ms_hippy_chick
Member
~BHM, Imagery - a seamstress gets the client of her dreams
This is one of my favorite BHM stories, but unfortunately I don't seem to have the author information. Perhaps someone else knows?
Broke, skint, impoverished, hard up, poverty-stricken. Whatever you want to call it I was lamentably short of cash. I had to face facts - the time had come for this lazy chick to find a job!
Don't you love the grand ideas that kick off those optimistic job hunts? $40+ a year and plenty of vacation time to spend your spoils? Nice work if you can get it, as Mr Sinatra once sang...but I didn't. Not even an interview. After a month or so, I began to get the hint and found myself curled up on the sofa, munching chocolate whilst perusing the wee, small Small Ads in the local paper.
Dish washer? Nope, not me, I thought as I looked over at the kitchen with a brimming sink full of dirty crockery (from too many snacks!). How about sales assistant? Well, I couldn't quite imagine how my 'curves' would fit in (in every sense!) in that super-skimpy teen fashion store! Accountant's assistant? Hmmm, the only thing I ever learned to count was calories and that was a long-gone pastime as far as I was concerned! Perhaps another bar of chocolate would help my search...
Lo and behold ! It did! A blob of melted brown goo smeared across a tiny little advert caught my eye. Wiping it up with the edge of my little finger it revealed the one job I could actually do! Seamstress! Who said those textile classes were a waste of time! Still licking the remains of the sweet milk chocolate off my finger, I scrabbled to reach the phone. After a quick tele interview, on the proviso that I could bring in an example of a garment I'd made, the job was mine!
Mr Lukaski was a very sweet old Polish tailor who was wanting to take more time off yet still keep his little business running. We hit it off immediately and I was soon secure in my new profession, enjoying the responsibility of frequently being left in charge. The weeks passed as I ran up the suits we'd painstakingly cut out, invisibly mended those little ironing accidents our clients had, and altered expensive gowns to fit or to update to the current fashion. The days flew in as I sewed, listening to the radio, sipping coffee and nibbling those delicious cakes Mrs Lukaski often brought in.
But my favourite thing about my job was that I had my machine positioned right in front of the big bay window overlooking the street. I loved to people watch and guess which of the passers by would be coming in to the shop. Most days there was little out of the ordinary, with the usual faces scurrying by and our regulars popping in. Until Tuesday. Tuesday the 5th of March.
That was the day I almost stitched my fingers to the dress I was working on, because before me I saw the most wonderful, captivating vision! The most beautiful man I had ever seen was passing by the window; a man so large that he appeared to be moving in slow motion. With each laboured step I could see his low, soft, pendulous belly sway; a gorgeous belly that gently bounced off his huge thighs. And such amazing thighs they were - rolling around each other as he lumbered along.
He was truly exquisite! I sat transfixed as he slowly puffed his way along in front of me. The road our shop was on was on a slight incline and I could tell this magnificent creature was not used to walking much as his massive chest heaved up and down from the weight of his bulk. The day was unseasonably warm, which did not help his efforts, and I could see the sweat trickling down his back darken the denim of his shirt, accentuating the luscious rolls of lard beneath.
'Please come in, please come in, please come in...' I prayed under my breath. But just as I willing this huge Adonis closer, he stopped, dropping the bag he was carrying. The slight hill was obviously too much for such a big, beautifully fat man. Oh! What a sight! My man mountain leaned forwards, placing his strong hands on the front of his thighs which were spread slightly apart. His incredible belly and huge breasts fell forwards - there was no hope that all that delicious flab could defy gravity. I sat mesmerised while his gut quivered as he gulped in the air.
How I wanted to rush out to him, taking a chair for him to rest on, all the while knowing that it would be too, too much from a stranger, however well meaning. I satisfied myself in the knowledge that witnessing such a wondrous sight was enough to be grateful for, and just hoped he would take a few more moments before continuing his journey.
I have to admit, I was curious as to why such a hugely fat man was making the effort to walk some distance - what could he be intent on? It was obviously no small matter as the sheer exertion of hauling his bulk so clearly showed. As I was pondering this, my handsome giant straightened up again and took the opportunity to lean back and stretch a little - oh, that arched back, that huge, protruding belly! My heart was pounding as I saw the flabby folds of flesh on his sides and back roll into tightly encased sausages in his taut shirt. It was surely a miracle that his 'pooched' buttons didn't fly off as he was crammed so tightly into that denim.
For a woman who spent most of her days making sure her clients' clothes fitted comfortably, I was incredibly aroused at the sight of Mr Denim Shirt squashed into an outfit that was easily two sizes too small. I was so thankful that he was taking such a long time to pass, for it gave me the chance to explore every inch of his incredible frame with my greedy eyes.
As my eyes gobbled up every sensuous inch of him, it registered that his pants' stitches were holding by a whisper - along the sides of his jeans I could just make out that pale line on either side of the double seam - the pale lines that indicate they are stretched to almost beyond the max. He was bulging in them - from his huge fat-padded, muscular calves right up to his belly - and they were so tight, I was amazed they didn't just burst open in front of my eyes!
Those jeans were trying valiantly to contain his gut, but despite his trying to hold them up with suspenders, they were unable to contain more than the bottom of his great sagging belly. I estimated that the waistband was digging in to that soft flesh at least three or four inches under his belly button. Oh, were those jeans tight! A huge rounded roll of blubber cascaded over the top of the waistband, while beneath it his lower belly bulged into a great mound encased tightly in the material - like an enormous jello in a mold.
