BHM Dream Vacation by Jerry Thomas (SSBHM, Romance, Fantasy)

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Apr 22, 2011
Badger State, USA
(SSBHM, Romance, Fantasy)

Dream Vacation

By Jerry Thomas

Vacation, at last! I glanced out the window of the Airbus as it touched down on the runway in Gran Canaria. One look at the rows of palm trees and the variety of tropical plants growing just beyond the airport fence and I knew immediately that I was on Spanish territory. The whitewashed stucco houses with their red and orange tiled roofs under a cloudless blue sky filled me with a sense of bliss. I was already shaking off the oppressive feeling that weighed down my soul after weeks of chilly rain in the more northerly climate that I was accustomed to. From my window seat inside the air conditioned cabin, I imagined I could feel the hot Spanish sun on my sun-deprived skin.

The pilot made a brief announcement in three languages as we approached the gate. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Las Palmas, where it is currently 32 degrees Celsius under sunny skies. The local time is 15:25. Thank you for flying Brussels Airlines and have an enjoyable stay.”

I did a quick calculation in my head and realized that I would soon be stepping out into 90 degree weather. I intended to have a VERY enjoyable stay indeed, with plenty of sun, surf, and, if my idea of a perfect vacation worked out as I hoped, a healthy helping of sex besides.

Even though I only had one drink on the way down from Belgium, my recollection of what followed is still a bit hazy. I remember getting up from my seat, struggling to pull the bulky carry-on out of the overhead bin, saying good-bye to an attractive flight attendant standing at the cabin door, and then following my fellow passengers up the ramp and out into the terminal to baggage claim. I stood at the edge of the carousel and spotted my powder blue hardback suitcase with a pink ribbon tied to the handle as it circled towards me. I waited in line at passport control, headed past the “Nothing to Declare” counter, and departed the airport without further ado. I searched for my hotel shuttle and next thing I knew I was comfortably established in my hotel room – con vista al mar, of course!

I was overly fascinated by a small vase of flowers on the coffee table and I vaguely remember picking up a multilingual tourist magazine and paging through the glossy photographs of laughing young couples cavorting on a white sand beach. I glanced out the sliding glass doors to the balcony and was astonished to see that it was already dark. Suddenly feeling exhausted from the excitement of my trip, I quickly undressed and crawled naked into bed.

I must have slept soundly because my next memory was that of the morning sun shining warm and bright through the window. I sat up, stretched, went to the bathroom to shower, and put on a cute little tank top and a pair of white short-shorts. I smiled at myself in the full-length mirror mounted by the door, pleased by my slim figure, and headed down for breakfast. I honestly can’t recall what I ate, but next thing I knew I was standing outside in the sun, which was warm, but not yet hot. Glancing at the colorful Swatch I had purchased in the duty-free shop, I was surprised to see that it was already almost noon. I seemed to be missing chunks of time that I could not account for.

I walked along the broad Paseo las Canteras that parallels the beach, still trying to rid myself of a kind of brain fog that puzzled me. But I felt good, otherwise. I felt happy in my body and the other passers-by were turning their heads and giving me looks as I pranced along, my hips swaying slightly and the shorts just barely covering my butt cheeks.

I looked down the Paseo and it was then that I spotted him. He was sitting on one of the stone benches that line the promenade. I put on my pair of sunglasses, thinking that this would accent my coolness and perhaps hide the excitement on my face as I made my approach. Even at this distance it was obvious that he was a juicy fat pig.

I walked ahead slowly, savoring every moment as his physical details became more and more clear. He was wearing a bright blue t-shirt, one or two sizes too small, so that it rode up and revealed a thick, soft layer of squeezable fat around his waist. I could see roll upon roll of love handles encircling his body, like the Michelin man in my Guide Vert. His full bountiful breasts would have made many a less well-endowed woman envious. The material of his short sleeves was stretched to the max and cut into his fleshy upper arms. And on top of it all, like the icing on a cake, he had an adorable boyish face with rosy chubby cheeks, chins that hid any semblance of a neck, sensuous kissable lips, and a head of blond, unruly hair that made him look a little like a bloated version of Boris Johnson.

