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You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. Groaning, dry-mouthed, and huffy, you heave heave yourself over and grope for the insistent, buzzing rectangle. When your fingers finally bump into the detestable thing, you drag the handset to your face and roughly paw at the "answer" spot on the screen.
"Anon?" your mom asks.
Your head feels stuffed full of cotton, though your hangover isn't quite as bad as you'd feared. Holding the phone away from your mouth, you clear your throat and try to conjure some moisture.
Mom laughingly repeats herself, "Anon? Hel-loooo?"
"Hey mom, I had to sleep in," you croak.
You quickly check the time on your phone and see that it's almost noon. Whoops, later than you meant to sleep.
"You don't sound great. Are you ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," you reply, sitting up and still trying to banish some gravel from your voice. "I'm settling in ok here in Novaville, just stayed up a little late last night."
"Oh, good," your mom says, "I'm glad to hear that. I just got a call from your grandpa. Your sister Megan is gonna be home for Christmas!"
"Well that's great! Wait, she told them first?" Your excitement curdles slightly as your brain slowly reactivates.
"Oh, I'm sure she doesn't mean anything by it," your mom replies breezily.
Not wanting to rock the boat, you simply spend some time trading small talk with your mom, catching up on the last few weeks' happenings in your old town. However, in the back of your mind, you're replaying some exchanges with your sister during your relationship with Amber. Megan hated Amber from the get-go. While you're somewhat grateful in retrospect for her perception, you're much less than grateful for how crassly Megan called out every pound you put on. At family functions, you seemingly couldn't do anything without drawing a snide comment from her. A big plate of food? Something shitty about how much fatter it'll make you. You load up on something healthy? A barb about how you're finally eating right. It definitely strained the relationship, and you were kind of relieved to hear she'd started a rotational assignment in Germany.
...all this thinking about food, angst-tinged though it may be, is making you hungry. You you slide out of bed and make your way to the kitchen, trying to fix and eat some breakfast without making too much noise. You don't do a great job of it.
"Oh, what's that you're crunching on, Anon?" Your mom asks in a ribbing tone.
"It's uh, a bagel."
"Well don't eat too many, honey," your mom says, and you feel your patience immediately begin to drain. You let out an extremely drawn-out sigh, lasting several seconds, and even resume the sigh after you refill your lungs, to the intense annoyance of your mom. Your exhalation is marred by the hints of a couple giggles.
"Anon, I wouldn't be a good mom if i didn't fuss over your well-being," your mom says defensively.
You close your eyes, trying to control your temper. "Look," you start, "I'm fine. It's noon and I'm just now getting something to eat." Your parched gullet struggles to accept the first bite of your brunch, so you wash it down with a big swig of water.
Turning back to the phone, "I know you've been worried sick about my weight. I'm a b-" you barely stop yourself from saying "big boy", instead, "I can deal with it. I didn't get big overnight, so I hope you're not expecting me to slim down overnight too."
"I know that, honey," your mom says, in an even, measured tone. "I just worry about you."
You sigh again, short this time, trying to accept your mom's concern in stride. "Honestly, I worry about me too a little sometimes. Things are looking up, but it really wasn't that long ago when I dumped Amber. Some shit still hurts."
"Language, young man!"
"Sorry," you gasp, caught off guard. Getting your bearings again, "So... Setting up with the new doc actually went great. Of course he wants to see me smaller, but he said my bloodwork would be great for a guy half my size, so he's not actually that worried. The new apartment has a great gym too, I set a new personal best for squats just earlier this week. Every day's leg day for me, heh!"
Finally a chuckle from the other end of the call. "Well, I'm just... I'm just always going to worry about you being happy and healthy no matter what. It's just what moms do."
"I'm fine, and I'm gonna keep being fine," you insist. "But I need to start my day, so I gotta go. I love you, talk to you later."
"I love you too, honey," your mom says, and you hang up.
The phone clatters on your kitchen counter, and you take a long breath to think about what to do with the day. You need to shower and pick up the trash from last night's binge, but first, you're still really hungry. That single bagel you not-so-slyly ate while on the phone didn't go too far. Your belly growls for more fuel, but in a normal way, not like the gleeful insatiability from last night.
A certain dull thudding behind your eyes promptly tips over from being noticeable to being uncomfortable, and you feel a weak twist of nausea. Pushing off from the countertop, you open a cabinet and extract your favorite skillets. First order of business is killing the shit out of this hangover, and nothing does it like the classic combo of carbs and grease. Moments later, you're looking proudly at stack of warm pancakes plus a pile of bacon, and finalizing a mass of scrambled eggs sizzling in the bacon grease. As you finish loading up your plate and hauling the caloric bounty to your table, you think briefly on your actual plans for the day. It only takes you moments to decide.
You decide to be lazy again, and while the day away with video games, lounging, and snacking. As you cut into your syrup-drenched pancake stack, you also decide you'll try to chat up TR again. You certainly didn't get to know her all that well in the short time you locked horns with her, but she still seemed cool, and you'd like to keep in touch. It's amazing that your clumsy drunken interaction was basically the most effective pickup line you've ever deployed, and you're still amazed you actually left TR with a good impression somehow.
In but a few minutes, you've finished your large greasy breakfast. You chug your glass of orange juice, and sigh with satisfaction as your meal settles warmly in your stomach. Almost unconsciously your hands gently start playing with your chub. You have a strong feeling that you're going to indulge in more than a few more greasy snacks and sugary drinks today. You chuckle as an oddly breezy thought crosses your mind: that you might as well try to enjoy being fat while it lasts. After all, you can't be certain that you'll ever be skinny again. Desolated dishes go straight into the sink, then you fish out a trash bag to tidy up the living room. With a tug on the ties, the fast food binge is cleanly concealed behind white plastic. Immediate chores handled, you go into the bathroom and start the shower.
You strip off your clothes as the water warms up, and you feel somehow compelled to take a long moment in front of the mirror. Almost on their own, your hands find their way back to your stomach, gently rubbing and squishing your spare tire. It feels pleasant, almost sensual, and you more thoroughly survey your body as the mirror slowly begins to fog.
Starting from the top, you still have a pretty sturdy chin, but a second one beneath plus rounder cheeks moves you away from a "strong" jawline. You've been focusing hard on arm and chest strength since Amber's weird fixation on your moobs – your upper body is obviously quite strong, but there's no hiding the excess flesh on your trunk and arms. At least your chest isn't as jiggly these days. You're well acquainted with your belly, currently noisily digesting your heavy breakfast. You run a hand over its prominent "beer belly" curve, then slide under the fold where it hangs slightly over your abdomen. Your cock stirs slightly in spite of yourself at how sensitive that skin has become. You slide your hand outwards to where your gut morphs into your love handles, then place your other hand on your opposite hip and shake. Surprisingly delighted, you spend a few long moments feeling and watching your flesh wobble, really drinking in the sensations for possibly the first time without Amber's leering or teasing. Your hands then slide further around your hips to find your backside, each inquisitively grabbing a handful of flesh. As one of the weird guys who actually likes leg day, you've always had a lot of butt. Judging by how much of it jiggles now, at least a few of your new pounds wound up adding to your ass. Then again, you are still a guy, so even if most pants are snug around your expanded backside, it's definitely your stomach that's responsible for driving up your waistband measurements. As your reflection becomes a little blurry and some wisps of steam appear in your snug bathroom, you wrap up your moment of self-exploration by considering your legs for a moment. They're much like your arms, with some actual muscle definition beneath a layer of fat. The overall effect is that they're just plain big, and you project a decided vibe of solidity along with the very obvious fat-guy figure.