As he regained his composure, I resigned myself to his departure, but eagerly grabbed a few more brief moments of pleasure as he attempted to tuck a little of his (now even more) dislodged belly into his pants. My delight grew as I watched him struggle with that tourniquet waistband, trying to squish a little handful of fat down into the jeans. His large fingers pressed deep into his flesh as he surreptitiously wrestled with that extra inch or two of lard that was blobbing out. He was so cute as he pretended to be just tucking his shirt in! And how I wished it were my fingers pressing deep into that soft pile of belly blubber!
Oh! And my delight at these extra snatched seconds grew to ecstasy as he realised he had still to pick up the bag he had dropped earlier!
Mopping the beads of sweat from his brow with the cuff of his shirt, he steeled himself for this further exertion. I could see him take some long, deep breaths as he contemplated how he was going to tackle this huge task. He looked slightly worried, as bending over to reach the ground with a belly that size seemed to be out with the laws of physics. I could stand it no longer, I had to make my move.
Grabbing my purse, I rushed to the sidewalk. All the while my mind was whirling - what could I do? Dammit! I wanted to look cool and sophisticated, but all I could muster in my Great Plan was to 'accidentally' trip over his bag! No mean feat for a chubby girl!
Ta dah! Looking up at him from my asphalt seat on the sidewalk, I grinned - the most goofy grin imaginable. Argh! Blown it! He must think I'm a complete klutz! Why couldn't I have just delicately dropped my hankie or something?
"I hope you've nothing breakable in you bag, " I croaked, feeling my cheeks redden.
His round, sweet face broke into a huge smile to reveal the most perfect set of gleaming white teeth I'd ever seen!
"No, " he grinned, "In fact, you should have aimed for it a bit more - it's a lot softer than where you're perched right now!"
Making sure I wasn't injured (boy, if only he could have felt how bruised my pride was!) he extended his hand to me, and I clutched it tightly as he helped hoist me back onto my feet. My, I could have held on to that big, strong hand forever!
"I'm really glad I haven't broken anything in your bag, " I mumbled, becoming more embarrassed by my escapades by the second.
"Don't you worry, " he chuckled, "Anyhow, I was on my way to your shop so I guess any damage you might have inflicted you could fix!" And with that he gave me a teasing wink. Oh yikes, I realized, he must have seen me spying on him from my machine!
"You're on your way to Lucaski's?!" I squeaked, wanting to kick myself for rushing out like that.
Grappling for any excuse to go straight back in with him, I picked up our bags and burbled that I must make sure that nothing of his got ripped by my acrobatics. Of course, I should have known that this gorgeous man with the captivating smile was a perfect gentleman who insisted he didn't want to inconvenience me while I was off on an errand. If only he knew!
However, luckily for me, he didn't take much persuading that I was the 'perfect assistant ' and followed close behind me, no doubt relieved that he wouldn't have to make the trip twice. I could hear the soft swish, swish, swish of material brushing as those delicious fat thighs of his rubbed together, and the sexy hard breathing of a man so large.
"Please, make yourself comfortable, " I ushered, "Do sit down." Ah! As soon as I said that I knew I'd put my foot in my mouth! The Lucaski establishment was very old fashioned and our chairs in the front shop were stylish, but pretty ancient and creaky. He eyed the chair up and down and mumbled that he thought he'd be fine standing, his panting breath belying this fact. Ouch, I'd made him feel uncomfortable. If he'd thought earlier that I was a klutz, he'd be pretty damn sure of it by now.
"Look," I burbled, "I feel really bad about almost crashing into you and nearly wrecking your stuff - how about you come through to the back shop and we can have a coffee. I can have a look at your clothes there."
"Sure, that sounds good. I could use something to drink - I'm kinda dry from walking in this heat today."
Relief flooded over me at his agreement, and I led him through the velvet drapes to the little nook where we had a few armchairs and a lovely old baggy sofa.
"Please, make yourself comfy. I'm Sandy, by the way, " I smiled.
"Good to *bump* into you, Sandy. I'm Jon. "
Jon quickly scanned the room for a suitable place to sit, and, of course, chose the sofa. He sank slowly into it with a sigh, clasping the arm and lowering himself carefully down with the gentle grace that fat men have.
"Man, that feels great, " he exhaled. "It's good to take the weight off my feet, " he continued with a cute sheepish grin.
Oh Lord, the magnificent Jon filled the two seater sofa as though it was an armchair. His thighs were spread out touching the armrests on either side. With him seated I could see the rolls of fat at the tops of his legs contoured by the close fabric of his jeans - well, I could see all that wasn't obscured by his billowing belly.
My eyes travelled across that vast expanse of man. Those jeans were almost cutting him in two. I felt a tingle as he wriggled and adjusted his belly fat so it lay more comfortably. Although Jon had been sitting for a minute or so, he was still a little breathless - and so was I, but for a very different reason!
With the water boiled, I fixed us a couple of coffees. I didn't even ask what he took in his - just poured in an extra-large glug of cream and spooned in three very generous sugars. My excitement heightened even more after he took his first sip and asked if he could possibly have a little more sugar! Mmmm, a man with a very sweet tooth. I proffered the bowl to him and he helped himself to another two heaped spoonfuls. God, that little touch of excess made me tremble with delight. Encouraged by his unabashed fondness for sweet things, I brought through a plateful of Mrs Lucaski's cakes.
"Please, Jon - help yourself - they're delicious! And I'm sure you can see I enjoy them, " I purred as I patted my round tummy.
"So, a girl after my own heart, eh?" he said, flashing that beautiful smile at me. "Though you still have a way to go till you catch up!"
