Strange Get-Together

The following month’s dance followed a similar pattern, initially. There were again more people, but pretty much the usual crowd with few new faces.

Desperate Diane was done up a bit nicer than usual, with more care and possibly an expanded range of facial cosmetics. Every time Nate looked her direction, she turned away as though someone was about to slap her, looking as though she was going to burst into tears at any moment.

He figured he’d better be preemptive, the way Deb had been with him last month: he approached her, surprising himself that he didn’t have to force his smile. “Hey” he said as he took her hand, triggering a stream of tears from her. “Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your make-up. Let’s share a ‘no hard feelings, we did the best we could’ dance.”

She cuddled close and planted her head into him, giving him the non-sexual intimacy he craved (as did she) and would never get from the likes of Deb.

“Second chance?” she pleaded, with more than a little whine in her tone.

“Not tonight, and probably not soon. Diane… you’ve gotta chillax! As in, normally. Dial the edgies waaaay down and be. You’re a nice girl and a decent BBW and you’ll probably do as well as any of us here if you’ll stay calm. How are you on weed?”

“Anxious. Bad hallucinations.”

“Alcohol?”

“Gives me a tummy ache.”

“OK, I dunno what’s gonna work for you—that’s your job to find out. Once you do, and you can assure me that there won’t be any brown or golden showers nor hurling nor anything else coming out of you beyond moans of pleasure and orgasmic squirts, look me up if I‘m not busy. Maybe you can practice with that new guy over there you keep looking at.”

“Sorry!”

“No, it’s all good. No tears, have fun, chillax all day every day, and we’ll be in touch… at least for a dance next month.” He spiraled her out in the direction of the new dark-haired guy who was still orienting himself to the club.

“Why not just go dance with your husband or take him home, instead of staring at him all night?” Nora suggested to Deb, from their usual safe enclave.

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, what’s the obsession?”

“Trying to figure out why he’d even bother dancing with Desperate Diane after she showed him what her brown could do, all over his junk.”

“Ew!”

“Exactly.”

“Must be a soft-heart.”

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend.”

“Nah, he’s just a noob—oh shit!”

“What?”

“Sara Syphilis just made a move on him!” Deb nearly forced the tables apart in her rush to prevent a tragedy.

“Hey” she greeted him, out of breath, just as he and Sara were making introductions to each other.

“Cut in much, Dub D?” Sara asked pointedly.

“Only when necessary to keep new members fully informed” she shot back.

Nate looked back and forth at each of the women, lost.

“Don’t believe everything you hear” Sara advised Nate. “Come hear my side of the story, later.” She gave him a crotch-soiling come-hither look along with a body shimmy to get all of her generous attributes wiggling, then took off to the bar.

“To what do I owe this honor?”

“Self-protection. In case I ever wanna do you again.”

“‘If’?” he grinned.

“Look: there’s a reason she’s known around here as Sara Syphilis. Ignore her STI reports: she prints them out with the current date every month, from a 2-year-old ‘before’ test. Pretend you’re admiring her hands and look carefully at the joints for signs of rash.”

He did look: at her skeptically.

“Dude, do whatever you want, but you are not ever gonna get your hands back on any part of me if you get intimate with her—and I will find a way to shorten your life or at least your penis if I ever find you’ve lied to me about your STI status and having been with risky women like her.” With that, Deb took off to the restroom.

“Don’t look lost, stranger” hip-heavy Larissa greeted Nate with a smile as she approached.

“Care to make my day even better than from your mere presence by sharing a dance?” He could be a slow learner, but every now and then he exhibited slivers of charm.

“Unnnnnghhh!” he moaned as they cuddled up and started slow-dancing.

“What?”

“At the risk of sounding crazed with lust over you—which I am—you feel awesome!”

“Care to get specific?”

“Every part of you which is touching me is owning me—at least. Your belly feels softer and bigger, like it’s wrapping around more of my front—like I’m in you! Your hips feel softer and fatter, your breasts look bigger and jigglier and are starting to push into me slightly, and your upper arms—please don’t get mad, I mean this as a compliment—your upper arms are deliciously fatter. I could have a great nap on one!… if it was comfortable for you… if we ever got to that point, of intimacy.” His suaveness was segueing all too fast into tongue-tie-edness.