Your pudgy reflection finally vanishes behind a layer of condensation, so you snap out of your indulgent reverie and step into the shower. You let out a long sigh as the hot water soothes your aching back and relaxes your stiff neck. Simple pleasures, you think as you lean your head back and close your eyes. It doesn't take much shampoo to cleanse your short hair, and you start soaping up your skin. You momentarily slip back into that odd self-admiring mood from a moment ago when you slide a soapy hand into the fold where your gut meets your abdomen. That oddly sensitive feeling from earlier returns, injecting a touch of lust into your mind. On a lark, you slide a soapy finger into your bellybutton, deepened by your added pounds. Your breath catches. However, you close your eyes hard and shake your head, throwing motes of foam against the wall and curtain. You take a deep breath of the warm, humid air, clearing your head and deciding once and for all that you've discovered enough about yourself for one day.
Promptly you rinse the shampoo from your hair, then sequentially position yourself under the stream to rinse the rest of your body. You work quickly, and soon you've shut off the water and are toweling yourself dry and trying not to dwell on the new sensations you've just encountered. Exiting the steamy bathroom, you're hit in the face by a wave of comparatively cool air from the rest of your apartment. In moments any lewd thoughts drain from your mind, and you proceed to get dressed.
You're not planning on being seen today, so you pull on just a pair of boxers, flop onto the couch, and turn on the TV. You flip through the channels, looking for nothing in particular. You tentatively pause on some baking show, then grab your phone. You log on to Friscord and see that TheRipper has also been lazy, and is watching Netflix. You smile, and decide to message her.
"Hey TR69, what's up?" you ask.
"Not much," she replies a few minutes later.
After some initial awkwardness you manage to settle into a nice chat. You talk a lot about Disk – initially trading pointers on multiplayer tactics. You talk about the new weapon system, and the new changes to the game. You both commiserate over how a recent patch "ruined" an infamous exploit with the alien Doom Thrower gun. The conversation drifts towards the lore of the franchise. TR quickly outs herself as a superfan, being very familiar with all the extra stories and shows. You both enjoy a lively discussion of the finer points of the game, and speculate about possible or likely future sequels. Time flies past as you continue to chat, and before you know it, the evening sun is burning golden behind your window shades. "Hey, I'm getting a little peckish," you type. "I'm gonna order some pizza."
TR replies, "Ooh, that sounds like a good idea! I've been thinking about dinner for a while, lol."
You place an order with the local pizza place (sausage and mushrooms), then swipe back to your conversation with TR.
"This might be a bit TMI," she starts, "But I'm actually a big foodie! I want to sample every restaurant near me."
"Go on..." you type.
"Okay! I recently went to a Mexican place, and they claimed to have some authentic churros, so I had to try them. Yo, they were soooo good."
You don't want to pry into TR's personal life, at least not yet, so you don't ask what city she's in. You trade anecdotes about memorable meals, and you even feel comfortable enough to mention some of Amber's decadent creations, though you don't directly include your ex in the story.
The pizza arrives, and you dig in. It's a good thing you ordered extra, because of course you're again feeling a little piggish after deliberately choosing to let your hair down. TR reports that her food arrives at about the same time, so the two of you break for a bit to eat. After you've packed away about half of your pizza, another message from TR pops up: "Well, I'm feeling refueled! You ready to own some nerds in Disk, or do you need to get drunk first, lol?"
"Gimme just a minute then I'll be good to go," you reply.
"Great! I'll get on and wait for you!"
You quickly clean your hands off and fetch a few cans of beer, nestling them within reach on the couch. Next you start up your console, log into Disk, and party up with your foe-turned-ally TheRipper69. You also send invites to some of the randos you played with last night, and a few of them even join up with your growing dream team. Your new squad assembled, you set off into the multiplayer battlefields. The next three hours are a blur of bullets, booze, and mayhem. Your squad is again a force of nature, racking up a long string of commanding wins, even against some ferocious and well-organized enemy teams.
Suddenly, you yawn. You definitely don't have as much energy today as you did yesterday, and don't feel like pushing yourself. Your teammates protest, and insist you stay in for another round. You concede, and though the night's swan song wasn't your best work, you still had fun with it. After reviewing the post-game stats, you bid your farewells and log off. You clean up the cans, stash the remaining pizza in the fridge (after nicking one last piece as a snack) then collapse into your bed.
Phone hovering over your face, you check Friscord, and see that TR shot you a nice message. "Hey, I really enjoyed playing with you again! Think we could make this a regular thing?"
"I'd love to," you type back.
TR replies with a smiley emoji, presumably already wrapped up in another round. You finish your slice of pizza and absentmindedly scroll some posts on your phone, but your thoughts are more occupied with imagining what TR might look like. Would she be a peroxide blonde with a pout, or a buxom brunette with rosy cheeks? You hope she's pretty, because you'd really like to see more of her.
After a momentary sleep is promptly interrupted by you dropping your phone on your face, you finally set the device aside and groggily slide under the sheets, falling asleep moments later.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sunday you indulge in yet another lazy day, but come Monday you manage to find some discipline and return to your usual routine. You hit all your scheduled workouts, but the real highlight of your post-work evenings is long gaming sessions with TR. You have a lot of fun, with TheRipper inviting you almost every evening like clockwork. She's basically a fixture of the late night gaming scene, and you surmise that she's a pretty major night owl. One week blazes by, then another. You're winding down a too-late Sunday night play session when your chat with TR turns a little personal. She cops to having quite a bit of baggage, and laments her difficulty in dating. Her voice sounds uncharacteristically tinged with sadness as she describes just wanting somebody to settle down with yet being chronically single. You decide to console her, and the two of you spend a while talking about your search for love. You hint at having a "psycho ex" but spare TR all the gory details of your time with Amber. At one point after an awkward, slightly-too-long pause, TR reveals that she's also living in Novaville! Not even that far from you, from what you can tell.
You can't believe your good fortune, and offer to meet up with her. She gently rebuffs the idea, at least for the moment, but makes a counter-offer: mutual face reveals by trading social media details, and possibly a video chat. Your disappointment at being turned down is muted by finally getting to see what your online crush looks like. You're nervous, but also excited, so you accept TR's offer. Immediately after, she nervously sends you a link for her personal social media account, and says something cryptic about how her pictures are "a little old". You pay it no mind, and tap the link. The first thing you notice is TR's real name: Rya Thompson.
The profile photo attached to Rya's account displays a figure with loose jet-black hair and East Asian features- slightly narrow and elegantly curved eyes (somehow fox-like, you think) with deep brown irises, a short rounded nose, fair and smooth complexion, and well-balanced lips with a noticeable Cupid's bow, curled into a small noncommittal smile. Round, rosy cheeks immediately give you the impression that she's carrying some extra weight. In comparison to the edgy, gamer-girl persona she projects on Friscord, the real Rya seems very timid and meek.