I approached him, wondering what I could say without making my interest seem too obvious. I merely sat down next to him on the bench. Surprisingly, instead of moving away or giving me a strange look, he turned towards me with a wide happy smile, as if he had expected me all along.

He extended a hand with thick fingers that looked like sausages. “Hello, I’m Tony,” he said in New York-tinted English. “I knew you would come. After my friend left me, I just knew you would come instead.”

I’m usually not at a loss for words, and I have no problem hitting on a total stranger, but this time I was almost speechless. “I’m here in Las Palmas on vacation from Brussels,” I stammered. “But actually I’m a native of Chicago, when I’m not working on a project in Europe.” I was so flustered I forgot to tell him my name.

“Chicago’s a great town,” he replied. “I just love their deep dish Chicago-style pizza.”

It’s obvious you do, I thought. Then, gradually recovering my customary self-confidence, I asked, “It’s almost time for lunch. Would you like to go somewhere and have a pizza or something?”

He rubbed his fat belly in the affirmative. “I was just thinking the same thing. There are more places here than you can count. You pick.”

He stood up heavily and I had another chance to look him over from close up. He was wearing light gray sweatpants underneath his overflowing belly apron, roughly cut off above the knees to create a makeshift pair of shorts. One thigh alone probably weighed as much as me altogether. He wasn’t wearing shoes or socks, instead his large feet were shoved into a pair of red, white, and blue plastic beach sandals. He was fairly short, maybe only a few inches taller than me, but given his size I estimated that he had to weigh 400 pounds, at least. He was more spherical than anything.

“Come along, Butterball,” I teased, as we took a few steps together along the Paseo. He didn’t seem offended, but instead smiled his happy smile again.

“You like fat guys, don’t you,” he stated, and I was slightly taken aback by his openness and honesty. “My partner thought I was getting too fat, that’s why we broke up, but I knew somebody like you would come along, eventually.”

He sort of wobbled as he lumbered along, his oversized thighs rubbing and getting in the way of each other. The fat of his side boobs pushed his arms out on either side, making him even wider and creating a traffic obstacle for the other pedestrians.

“You sure are big,” I said by way of a compliment.

“I’m glad you noticed! I must weigh three or four times more than you. But you see, it’s because I have a medical problem. In my earlier years I started to develop an almost uncontrollable appetite. Nobody really knows why. I just can’t resist food and I’m so hungry all the time that I have to eat several meals a day, every few hours or so. I even get up to snack a few times during the night. It’s kind of a curse, but I’ve learned to live with it and make the most of my life as it is.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” I said, and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
Apr 22, 2011
Badger State, USA
Dream Vacation (continued)

We didn’t need to walk far until we found an open-air pizzeria. He seemed to be familiar with the place, and as we approached a table, one of the servers rushed up and beckoned him to wait. "Un momentito, señor," he said. He soon came back with a sturdy, extra wide chair, which he placed in front of my new friend and invited him to sit down. "Está mejor así, ¿no?"

I was baffled by this brief exchange and Tony explained. “They know me here. I collapsed a chair when I was here two years ago, and ever since then, they get me my ‘special’ chair whenever I come.”

“So you’ve been to Las Palmas before?” I asked.

“Yes, of course. Many times. I love the food, the beach, the people, everything! But of course, this time I’m here by myself.”

Somehow, Tony didn’t strike me as your typical beach guy, but in this world anything is possible. Mindful of my svelte figure, I ordered a glass of white wine and a small salad with vinaigrette dressing. Tony ordered a mug of beer, tapas, and a double helping of paella, with extra bread on the side. He ate quickly, but not sloppily or without manners, and he had already finished his food while I was still picking daintily at my salad. I understood how he got to be the way he was.

He ordered another mug of beer and after draining it, slapped his full belly with both hands. “Well,” he said, “that was super good. If you’re done eating, we could hit the beach. Would you like to do that?”