“Yeah, it’s been an interesting couple of months. Packed on nearly 30 pounds at the hands of a feeder I dated. I thought he was ‘the one’… he wasn’t” she smiled. “He did give me and all of us the gift of more me. I’m still coming to terms with things and what I want going forward, but in the moment with someone like you drooling over me and all the extra contact I can feel cuddled close, I’m good with the extra fat.”

Both Larissa and Nate enjoyed the dance. She explained to him she was still in rebound from her recent feeder, she’d only come to dance and share some brief clothes-on intimacy with some people she liked. She wouldn’t be going home with anyone tonight, but didn’t begrudge Nate nor anyone else there doing otherwise. She and he agreed that there very likely could be greater intimacy between them in the future, when she was ready, if he was still interested and available and she was as well.

Sara found Nate unoccupied and presented her side of the story. She did indeed show him her alleged of-this-day STI test. He could see it was printed on a low-end inkjet printer, but given that some medical offices used these same printers, that didn’t tell him anything conclusive. The tell-tale Word header at the top looked like a smoking gun, but then medical offices do weird things, so even that did not constitute proof. He looked carefully at her hands, which looked OK to him, though given his trust in Double D, FUD was planted firmly within him. He asked whether she’d be willing to go with him for a fresh STI test on Monday, at which point she got huffy and took off again.

The latest strange event of this quite strange night was Misfit Vanessa appearing out of nowhere, taking him by the hand and towing him off the dance floor over towards her wallflower enclave, saying nothing beyond “Follow me”. He couldn’t help noticing that her belly looked more massive than ever, and as before sat fully out in the open, bouncing around on and off her thighs and elsewhere with her every move. She wore a lavender Ride t-shirt and gray sweat pants—attire more suitable for kicking back at home than attending a dance club. It turned him on mightily to realize that her belly button was at the level of her crotch.

She sat him down next to her, cuddly-close, planting his right hand on her belly.

“What’s this?”

“I need a belly massage, ’cause I’m a fat piggy who ate too much” she replied, punctuating her sentence with a belch which might have been startlingly loud in quiet surroundings, “and giving me one will be the apology you owe me. And hopefully your enjoyment of it will be the apology I owe you.”

“For what?”

“Being over-sensitive to your comments. Appreciation for your educating me about Misfits the band. Did the guitarist really crack open a guy’s head in S.F.?”

“So I’ve heard. I wasn’t there, given that I was four” he explained as he slowly got into massaging her.

“Yeah, and I was negative eight. Mmmmmm” she happily sighed, on account of the massage. “Squeeze a bit, please. If you truly like me, tell me what a fat, disgusting pig I am as you massage me and squeeze my flab. I’m getting into the humiliation thing, and I wanna find out if someone can get me off with just insults and massaging/fondling.”

Nate had read about this, but hadn’t paid much attention to any details, as it wasn’t his thing. Besides that, it seemed like a 180 degree turn from how she’d behaved in terms of him the last time they’d interacted. “Any clues for a shaming noob?”

“You could start by telling me what a fat, uncaring slob I am, coming out clubbing in my at-home clothes. And how this is the only place I could come out in public with my huge lardy belly hanging out and not be thrown out right away—here and Wal-Mart, I guess. Got it?”

“Let’s find out. What a pig! I can’t believe how fat you’ve gotten since last time I sat with you!”

“That’s it… keep going. I truly have gained a lot—almost 15 kg. I can’t seem to stop eating, and I’m too much of a pig to even try.”

“It shows” he replied, grabbing a handful of belly flab and shaking it, triggering a noticeable pleasure gasp from her. “I bet you don’t even own any shirts and pants which can hold all of this massive gut.”

“Yup. I can still stuff most, but not all of it down some of my pants, but shirts?—no way. And that’s not going to change ’cause I’m spending all my clothes money on more food, and no one’s gonna stop me!”

“I don’t think anybody could stop you!” He gave her belly a gentle slap, arousing them both. “You’re probably just gonna sit on your ass and eat and eat until your belly flows past your knees and nearly scrapes the ground!”

“Oh yeah!” she gasped breathlessly, highly aroused. “Then you’d have to spend all day massaging and groping my belly, when you weren’t feeding me!”