There aren't many pictures, and what's present don't look especially flattering. You quickly find several full-body photos and discover that Rya is on the short side, and as you suspected, quite chubby. More than chubby, really – she's actually pretty fat. It's a good thing you didn't start with a video call, because otherwise Rya would be seeing the succession of surprised then thinking faces you're making. Still, as you come across a half-decent picture of her in a form-fitting outfit, you decide that she carries her weight pretty well - she has a fairly prominent round tummy, which you find somehow adorable more than anything else, plus thick curvy hips and thighs along with an impressively bulging rack. It takes you a second or two, but you easily conclude that she's cute. Perhaps not so long ago you might have passed her over, but the way you've hit it off prompts you to be more accepting. Besides, you're not svelte yourself these days, and you think it'd be shitty to judge somebody else's body.
TR, or rather Rya, is still on the call as you flip through her pictures, waiting anxiously. You stop on a picture of Rya dressed in a fancy red gown at some formal event. She looks like she's having a good time, and is beaming with pride at the camera.
"Hey, TR – or should I say Rya - I think you look nice! You've got nothing to be nervous about," you say nicely.
"Thanks, I really appreciate that," she says unsteadily.
"Well, you showed me yours, I'll show you mine," you say. You scroll through your phone for some pictures of yourself to share with Rya. After rejecting a bunch of embarrassing fetish-bait pictures Amber took (seriously why haven't you deleted those yet?), you find a handful of recent photos. You definitely look pudgy in all of them, but you're well-dressed and smartly groomed. Best you're gonna do, just hope it's what she's into. You send Rya the pictures, and you hear a noncommittal thinking sound on the other end of the call.
"Wow, those are really you," she says. "Heh," she chuckles, "You're a lot classier than the quote, drunk fat guy, you claimed to be on plenty of occasions."
You reply, "Well, to be clear, I am in fact a pretty large lad. I hope that won't be an issue?"
"No! I mean, I just didn't know you looked that good," she says.
"Well, I'll say again that I think you're really pretty, and it's ok if you're nervous," you respond.
Rya replies haltingly, "It's not... Uh – First, thank you. Second, I'm still down with a video call tonight if you are."
"Oh, right, that! Let me get some lights on, then I can call you?"
"Whenever you're ready, Anon," She answers, her tone perhaps a little impatient-sounding.
You flick on the overhead light in your living room, then tap the video call icon on your phone and prop it up on your coffee table. A moment later, Rya's voice comes through your phone.
"Hello?"
A moment after that, a video feed of Rya's face appears on your screen. You're immediately preoccupied with the alignment of your phone camera, and scramble to get the thing set up properly. After a few too-long moments of scrambling and a muttered apology, you're satisfied with how your mug is framed.
"Hey," you finally greet Rya, trying to sound casual.
Her image on the screen smiles softly at you. Rya's hair is done up in a bun, and she looks just as pretty as she did in her older pictures. There's something a touch different about her appearance here, though – it could just be the lighting or her makeup or maybe a video filter, but you'd swear her face seems slightly rounder.
"So uh, yeah," you chuckle, "Clearly I'm a pro at this video chatting thing!"
"Don't worry about that," she replies pleasantly, "I'm just glad to finally see you face-to-face, sorta!"
You laugh a little, trying to keep the awkwardness at bay.
Rya takes the initiative, "So you mentioned that you haven't been in Novaville that long?"
The conversation picks back up from where you left off before exchanging pictures and names. Rapidly moving on from dating troubles, you spend the next hour or so chatting amicably about random things, and it feels really good to be with somebody, even at a distance. Eventually you catch a glimpse of the time and realize it's way past your bedtime. Before you log off, you and Rya make a promise to chat again the following evening.
You barely remember the following Monday – there's a vague impression of being immersed in technical drawings and budget projections, and you're almost surprised to find yourself sprawled on the couch in rumpled businesswear circa 6PM. Just like always, Rya's online presence never seems to have wavered, so you spark up a video call while you warm up some leftovers for dinner. You don't exactly get to share the meal with your new ladyfriend, with Rya recounting that she's had an early dinner. You make small talk between bites, and upgrade to an engaging discussion about some newer movies for the better part of an hour. During a lull, Rya takes a deep breath and looks squarely into the camera.
"Anon," she says haltingly. "I know it's only been a day since our face reveals, but I think I'm ready to meet you in-person."
"Are you sure, Rya? I don't want to feel like I'm rushing you."
"It's not... I don't feel like you're rushing me," Rya pauses. Somehow you feel like she's hiding something, but you don't press. She continues, "I've just got a good feeling about you, for some reason."
Your heart flutters at that, and you reply with a wordless grin.
"Can you do lunch at the Matchstick Cafe tomorrow?" She asks.
"Yes, my job is pretty flexible with hours so long as my colleagues know where I am."
Now it's Rya's turn to grin. She's so goddamned adorable, you'll already do anything to protect that grin. The two of you easily hash out an agreeable meetup time (and not to call it a date!) at the cafe. Planning handled, Rya chimes in once more, "Alright tough guy, you ready to get on Disk and wreak some havoc? You better not disappoint me before our big meetup!"
You chuckle back, "Oh don't worry, I'll bring my A-game, like always."
"Sure you've got enough whiskey at your place to fortify you back to A-game status?" she giggles.
You easily quip back, "Even better, got some grain alcohol somewhere around here."
Rya beams back at you through the screen, and a moment later she's ended the call. After you log on it's Rya, oddly enough, who seems to be underperforming a bit that night. She'd seemingly drop from the voice chat periodically, in addition to just plain being slower on the draw than usual. You just chalk it up to nerves on her part, and in any case Rya off her game is still a serious contender, and the two of you kick tons of ass before you call it a night.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
You wake with difficulty the following morning, and force yourself through your morning routine. You didn't get enough sleep, but excitement at meeting your new lady friend buoys your energy. Slogging through your morning meetings and assignments, you practically sprint out the door once you hit your lunch break. It's a short drive to the cafe, and you quickly settle in and wait for Rya to arrive. You've already picked out a choice spot – right next to the window, so you can look out over the city and watch the people go by.
Soon you get a message from Rya that she's a couple minutes out. A bit later you get another, odd, message from her saying that she "looks a bit different than her old social media pictures now".
Dispatching an acknowledgment, you think nothing more of her odd comment. After a few minutes of people-watching, your patience wavers and you find yourself scrolling dumb posts on your phone. The cafe is moderately busy, so you think nothing of some shuffling footsteps behind you and a general looming presence. Then a familiar, yet somehow breathy, voice comes from your side, "Anon, is that you?"
You turn your head towards the source of the voice and find your face inches from a wide expanse of blue cloth. Something wobbles rhythmically under the tight fabric and you realize you're staring directly at a very large, very round, and very fat belly.
"Uh – yeah. That's me," you say nervously.
You flick your eyes upwards, catching a glimpse of some very ample breasts and canyonlike cleavage, before landing on a face.
It takes you an agonizing moment to recognize the face staring down at you. Rich brown eyes, check. Rosy apple cheeks, check. Cupid's bow lips, check. Creamy skin, check. Thick black hair, presently in a tight bun, check. The overall roundness of her visage throws you for a beat, but you recognize the annoyed figure as none other than Rya, albeit much fatter than in the pictures she sent you.
