BHM Blue Ribbon - by Jerry Thomas (~BHM, ~FFA, Nudity, Bondage)

[Jerry Thomas]

~BHM, ~FFA, Nudity, Bondage - A very fat man unexpectedly finds himself surrounded by some very admiring women.

Blue Ribbon​

By Jerry Thomas​

I still don’t understand how it happened. In fact, I’m not even sure what happened. All I know is that I am now in love with a beautiful woman. But if you asked me how we met, I would not be able to give you a rational explanation.​

I was at home in my apartment on a Saturday night watching a late movie on TV. It was one of those classic Vincent Price horror flicks. I can’t remember the title, but it was the one where the hero is chained to the wall in some dreary torture chamber during the Spanish Inquisition. Anyway, I was sitting on my couch watching this movie, a huge plate piled high with snacks next to me, accompanied by ample quantities of beer to wash it all down.​

You would think a handsome single guy like me would be out on a date on Saturday night instead of alone at home watching a corny B-grade movie. Normally that might be true. Except that when the single guy in question is lugging around 450 pounds of blubbery fat, the chicks aren’t exactly beating a path to his door. I shoved a big handful of popcorn into my mouth and took another swig of beer. It helped me forget my situation.​

But what the hell, it was a crappy night anyway. Outside, a fierce Chicago wind was blowing the snow sideways past the orange glow of the streetlights. The cars parked in the street below my window were already covered with a thick white blanket. Nevertheless, it sure would have been nice to have had a warm female body snuggled up close beside me on that miserable winter night.​

The movie finally ended sometime after midnight and I was getting pretty buzzed from the beer. I dragged my 450 pounds into the bedroom and collapsed into bed. I was immediately overcome by the blessed oblivion of sleep.​

* * *​

The next thing I remember, somebody was slapping me hard in the face. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. I heard a woman’s voice from what seemed like a great distance.​

“C’mon, fat boy. Wake up! Hey, tubby, sleepy time’s over now.”​

I opened my eyes, feeling drowsy and disoriented as though I had been drugged. As I gradually began to focus, I saw two pretty young women looking at me intently.​

“I think he’ll be alright now,” one of them said.​

“Yeah,” said the other, “but let’s just be sure these wrist straps are secure.”​

My head was spinning and I was confused, but little by little I was able to take note of my surroundings.​

I was standing in a large room which appeared to be a suite in a nice hotel. Off to one side there was a separate bedroom, as well as a bathroom. In front of me on the far end of the room, I saw a buffet table covered with a variety of hors d’oeuvres and light snacks. There was a large platter with pastries, donuts, and other delicious goodies at one end of the table. Next to the buffet table was a smaller table with a fishbowl on it. On the other side a bar had been set up.​

I gradually realized that the room was filled entirely with women. It was a mixed group. They ranged from drop dead beautiful to average in appearance. Some were no older than college freshmen, while others were well into middle age. There was a variety of races present and many of the women were wearing traditional costumes from a broad spectrum of countries. All in all, it looked like a mini United Nations for women.​

Aside from the bartender, who was very fat and almost as big as me, I was the only man in the room. I put my right leg forward to take a step, but something was holding me back. My arms were sore and I realized that both of my wrists were strapped to metal rings that had been hammered into a large wooden structure. It was somewhat similar to a Christian cross or the wooden stocks used by the Puritans to immobilize and publicly humiliate supposed sinners.​

Speaking of public humiliation, I was horrified to see that I was completely naked. Whatever clothes I had been wearing had been removed and my huge fat belly bulged out in front of me. My big ass was naked too and it bumped up against an upright wooden beam behind me. Seeing the crowd of women in front of me, I wanted to run and hide, and I furiously pulled with my arms to break free. But it was useless; the straps held me tight so that I could not escape.​

My only consolation in this disgraceful position was the fact that something seemed to be covering my manly parts. I noticed a thin gold cord tied around my middle. It followed my waistline until it plunged down below the lower curve of my belly. I felt something like a small loincloth touching my groin. Of course, I couldn’t determine exactly what it was because it had been years since I was able to see anything south of my enormous belly without looking in a mirror. Like everything else in that area, I could feel it and I knew it was there, I just couldn’t see it.​

Since I was trapped and not going anywhere for the immediate future, I began to think about how I had gotten into this embarrassing predicament. I remembered watching the scary movie on television, it was snowing, and I was in my dingy apartment on Division Street in Chicago. Okay, so far, so good. I turned off the TV, switched off the light, and stumbled half-drunk into bed. And then . . . what?​

Still baffled about my situation, I watched the women in the crowd. Some of them were placing small slips of paper into the fishbowl while others were hanging around the bar talking and getting their drinks. Others circulated around the room socializing in small groups. Now and then somebody would select an especially large pastry from the buffet table and take it over to the fat bartender, who accepted it with a smile in lieu of a tip. Every so often a group of two or three would look in my direction, nod their heads, and laugh among themselves. I felt my cheeks grow hot with shame, but there was nothing I could do; I was helpless and totally exposed to their critical gaze.​