As he said this he hefted up a handful of fat that was bulging over his waistband and gave it a gentle jiggle. His massive girth wobbled all the way up to the soft, curved double chin that rested on the top of his chest, and he let out a deep, sensuous chortle. Wow! Was I such an obvious flirt? Well, whatever I was doing it seemed to be working!
Jon must have caught the look of delighted desire on my face as I had *tried* to ogle him subtly! I was so overwhelmed I stuffed a huge eclair into my mouth, squirting cream out of the sides.
"Mmmm, that looks very tasty, Sandy, I think I'll have to join you. "
I placed the platter on the arm of the chair, but it transpired to be near impossible for him to turn to the side enough or reach over his huge gut to help himself. Still fluttering and fussing round him like an excited schoolgirl, I leant over and placed the piled-high plate in his hand. God, I almost swooned as he delicately balanced it atop the mound of his belly, using it as a make-shift table. One by one, Jon sat wolfing down the pastries, licking the cream and chocolate fondant from his finger tips.
"You must excuse me, Sandy, but I'm pretty hungry. It's been ages since breakfast and that walk's really worked up an appetite!"
I wanted to exclaim from the rooftops that seeing him enjoy all those cakes needed no excuses! I loved it! Every large bite he took drove me wild! But rather that risking that, I restricted myself to inquiring why he had decided to walk rather than drive on such a warm day. His response set a tingle run right through my body:
"Well, it's steering wheel trouble, actually...I can't fit behind it any more!" And as he popped the last morsel into his mouth he leant towards me a tad and whispered conspiratorially, "You know that big walk? Well, I have to confess that I took a cab to the end of the street and only walked the rest because of the one way system. So I guess I can't blame exercise on me finishing all those pastries!"
Grinning, all I could manage was, "Well since you can't drive to get a snack anytime soon, and as you did have a *bit* of a walk, I have some candy at my machine. Would you like some?"
With his moist tongue carefully feeling for any little cake crumbs left around his lips, he gave the slightest of winks and nodded. Laughing, I trotted through to fetch the candy. I really wished I had more...much more.
Eating candy and sipping coffee, we chatted and laughed for a good half hour. We liked the same movies, books, corny jokes and, of course, good food. I felt as though I was in heaven. Eventually though, I knew I would have to get on with some work - especially as the shop had been closed since I'd rushed out to the sidewalk earlier - so asked Jon what it was he'd brought. I opened the bag to discover a beautifully made, huge, tuxedo.
"Wedding bells," Jon offered by way of explanation.
My heart sank. He was getting married...
"It's my brother's wedding in a few weeks. I thought I'd better bring my tux to see if it could be adjusted. Can't have the best man splitting his pants at the altar!" he laughed.
I laughed with him, but more with the immense relief at the thought of him still being a bachelor.
"Well, Best Man, I think we should get you measured up for any alterations."
I fetched my tape. My quilting tape, as I knew that a regular 60'' one wouldn't nearly reach around Jon's impressive torso.
Jon started to struggle out of the sofa. His weight had compressed the saggy seat so much that it was extra hard for him to heft his bulk up. With a sigh, and a sideways grin towards me, he slipped off the sofa onto his hands and knees and began to haul himself up using the arm and seat of the sofa. I knew that by reverting to his private style of rising, he had let me in to his world and wouldn't object to a little help.
After some puffing and straining on both our parts, Jon was standing. Once on his feet, I checked out his amazing body again - he must have been at least 6'1'', and over 700lbs! Raising his arms for me to reach around his chest, his shirt popped out from the confines of those tight pants. I couldn't resist sneaking a look at all that luscious, soft bare fat. His skin was pale, peppered with the silvery lines of old stretch marks and the erotic deep pink stripes of the new. Jon had obviously been gaining recently! Little dimples gathered just above the deep groove of the waistband, and the fat gently quivered as he breathed.
Standing close, with my belly almost touching his, I reached around, letting my fingertips glide lightly across the concertina-ed rolls of fat hanging from his sides. The folds were so large and soft, and I marvelled at their lack of symmetry. These folds were wonderful globs of blubber, rolling off one another at even the tiniest of movements. Did I just hear a sharp intake of breath? Did he realise my fingers were deliberately stroking his delicious lard? As I reached further and further back, trying to pull the tape around, it kept sliding over his wonderful curves of flesh, becoming lodged in the deep crevasses between.
"Would it help if I held one end of the tape, Sandy? I don't think your arms are quite long enough!"
With Jon holding the end, I managed to slip myself under his arm and pull the tape gently across his back. When I appeared again, facing him, he quipped, "Enjoy your walk? I think it was longer than the one I took today!" This guy obviously revelled in his size - none of his jokes were at all self-deprecating. It seemed like he enjoyed drawing attention to his magnificent blubber!
And what fabulous blubber it was! With his chest at 78'', I knew his girth had to be well into the 80s!
When it came to measuring his belly, I had my heart in my mouth as I suggested it might be easier to get an accurate size if he undid his jeans at the waist, since they were so constricting. Lifting the flab that overflowed his waistband with both hands, he looked at me expectantly. I read his signal and carefully pushed my fingers into his jeans just above the button to open them.
His flesh was so warm and silken, with just a small, dark line of hair running up the middle of his belly. I pressed my fingers deep into his fat, savouring the give in his huge pillow belly. As I did so, I felt the flesh from the overspill press down on the backs of my hands, engulfing them like a huge marshmallow. God, the tips of my fingers were really being pinched by the tight waistband, and I could feel how hot the red groove where his pants cut in was. As I struggled to open the button I could feel his flab undulating with my movements. I could hear his breathing quicken, and knew he was getting aroused by my touch. This was most definitely a guy who's outstanding gut was a real erogenous zone. Finally I managed to undo the button, and as soon as I did the fly zipper burst open under the pressure of his belly. Fat cascaded out, bumping off my own round stomach.