"You look nice," you manage to choke out.
"Thanks," she says flatly, unfazed by your reaction.
"Alright, let's get this out of the way," Rya starts, then she rattles off with weary familiarity, "Yes, I'm fat as hell. No, my pictures aren't really accurate anymore, and I haven't updated them because I don't really like cameras these days. If you feel tricked or just plain don't like supersized girls, this is your chance to leave gracefully."
You stare at her with a dumbfounded expression. This level of angst and defensive self-deprecation completely blows away whatever you might have expected. Compounding your sudden mental reeling, her physical presence is overwhelming, especially with her standing so close. You take another too-long moment to muster a response, then say with a hopefully kind tone, "Sorry, it's not like that. I was just zoned out reading shitposts. Come on, have a seat. Can I get you anything?"
"Not just yet, let me get settled first." Rya gingerly sets down and squeezes onto the seat across from you. She does her best to be graceful about it, but it takes a lot of huffs, scooches, and wiggling to get her very plump butt situated. Her face is growing steadily redder, both from the exertion and from her mounting embarrassment.
Her eyes dart from side to side uncomfortably, and you feel a little bad at only just now noticing her elegant wingtip eyeliner. She quietly huffs and puffs while shifting on her chair, then timidly says, "This is so fucking embarrassing, but I don't really fit on this chair."
Trying to be helpful, you suggest, "I saw tables with bench seats towards the back. It should be a little more quiet back there too."
She smiles weakly. You offer your hand to help her up, and she lets you help her stand. As she stands with some restrained grunts, Rya puts more of her weight than you expected into your hand, but you manage to keep your balance and help haul her upright. Rya follows as you lead her towards the back of the cafe, plotting a course with plenty of space allowance. She clutches your hand the whole time; her grasp is very warm, and her soft flesh seems to subtly mold around your own hand. Your mind momentarily wanders, imagining what it would be like to make love to her. To have her. You quickly snap yourself out of it. You reach the back of the cafe, and motion Rya ahead towards the wider bench seat. You step aside to let her pass, and you get a decent look at her full body for the first time as she waddles by.
She really is very, very fat. Among the biggest you've ever seen in person, and definitely the fattest person in the cafe (at the moment). You already noticed the frilly blue blouse from earlier, and you now notice she's also wearing a pair of simple black leggings which look more than a little strained. Recalling that people tend to describe big girls as "top heavy" or "bottom heavy", neither phrase seems to fit here: Rya is just kind of huge all over, mostly retaining the body shape she had in her older pictures. You already know she has a big round stomach and huge breasts, but you're also seeing the rest of her now. For one thing, her thighs are huge. Massive. Each probably wider than some skinny girls. Like, you could lose a hand down there as they squish past each other. Her hips are proportionally wide as well, to the point where you wonder if she has trouble with some doorways. You also notice that Rya has to move with a certain cautious, practiced shimmy to avoid knocking things off of the tables. And despite your better manners, you are spellbound by her enormous rear. You avert your eyes as she continues moving, but you cannot help but notice how her colossal round asscheeks roll with every movement. You are suddenly overcome with a desire to grab her enormous rump and pull her to your chest.
As you deliberately look away from Rya's strangely hypnotic bulk, you see more than a few sets of eyes on you and your partner. Some of them flick away as you scan the room and glare back, but some patrons have no such shame. Rya already seems self-conscious, it's probably best not to point out the rude gazers. You dart your eyes back to her upper body as she turns and lowers her bulk to the bench with a huff. She slides into place, jiggling with every movement, before settling with another huff that carries an air of conclusion.
You try to conceal your shock and awe, but you can't help but stare at her, your mind blown. There's no way this woman is real. You never thought much about bigger girls, but seeing Rya's mass in motion may very well have just unlocked an attraction to really fat girls. This is nuts. You need to get a grip.
Rya's still looking at you, and she seems to be waiting for something. She fans herself with a hand as she settles in. "You ok over there?" She asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine," you say, hopefully convincingly.
A waitress swings by, jarring you out of your reverie. She's a redhead with an average build and a stereotypical dispassionate vibe. The two of you order some iced waters, and the waitress returns in about 30 seconds with a pair of tall, fogged glasses. She deposits the drinks in front of you and Rya with practiced ease, and moves onto her next task almost in one fluid motion. Rya takes a big swig out of her water about the moment it arrives, sighing with contentment.
"Ah, sorry," she gasps, momentarily self-conscious, "I just... Get warm easily, so that cold water feels really good."
"That sounds awful," you say.
"I'm still not quite used to it," she says, "I don't... I don't get out much."
"So..." You start, trying to lift the tone at the table, "You've eaten here before?"
"Not in person, but I've had food from here delivered a few times."
You pass Rya a menu, retain one for yourself, then ask, "So what's good here?"
"Everything. Especially the cheesecake. It's really good."
Something tells you it's not a good idea to tease Rya about her dietary preferences. "I'm thinking the BLT," you say, "A sandwich like that is basically a standard of measurement."
"I like a good standard," she says, smiling.
She scans the menu for a few moments more, then looks back up at you with a grin. "Well, in the spirit of gold standards, I'm gonna get the cheeseburger. Can't go wrong with that in your typical cafe," Rya explains.
The waitress returns with a notepad to take down your orders. You motion for Rya to order first, and as promised she asks for the cheeseburger, with iced tea. The waitress' professional demeanor briefly cracks, an eyebrow momentarily rising at Rya's order. Your date – sorry, your partner - mercifully doesn't seem to notice the waitress' reaction, and you manage to keep your poker face, though anger flashes through your mind. What the shit, you think. She's judging Rya for ordering a basic-bitch normal cheeseburger meal? Judging the fat chick for ordering junk food? All the food here is junk food!
A plan coalesces in your mind in the intervening split-second. If anybody at your table is getting judged, then it sure as hell isn't going to be Rya. You draw on an awful little knot of experience from an Amber-catalyzed public humiliation episode, feeling equal parts dirty and perversely excited.
"I'll get the BLT," you say, "and with a cream soda."
The waitress scribbles on her notepad, and you make a show of continuing to scan the menu. "Actually, y'know what, could you throw in an a la carte grilled cheese sandwich too? I'm feeling rather peckish today," you add in an even tone.
The waitress seems to seize for an instant. You knew it. It takes incredible focus to not start laughing at her discomfort, but you manage it. She dutifully adds another scribble to her book. "I'll... get that in for the both of you," the waitress says, the pause almost imperceptible, then moves away from the table.
Rya looks at you askance, her head cocked to the side.
With the waitress now thinking of you as the alpha pig at the table, you try to dismiss all the whirling notions of degradation and public gluttony you perhaps foolishly just dug up. You take a swig of water to stall for time, and the icy chill in your throat helps to cool your blood. You match Rya's gaze and answer with a chuckle, "Hey, it's like I told her. I'm just plain hungry today!"
Rya giggles, her upper body rippling slightly, "Man, I know that feeling. Don't know if I'd be brave enough to admit that so openly though."
