Kinktober 2022 #13: Fat and Proud (Patreon)

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” she said as she gave her own belly a slap that sent it jiggling. “You wish you had a body like this.”

My mouth had gone completely dry. She looked magnificent, and she knew it. Her skin glowed, and the low lighting in the room cast shadows that made her figure look even fuller. Her fingertips traced along the stretch marks that arced across her lower belly. Most of them had gone silver, but there were still a few places that were bright red, showing she was still growing.

She’s perfect, every part of her so soft the basest part of you wants to sink your teeth into her, sure she’d taste like the most delectable marshmallow. You almost wish you’d negotiated for that, but you still feel impossibly, grossly lucky to even be in the room with her. The only reason you’re here is because you paid to be. She wouldn’t even give you a second glance otherwise.

She’s wearing a bikini, like you requested. She purposefully picked one a size too small so that the top digs in at her shoulders and the rolls at her sides and back. It makes her look perfectly plush, tits threatening to spill out at any moment. From the front, the bottom is almost entirely hidden, swallowed by the thick apron of her belly and her decadently plump thighs, only visible when she lifts her stomach to give it a squeeze and then lets it down with a round smacking sound.

When she turns around, your breath catches in your throat a little. Every part of her wobbles as she turns, and for a moment you can barely even take her all in. It’s like looking into the sun. A tiny swatch of fabric is stretched tight across her ass, the straps going around her hips looking like they’re about to snap under the pressure. She looks over a rounded shoulder at you and smiles wide. “I know, it’s my favorite view, too.”

She turns around comes toward you. You’ve sunk into the couch in the hotel room you agreed to meet her at, still not sure if any of this is real. She straddles you, and you feel a little palpitation as her thighs envelop you. She braces herself on the back of the couch, juicy upper arms as thick as hams on either side of your face. “Think of all the years you’ve wasted staying skinny, when you could have all this. Don’t you regret it?” She laughs in your face. “I would, if I was you. Thinness is so tragic.” She shifts a little so you can actually feel some of her weight resting on you. It’s heavy, and yet you know she’s not even letting you feel it all. “It’s hard work, but I believe in you. Even a little twig like you could be this gorgeous someday.”

She cups a hand over your cheek, leaning in closer, her belly pressing into you. “You’d look so much better fat, don’t you think?”

You tentatively reach up a hand, finding a thick roll on her side and taking a squeeze. She giggles. “See? It’s nice, isn’t it?” Moments later, you have your head buried against her chest and both arms trying to wrap around her and failing, like you’re trying to sink into all her softness. And she was right to start with – you are jealous. You think she’s beautiful and soft and perfect, not only because she is, but because some part of you wants to be exactly that.

The rest of the session, you discover a thousand new things to obsess over: the little roll at the base of her neck, the way her belly folds and ripples as she moves in and out of different positions, the way she makes gravity work for and with her.

By the time you walk out of the hotel room, you feel drunk on something you’ve imagined for years and only just now finally got a real glimpse of. For days after, all you can hear is her perfect voice echoing through your head: You’d look so much better fat, don’t you think?