Soon a cute Asian girl dressed in a kimono broke away from the crowd and headed in my direction. I wished the earth would swallow me up, but she didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by a huge fat man standing before her in the buff.​

She came closer and looked me over from head to toe. She nodded approvingly and seemed as pleased as a butcher inspecting a prime cut of beef. I squirmed and pressed my thighs together, hoping that at least she wouldn’t be able to see the family jewels.​

She continued looking and even poked me a few times as if trying to judge just how thick the fat really was. Finally I overcame my embarrassment enough to say something to her.​

“Where am I?” I croaked hoarsely. “What the hell is going on here?”​

She merely looked at me without speaking and held up a sheet of paper in front of my face. It looked like some kind of program or agenda and I moved my head closer to read it.​

“FFA International - Annual Convention,” it said in big letters at the top of the page. “Dallas, Texas.”​

Now I was really confused. It must have been obvious because she brought the paper closer to my face and pointed at the very bottom of the page.​

“Look, frat boy, look!” she said in accented English.​

I looked and read the following: “Sunday, January 28, 6:00 pm – Closing Networking Reception and Grand Prize Raffle.”​

I wanted to ask her some more questions, but before I could do so, she turned sharply and walked away.​

“Dallas, Texas,” I thought and shook my head. It didn’t make sense. Saturday night I’m in Chicago, and then suddenly, somehow, on Sunday I’m naked and tied to a stake at a hotel in Dallas. And what was this “FFA,” I wondered. Future Farmers of America? These girls didn’t look like current or future farmers to me.​

My vivid imagination got the better of me and I started thinking that maybe I had been abducted from my apartment, knocked unconscious, and transported in the dead of night all the way to Texas. Maybe this was some kind of weird cult and I was their helpless prisoner. Maybe they were going to sacrifice me to their heathen gods and smear my blood on their bodies while they danced wildly around a bonfire. But no, that was crazy, totally insane.​

With all these thoughts still swirling in my head, another woman approached my perch. She was a short, trim strawberry blonde wearing a low-cut red evening dress. She smiled and crossed her arms, looking me over like an interested buyer inspecting a vehicle at a used car lot. She didn’t kick the tires, but she did poke my belly and sides several times, testing to see how soft the fat was and how deep her finger would sink into it.​

“Nice,” she said simply, “very nice,” more to herself than to me, as if I were just a dumb farm animal incapable of understanding human speech. She had a husky, sexy voice and I thought I detected a hint of an English accent.​

She stepped behind me and put her hands on my naked ass, lightly caressing the soft, smooth skin. Then she came around again and felt both of my boy boobs, carefully weighing their heft in each hand.​

“Excellent, very nice indeed.”​

I was shocked and embarrassed beyond description, but also strangely stimulated by the attention she was devoting to my body. I couldn’t remember a woman ever touching me the way she did. I opened my mouth to say something, but she smiled and put her fingers to my lips.​

“Shhh, don’t say anything.” It was the first time she spoke to me directly and acknowledged my existence as a human being.​

Then she did something I wouldn’t have expected in a million years. She bent down and lifted the cloth, or whatever it was, that was covering my crotch. I gasped, but she remained cool and totally dispassionate. I wondered if she was a doctor.​

“Hmmm,” she frowned slightly. “Very small, tiny even. Definitely underwhelming. But cute in a way, actually.”​

I hadn’t felt so humiliated since the night I found my now ex-wife in bed with another man. Apparently she considered me a bit too tiny for her tastes too.​

“But of course it doesn’t matter,” she continued matter-of-factly, still thinking out loud as if I wasn’t even there. “The total package is more than adequate. Yes, quite.”​

I breathed a sigh of relief, sensing that the inspection was now almost over. I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if she had stamped me as “USDA Grade A.”​

Finally she again addressed me directly. “Well, big boy, I think you’ll do nicely. Now let’s hope for the best. Maybe this time things will go my way.”​

I had no fucking idea what she was talking about. She turned abruptly and walked away, swaying her hips slightly.​

Once more I tried to move my arms, which were starting to ache painfully from being in this uncomfortable position for so long. I could still hardly move them, so I tried shuffling my feet in place in order to get at least some circulation in my legs.​

Small groups of women continued to walk past and look at my flesh on display, but none of them examined me as conscientiously as the strawberry blonde had done. I was glad for that, but at the same time I was becoming increasingly frantic about how much longer this nightmare would last.​

A little while later I noticed a stir of activity beginning at the other side of the room. A very tall, very thin woman stood up holding a portable microphone. She blew into it, making a loud, disagreeable noise.​

“Attention, everyone, may I have your attention, please?” The women in the room moved towards her with drinks in hand as they started to congregate around her.​

“Now comes the moment I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for,” she continued. The women started chatting excitedly and nodding their heads.​

“It’s time for our annual charity raffle to benefit underprivileged FFAs around the world. I’m sure you would agree that this is a worthy cause. To reward you for your enthusiastic participation in this year’s convention, we will now have our drawing for our special Grand Prize which one of you ladies will be fortunate enough to receive tonight.”​

