But if a man did it, it’d definitely be seen as some creepy sex thing.”

“I suppose.”

“Plus, you know I moved here a year ago right? I don’t even have any of my old clothes, much less someone else’s.”

She bit her lip, “Well I could always borrow one of your shirts,” she realized she’s unconsciously switched to using her higher pitched breathier seductive voice. She hadn’t thought of it before, but now she really wanted to know what size shirts he wore.

He scoffed, “A bed sheet would fit you better than one of my shirts.”

Wow that’s really the first self-deprecating weight related joke he’s ever made around her. It was hot, she wished he’d do them more. Other fat people she’d known made jokes like that all the time, but Scott seemed too self-conscious to say much about his size out loud.

“Come on,” she said rolling her eyes.

He shrugged, “Yeah I mean, sure take whatever you want, the t-shirts are in the second drawer.”

Yes!

She sifted through his second drawer, grabbing a red polo shirt. It unfolded itself as she held it out.

Whoa.

She’d never seen such a massive shirt before. Without Scott actually wearing them, his clothes looked even more enormous. She walked back to the bathroom mirror and held the shirt up against her shoulders. It was so long! She realized that was partially because of all the belly it had to contain. She could probably fit eight girls her size into that shirt, well if the head hole was bigger.

She turned it around, searching for the label.

6XL.

6XL!

That’s six x’s! An extra extra extra extra extra extra large.

She had to fan herself with her hands, man she couldn’t afford to get so turned on so early in the day. It would only leave her sexually frustrated, she assumed he wouldn’t want to do anything again so soon after their last session.

She wondered when he expected her to leave. Was his getting up before her and working on his computer a signal?

She pulled the shirt over her head and took a look at herself. She looked insane. The shirt came down past her knees, and the endless swathes of fabric draped against her sides. On her, the collar was far too wide, leaving her entire collarbones exposed.

“How do I look?” she asked when she’d walked back into the living room. She did a few joking sexy poses against the wall, as if she were modeling the shirt for him.

He drew his head back in surprise, “My god,” he laughed slightly, the amusement not reaching his eyes.

“Ugh man, my clothes really are huge,” he mumbled quietly looking vaguely disgusted, but he shook his head and turned back around, focusing his attention on his computer again.

Oh dear, was he getting all moody again?

She slid into the couch beside him, “So what’s your plan for today? Did you skip work?”

“Yeah… I called them this morning about it.”

Sitting beside him, she noticed how his laptop was propped up on top of his belly, the same way he had held his plate last night. He regularly uses his stomach as a shelf.

“I am a bad influence on you,” she said.

“How so?”

“Well you called in sick last time we hung out too. And that wasn’t that long ago. We gotta start seeing each other on the weekend instead.”

“Eh. It doesn’t really matter. They’re not gonna do shit about it.”

“Why, are you just that good?”

He gave a short dry laugh, “Yup, I’m indispensable.”

“I can’t tell, are you being sarcastic?”

He did a wishy-washy ‘partially’ gesture with his hand.

“What’s that mean?”

He sighed, giving a pause before he answered. “It means don’t worry about it. They’re never gonna fire me.”

“Oh…Well good for you.”

“Yeah, good for me.”

The ticking of a clock, high on the wall only emphasized the shortness of his responses. She could take a hint, “Well I think I’d better head out.”

Finally, he fully looked up from his computer. He looked surprised, as if he’d expected her to hang around even though he was barely paying any attention to her, “Oh! All right, well do you want me to drive you home?”

Well, look who is initiating spending more time together, she thought intrigued at his offer. Maybe he wasn’t getting moody on her.

“I’d like that!”

He led her downstairs through the backdoor. Even going down the stairs he walked slowly. She figured he had to be a little careful, since he couldn’t see his feet or the steps below and directly in front of him.

Of course he drove an SUV, she thought as they reached his car. The front seat was incredibly spacious, with bench style seats that allowed him to spread out as much as necessary.

He must’ve had to actively search for cars he could fit into, before he bought this one. She imagined him googling ‘best cars for obese drivers’ or posting on Reddit about it, listing his height and weight and complaining about how he didn’t fit in any cars and asking what to buy. She didn’t know why just imagining this was so appealing to her. Though it was likely because he so rarely acknowledged his weight, so imagining a scenario where he definitely would’ve had to refer to it directly in some way lit up her mind.

Even so, his belly was barely an inch or two away from touching the steering wheel. Now she had a concrete way of imagining him bigger. She stared at his jiggling stomach, memorizing the distance between it at the wheel. Closing her eyes, she imagined him a little bigger. Then even bigger again, till he was too swollen and bloated to fit in the driver’s seat.