You don't need to address the subtext with her. Even at that moment, from the corner of your eye you can spy a bratty little kid gawping at your table. However, after that little exchange with the waitress, Rya actually seems to be visibly relaxing. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but somehow you get a sense that she appreciates you acting as a lightning rod for the fat-haters. And frankly, a double lunch would be just another Tuesday with your ex.
Rya's expression turns serious all of a sudden. "So one thing, mister. I'm picking up the tab today," she says. "I don't want you to think I owe you something."
"Well, I don't really—" you begin to say, but she puts a hand up to stop you.
"Please, I insist," she says. "This might be a little grim, but I've had guys get creepy and entitled after covering the bill."
You reply, "That's awful! The way I see it, this is just a lunch between new friends. It's no skin off my nose if you're paying today."
"I just want you to know that I appreciate you being cool about this," she says.
"I'm actually... Let's say flexible about stuff like that," you answer.
Rya grins back, but an awkward silence descends for a moment. Trying to keep some conversational momentum, she points towards the street, passing judgment on neighboring restaurants and lamenting the recent departure of a decades-old comics shop. You could listen to Rya narrating paint drying, and you spend a few minutes going back and forth learning more about some local establishments. The waitress then arrives with your food, her annoyance at serving the two fatties only notionally hidden beneath a plastic smile. She fluidly doles out the baskets containing your sandwiches and sides, and as she turns away you catch her face dropping into a sneer. You almost snicker at the bitchy redhead.
Rya immediately takes a big bite of her burger, swiftly chewing and swallowing. She closes her eyes in contentment, and you think she absolutely seems to glow with happiness. "This might be kind of sad, but this is the best date I've been on in ages."
You swallow a chunk of your own BLT in order to reply, "I'm sorry to hear that, I think? If you don't mind, why have your other dates not gone well? Also, again, this is just us doing lunch."
Rya laughs. "Right, right, we both agreed not to call this a date. But yeah." Setting her food down, Rya gestures over her obese body. "You can probably guess," she says in a resigned tone. "People who don't think I catfished them quickly wind up deciding they can't handle all of me."
"That's too bad," you say, "Those guys all sound like huge assholes."
"You have no idea," Rya says, picking up her tea and taking a small sip.
"I'm.... Still not really ready to go into detail about my last relationship," you start, "But in some ways, I think it's better to know right away if the other person's wrong..."
"That's how you feel?" Rya asks.
"Yeah, I... Think so," you say.
"Well, Anon, if you ever do decide to go into detail, I'm game."
She reaches across the table and tenderly places a chubby hand atop your own. You're again thrown by how...pleasantly soft and warm it is. You try not to freak out and instead say, "Thanks, Rya. So I can assume I'll be seeing your cute self again soon?"
"I'd like that," she says softly.
The two of you smile at each other, and you find yourself thinking, Yes, this is a date. Yes, this is fun. You gently flip your hand underneath Rya's and give hers a squeeze.
She smiles as her dark eyes glitter. "I'm glad you're not an asshole, Anon," she says.
"I do my best." She smiles and nods as if to say, "This is a date," too.
You both release each other's hands and get back to your respective meals. The BLT goes down easy, and the grilled cheese is an indulgent bomb of gooey, savory cheese with a phenomenal crispy outer layer of bread. Rya's taking her time with her cheeseburger, clearly enjoying every bite. You check your watch. You're in no hurry, but you will need to get back to the office eventually.
Rya notices. "Bored of me already?" She jokes.
"Never," you say with a grin. "I do need to get back to my job at some point though."
"I understand," she says.
Rya looks like she's about to say something else, but first she takes another bite of her dwindling burger. A chunk of lettuce slips out of the bun and lands deep in her cleavage. "Oops," she says, reflexively covering her mouth. She fetches a napkin to try and fish out the offending morsel, but the movement causes the vegetable chunk to vanish between her heavy bosoms. "Damn it," she hisses, before wiping up the errant bits of ketchup and mayo. She breaks into a fit of restrained giggles, her whole body jiggling in time with every laugh. "You must think I'm such a slob," she says after regaining her composure.
"No, not at all," you reply, though in truth, you suspect that's not the first time something like that's happened to her.
Unbidden, you suddenly imagine your face between Rya's huge tits, fishing for that chunk of lettuce with your tongue. Mostly to distract yourself, you say, "You looked like you wanted to ask something just now."
"I did," she says, "I realized we've basically spent our time so far complaining about exes and bad dates rather than getting to know each other."
You swallow a particularly greasy bite of cheese and toast, then dab your lips with a napkin and say, "Well let me try and pull things in a better direction then. So, I work as a strategy analyst for Ironmonger Mechanical. The office is actually just up the road. I just got promoted to the role and it's why I moved here to Novaville."
"I know a little something about Ironmonger. They make a lot of money. I imagine it comes with a lot of responsibility," Rya replies, trying to engage.
"I'm still learning the ropes, but it looks like the job can have a lot of impact. It's more business than engineering, so I'm having to learn a lot as I go," you explain.
"Interesting. So, what made you choose to be an engineer?" Rya asks.
You pat your chubby tummy and crack a wry smile. "I've always been a nerd, but I was also actually fairly athletic when I was younger. Put up some points for my school in shot-put a few times. But yeah, I've just always liked technology and machinery."
"Me too," Rya says.
"Oh?" You ask.
Rya's round face lights up. "Oh yeah! My grandpa had a vintage electronics repair slash refurbishing shop. I... Spent a lot of time with my grandparents when I was growing up, so I spent a lot of time playing with old technology."
"That sounds like fun," you say.
"It was fun," Rya replies, then her face darkens a bit. "It was a refuge, and tinkering was something I was good at. In contrast to school..." She trails off, scarfing down a handful of fries before continuing, "I hated school. My beat was just not in tune with organized classes. I was even more awkward when I was younger, and I've always been at least chubby."
"That must have been hard for you," you say.
Rya looks down and to the side. "Yeah, it was..."
"Anyways," she snaps out of her gloom, "Even though my grades were kinda crap, it turns out I had a real knack for programming. Old languages in particular just really clicked."
"Impressive," you say.
"Is it really impressive if I didn't really have to struggle for it?"
"Yeah, I think so," you reply, "Besides, you still had to put in the time."
Rya chuckles, "Funny you mention that. Turns out when I was a teenager, I discovered that I didn't need as much sleep as everybody else."
"That's surprising. I thought you were just a night owl," you say.
"You're half-right," Rya explains. "I always liked the late parts of the night, and only needing four hours of sleep made it really easy to stay up."
"That's pretty cool," you say, "I didn't even know anyone who could pull that off."
"I know, right?"
You laugh and Rya laughs with you.
"Anyways," she continues, "I didn't go to college. My grandpa convinced a finance firm with a ton of legacy systems to let me help code for them. I learned more than I ever wanted to know about shit like COBOL, got some online certifications, and parlayed myself into a niche programming consultant."
"That's pretty impressive," you say.
"Thanks."
By now, your meals are mostly done, and the conversation grinds to a halt as you and Rya polish off the last bits of your lunch. The greasy double-lunch sits heavily in your stomach, but you barely feel overfull at all. You briefly muse that it wasn't too long ago when a meal like this would have been a nigh-intolerable struggle to choke down.
