BHM He says, she says

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Well-Known Member
Mar 20, 2017
In a salt fog
He says, she says
by Ffancy

Part 1 - He says

The thing about Nina was, she was incredibly foxy. Well, she had huge tits and banging rounded hips and ass, and there's no upper limit to ride my ride, if you know what I'm saying. She also threw herself at me every time she saw me. Like, breasts in my face, licking her lips, hand on my thigh, I-want-to-go-to-bed-with-you-right-now-Rhys flashing in neon.

This was weird for two reasons. The first is that women don't throw themselves at me. Let's be real, I'm a 280 pound guy with glasses, a stutter and an intense love of Star Wars collectibles. Not exactly a panty dropper. The second is that Nina hates me. I know this because she told me so.

"I hate you, Rhys!" she said as she bent to scoop her panties off the floor, turning her magnificently curvy bottom toward me "You're the worst!"

"What? Your tits aren't as nice as the girl behind the bar's were!"

"Augh!" she screamed as she slammed out of my apartment.

I didn't hear from her for a long time after that.

Not until today, as a matter of fact.

It's been a long dry spell, so when I got a text from Nina out of the blue asking me to meet her at this burger joint near my place, I said "sure."

I took a shower after work, making certain I was clean and nice-smelling all over. I went to the closet and pulled out my date outfit. It's not a date, Rhys. It's Nina. Don't be dumb. You already told her you don't want her that way. But I pulled on my khakis anyway. They fit a bit snug. I shrugged on the shirt and started to button it up. I had to tug on the buttons a bit over my man boobs and again over the swell of my belly.

I looked at myself in the mirror. The buttons of my shirt gapped ridiculously. I must have gained weight again. Well, I have been drowning my loneliness in pizza and beer lately. I lumbered down to the bathroom and pulled out my roommate's scale.

I stepped on it and heard the dial click upward. I leaned over to look at the number.



My weight has been creeping up ever since high school. I'm sort of okay with being a fat nerd stereotype, because I love delicious food. But sometimes my increasingly thick, ponderous belly and my fat thighs give me pause. And my double chin. Definitely do not love that. But that's why I grew this awesome beard.

I put a t-shirt on and left the dress shirt unbuttoned. There. I look about as good as I possibly can.

I walked into Papa's Burger Shack precisely at 7. Nina was already there. I felt a little jolt when I saw her, but that was probably because she was wearing this scandalously low cut dress that showed off an acre of creamy cleavage. Her breasts were even bigger than I recalled.

I slid into the booth across from her. My belly skimmed the edge of the table. Nina leaned forward, eyebrows raised.

"Hello, Rhys," she purred. "You look... good."

"You look good, too," I said.

A waiter stopped beside us with some menus in hand.

"No need," said Nina, transferring her green eyed gaze to him. "We'll have the appetizer platter to start. Then I'll have the chicken burger with curly fries and a chocolate shake, and he'll have the Big Pappa burger with extra bacon and onion rings, a Coke and a strawberry shake."

"I- I- I-" But the waiter is already gone before I can get the words out. "You ordered for me!"

"Is that not what you wanted?" Nina turns her eyes toward me and breathes deeply, causing her bosom to heave.

"It is!" I sputter. "How do you remember what I like?"

She shrugs, making her breasts jiggle. I lick my lips.

"Just paying attention, I guess. How have you been?"

"You're so weird."

"Now that's the Rhys I know," she says, leaning back a little. "Why'd you come then?"

"It's been a long dry spell," I admit, leaning forward.

Just then the appetizer platter arrives on our table. It's loaded with onion rings, mozza sticks, cheesy potato skins, deep fried mushrooms and chicken wings.

"Dibs on the onion rings," says Nina, spinning the platter around so that part of it faces her.

We munch on delicious fried things as we talk, getting caught up on how our jobs are going and our creative projects. Deep down, under the sexual tension and the constant spats, I actually do like Nina.

The Papa burger is a massive ½ pound behemoth. Somehow I eat all off it, and my onion rings, and my shake, and my soda, and half of Nina's curly fries. My pants are digging into my flesh and the table is pressing against my swollen gut.