“Before we proceed, however, let me remind you that you have all read the rules and you therefore know that the winner will have exclusive use of the prize until 7 o’clock sharp tomorrow morning, Central Standard Time. At that time, the winner will promptly relinquish the prize unless the parties involved consent to a continuation at some time in the future. Now, without further ado, let us begin.”​

Another woman picked up the large fishbowl from the table and brought it to the woman with the microphone. She reached in with her free hand and used it to mix up the slips of paper in the bowl. She would take one between her fingers and start to pull it out slowly, only to change her mind and drop it back in at the last minute, so as to enhance the drama of the moment. She rummaged around in the fishbowl a bit longer, and after having convinced herself that she had teased her audience long enough, she finally selected one of the slips and pulled it out.​

“The lucky winner of this year’s Grand Prize is . . . Laurie Miller! Laurie, if you are present, please come on down.”​

I had been avidly watching the proceedings from my vantage point in the back of the room. Now I observed as the same gorgeous strawberry blonde who had examined me so meticulously earlier in the evening made her way through the crowd to the front of the room.​

She was beaming from ear to ear as she shook hands with the woman holding the microphone. The other girls applauded her warmly, although I did see quite a few disappointed faces among them.​

“Congratulations, Laurie,” the speaker said. “Enjoy your prize, you deserve it.”​

Laurie walked through the crowd giving high-fives and pumping her fist like a boxer who had just landed an unexpected knockout.​

“Way to go, Laurie,” they shouted. “Use it, but don’t abuse it.” “Don’t wear yourself out,” were some of the comments I heard them make.​

She walked back through the crowd to where I was still being held captive. I have never seen a girl look as happy as she did at that moment.​

“Congratulations,” I said to her, having finally recovered enough of my senses to say something coherent. “What did you win?”​

“Thank you very much,” she replied, ignoring my question. “By the way, what’s your name?” she asked.​

“Uh, my name’s Richard.”​

“Okay then, Richard. I need to know your name because now that I have my prize, I have to know what to call it.”​

Suddenly and without warning she grabbed the gold cord tied around my waist and yanked it so hard that it snapped. She held it up in front of me with a look of triumph on her face. I was amazed to see a large silk blue ribbon attached to it. On the ribbons hanging down at an angle from the round centerpiece were two words written in large gold capital letters: GRAND PRIZE.​

Now I realized that this was the skimpy piece of cloth that had been covering me the whole time I was on display in the room. And I realized something else: I had just been raffled off to this Laurie like a prize bull.​

Laurie circled me seductively and playfully poked me like she had done earlier that evening. As she did so, the thin woman who had pulled the winning ticket came up to us with her helper.​

They smiled at Laurie and started to gently unhitch my wrists from the rings where they had been held in place the last couple of hours. I groaned from the pain as they slowly lowered my arms and massaged them to get the blood flowing again.​

“Be careful,” Laurie said, “I don’t want my prize to be damaged.” She examined my tender wrists to make sure the straps had not cut into them. They were red and sore and she stroked them gently and kissed them. “Poor baby,” she said sympathetically.​

“Well, Laurie, he’s all yours now for the whole night,” the thin woman instructed. You can do whatever you want with him until 7 o’clock tomorrow morning. Have fun.”​

“Oh, I surely will. And don’t worry, I’ll return him in more or less the same condition.”​

As they walked away, Laurie took me by the hand and led me towards the bedroom located off of the main room. She was as joyful as a little girl who had just received an oversized teddy bear for Christmas. She pulled me though the door of the bedroom and I listened as she closed the door tight behind us. Then I blacked out and everything went dark.​

* * *​

I was startled awake by a loud male voice. “It’s 7 a.m. and another snowy Monday in Chicagoland,” the voice announced. “ . . . traffic is backing up on the Dan Ryan . . . 20 minute delays inbound to the Loop. This is WBBM Newsradio 780, Chicago.”​

I opened my eyes and tried to shake off my sleepiness. I could see the cold dim morning light filtering through the curtains as I switched off the clock radio. “Wow,” I thought to myself, “what a crazy dream.”​

I stared at the ceiling and smiled, remembering my dream. It had to be a dream, nothing so bizarre could possibly be real. Out of the corner of my eye I spied an object lying on the pillow next to me. It was a large blue ribbon. In big gold capital letters it said “GRAND PRIZE.” Attached to it with a safety pin was a note: “Love, Laurie,” written in a delicate feminine hand in a neat cursive script. Below this the same person had written a telephone number with the comment, “Call me within 24 hours if you would like to continue this relationship.”​

I looked at the note and smiled happily. Then I rolled my big fat body out of bed and walked without hesitating to the telephone.​

 

[xxeell]

 

[Jerry Thomas]

 

[xxeell]

 

[Jerry Thomas]

 

[fatgirl33]

 

[Jerry Thomas]

 

[imogenbakerbell]

 

[Jerry Thomas]