“All day?! You’re gonna be too fat for that, I can tell. I’d have to call in reinforcements—all your lovers—at least 3 more of your closest friend-lovers—and we’d all have to massage you while you kept eating, then help you get up as you waddled slowly to the bathroom for a wicked stinky hog dump which would probably plug up the toilet again, and probably help wipe your sorry fat ass, at which point we’d all be so exhausted that you’d have to let us all sleep on your lard mountain belly!”

“Uhh-uhhh!” she gasped, mid-orgasm. “Grab my flab and shake it! Tell me more! Uhhhh!”

“I can’t believe you haul all of this around, you lazy sow! My mind grinds to a halt contemplating how you let yourself get like this, and how it isn’t gonna stop!”

She had to bury her mouth into his shoulder to keep the entire wallflower bench seating area and the nearest part of the dance floor from hearing her loud climactic run of several hard orgasms.

“That was killer!” she panted in recovery, catching her breath. “Thanks!” She looked down and spotted his bulging member trying to escape his pants, planting her hand atop it. “What would you like… that we can do here?”

“Keep cuddling you, maybe cuddle up a little closer. Keep massaging and squeezing your belly, thinking in my head affectionate thoughts of how awesome it is and how primo you are for just putting it out there for all to see and admire.”

“Sure; go ahead” she smiled.

He didn’t at all mind that she pulled out her phone and got right into IMing and other texting… it was her way.

“Don’t hide in the dark all night” Deb startled him out of his romantic reverie, reaching out her hand to him. “You might miss out on a chance for a Double D dance.”

“Can’t you see we’re busy here?” Vanessa scolded her.

“Yeah, I could hear the animated conversation you’re having right now all the way from… nowhere” she replied as she pulled Nate up.

“Thanks” said Nate to Vanessa, giving her a quick exit hug.

“Sure” she replied in her usual morose tone.

“Try not to wear out your thumbs” was Deb’s parting comment.

“You, dancing?” Nate commented as they got into position and started moving.

“It’s a dance club, fool.”

“I know: that’s what I usually do here. Never seen you do it before.”

“Urgent situations call for urgent actions. Nora’s raggin’, and she’s being a total bee-yotch. Had to get away.”

“Thanks for choosing me.”

“Least worst option.”

“Ah, Deb… you sure know how to make a guy feel like a paper towel in a public restroom out of toilet paper.”

“Don’t joke—that happened here.”

They continued dancing in silence for awhile. Nate experienced strange, fleeting sensations that this would not be a one-off event for the two of them. Gazing into her face reminded him how naturally beautiful she was under her facade of tough ironically detached aloofness. It went without saying that her generous breasts filled the gap between them, cuddling his chest. It felt nice… in a way better than when they were naked and sharing sex.

“Any chance you might simply take me home from here tonight? Or do we need to do it by the side of the road where no one sees that you want me for a little while?”

“Modest, aren’t we? Dance isn’t over yet. I might find someone better.”

Repeatedly being so obviously placed as a last resort one too many times pissed Nate off. “Yeah, I should do that too.”

He pulled away and walked over to Larissa, presently unoccupied, having just finished a bagel. They smiled at each other and got right into their second dance of the night.

It was as wonderful as the first. Other than the lack of breast-chest contact, Larissa’s softer, fatter pear-shaped body felt superior to Nate in every way. For her part, she very much liked how he looked, felt, and behaved, and how well their bodies fit together.

“I’m torn” she said.

“About what?”

“Part of me wants to take you home tonight, or go to your place. Part of me knows I’m not ready and need to figure things out.”

“Go with that last part: we’ll both be happier if you know what you want. You’re worth waiting for.”

“Kiss please. Our reservation for the future.” She puckered her lips.

He kissed her tenderly and lovingly enough that jolts of passion electricity shot through them, at the end saying, “If I’m not committed to someone, you just let me know that you’re ready, and I’m yours.”

Deb didn’t take well to being rejected, even by one of her backup positions. Normally she never let it show. Tonight she did, her facade partially failing her.

“Awww… boyfriend went off with someone else?”

“Shut UP! You can’t even get out there tonight without leaving a pool of blood on the floor or running hot and cold and getting pissed off!”

“Better check your own undies, dearie; sounds like you’re starting up. You certainly look bloated enough.”