As his wobbling fat quivered to a halt, neither of us stepped back, both quietly absorbing the glorious feel of our bellies pressed against each other. Without saying a word, I began the process of measuring again, letting our fingers linger on the touch as I passed the tape to him. As I wound the tape around him I marvelled at the numbers that unfolded; past the 60s...70s...till the tape finally closed around him to reveal his soft girth was 84 magnificent inches.
Gently, I grasped the sides of his jeans to fasten them again. I tugged a little, but there was no way his soft, drooping belly was going to oblige! I pulled harder on the material, but still there was a large gap with a delicious blob of fat pushing its way out.
'I'm breathing in! Honest!' he lied, chuckling.
Jon was clearly happy to have me tussle with his belly and jeans, since he let my little wrestling match continue for a while before admitting that I was attempting an impossible means of closure. Clutching his jeans to him, belly now even more intent on escape, Jon waddled a few steps back to the sofa.
With a delicious *flump* he plopped himself down on the seat, using the momentum to swing his huge heavy legs up. He wriggled and jiggled his way further down till he managed to heft his massive ass to the middle of the couch, legs dangling over the armrest. Lying there on his back, this incredible man was overhanging the front of the couch! Mama Mia! Without his jeans fastened to keep his belly in control, his delicious apron of fat fell back and to the side, hanging temptingly in the air. Oh, how I wanted to grab a big, luscious handful of that flesh and squeeze my fingers deep into it and smother it with kisses and nibbles!
If that magnificent scene wasn't enough to make my eyes pop, Jon proceeded to demonstrate The Method! With a grunt, he managed to lift his massive bulk for a split second, and with astounding speed grabbed the waistband of his jeans and pulled them up and to the front. Letting out a huge sigh, he lay still for a moment, sucking in some air.
'Now, you see, Sandy - all I have to do is squish my belly in when I'm lying flat. I've had plenty of practise with tight clothes! But that's not to say another pair of hands wouldn't be welcome...'
I leant over his huge girth - thinking 'flat' was hardly the word I'd choose! - and reached to pull the fabric together. I could feel my nipples growing harder under my slippery silk shirt as my breasts brushed against his domed stomach - and I was sure he could feel them too.
'Hmmm, I think it might be easier if I fastened the button, Sandy, plenty of muscle is needed for that job. But I would appreciate you helping 'tuck me in'.'
Straining, he popped the button in place, leaving inches of sweet pink flesh poking out between the gaping material. He asked if I could fetch him a metal coat hanger. Confused, I did as he bid, and returned with a sturdy looking one. Jon pulled it into shape, transforming it into a long thin, hooked wire. Although he couldn't possibly see past his bulk, he deftly reached around his girth, pushing fat out of the way with the side of his arm, and slipped the hook into the eye of the 24'' zipper and began to pull.
'See, you're not the only one who's arms aren't quite long enough to navigate my belly,' he puffed. 'Now, if you could just start my 'tummy tuck' we should be done in a sec'!'
All too soon we finished fastening his pants, but little flecks of electricity continued to run up and down my body from pressing and prodding that beautifully malleable flesh. And I could tell by the cat-who'd-got-the-cream look spread across Jon's face that he was feeling those incredible little shocks too. Without breaking eye contact, Jon smiled sexily, suggesting it might take a little less effort to get his leg measurements. Maybe less effort, I thought, but still plenty of fun!
Once he was on his feet, the final stages of measuring seemed to fly by - we were obviously perfecting our style! 33'' inside leg, and thighs almost 40'' around! I jotted the numbers down in my notebook together with the others, but knew full well that this was one set of measurements inscribed on my memory for all time!
When he asked what size he now was he looked a tad surprised for a moment when I told him. Then his face broke into a huge, wide smile, raising his round, fat cheeks like little apples.
"Now I guess you'd better measure the tux, " he grinned, 'It's been a couple of years since I've had it on.'
The pants were only 74'' and the jacket a size 66''!
"I don't think it's worth you trying this suit on, Jon..." My voice trailed off in awe at the amount of weight he must have gained. I wondered if he could read my thoughts - that I was wishing he *would* attempt to model it for me!
More to satisfy my carnal desires than to prove my point, I held the pants up against him and he looked at his reflection in the mirror. I loved the way we had to keep stepping back a little, then a little more, till all of his bulk was captured in the glass. His wide ass and thighs spread out way beyond the silhouette of the tux, and he set my pulse racing when he slipped an arm under his belly to raise his fat up beyond the crotch height of the pants.
"So you don't think they can be let out enough, Sandy?" he teased, knowing full well that it was an impossibility!
Smiling, I looked into his dark green eyes and shook my head. "I think we'll have to run you up a new suit, Jon. You wouldn't want anything too tight for the delicious wedding dinner, would you?"
He shook his head with a mock expression of horror at the thought of not being able to eat comfortably, and I was melting inside at the way his double chin shook, sending small ripples up his jowls and cheeks.
'Well, I guess you'll be seeing a lot more of me then, Sandy," he grinned, "In every sense!"
And sure enough I did - much more!
Lucky for us that I was a smart enough cookie to leave enough material for plenty of growth in the new tux I ran him up. Well, you didn't think the Best Man suit would still fit when it was time for *our* wedding, did you?