She could almost orgasm from thought alone.

He looked at her, smiling a little, “What are you thinking about?”

She bit her lip looking out the window, “Oh…Just the future.”
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 18
Two Months Later


Life was going well.

Scott's thing with Mia had blossomed into a full-on consistent friends-with-benefits situation. They hung out at least one a week, sometimes more. She’d come over in the evenings, at first, it’d happen only whenever he felt particularly bored and in need of company, but eventually it became a routine. They’d get high together, eat junk food, watch movies, and fuck. Not necessarily in that order.

Really the only reason she wasn’t his girlfriend, was that he didn’t want to his current lifestyle to feel too permanent. He didn’t want to get trapped in this city forever. Being in an official relationship would feel a little too stable. A little too real. And he was only 24 years old after all! This was the time for having fun.

Even if you were exclusively having fun with the same person in a state of accidental monogamy.

He’d lost nearly twenty pounds as well. As of this morning, he weighed only five-hundred and fifteen pounds. It wasn’t ideal, he’d fucked up and binged loads of times since his weight loss attempt began. Fifteen pounds in two months might be fast for a normal sized person, but at his weight it was quite slow.

But at least that number was going down. It had been going upwards for so long he’d almost forgotten what progress felt like. He hoped to be solidly under five-hundred pounds by the end of the year. It was early October, so that gave him some time. He could probably even get to 470- 480ish by then if he got a little more disciplined.

He had to admit, his relationship with Mia had really helped him stay on track. Even though when she came over, they’d eat what she (as a skinny tiny person with no imagination) thought was a ton of food, it was still substantially less than what he’d eat if he were alone those nights. And just knowing he had her to look forward to in his schedule, helped him cope with the silence and lack of excitement of his day to day life.

Not that it had solved the problem completely. Whenever he was bored, so basically his entire day at work, he’d still obsess over food. Mulling over what he wanted to eat later that day, thinking about how incredible it’ll feel once he finally reaches a more physically tolerable size and can gorge himself as much as he wants again.

The screeching whirr of the printer slowly came to a stop.

He began to stand; the armrests of his chair had been deeply cutting into the rolls on his sides. His massive ass filled the office chair so fully, every time he went to stand, the chair stuck onto him and lifted off the ground. He’d have to shift himself to the side and pull it off of him each time. It was so damn annoying; it was lucky no one was seated near enough to him to notice it. He couldn’t wait till he'd lost enough weight for that to stop happening.

The affidavit of support he’d filled out for a client felt warm and nice as he lifted it out of the printer, returning to his desk. This job would’ve been his teenage self’s worst nightmare. Filling out endless streams of forms and paperwork. It must’ve been a level of hell designed to punish the disorganized.

He thought about lunch. The taste of deep-fried crawfish in a foot long po-boy sandwich with seasoned cheese fries and a bucket of mozzarella sticks vividly flooded his brain. His office was downtown, in a skyscraper a block away from a fantastic Cajun restaurant. He used to go there all the time for lunch, sometimes the flavor memory would just pop back into his tongue, as if he was still expecting to be having that soon. He could crush a cheeseburger right now too...Or four. Preferably four.

Then he remembered what his actual lunch was going to be: a turkey sandwich he’d made at home this morning, with a precisely thirteen hot Cheetos. He wanted to smack his head against the desk at the thought. Could a meal possibly be more boring? Ughhh how he despised being on a diet. He actively tried to switch his thoughts to something else.

Mia was supposed to come over that evening.

That was going to add some life to his day. She was truly the most sexual woman he’d ever met. With most other girl’s he’d had a thing with, sometimes when they’d come over it’d be a crapshoot whether it’d lead to sex or not. There were no guarantees. With Mia, there was always sex. She’d usually even be the one to initiate.

Some nights they’d do the whole dance of chatting, deciding on a movie to watch, not directly saying anything sexual to each other. It was fun. Like a pretend will-they-won’t-they anticipation builder, that he knew would always end in, hell yeah they will.

Then five minutes into the movie, she’d tell him to take his clothes off and he’d obey. They’d continue to watch whatever, as if he wasn’t casually naked beside her. She might attempt to lay her head in his lap, but because his belly was in the way, really just lay her head on his belly. Then she’d escalate things by REALLY resting her head in his lap. And by that he means, she would lift up his belly, allowing it to flop back onto her head seemingly suffocating her, then eagerly start sucking him off.