Rya looks at her phone and frowns. "I should probably go finish some work soon. Sorry, I didn't mean to monopolize our time."
"That said," she continues and shoots you a grin, "I've got time for some cheesecake if you do."
Your reflexive thought is that you don't need the calories. A moment later, you remember that you're already fat, so what's one more slice of cheesecake?
"Sure. I'm down," you say.
Rya smiles and nods. "Great."
The waitress busses your baskets, and Rya orders two slices of cheesecake. One for her, one for you. The waitress isn't as good at hiding her disdain as she might fancy herself, but Rya doesn't seem bothered in the least.
Rya's phone buzzes, and she reads the message with a sigh. She quickly taps out a response, stiffly mashes what could only be "send", then squeezes the side of the device, locking it.
"A client's getting antsy. I already told them I'd be available to meet soon! Ugh, it's fine haha, the pay's decent and they're not much of a pain," she explains. "I'll meet up with you again tomorrow?"
"Sounds good."
"Great, I know a fantastic sushi place near here." Rya smiles.
She tucks her phone back into her purse, then brushes some hair out of her eyes.
The waitress reappears, depositing a slice of cheesecake in front of you, and one in front of Rya.
"Thanks," you say.
"Thanks," Rya echos.
"Enjoy," the waitress says hollowly, then whirls off before you can do anything else.
You take your first bite of your slice, and you feel a grin spread across your face. This cheesecake is delicious, and no amount of rudeness from the waitstaff can taint that. It's a cherry swirl with an Oreo-cookie crust, creamy, rich, and just a little tart. It melts in your mouth, and you find yourself licking the thick cream from your teeth.
Rya takes her first bite of her slice, and she mirrors your grin.
"You gotta try this," you say. You load up a healthy chunk of your cheesecake onto your fork, then reach across the table to offer the morsel to Rya. She takes the bite, and her eyes widen in awe as she chews.
"I know this is just cheesecake," she says after accepting your offering, "But I feel like I'm in heaven."
"I know right?" you say.
Rya swallows, then picks up a chunk of her own caramel swirl cheesecake. She reaches across the table to offer you a bite of the dessert with a bright grin. You open your mouth to accept the bite, but then for just a moment you're lost in a vision.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rya's sweet smile is replaced by Amber's sneering grin, looking down at you. Your limbs are tied to a bed, and Amber straddles your helpless body, deliberately pressing against your painfully-stuffed belly. She holds a slice of cheesecake in her hand, and is poised to mercilessly stuff it into your mouth.
"No!" you scream, the word coming out like more like a strained whisper.
"I love it when you struggle," Amber gloats.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In the next moment you're back in the real world. Rya's holding a fork with a morsel of caramel cheesecake out to you, and she looks at you with a concerned expression.
"You okay?" she asks.
Maybe drawing on one of the kinks your ex helped you discover wasn't the healthiest of ideas. You take a deep breath and nod. "Yeah, sorry. Just had a bit of a weird brain fart," you half-lie.
You're not sure if Rya buys it, but she doesn't challenge you. You open your mouth and Rya grins, this time guiding the cheesecake bite home. You close your eyes and groan in delight as the decadent treat melts in your mouth. The caramel is sweet but not cloying, and once you've swallowed the sample you find yourself wanting more.
"That was really fucking good," you say.
"I know," Rya says. "I'm glad you liked it. The caramel might just be my favorite."
"Heh, you have good taste," you say.
The two of you quickly devour your respective slices of cheesecake. Rya closes her eyes and smiles blissfully. You do the same, but your mind is already racing ahead to the next time you'll see Rya. You had fun with her, and she's easy on the eyes despite – no, because of? - her plush, jiggly curves. Plus, you had no clue she liked you back, so that little bit of flirtation was a nice surprise. When you open your eyes, you see that Rya has already handed her credit card to the waitress. The waitress runs the card through a gadget on her notepad, waits a moment for the transaction to clear, then hands the card back to Rya.
"Thanks again," Rya says.
"My pleasure," the waitress genuinely beams, her attitude perhaps buoyed by Rya's generous tip.
You take one last sip of your soda, then rise to your feet. Rya does the same, though she needs a few extra moments to wobble herself clear of the table, then grunts with obvious exertion as she straightens up.
"Well, time for me to get back to work," she says.
"Did you park nearby?" You ask. "I can walk you there if you like."
"I can manage," Rya says with a giggle. "But I won't say no to the company."
You lead the way out of the coffee shop, doing your best to accommodate Rya's....more deliberate movement pace. You kind of wish you could watch her waddle and squeeze past all the tables, but you figure you'll see plenty of her in due time. You hold open the door for her, and you need to squish yourself against the entryway wall more than a little for her to pass. Once you're out of the cafe, you let go of the door so that you can resume your stroll to Rya's car. She smiles warmly as you rejoin her, and the two of you head across the parking lot. When you arrive at Rya's silver SUV, she motions towards her purse but pauses. "I kind of just realized something," she says.
"Fire away," you reply.
"Not once in that cafe did you say anything about my size, even when it complicated things a bit," she says.
"Well no," you say. "Because we just met, and I didn't think you'd appreciate me commenting on your, uh, attributes."
"I could tell you were thinking about it when your first saw me, but ultimately you didn't," Rya says.
"It'd be rude, first meeting or otherwise," you reply.
Rya smiles sadly and quietly laughs, "My standards are so low, the bar's basically on the ground. And yet a lot of guys can't even clear that."
You're not sure how to respond to that, but you try. "I guess I kinda get it?" You start, then slap your belly for emphasis, setting it jiggling briefly.
Rya laughs, but it's a softer, happier sound this time. "You'd need a fair bit more than that to really put yourself in my shoes."
"Fair point," you say. "Sorry, that was a dumb approach. Lemme try again: Rya, I was nice to you not because I'm chunky myself, but because it's just the right thing to do. Besides, we hit it off when we were just voices on Friscord."
"I appreciate it, really," Rya says. "But that was the easy phase, honestly. We could have pictured each other as whatever we imagine."
"I guess," you say.
This is going downhill fast. You need to salvage this situation. "Rya, listen. I like you. That means all of you. Your voice, your laugh, your encyclopedic Disk knowledge, your killer gaming instinct, your smarts, and yes, your face and body."
"Wow," Rya says, her eyes widening. "That was a whole lot of things."
"I know, I know. But I mean it all. You're awesome, and I want you to know it."
Rya bites her lower lip, and she looks at you with puppy-dog eyes. "Do you really mean all that? You're not just trying to butter up the sad fat shut-in so she'll be an easier lay?" Rya asks softly.
"Not at all, I swear! I wouldn't do that to you. I'm serious."
Rya's gaze drops to your midsection, then back up to your eyes. "You're not just saying that because you need a girlfriend?"
"We agreed today wouldn't count as a date, remember?" You remind her. "We can slow things down if you'd be more comfortable."
Rya seems to think this over. "I think I can trust you," she says finally. She holds out her chubby arms, inviting you in for a hug. You step in close and oblige her. She embraces you, and her flesh feels like velvety warm dough where your bodies squish together. You return the favor and wrap your arms around her, fighting the urge to grab a handful of her huge ass. Rya is about a head shorter than you, so she rests her head on your chest and exhales deeply.
