He's stuffed, he's stuck - and he can't get up! His girlfriend is sexy, but she isn't much help!
Remote Control
by L.J. Rock
Remote Control
by L.J. Rock
“Are you looking for something?”
My girlfriend Amber teased me as she walked into the room. I had been sitting in my armchair most of the morning, stuffing my face with snacks and sucking down beers when I had apparently drifted off to sleep for a bit.
I had been having this incredible dream that I was an emperor back in the ancient days of Rome, and I was having this massive food-orgy attended by a harem of the sexiest women I’ve ever known in my life. Old girlfriends and crushes I’ve had over the years, all of them scantily clad in barely-there togas and loincloths, holding baskets of food and feeding me; stuffing my face with bunches of grapes, ripe melons, slabs of roasted pork and pouring gallons upon gallons of sweet red wine down my throat.
I woke up moments later, disappointed to see that there was no harem there to feed me, but pleased to see I was still nice and fat. Lucky for me my girlfriend Amber took care of all of my most hedonistic desires for me, keeping me fed, fat and happy twenty-four hours a day.
Licking my lips, I let out a little hiccup as I awoke, followed by a big open-mouthed yawn. Then I gave myself a big pat on my big belly, watching it ripple out in front of me like a pebble thrown into a still pond. I had been so fat and lazy all day that day, and I was feeling so completely stuffed and bloated that I could barely move.
“Now where is that remote control?” I said to myself, as I began to pat my hands and feel around for it. My huge body was taking up so much of the chair, it could have fallen down in any one of these cracks and I’d never know it.
That’s when Amber entered the room, looking all sassy and sexy as she always did, dressed in skin-tight clothing, her long golden-brown locks up in an unkempt ponytail on top of her head. Her right hand was perched atop her rounded hip, and in her left hand she held that which I coveted: the remote control.
“Are you looking for something, sweetie?” she said again, the tip of her tongue clenched between her front teeth playfully. She was dancing around on her tiptoes like a ballerina as she waved the remote control around in the air in front of me; not a small feat as Amber is not exactly what you would call “petite” herself.
She’s a curvy girl with wide hips and a generously endowed bosom, and she has a nice soft belly in between. She likes her food and she isn’t at all shy about it, nor is she shy about the fact that she prefers her men to be hefty and with a hearty appetite. I consider myself fortunate to be able to check off both of those boxes for her.
“Hey, babe,” I said to her, still sounding groggy from my nap, “I was looking for that. You want to hand it to me?”
“Not so fast,” she said, as she dangled the remote over my head, just beyond my reach. “You’re gonna have to take it from me.”
“Aww, come on,” I said. “My belly is so stuffed, I can - *hiccup* -barely move.”
“Come on, fatty,” she chortled, still dancing about with the remote in the air. “You can do it. I believe in you.”
I started huffing and puffing as I attempted to lift myself up out of the chair that my ass had called home for the last five hours or so. It felt as though I had somehow become infused with the fabric of the chair, as it seemed to be virtually impossible for me to get up.
“Having a little trouble there, big boy?” Amber teased, turning around shaking her fat ass in my face. She was wearing these skin-tight stretch pants, and her amble rump was bouncing up and down like two basketballs inside a cotton-blend sack.
I started grunting and pushing even harder as I tried to rise to my feet. Sweat began pouring from my face, and my heart was pounding in my chest. My tongue fell out over my bottom lip as I desperately gasped for air.
“Come on, tubby!” Amber cackled, waving the remote right in my face. “Are you really having that much trouble getting up, ya big lard-o?”
I started laughing myself as it was actually pretty hilarious how out of shape I was. I tried to reach out and grab the device from her hands, but it was no use: she was too fast, and I was too fat!
“Maybe you need a little — motivation,” she said as she stuck the remote down the front of her t-shirt. She then went into a strip-tease routine that would put even the most vivacious Vegas showgirl to shame. She moving and twisting, shaking her plush body all about.
First the shirt came off. Her massive breasts were rolling out over the edges of her bra — and there was the remote, wedged deep within the confines of her cleavage.
“Oh, baby!” I said, still huffing and puffing like I was on the verge of having a heart attack. “I wanna stick my face in those titties so bad!”
“Well come on, fatso,” she giggled playfully. “Come and get it!”
The pants came off next. She slowly peeled the soft fabric edges over the rounded curves her giant ass and hefty hips, her soft belly spilling forward and jiggling like a big bowl of tapioca.
“Ooh! I want to bite that fat ass of yours so bad, baby!” I grunted. Once again I struggled furiously to get up from the chair, but to no avail.
“Have I really gotten that heavy?” I said, as I was starting to feel frustrated. “I know I’ve been getting fat, but this is ridiculous.”
“I think your big butt is stuck!” Amber cackled. We were both laughing hysterically now as she walked over towards me, the remote still stuck between her boobs. She took me by the hand and started to pull. Indeed my fat ass was wedged between the chair arms so tightly it was going to take a Herculean effort on both of our parts to pry me loose.
She pulled and I pushed, and after a few seconds I could feel myself starting to move forward. “That’s it!” I said. “Almost there! Keep pulling!”
With final sharp tug I went flying forward, and I bowled Amber right over onto the sofa that was directly behind her. I had landed squarely on top of her, and I seemed to be crushing the wind right out of her lungs with my overwhelming girth.
“Amber!” I said. “Are you okay?”
It took her a minute to respond, but she looked up at me with a smile across her face and a fire in her eyes. “Oh, big daddy!” she said in a breathless whisper. “You really know how to turn me on!”
She reached up and wrapped her arms around the back of my meaty neck, and proceeded to give me the deepest, most passionate kiss I’d ever had in my life. We then made love right there on that sofa, and when we were finished we moved into the bedroom where we went at it another four or five times (I lost count after a while.)
After she had worn me out, she brought me back into the kitchen where she proceeded to feed me a massive feast, made up of every kind of food one could imagine. It was almost like my Romanesque orgy dream, only instead of a harem of girls I just had one really special girl.
Some of my friends say that Amber has too much control over me, that she’s totally manipulating me and using me as a sexual plaything. If only they could know just how happy we both really are.