Deb did take off to the restroom. Not so much out of concern for her period, but to keep from grabbing Nora by the hair and throwing her to the ground. Seeing Nate and Larissa all lovey-dovey smiles and kisses happily dancing on the way made things worse, leading her to curse under her breath. What pissed her off most was how captivated she’d let herself become with him, and having no understanding whatsoever why.

Larissa left right after finishing her dance with Nate, not wanting to succumb to rebound desire. In fact he walked her to her car and gave her a goodnight kiss.

Deb, at the bar, pounded two whiskey sours in a row upon seeing him exit with her, figuring they were an item for the night. She still didn’t know why she cared. It startled and confused her to see him re-enter the club alone, smiling.

Final hour—time for establishing the night’s hook-ups.

Deb opened herself up to advances from Rico, with whom she’d had one or two good times in the past. He made it clear that he wanted to go places she did not, so that didn’t work out. Jamal was someone who’d rocked her world half a year back, was willing to play by her rules, and sported BBC. Just as she got her “I’m available to you” flirt going, supersized Amanda made a closer proximity play for him, and scored. {Why do they always go for the super-lard chicks?} she thought to herself, frustrated.

Meanwhile, Nate kept smiling and attempting to gain acceptance. In the process, he once again managed to piss off several new-to-him women, usually by attempting to compliment them on various body parts.

The end was drawing near. Couples, the occasional rare group of friends who just liked to dance and socialize and who’d carpooled, and a few singles were exiting.

Deb had trouble admitting to herself that someone as epically sexy as her had once again failed to make a choice connection. She looked around and saw no other remaining acceptable options than Nate. Their eyes met. She headed straight towards him.

“Let’s go.”

“Really? No stealth curbside pick-up to avoid letting people know that you’re leaving with your last resort?”

“Has anybody told you recently that you’re a total dickhead?”

“No, because I have one—and it’s glad to see you—but it’s not my totality. Same as your boobs and vag.”

“Let’s each pretend that we’re at least mildly happy about leaving together, and go do what we do.”

Nate didn’t have to pretend: he was genuinely happy to leave the club with her, despite her not treating him particularly well. His loins and eyeballs on her cleavage reminded him it would be worth it.

“Got your one condom?” she asked as she negotiated her ride out of the parking lot.

“Yes, though I found I liked what you had, and I had trouble finding some like that. I’ve got cash, if you’ll let me use yours.”

“Up for some 420?”

“Sure! Hope you know where to get it. I haven’t made a connection for that in… mmmm… since Dubya was in office.”

“In stock at home. Donations appreciated.”

They fell silent, listening to Best Coast singing “Boyfriend” on her car’s audio system. He mindlessly started rubbing her right hip. She gave him the evil eye, then made it a mixed message by smiling and returning her eyes to the road, saying nothing. He continued to caress her there, feeling as though he’d just won a huge victory.

Even with it being the third time, he was still excited following behind her up the walkway to her house, letting his lust run wild seeing her body in motion. She was far from the most delectable ass at the club—Larissa’s was much nicer, to name one of many—yet being so close and knowing he’d be allowed to have his hands on Deb’s made hers the nicest in the world in the present situation. It bounced and jiggled deliciously.

They hardly needed to say anything, shucking their clothes not long after getting in. After a little standing-up hands all over each other lusty intimacy, she led him to the couch and broke out the grass. They sarcastically and ironically discussed people and events as they rolled, lit up, and toked. Nate was thrilled to have this longer opportunity to be with her—not just quick NSA sex and a boot out the door. His cuddle attempt was rebuffed, but as long as his touchy-feelies were clearly lust-driven, they were welcomed. Mostly their hands were busy with their smokes.

“Uh-HACh Uh-HACh” Nate hacked, after one overly-big draw.

“Been awhile?”

“Yeah” he replied, his eyes visibly reddening. “I don’t usually smoke it.”

“Not down wi’ de herb?”

“Not so much and I usually bake it. Excellent in cookies!”

Deb made a mental note to try that in the future.

They kept toking, smiling at each other, occasionally groping, and very definitely getting higher. It wasn’t a terribly long time before they were waaay out there. Munchies had kicked in—they’d carried out from her kitchen bags of corn chips, pretzels, ridged potato chips with onion dip, and a six-pack of Bud Light Platinum and were at this point well into all of those.