"We don't have to take things slow," she says, muffled by your chest. "I'm just... Really excited to see you again, and whenever I've gotten my hopes up in the past -"
You gently shush Rya, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair. "Shhh. It's gonna be great. I know it will."
Rya's eyes well up with tears, and she smiles.
"I'm going to do everything I can to be worthy of you," you say.
Rya pulls back and wipes away a tear with the back of her hand. "You're a dork, but you make me feel like a princess," she chuckles.
She then leans in and up and plants a gentle kiss on your lips. She still tastes like her meal, sweet, salty, and with a hint of grease atop her warm, full lips. You slightly open your jaw, offering admittance for Rya's tongue. She doesn't take you up, but instead gently nibbles your lip, clutching your soft flesh in her teeth and delicately raking as she slowly pulls back. As your lip finally bounces free of her teeth, she sighs happily onto your face and you finally feel your heart beating again.
As you re-register the city noise around you and Rya's plump face beaming back at you, she gently wiggles free of your grasp and draws back. You quickly give tender rubs and pats to her soft shoulders, then let her step away. Your body immediately misses the all-encompassing warm, soft sensation of her chub molded against you, and you feel an odd twinge of emptiness and vulnerability as she steps back. You say your goodbyes, and Rya piles into her SUV and starts it up. You smile as you watch her leave the parking lot and disappear into the current of city traffic. It's been a long time since you had such a great first encounter with a girl. You feel so happy to have gotten to know Rya, you're almost afraid to hope that you'll see her again.
With that, you trudge back to your car and head back to your office. You finish up the day's training modules then spend the rest of the afternoon feeling vaguely unmoored and missing Rya. You also spend more than a little time coming to grips with your newfound attraction to really fat girls. Sure, you could be down with the occasional chubby girl, even eating some jeers from your idiot teenage friends for sticking up for a plus-sized actress or two, back in the day. But a supersized girl? Somebody as round and soft as Rya? Guess you simply never thought about it. But, now that you've thought about it, the notion that you might even prefer a huge soft girl practically burns in your mind, taunting you as you try to focus on work. Over a cup of watery office coffee, you come to terms with your subconscious: you won't call yourself a chubby chaser, but Rya at least is 100% sexy.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The truce doesn't even last a few hours, and a new thought percolates through your mind as you leave work. You wend your way through traffic, return to your condo, then dig out some leftovers for dinner. You plate out enough for a portion, then consider what's left in the freezer container. You shrug and pile the rest onto your plate. The helping might be a touch too much, but it's better to reheat it all at once, right? You toss the heaping plate into the microwave, cover it with a paper towel, then plug in a few minutes of heating. As your food warms, you peel off your work clothes and pull on a pair of sweatpants, forgoing a shirt. You return to the kitchen just as the microwave beeps. You gingerly retrieve the now-steaming plate, grab a jug of milk, and head to eat in front of the TV.
As soon as you sit down to eat, you feel ravenous. You start with a couple of cautious forkfuls of cheesy noodles, then start scarfing down heaping bites once the casserole cools enough. Swiftly, you polish off the whole thing, pausing only to take a few sips of milk. Your stomach gently bubbles as the meal settles pleasantly, but you realize you're not quite as full as you thought. With nary a second thought, you lift the jug of milk to your lips and start taking greedy gulps. You drain about a quart of the rich milk into your stomach before you abruptly feel full and stop. A familiarly pleasant too-full sensation creeps out from your stretched gut, and you sigh in contentment.
You twist the lid back onto the jug and set it aside, pausing to pat yourself on the stomach. A small part of you is protesting that you just overate yet again (on top of your double lunch even!), but the larger part of you is really into the whole piggish glutton vibe at the moment. You find yourself licking your lips and thinking about a second helping of casserole. Alas, not unless you bake some more.
At any rate, you still have an experiment to run. One hand gently massages your pleasingly overfull gut, and the other pulls up a porn site on your phone. Feeling a rush of taboo exploration, you search up "supersized BBW". In moments, your TV is plastered with a dizzying menagerie of huge women in all manner of compromising positions. Many are engaged in the predictable acts of looks-good-on-camera porn sex, albeit with much less athleticism, but a large fraction of the thumbnails have a different focus. You behold a novel world of gleeful hedonism: blubbery women gorging on huge cakes, playing with and being fed by conventional skinny porn stars, or joyfully masturbating while covered in crumbs and sauce.
Before your brain melts from sheer choice paralysis, you tap on a thumbnail semi-randomly. "500 pound gamer girl eats a light snack!" is the title, and this thumbnail features a corpulent young woman with cotton-candy pink hair lewdly posed with a pile of fast food. You tap on the video and cast it to your TV. It loads and in seconds the screen shows a luxurious bed with a pile of squishy pillows, and a neat stack of fast-food burger boxes. A hugely fat young woman, matching the figure on the thumbnail, waddles into the frame and turns to face the camera. She's wearing a tight t-shirt with "burger queen" emblazoned across her ample chest, along with skin-tight high-waisted denim shorts and mismatched pastel thigh socks. She's proportioned roughly similarly to Rya, though a bit taller and with more weight in her bottom half. She has mischievous blue eyes, a small button nose, and vibrant "e-girl" makeup to complement her bright pink pigtails.
You feel a stirring of lust in your pants. It's a long way from the thrill of meeting Rya today, but you feel a certain undeniable pull towards this fat chick. The huge model introduces herself as "Jiggly Joy" and begins by energetically introducing herself and the premise of her video. Something about having a big gaming night planned and needing to fuel up with some fast food. Every part of her that isn't constrained by too-tight clothes wobbles and jiggles as she gestures and poses, and you again find yourself immediately mesmerized by the fleshy spectacle. Joy crawls onto the bed, careful to not knock over the arranged pile of food. You muse that it must be quite the feat to move so delicately at her size. With a few huffs and giggles, she rolls herself onto her side, matching the suggestive pose from the thumbnail – one flabby leg flat on the bed, and the other angled out and upwards, bent at the knee and her undersized denim shorts only barely covering her plump pussy. She points to the lettering across her chest, claiming to herself be a "burger queen", then gestures towards the still-neat stack of six boxed burgers.
With a giggle, she claims that the burgers will be a good "pre-gaming snack", and with no further ado, she reaches forwards, snatches one of the boxes and digs into one of the greasy sandwiches. You are enthralled by her bulging form, and find yourself salivating in spite of yourself. She devours the burgers at a mercilessly methodical pace, and your delight grows as she downs one after the other. She doesn't make much effort to be neat, and at one point, she giggles with faux embarrassment as she points out sauces dripped on her t-shirt. Without thinking, you start playing with yourself as Joy peels off her shirt. You groan as her pale, jiggly breasts flop into view. They're each about the size of her head, and tightly squished up by a too-small purple bra. Joy pauses her eating to sensually run her hands over her fleshy body. You follow her lead, rubbing your own throbbing cock through your shorts as you imagine sinking your hands into her warm, plush expanses.
She pauses to look at the camera with a pouty face. She plays with the waistband of her shorts, which her doughy belly bulges over all around. "These burgers are so good," she pouts, "But these tight shorts are cutting into my poor tummy..." She pauses, then gives a suggestive smile. "You like my belly, don't you?"