This is one of my favorite BHM stories, but unfortunately I don't seem to have the author information. Perhaps someone else knows?
Through the Eye of a Needle
Broke, skint, impoverished, hard up, poverty-stricken. Whatever you want to call it I was lamentably short of cash. I had to face facts - the time had come for this lazy chick to find a job!
Don't you love the grand ideas that kick off those optimistic job hunts? $40+ a year and plenty of vacation time to spend your spoils? Nice work if you can get it, as Mr Sinatra once sang...but I didn't. Not even an interview. After a month or so, I began to get the hint and found myself curled up on the sofa, munching chocolate whilst perusing the wee, small Small Ads in the local paper.
Dish washer? Nope, not me, I thought as I looked over at the kitchen with a brimming sink full of dirty crockery (from too many snacks!). How about sales assistant? Well, I couldn't quite imagine how my 'curves' would fit in (in every sense!) in that super-skimpy teen fashion store! Accountant's assistant? Hmmm, the only thing I ever learned to count was calories and that was a long-gone pastime as far as I was concerned! Perhaps another bar of chocolate would help my search...
Lo and behold ! It did! A blob of melted brown goo smeared across a tiny little advert caught my eye. Wiping it up with the edge of my little finger it revealed the one job I could actually do! Seamstress! Who said those textile classes were a waste of time! Still licking the remains of the sweet milk chocolate off my finger, I scrabbled to reach the phone. After a quick tele interview, on the proviso that I could bring in an example of a garment I'd made, the job was mine!
Mr Lukaski was a very sweet old Polish tailor who was wanting to take more time off yet still keep his little business running. We hit it off immediately and I was soon secure in my new profession, enjoying the responsibility of frequently being left in charge. The weeks passed as I ran up the suits we'd painstakingly cut out, invisibly mended those little ironing accidents our clients had, and altered expensive gowns to fit or to update to the current fashion. The days flew in as I sewed, listening to the radio, sipping coffee and nibbling those delicious cakes Mrs Lukaski often brought in.
But my favourite thing about my job was that I had my machine positioned right in front of the big bay window overlooking the street. I loved to people watch and guess which of the passers by would be coming in to the shop. Most days there was little out of the ordinary, with the usual faces scurrying by and our regulars popping in. Until Tuesday. Tuesday the 5th of March.
That was the day I almost stitched my fingers to the dress I was working on, because before me I saw the most wonderful, captivating vision! The most beautiful man I had ever seen was passing by the window; a man so large that he appeared to be moving in slow motion. With each laboured step I could see his low, soft, pendulous belly sway; a gorgeous belly that gently bounced off his huge thighs. And such amazing thighs they were - rolling around each other as he lumbered along.
He was truly exquisite! I sat transfixed as he slowly puffed his way along in front of me. The road our shop was on was on a slight incline and I could tell this magnificent creature was not used to walking much as his massive chest heaved up and down from the weight of his bulk. The day was unseasonably warm, which did not help his efforts, and I could see the sweat trickling down his back darken the denim of his shirt, accentuating the luscious rolls of lard beneath.
'Please come in, please come in, please come in...' I prayed under my breath. But just as I willing this huge Adonis closer, he stopped, dropping the bag he was carrying. The slight hill was obviously too much for such a big, beautifully fat man. Oh! What a sight! My man mountain leaned forwards, placing his strong hands on the front of his thighs which were spread slightly apart. His incredible belly and huge breasts fell forwards - there was no hope that all that delicious flab could defy gravity. I sat mesmerised while his gut quivered as he gulped in the air.
How I wanted to rush out to him, taking a chair for him to rest on, all the while knowing that it would be too, too much from a stranger, however well meaning. I satisfied myself in the knowledge that witnessing such a wondrous sight was enough to be grateful for, and just hoped he would take a few more moments before continuing his journey.
I have to admit, I was curious as to why such a hugely fat man was making the effort to walk some distance - what could he be intent on? It was obviously no small matter as the sheer exertion of hauling his bulk so clearly showed. As I was pondering this, my handsome giant straightened up again and took the opportunity to lean back and stretch a little - oh, that arched back, that huge, protruding belly! My heart was pounding as I saw the flabby folds of flesh on his sides and back roll into tightly encased sausages in his taut shirt. It was surely a miracle that his 'pooched' buttons didn't fly off as he was crammed so tightly into that denim.
For a woman who spent most of her days making sure her clients' clothes fitted comfortably, I was incredibly aroused at the sight of Mr Denim Shirt squashed into an outfit that was easily two sizes too small. I was so thankful that he was taking such a long time to pass, for it gave me the chance to explore every inch of his incredible frame with my greedy eyes.
As my eyes gobbled up every sensuous inch of him, it registered that his pants' stitches were holding by a whisper - along the sides of his jeans I could just make out that pale line on either side of the double seam - the pale lines that indicate they are stretched to almost beyond the max. He was bulging in them - from his huge fat-padded, muscular calves right up to his belly - and they were so tight, I was amazed they didn't just burst open in front of my eyes!
Those jeans were trying valiantly to contain his gut, but despite his trying to hold them up with suspenders, they were unable to contain more than the bottom of his great sagging belly. I estimated that the waistband was digging in to that soft flesh at least three or four inches under his belly button. Oh, were those jeans tight! A huge rounded roll of blubber cascaded over the top of the waistband, while beneath it his lower belly bulged into a great mound encased tightly in the material - like an enormous jello in a mold.