Startled as though someone had just goosed her good, Deb’s arms flew wide open apart and the bag of corn chips she at that moment held flew about a meter away.

Nate was naturally startled too. “What?”

She turned and aimed her amazed gaping stare directly at him. “You’re like my dad! You look kinda like he did, and you’re built like he was.”

She took another hit. “That’s why I keep looking at you at the club!”

Another toke, “And why… huh… huuh huh huuh… huh”—she never finished her thought out loud. She’d become distracted by his cock and was now busy stroking it and exploring it and its related genitalia.

They smoked, ate, and groped awhile longer. Nate was stratospherically high enough that his mind no longer kept his mouth in check. “You’re not as fat as you were last month” he seemed to nearly scold her disapprovingly.

Had she not been nearly as high as him, she might have lashed out. She was far too mellowed. “Yup. Mostly eating less… ’cause… uuh… not into exercise… I’m not.”

“But… less boobs” he noted, squeezing them.

“I think there’s still enough” she tried to slap him off with near-zero energy, leading to more of a silly pat which made them both giggle. “Wish there was less belly.”

“Why? It’s awesome!”

“AAAAAAEEIIIEE!” she screamed out of nowhere.

“What?!”

“It’s growing bigger and flowing off my lap!”

“What is?”

“My belly!”

“No it’s not” he giggled, patting her round, not-growing, smaller-than-last-month pot. “You’re just high!”

She leaned over and collapsed into him, feeling through her messed mind as though he was responsible for “saving” her from her hallucinatory runaway enlarging belly.

Sex followed soon… or at least attempts at it. They laughed together uproariously as they each fumbled around in their individual advanced mind-altered states.

Eventually he got inside her, feeling vastly better to both of them than before. Each of them gasped loudly at the exquisite sensations, dramatically enhanced by their highs.

“Oh shit!” he exclaimed, a few minutes into their other-worldly humping.

“What?”

“No condom!”

She grabbed his arm hard, to keep him from doing anything like pulling out. “Fuck the condom!” she yelled, shifting to a soft, and for her unusually feminine voice, “Keep fucking me…. It’ll be OK.” She knew it would: she was starting her period. She also trusted that he wouldn’t be leaving her any contagious unwanted gift, and knew she had no such thing for him.

They went wild for each other, and loved every second of it. Feeling him actually squirt her insides rather than having everything contained in the condom tip delivered an avalanche of pleasure to Deb, culminating in several powerful orgasms in a row. Nate collapsed the moment he was done, with Deb following not long after. They lay jumbled together on her couch, each of them having parts of themselves atop the other. She wholly lacked the energy to kick him out and he wholly lacked the energy to leave.

Hours passed. It was nearly dawn by the time Deb woke up, no longer high. She panicked as she realized she and Nate were still entangled and on her couch—she never let guys sleep over—cardinal rule #1!

He hadn’t yet awoken. She decided she needed to speed that process along. “Nate” she said softly, poking him, “we fell asleep together. Time to go home.”

“Wha?” he replied groggily, just starting to wake up.

“Come on, Nate, we’re done!” she said as she started to shake him, feeling ever-more frantic to get him out of her house.

Now he was fully awake, and not pleased with her methods. “What’s the five-alarm fire hurry?! A little cuddling might do you some good!”

He tried to wrap his arm around her and pull her back down into a cuddle. She fought with him as though battling off a rapist. As he started to let go, one of her fingers poked him hard in the right eye.

“OW!” he yelled, slamming his hand over his eye, then starting to shake moments later as he processed what just happened and all the pain.

“Show me” she demanded, pulling his hand off. Traumatized, but not seriously damaged: his eyeball was intact.

He remained angry, though relieved that he could still see through a bit of blur. It was hard to tell what of his eye watering was self-healing and what might have been emotional.

“I’m sorry.”

The unexpected sincerity in her tone surprised him. However it did nothing to alter his own. “I doubt that highly.” He gathered his clothes with one hand whilst holding his hand over his jolted eye, hoping he’d still be able to see clearly once it recovered. With no further prompting from her, he rushed into his clothes as though heading off to a fire, and jetted out the door for home.

She showered thoroughly, put on a pad, and went back to sleep in the comfort and safety of her solitary bed.