She pats her blubbery gut, sending ripples all through her fat body. "Well lucky you," she purrs, "I fucking love my big sexy belly, and I love making it bigger..."
With that, she unbuttons and unzips the restrictive shorts. She gasps lustily as her stomach bulges free. She giggles and lays back, raising her stocking-clad thunder thighs high to remove her shorts. She isn't wearing panties, and she deliberately flashes the camera. Your pulse quickens as you get a good look at her soft, jiggly vulva. Pants removed, she sits back down properly and gives her fat belly a good jiggle. She belches loudly and giggles with perverse satisfaction, then slides a hand under her hanging gut, no doubt reaching for her hidden sex. You can't help but salivate as she rubs herself, taking in every detail of her pleased expression and wobbling form. She works herself for another few seconds, then smiles seductively and says "God, if only you could feel how wet I am right now..." With that, she extracts her buried hand and lustily licks her fingers. By now you're rock-hard, and might actually kill to have your fingers deep in her hot fat slit.
She smiles and nods at the camera, then reaches over and grabs one of her burgers. Before lifting the burger to her lips, she pauses and says, "It feels stupid to keep this tight bra strapped to me..."
Jamming the burger halfway past her lips, Joy frees up her hands and immediately reaches behind, expertly unhooking her purple bra and letting the sturdy garment fall away. She lets out a lusty moan as her heavy, jiggling breasts bounce free. "God that feels good," she moans through her full mouth, then runs her hands up and down her pendulous fat breasts. "Aaaah, a good massage never hurts..." she purrs as she rubs her melons.
Then without warning, she stuff the entire burger into her mouth, her giggles barely audible as her cheeks puff out. Over the next several seconds, she works her jaw heavily, gradually swallowing her massive greedy bite. After the final swallow, she brattily sticks out her tongue, showing off her emptied mouth. She then leans back and lets out a loud burp, then rubs her belly and laughs huskily. "These burgers are so good, I almost wish you could taste them, but then I'd have to share, and I don't like sharing."
Joy then lies back, showing off her massive supine profile. A moment later, she scrubs her fingers through her hair and performatively circles her arms around to clutch her huge breasts, squeezing and wobbling the heavy swells. Finally, she pinches a fleshy nipple between a thumb and forefinger, and her free hand rides up to sensually cup the side of her plump face. As her cheeks start to flush under her vibrant makeup, Joy lolls her head to the side, facing the camera directly. "I'm getting pretty full, but I never waste food. It's a big part of why I'm such a deliciously squishy fatty," she moans. Joy reaches forward, dragging the remaining burgers nearer to her insatiable mouth, then fishes them out one in each hand, and digs in. Her indulgent attitude aside, she's clearly struggling by now, and moans and gasps after basically every nibble.
But finish them she does, and when the final bite slides down her throat, she giggles in triumph and lays there panting for a moment. Her hands immediately gravitate towards her vast, overstuffed belly, gently massaging and wobbling the feast packed deep within. Eventually she hauls herself back to an upright posture and hangs her tubby legs off the bed, positively radiating contentment and lust.
The model licks her lips and caresses her flabby rolls. "That was so good," she purrs. "Now I'm ready to play my game. You must be pretty turned on, watching me stuff my fat face." She then proceeds to seductively rub her fleshy body, caressing and squishing her tits, belly, and thighs. She's clearly in the zone, and knows exactly what she's doing. Her blue eyes glint as she looks straight into the camera, and she seems to be speaking directly to you.
"Jerk your dick for me baby," she moans. "Show me how much my sexy fat body turns you on..."
You don't need to be told twice, and you immediately slide your boxers down, kicking them aside then grasping your throbbing cock. Jiggly Joy’s corpulent body seems to flow and undulate as she squeezes and kneads her fat and gyrates around on the bed. At one point she briefly rolls over, pointing her massive ass at the camera and wobbling it slowly but invitingly. You are immediately seized with thoughts of jamming your cock deep into her hot, soft folds. Joy returns to a sitting position with her heavy thighs spread wide, her pussy hidden by the heavy hang of her squishy gut. She slobbers on two fingers and slides a hand under that soft apron, doubtlessly slipping those fingers into her hot, slick depths. "C'mon baby, fap with me." she says, winking. "I want to see how excited you're getting for me."
You can't help but let out an excited moan as you stroke. Your balls are churning, your cock is pulsing, and this supersized neon minx seems to be cooing directly in your ear, steadily talking you off. "Is this what you want baby? You like watching your fat gamer slut eat herself even fatter?" she asks seductively, an unmistakable wet schlicking sound steadily growing in tempo. "Come on, I want to feel your cum on my face, baby. Cover my tits, cover my huge belly! Cum for me baby, cum! Cum!"
You can't hold back anymore. The Joy on your screen arches her back as she cries out in orgasm, and you feel the desperation in your cock pass the point of no return. You let out a gasp as you let go, your eyes rolling back as your cock erupts again and again. Awash in euphoria and barely making out the screen, you watch as Joy gasps and twitches a few more times, before finally running out of steam and sprawling back against her bed in a panting flabby heap. She blinks slowly, then groans, rolling over and looking down at her huge, bulging belly with a satisfied grin.
"I think I ate a little too much today," she says, giving it a pat. "Or maybe I ate just enough?" She giggles. "Who knows? I love a good meal, and that's a fact!"
You grin stupidly at the screen as Joy proceeds to grab her massive jiggling breasts and cup a flabby arm under them, providing some gentle support. She sighs slowly, clearly riding a post-orgasmic wave (or faking it very convincingly). Gazing out of the screen with a dreamy smile she says, "Alright, that was hot... Mmm, but now I need to lay down and sleep off this little snack. Thanks for playing with me..." She blows a cute kiss towards the camera and the playback ends.
You're left staring at a freeze frame of a flushed, sweaty Joy pursing her lips at the camera. Mind now much clearer, you don't know whether to laugh or cry. As you wipe the cum from your stomach and groin, you have no choice but to conclude that you're definitely into fat girls. Not just Rya, but big fat blubbery bitches in general. You like watching them stuff their faces, you like watching them jiggle their hundreds of pounds of flab, and you're pretty sure you'll like watching them fuck. Crumpling up the cum-tainted paper towels you cleaned up with, you chuckle to yourself, suddenly feeling stupid. You thought fatness and gluttony were hot enough vices to persistently wallow in them for Amber – of course you're going to think those kinks are hot when done by or to a sexy, confident girl.
Your moment of carnal self-discovery is pierced by a sudden buzzing from your phone. All you need to see is the clock display, rather than any notification icons or text, to know that it's Rya, ready to kick some ass online. The Friscord app does still directly spell out a DM from Rya to that effect all the same, though.
You chuckle to yourself, and reply that you'll be on in a few minutes. You heave yourself to your feet, groaning as your full stomach reasserts itself. You lumber to the bathroom to freshen yourself up, then quickly pull on a fresh set of clothes. Once you're feeling clean and clear-headed again, you return to your spot in front of the screen and log in. Neither you nor Rya is preoccupied with your meeting earlier that day, and you have a great evening of gaming.