As he regained his composure, I resigned myself to his departure, but eagerly grabbed a few more brief moments of pleasure as he attempted to tuck a little of his (now even more) dislodged belly into his pants. My delight grew as I watched him struggle with that tourniquet waistband, trying to squish a little handful of fat down into the jeans. His large fingers pressed deep into his flesh as he surreptitiously wrestled with that extra inch or two of lard that was blobbing out. He was so cute as he pretended to be just tucking his shirt in! And how I wished it were my fingers pressing deep into that soft pile of belly blubber!
Oh! And my delight at these extra snatched seconds grew to ecstasy as he realised he had still to pick up the bag he had dropped earlier!
Mopping the beads of sweat from his brow with the cuff of his shirt, he steeled himself for this further exertion. I could see him take some long, deep breaths as he contemplated how he was going to tackle this huge task. He looked slightly worried, as bending over to reach the ground with a belly that size seemed to be out with the laws of physics. I could stand it no longer, I had to make my move.
Grabbing my purse, I rushed to the sidewalk. All the while my mind was whirling - what could I do? Dammit! I wanted to look cool and sophisticated, but all I could muster in my Great Plan was to 'accidentally' trip over his bag! No mean feat for a chubby girl!
Ta dah! Looking up at him from my asphalt seat on the sidewalk, I grinned - the most goofy grin imaginable. Argh! Blown it! He must think I'm a complete klutz! Why couldn't I have just delicately dropped my hankie or something?
"I hope you've nothing breakable in you bag, " I croaked, feeling my cheeks redden.
His round, sweet face broke into a huge smile to reveal the most perfect set of gleaming white teeth I'd ever seen!
"No, " he grinned, "In fact, you should have aimed for it a bit more - it's a lot softer than where you're perched right now!"
Making sure I wasn't injured (boy, if only he could have felt how bruised my pride was!) he extended his hand to me, and I clutched it tightly as he helped hoist me back onto my feet. My, I could have held on to that big, strong hand forever!
"I'm really glad I haven't broken anything in your bag, " I mumbled, becoming more embarrassed by my escapades by the second.
"Don't you worry, " he chuckled, "Anyhow, I was on my way to your shop so I guess any damage you might have inflicted you could fix!" And with that he gave me a teasing wink. Oh yikes, I realized, he must have seen me spying on him from my machine!
"You're on your way to Lucaski's?!" I squeaked, wanting to kick myself for rushing out like that.
Grappling for any excuse to go straight back in with him, I picked up our bags and burbled that I must make sure that nothing of his got ripped by my acrobatics. Of course, I should have known that this gorgeous man with the captivating smile was a perfect gentleman who insisted he didn't want to inconvenience me while I was off on an errand. If only he knew!
However, luckily for me, he didn't take much persuading that I was the 'perfect assistant ' and followed close behind me, no doubt relieved that he wouldn't have to make the trip twice. I could hear the soft swish, swish, swish of material brushing as those delicious fat thighs of his rubbed together, and the sexy hard breathing of a man so large.
"Please, make yourself comfortable, " I ushered, "Do sit down." Ah! As soon as I said that I knew I'd put my foot in my mouth! The Lucaski establishment was very old fashioned and our chairs in the front shop were stylish, but pretty ancient and creaky. He eyed the chair up and down and mumbled that he thought he'd be fine standing, his panting breath belying this fact. Ouch, I'd made him feel uncomfortable. If he'd thought earlier that I was a klutz, he'd be pretty damn sure of it by now.
"Look," I burbled, "I feel really bad about almost crashing into you and nearly wrecking your stuff - how about you come through to the back shop and we can have a coffee. I can have a look at your clothes there."
"Sure, that sounds good. I could use something to drink - I'm kinda dry from walking in this heat today."
Relief flooded over me at his agreement, and I led him through the velvet drapes to the little nook where we had a few armchairs and a lovely old baggy sofa.
"Please, make yourself comfy. I'm Sandy, by the way, " I smiled.
"Good to *bump* into you, Sandy. I'm Jon. "
Jon quickly scanned the room for a suitable place to sit, and, of course, chose the sofa. He sank slowly into it with a sigh, clasping the arm and lowering himself carefully down with the gentle grace that fat men have.
"Man, that feels great, " he exhaled. "It's good to take the weight off my feet, " he continued with a cute sheepish grin.
Oh Lord, the magnificent Jon filled the two seater sofa as though it was an armchair. His thighs were spread out touching the armrests on either side. With him seated I could see the rolls of fat at the tops of his legs contoured by the close fabric of his jeans - well, I could see all that wasn't obscured by his billowing belly.
My eyes travelled across that vast expanse of man. Those jeans were almost cutting him in two. I felt a tingle as he wriggled and adjusted his belly fat so it lay more comfortably. Although Jon had been sitting for a minute or so, he was still a little breathless - and so was I, but for a very different reason!
With the water boiled, I fixed us a couple of coffees. I didn't even ask what he took in his - just poured in an extra-large glug of cream and spooned in three very generous sugars. My excitement heightened even more after he took his first sip and asked if he could possibly have a little more sugar! Mmmm, a man with a very sweet tooth. I proffered the bowl to him and he helped himself to another two heaped spoonfuls. God, that little touch of excess made me tremble with delight. Encouraged by his unabashed fondness for sweet things, I brought through a plateful of Mrs Lucaski's cakes.
"Please, Jon - help yourself - they're delicious! And I'm sure you can see I enjoy them, " I purred as I patted my round tummy.
"So, a girl after my own heart, eh?" he said, flashing that beautiful smile at me. "Though you still have a way to go till you catch up!"
