Attention Whore 3 (Patreon)

Attention Whore 3
By FC Punk

I love having a hot girl with me when I go out.

We live in a material world and a girl by your side is just as much an accessory as the rolex on my wrist or the Jag in my garage.

Which brings me to you.

It would be a stretch to call you a hot girl by normal standards, but as a 1 percenter I hold myself to different standards than poor Bostonian trash.

Not that I hear you complaining. Oh on the contrary, all I hear is your mewling for more food.

Yes, a good portion of my fortune goes towards feeding you, it's why you're in the state you're in.

It's why I love having you by my side because people know how you became 600 pounds.

It's because of me.

It's because of me that you lumber slowly like an elephant. It's because of me you outgrow the clothes I buy you. It's because of me that I've had to renovate my house. I'm whats causing all this.

We create quite an uproar you and I.

Amadeus isn't the kind of place that would expect someone like you. This place that caters to the beautiful people, and the beautiful people turn their heads trying to ignore my hippo girl when you lumber to your seat. They try to be discreet about it, but we both know.

It's the food that gives it away, when they see the waiters bringing your rich decadent meals they show themselves and discreet turns into overt, gawking at the collection growing on your table, staring at how your huge fluffy arms shaking with every forkful you raise to your mouth.

They stare and stare at your sides spilling over your two seats.

I love it, I love being seen with you like this. Knowing I'm being watched. Knowing all eyes are on me. The other girls here, I now exactly what they're thinking.

What is he doing with her? Who is he? He looks great and rich, why is he with jabba the slut?

Why? Because I can. Because I want it. I want to be seen with a girl like you, the size of a small car. I want people to talk. I want the sound of silent judgement to be screamng and shouting.

Just being seen with you arouses me like nothing else. I love it when you wear tight clothing just to turn me on to the point where I'm walking with a constant hard on while we explore the uptown art galleries. It's even better when you were skirts and shorts and show those massive thick trunk legs that are packed and filled with cottage cheese cellulite lumps or when you wear sleeveless tops that show every bit of your massive bingo winged arms that are as soft as pillows.

Yes, you are an object to me.

I freely admit it. If this doesn't work out, we go our separate ways, heh, you much, much bigger than our first date. I like that, I like making up my own rules, makes life easier. And when you have the money to back up the value of your rules, well, the world and everything in it is mine, and I always get whats coming to me.

Do you understand?

Yes of course you do. I think you are of the same mind, it's only reasonable.

When we get home from dinner and you're all full and stuffed like a Christmas goose I'll fuck your brains out.

Happy Valentine's Day