"Too... full... to... move..." I pant.

"Come on, silly," says Nina, sliding out of the booth. I notice that her red dress is clinging to the curve of her belly, as well as her other curves. "You can do it." She grabs my upper arm, her fingers sinking into my soft fat. She leans in so my arm is pressing against her boob. Suddenly I can heave myself out and up. I waddle towards the door, pulling Nina with me.

"Easy, boy," she says, laughing. "Let's take my car."

I start to protest that it's only 3 blocks but the truth is I don't feel like walking that far. I settle my bulk into the passenger seat as Nina hops behind the wheel.

Soon we're in my bedroom. I flick the main light off, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp.

"I kind of put on some weight since the last time we..." I say, nervously.

"I noticed," says Nina. She stands on tiptoe to kiss me.
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Well-Known Member
Mar 20, 2017
In a salt fog
Part 2 - She says

I surely had noticed his weight gain. I couldn't believe how far his belly protruded, how wide and soft he'd gotten. He had fulfilled my wildest fantasies.

As I kissed him, I slid one hand to the back of his head to squeeze the fat roll there. I find that spot highly erotic, as it marks the transition from chubby, plump, chunky or pudgy to truly fat. Rhys is truly fat.

He walks over and plops on the bed.

"I'm so full," he moans. "I'm afraid you're going to have to do all the work."

His belly spreads out as he lays down, a soft, quivering ocean of fat that I want to dive into. I tease him by slowly peeling off my dress and my bra, singing the striptease music and giggling.

"You!" he says. "Get your fine ass over here!" so I do. I bend over him on the bed, allowing him to kiss my breasts, before tugging at his shirt. He pulls it off. His belt is already undone - I note the way four different notches are worn, proof that he's been moving the clasp outward. I start to undo his button. It's tight, the fabric digging into the soft fat under his belly, but I get it undone. His zipper is already halfway pushed down. He really does need some bigger pants. He slides off these nearly too small ones, revealing juicy thighs and a firm cock poking out of a soft roll of pubic fat.

I play with him, sucking and rubbing, before moving up to caress his chest and belly while I straddle him. He slides into me and it's like fireworks. It feels so right. I cup his little manboobs, barely a handful, and rub his belly as I gently rock on top of him. It takes a long time before he explodes. His pubic fat pushes against my mound, bringing me to climax well before him. My muscles clench around him. Though I'm the one moving, he is panting just as hard.

Later I lie collapsed on top of him, pillowed on his belly. It's just as amazing as I imagined. My hands lazily stroke his love handles and plush upper arms, tickling his double chin that is visible under the beard I suppose he imagines conceals it. We talk desultorily, about nothing in particular. He makes me laugh. I make him laugh. I'm enjoying this. In all the ways I've imagined this encounter - triumphant, combatative, furious, lustful - I never imagined it would be pleasant.

Rhys is my nemesis, you see. Well, no, strictly speaking, not my nemesis, but my bane. I'm helplessly drawn to him, but every time I've slept with him he's said something that hurt my feelings. Like telling me he'd set me up with his roommate, or saying that the only thing he likes about me is my breasts... I really shouldn't be here at all, but the thing is, Rhys is perfect. His body is a plush wonderland, ever expanding. It's not just his body, though. There are lots of guys as fat or fatter. It's his personality, too, his odd way of looking at the world. I find him funny and sweet when I'm not finding him infuriating, although the fact that I find him funny and sweet is in itself infuriating, because I will never in a million billion years get more from him than this.

So I rest my head on his cushy belly, trying not to think of anything but now, this moment. Sparse dark hairs and a passel of fresh purple stretchmarks cover his soft gut. His pubic roll has grown, I note, as I massage the spot where his belly overlaps the softness underneath. He sighs in pleasure.
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Mr. Jigglesworth

A true Meatierologist.
Oct 15, 2005
Orlando, Fla.
Is this going any further? Like to explain why her change of heart, was it really just a long dry spell for both or had she have a realization of sorts?

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