As he said this he hefted up a handful of fat that was bulging over his waistband and gave it a gentle jiggle. His massive girth wobbled all the way up to the soft, curved double chin that rested on the top of his chest, and he let out a deep, sensuous chortle. Wow! Was I such an obvious flirt? Well, whatever I was doing it seemed to be working!
Jon must have caught the look of delighted desire on my face as I had *tried* to ogle him subtly! I was so overwhelmed I stuffed a huge eclair into my mouth, squirting cream out of the sides.
"Mmmm, that looks very tasty, Sandy, I think I'll have to join you. "
I placed the platter on the arm of the chair, but it transpired to be near impossible for him to turn to the side enough or reach over his huge gut to help himself. Still fluttering and fussing round him like an excited schoolgirl, I leant over and placed the piled-high plate in his hand. God, I almost swooned as he delicately balanced it atop the mound of his belly, using it as a make-shift table. One by one, Jon sat wolfing down the pastries, licking the cream and chocolate fondant from his finger tips.
"You must excuse me, Sandy, but I'm pretty hungry. It's been ages since breakfast and that walk's really worked up an appetite!"
I wanted to exclaim from the rooftops that seeing him enjoy all those cakes needed no excuses! I loved it! Every large bite he took drove me wild! But rather that risking that, I restricted myself to inquiring why he had decided to walk rather than drive on such a warm day. His response set a tingle run right through my body:
"Well, it's steering wheel trouble, actually...I can't fit behind it any more!" And as he popped the last morsel into his mouth he leant towards me a tad and whispered conspiratorially, "You know that big walk? Well, I have to confess that I took a cab to the end of the street and only walked the rest because of the one way system. So I guess I can't blame exercise on me finishing all those pastries!"
Grinning, all I could manage was, "Well since you can't drive to get a snack anytime soon, and as you did have a *bit* of a walk, I have some candy at my machine. Would you like some?"
With his moist tongue carefully feeling for any little cake crumbs left around his lips, he gave the slightest of winks and nodded. Laughing, I trotted through to fetch the candy. I really wished I had more...much more.
Eating candy and sipping coffee, we chatted and laughed for a good half hour. We liked the same movies, books, corny jokes and, of course, good food. I felt as though I was in heaven. Eventually though, I knew I would have to get on with some work - especially as the shop had been closed since I'd rushed out to the sidewalk earlier - so asked Jon what it was he'd brought. I opened the bag to discover a beautifully made, huge, tuxedo.
"Wedding bells," Jon offered by way of explanation.
My heart sank. He was getting married...
"It's my brother's wedding in a few weeks. I thought I'd better bring my tux to see if it could be adjusted. Can't have the best man splitting his pants at the altar!" he laughed.
I laughed with him, but more with the immense relief at the thought of him still being a bachelor.
"Well, Best Man, I think we should get you measured up for any alterations."
I fetched my tape. My quilting tape, as I knew that a regular 60'' one wouldn't nearly reach around Jon's impressive torso.
Jon started to struggle out of the sofa. His weight had compressed the saggy seat so much that it was extra hard for him to heft his bulk up. With a sigh, and a sideways grin towards me, he slipped off the sofa onto his hands and knees and began to haul himself up using the arm and seat of the sofa. I knew that by reverting to his private style of rising, he had let me in to his world and wouldn't object to a little help.
After some puffing and straining on both our parts, Jon was standing. Once on his feet, I checked out his amazing body again - he must have been at least 6'1'', and over 700lbs! Raising his arms for me to reach around his chest, his shirt popped out from the confines of those tight pants. I couldn't resist sneaking a look at all that luscious, soft bare fat. His skin was pale, peppered with the silvery lines of old stretch marks and the erotic deep pink stripes of the new. Jon had obviously been gaining recently! Little dimples gathered just above the deep groove of the waistband, and the fat gently quivered as he breathed.
Standing close, with my belly almost touching his, I reached around, letting my fingertips glide lightly across the concertina-ed rolls of fat hanging from his sides. The folds were so large and soft, and I marvelled at their lack of symmetry. These folds were wonderful globs of blubber, rolling off one another at even the tiniest of movements. Did I just hear a sharp intake of breath? Did he realise my fingers were deliberately stroking his delicious lard? As I reached further and further back, trying to pull the tape around, it kept sliding over his wonderful curves of flesh, becoming lodged in the deep crevasses between.
"Would it help if I held one end of the tape, Sandy? I don't think your arms are quite long enough!"
With Jon holding the end, I managed to slip myself under his arm and pull the tape gently across his back. When I appeared again, facing him, he quipped, "Enjoy your walk? I think it was longer than the one I took today!" This guy obviously revelled in his size - none of his jokes were at all self-deprecating. It seemed like he enjoyed drawing attention to his magnificent blubber!
And what fabulous blubber it was! With his chest at 78'', I knew his girth had to be well into the 80s!
When it came to measuring his belly, I had my heart in my mouth as I suggested it might be easier to get an accurate size if he undid his jeans at the waist, since they were so constricting. Lifting the flab that overflowed his waistband with both hands, he looked at me expectantly. I read his signal and carefully pushed my fingers into his jeans just above the button to open them.
His flesh was so warm and silken, with just a small, dark line of hair running up the middle of his belly. I pressed my fingers deep into his fat, savouring the give in his huge pillow belly. As I did so, I felt the flesh from the overspill press down on the backs of my hands, engulfing them like a huge marshmallow. God, the tips of my fingers were really being pinched by the tight waistband, and I could feel how hot the red groove where his pants cut in was. As I struggled to open the button I could feel his flab undulating with my movements. I could hear his breathing quicken, and knew he was getting aroused by my touch. This was most definitely a guy who's outstanding gut was a real erogenous zone. Finally I managed to undo the button, and as soon as I did the fly zipper burst open under the pressure of his belly. Fat cascaded out, bumping off my own round stomach.