Just thinking about it made him want to touch himself right now. She always seemed so ravenous for his cock. She liked to be sloppy and fast. He also knew she loved it when he’d do little power play things to make her feel her how strong he was. For instance, he might clutch the back of her head and shove her face into his skin. He personally didn’t get the appeal, but she always seemed so entranced by his stomach, one day it had actually annoyed him since he’d told her dozens of times it made him uncomfortable when she overemphasized his weight, so he’d just grabbed her and mashed her face into his belly like “Yeah you like it so much? Well here.” When he pulled her back for air, she had this big dopey grin on her face. All she could say was, “Wow.” So anything like that, a combination of taking away her physical control and letting her feel his fat in new ways, got her excited on another level.

When he’d do stuff like that it’d always start this little banter thing too. She’d be snarky and mean to him, trying to reassert herself. Or sometimes she’d start out that way, being a cute little brat to him and he’d respond by doing things like that. He liked fake arguing with her. Even when they were bad at it, and just saying random nonsense to each other, they could be saying almost anything and he’d enjoy it.

In the corner of his screen, he saw that he had gotten a new email from Bill, his boss. He opened it nervously. Hopefully he wasn’t being chewed out for making some embarrassing error on one of the things he’d filled out this morning. His eyes scanned the screen, skimming it for any troubling words before he fully read the page.

His boss was asking him to come by his office after work.

Oh fuck… what could this be about? He must’ve really fucked something up for him to be asking him to come meet with him. The email was written as if he were just any regular employee! That was very unusual considering Bill had known him since he was a child. Normally whenever they did interact, it was very casual. Even over the course of the entire past year he’s been working for him. Even when he was telling him he’d done something wrong, it felt light and loose.

He clicked back to another tab on his screen. Maybe it’s nothing….
 

magodamilion2

Well-Known Member
Joined
Mar 29, 2020
Messages
48
Location
Philadelphia
Scene 19

Scott sat in his car in the parking garage, staring blankly into space.

A boiled down version of Bill’s words echoed in his head.

“We’re having to cut back on some of our employees and I’m sorry to say this Scott, but your job is one of the ones we’re cutting. Sorry kid. We never planned for this to be a permanent position for you.”

Well what the fuck was he supposed to do now?

He had no job. And worse yet no backup plan. More than that even, this job WAS his back up plan! And instead of taking the past year and half to figure out a new Plan A, he sank and simmered in Plan B till they had to kick him out on his ass totally plan-less!

He plugged his phone into the aux cord, turning the volume up to maximum. He pressed down hard on the gas as he recklessly circled, descending through the parking garage. His tires screeched; he was almost drifting through the corners.

Who the fuck does Bill think he is? Talking down to him like that?

Blue skies and sharp sunlight hit his eyes as he flew past the barely open gate arm. Flooring it he zoomed past the other cars, zigzagging between lanes through the bustling streets of downtown. He really wanted to go back there, and fucking punch him.

What really enraged him was the condescension of it all. Bill talked like his entire position there was just one big favor that Scott had taken advantage of. It made him sound lazy and useless. As if he hadn’t been trying really fucking hard to find a real job. As if he wasn’t the same guy who had gotten a 171 on the LSATs and had been busting his ass his entire life trying to make sure he’d end up at least close to as successful as his parents. Okay, maybe not his whole life. At least the last couple years he had been. Fucking disrespectful cunt.

He was no failure. Not really. Not compared to most people anyway. He just was a guy who kept shooting himself in the foot with his high expectations. And standards. Had he not been aiming so high, he probably would’ve been at some perfectly reasonable law school for the past year, living his best life. He certainly wouldn’t have gotten this fat in that version of reality. He wouldn’t be slowly getting trapped into a life of mediocrity and utter shit, in this basic ass town he moved on from ages ago.

Shoot for the moon, if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars bull-fucking-shit. Shoot for the moon and you’ll probably miss and suffocate alone in the depths of space.

As he pulled off his exit, he drove past the familiar cluster of fast food restaurants.

You deserve a fucking reward, he thought to himself.

He pulled into a Whataburger drive-through. It has been a while. Where to begin? He wanted everything.

“Okay so…. Can I get the triple meat burger, th-”

“You want me to make that a meal?”

“Ah yeah. I want the meal version of everything I order,” Jesus fucking Christ how big are you trying to get, he thought annoyed at himself already.

“Alright, go ahead sir.”

“The sweet and spicy bacon burger, the mushroom swiss…and I’ll take a jalapeño cheese….” Everything looked so appealing to him right now, “Aaaand also the avocado bacon burger.”

She repeated his order back to him. Fuck yeah, that sounds amazing, he thought.

“Also, can I get a chocolate malt shake, a cinnamon roll, and an order of onion rings?”