I’ve known plenty of fat guys in my life, but most of them were too self-conscious to let themselves be seen at a beach. Tony seemed to be entirely comfortable in his own body and unaware of the effect his appearance might have on other people. I, on the other hand, was constantly looking at myself in the mirror and wondering if I was “too fat,” even though I weighed a mere 120 pounds soaking wet.

We started walking to where the sand started at the edge of the Paseo. Tony had even more trouble walking than before lunch, and he stopped a few times to put his fist to his mouth and belch. He was already quite out of breath by the time we sat down on a low concrete wall facing the ocean.

“I really should try to lose some weight,” he huffed.

“Don’t you dare!” I scolded. I couldn’t resist putting my hand on the roundest part of his belly. “I like you just the way you are, Tony. By the way, wouldn’t you be more comfortable if you took off that tight t-shirt? Here, let me help you.”

Together we struggled to liberate all that jiggly flab from the confines of his shirt. He didn’t resist and didn’t seem embarrassed either. He kicked off his sandals and began wiggling his toes in the warm sand. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and turned his face to the sun, as if savoring the mere pleasure of being alive. I took advantage of the occasion to ogle the softness of his overflowing flesh.

“I just love your fat body,” I confessed. “You really are magnificent.” I put my arms around his naked waist and squeezed him tight.

“It’s hard sometimes, you know, being this fat. But, on the other hand, I’m happy with myself, happy with my life, and happy that I’ve met you.”

He smiled at me and just as I leaned in to give him a kiss, he stood up and looked towards the ocean. “Time to check out the water temperature,” he said, and he waddled slowly forward, leaving deep, deep footprints in the sand.

I was feeling slightly frustrated because of my thwarted kiss, when a vague sense of unease began to take hold of me, growing stronger and stronger as I watched him go. He seemed to be walking into a kind of fog or mist, coming from the water, even though the sun was shining and the sky was clear. My unease turned into full panic. “Wait, Tony,” I called out. “Wait! Come back!”

He kept on walking as if he couldn’t hear me. I shouted louder, “Tony, stop! Don’t go away! Please, when will I see you again?”

He turned around, waved, and flashed that happy smile of his. He curved his hand around his mouth. “S-o-o-n,” he called. “Don’t – give – up! I’ll see you again - very soon!” Then he turned back towards the water and walked into the mist, the rotund shape of his huge body gradually becoming less and less distinct, until finally he disappeared entirely from my sight.
Apr 22, 2011
Badger State, USA
Dream Vacation (continued)

Come back, come back, I thought, as troubling ideas circled and chased each other in my mind. My eyes were closed and I saw only darkness when I opened them. I put my hand up to my face and touched my cheeks. They were wet, as if I had been crying.

A bright flash of light stabbed through the open window, followed by a boom of thunder loud enough to shake the entire building. With a sinister whoosh the rising wind blew the curtains aside. The rain came pouring down on the pavement, nearly drowning out the sound of the late-night “L” that was at that moment rattling past just below my window. I realized that I was in bed in my north side Chicago apartment. Outside, the violent thunderstorm that they had predicted on the 10 o’clock forecast was sweeping across the city.

I turned on my side and looked at the clock radio. The electronic numbers glowing red in the dark told me it was 3:20 am. I sat up in bed and rubbed both eyes with the palms of my hands. What happened? Hadn’t I just been on a beach in Las Palmas, together with a beautiful sexy hulk of a man who made me feel insanely happy? Was it in fact just a dream? It all seemed so real, every detail, like I was actually there. No, I really was there, I was sure of it!

I put my head back on the pillow and kicked off the sheets in the humid night. I closed my eyes to sleep, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to. I listened to the rumbling thunder in the distance as the storm moved away and thought about Tony, the man I had just met on a vacation in the Canary Islands. I smiled to myself because it had all been so wonderful, but at the same time I also had this feeling of sadness and confusion. Why did it have to end? Do dreams ever come true, or are they true already, even as we dream them? The fantasy and the reality were all jumbled together.

I turned and hugged the oversized pillow I always keep on my bed and pretended it was Tony. So warm, so soft! He said we would meet again soon, very soon, and comforting myself with this promise, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

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