As his wobbling fat quivered to a halt, neither of us stepped back, both quietly absorbing the glorious feel of our bellies pressed against each other. Without saying a word, I began the process of measuring again, letting our fingers linger on the touch as I passed the tape to him. As I wound the tape around him I marvelled at the numbers that unfolded; past the 60s...70s...till the tape finally closed around him to reveal his soft girth was 84 magnificent inches.
Gently, I grasped the sides of his jeans to fasten them again. I tugged a little, but there was no way his soft, drooping belly was going to oblige! I pulled harder on the material, but still there was a large gap with a delicious blob of fat pushing its way out.
'I'm breathing in! Honest!' he lied, chuckling.
Jon was clearly happy to have me tussle with his belly and jeans, since he let my little wrestling match continue for a while before admitting that I was attempting an impossible means of closure. Clutching his jeans to him, belly now even more intent on escape, Jon waddled a few steps back to the sofa.
With a delicious *flump* he plopped himself down on the seat, using the momentum to swing his huge heavy legs up. He wriggled and jiggled his way further down till he managed to heft his massive ass to the middle of the couch, legs dangling over the armrest. Lying there on his back, this incredible man was overhanging the front of the couch! Mama Mia! Without his jeans fastened to keep his belly in control, his delicious apron of fat fell back and to the side, hanging temptingly in the air. Oh, how I wanted to grab a big, luscious handful of that flesh and squeeze my fingers deep into it and smother it with kisses and nibbles!
If that magnificent scene wasn't enough to make my eyes pop, Jon proceeded to demonstrate The Method! With a grunt, he managed to lift his massive bulk for a split second, and with astounding speed grabbed the waistband of his jeans and pulled them up and to the front. Letting out a huge sigh, he lay still for a moment, sucking in some air.
'Now, you see, Sandy - all I have to do is squish my belly in when I'm lying flat. I've had plenty of practise with tight clothes! But that's not to say another pair of hands wouldn't be welcome...'
I leant over his huge girth - thinking 'flat' was hardly the word I'd choose! - and reached to pull the fabric together. I could feel my nipples growing harder under my slippery silk shirt as my breasts brushed against his domed stomach - and I was sure he could feel them too.
'Hmmm, I think it might be easier if I fastened the button, Sandy, plenty of muscle is needed for that job. But I would appreciate you helping 'tuck me in'.'
Straining, he popped the button in place, leaving inches of sweet pink flesh poking out between the gaping material. He asked if I could fetch him a metal coat hanger. Confused, I did as he bid, and returned with a sturdy looking one. Jon pulled it into shape, transforming it into a long thin, hooked wire. Although he couldn't possibly see past his bulk, he deftly reached around his girth, pushing fat out of the way with the side of his arm, and slipped the hook into the eye of the 24'' zipper and began to pull.
'See, you're not the only one who's arms aren't quite long enough to navigate my belly,' he puffed. 'Now, if you could just start my 'tummy tuck' we should be done in a sec'!'
All too soon we finished fastening his pants, but little flecks of electricity continued to run up and down my body from pressing and prodding that beautifully malleable flesh. And I could tell by the cat-who'd-got-the-cream look spread across Jon's face that he was feeling those incredible little shocks too. Without breaking eye contact, Jon smiled sexily, suggesting it might take a little less effort to get his leg measurements. Maybe less effort, I thought, but still plenty of fun!
Once he was on his feet, the final stages of measuring seemed to fly by - we were obviously perfecting our style! 33'' inside leg, and thighs almost 40'' around! I jotted the numbers down in my notebook together with the others, but knew full well that this was one set of measurements inscribed on my memory for all time!
When he asked what size he now was he looked a tad surprised for a moment when I told him. Then his face broke into a huge, wide smile, raising his round, fat cheeks like little apples.
"Now I guess you'd better measure the tux, " he grinned, 'It's been a couple of years since I've had it on.'
The pants were only 74'' and the jacket a size 66''!
"I don't think it's worth you trying this suit on, Jon..." My voice trailed off in awe at the amount of weight he must have gained. I wondered if he could read my thoughts - that I was wishing he *would* attempt to model it for me!
More to satisfy my carnal desires than to prove my point, I held the pants up against him and he looked at his reflection in the mirror. I loved the way we had to keep stepping back a little, then a little more, till all of his bulk was captured in the glass. His wide ass and thighs spread out way beyond the silhouette of the tux, and he set my pulse racing when he slipped an arm under his belly to raise his fat up beyond the crotch height of the pants.
"So you don't think they can be let out enough, Sandy?" he teased, knowing full well that it was an impossibility!
Smiling, I looked into his dark green eyes and shook my head. "I think we'll have to run you up a new suit, Jon. You wouldn't want anything too tight for the delicious wedding dinner, would you?"
He shook his head with a mock expression of horror at the thought of not being able to eat comfortably, and I was melting inside at the way his double chin shook, sending small ripples up his jowls and cheeks.
'Well, I guess you'll be seeing a lot more of me then, Sandy," he grinned, "In every sense!"
And sure enough I did - much more!
Lucky for us that I was a smart enough cookie to leave enough material for plenty of growth in the new tux I ran him up. Well, you didn't think the Best Man suit would still fit when it was time for *our* wedding, did you?