As the next worker handed him his seven bags of delicious smelling food, his thoughts had moved very little from his anger about losing his job. He parked his car and opened his first bag.

He devoured the first burger without even fully tasting it. He was that distracted and pissed off. Before he knew it most of the food was gone. It felt as if it had evaporated between his fingers. His stomach felt physically pretty full, but his mind was so restless it was like he’d eaten nothing at all.

*

Mia parked her car in the back of Scott’s building. She was about an hour and a half later than the time she usually got to his apartment. The lateness was intentional, he’d been short texting her. Barely reacting to anything she was saying.

She’d hung out with him when he was upset about something a handful of times over the past three months, they’d been friends and she knew it wasn’t much fun. She was hoping by getting there late, if things were weird, she’d have an excuse to dip quickly. As she walked up the stairs, the closer she got she started to hear the loud vibration of some sort of rap music bassline. Once she reached Scott’s door, it was very apparent it was coming from him.

Oh boy, what kind of mood was she in for dealing with tonight?

She knocked on the door, toying with the many artsy little rings on her fingers as she waited.

“Hey!” He had a big smile on his face.

Oh…maybe he was good? Just distracted perhaps.

“Hey,” she said brightly stepping in and giving him a tight hug. Oh god, she realized as he held her in his arms, he smells like tequila and fried food, nope never mind he isn’t good right now at all.

She steps back and takes a good look at him. He’s still wearing his work clothes, usually by the time she’d come over he’d be changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants. He’s even still got a tie on, she’d never seen him with a tie on before. It was loosened, she couldn’t imagine how it’d look on him when he properly wore it. His neck was way too fat for a tie to look right on him. It’d probably look like a noose. She noticed his lavender business shirt had grease stains on it. Normally he was a very careful clean eater, she’d always noticed to her dismay. She had always wanted to see him let loose and eat like the sloppy fat mess he was, but he was far too restrained. Not today though apparently.

“How was your day today?” she asked cautiously.

“Pretty good! Uneventful. Same old same old,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Was it?”

He nodded exaggeratedly, “Oh yeah. Nothing ever changes in my world really. I’m in purgatory. Anyways, sit down! I found this movie I thought you might like. Almost watched it alone yesterday, but it made me think of you.”

“You’re talking quite fast.”

“Am I? Ah my apologies.” he said jokingly slowly.

She sat down. After a bit they got started smoking a joint. Normally the joints he rolled were very neat and smooth, but this one was lumpy and the light kept going out as a result of how badly he’d rolled it.

Usually he’d be more flirty with her. He hadn’t even touched her that much yet.

He glanced at her, “Hey I was thinking, have you ever been to this place called Golden Dragon Buffet?”

*
This had to be the sleaziest looking restaurant she’d ever stepped foot in. She looked up at Scott skeptically as he opened the door for her.

He looked manic, still wearing his dressy clothes despite the fact that they were at his house doing nothing but sitting and smoking for nearly an hour. He had ample opportunity to change into something that would make him look less like a sleazy sweaty coked-up businessman. But I guess that was the aesthetic he was feeling right now, she thought.

“This has probably been my favorite restaurant since I was like…thirteen.”

“I really thought you’d have classier tastes, Scott.”

“I swing both ways.”

They walked through, looking for a seat. He was beginning to look concerned.

“What’s wrong?” She had figured out what the problem was, but she wanted to see if he’d say it out loud.

“Nothing…just they,” he hesitated, like he was considering dropping the front and just being straight forward with her, “Yeah whatever. There are no tables empty. Only booths okay?”

“Oh! Do you not like booths very much?” She said innocently.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing towards his body, “Obviously not.”

She grinned, despite trying to hold her reaction back.

“You like it when I say stuff like that, don’t you,” he said accusingly, but also like he was past being weirded out by it.

She was glad she wasn’t light skinned enough to blush, cause she would’ve been bright red then.

He raised his eyebrows at her, “I don’t fit in the seats,” he said pointedly as if he were testing her.

She bit her lip as her smile grew and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She looked at the ground reflexively, “Oh my god!”

Keeping his eyebrows raised he squinted at her, “You are a very odd girl Mia. But I’ll allow it for now.”

She felt a weird shyness and being called out and having him say these things directly, “Well if you’re past being bothered by me…being like this. Maybe we could try something?” Ahh she felt like she’d regret saying this.

“And what is that?”

“…Could we try sitting in the booth anyways?”

She wanted to watch him not fit. She wanted to watch him struggle to smush his soft bulky body in there. She wanted to watch him get stuck.
 
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