Bigger is Better

“I want to fuck every fold of her. I want to cum in the dark crevices of flesh that haven't seen light or felt air for years. I want my cum to bind those folds until she becomes a big, life-size, living, breathing, cum doll.

Don't judge me, dude. That's my trip. Yours might be to jack off to tied up Asians, or fuck someone doggy style while staring at yourself in the mirror. Or maybe you're just one of them simple guys who jizzes all over your keyboard every other day while surfing for side boob pics of celebrities. God forgive you get denied the pleasure of seeing a bit of whoever the media tell us we have to find hot these days.

Guys like you, you think you're normal 'cause you fantasize about supermodels and singers and actresses and, the magazines and the TV? They feed your addiction. Oh, don't fool yourself, boy: you're addicted as sure as the hipster is addicted to his nicotine or microbrew and as sure as your mama depended on Mr Daniels to make it through the day without murdering you. Yeah, I went there. Deal with it. Anyway, you walk around town, getting semis from the shampoo billboard and ice-cream posters and of course swimsuit models plastering the walls of your city and imagination. What you wouldn't give for an hour with one of them, huh? An hour? Sheeeit, three minutes would be all you needed. But, bubba: I've got some painful news for you... You ain't never gonna pull one of them bitches, because they're so far out of your league they could just as well be living on another planet. So you have to keep on pulling your sad little dick and dry your tears with the same crusty sock you use to wipe yourself clean after paying a little visit to Onan.

But, hey, I don't want to judge, really I don't. Because, in the end, it's about whatever rocks your, my, our boat, as long as no one gets hurt, right? Unless you're into S&M and it's consensual, in which case: go to it, go nuts. Hey: maybe your deep dark thoughts are all about raping little girls or little boys. That's obviously way, way illegal, but if it remains a dark fantasy, something that gets you hard in the dark of the night, or, shit, while you're typing away in your cubicle after your tuna sandwich lunch, then have fun.

So, yes, as I believe I was saying: I like them plus-size ladies. You probably don't, like I said, I'm sure you like the ones that look like androgynous heroin addicts, walking planks full of disdain, self-hate and what-have-you. The ones I like are full of self-hate, too, that is until I start to fuck them and then they're happy. Plus they don't have to pretend that it's a genetic thing or that they're 'big-boned,' they can eat whatever they want when they want, knowing I won't judge them. Sure, it can get a little pricey on dates, but if you know where the all-you-can eat places are, you're golden.

But please: don't call me a chubby chaser. I'm a tubby fucker. There is a difference, you know. I don't chase. First of all, because it wouldn't really be a competition, they'd pass out after ten feet anyway. Fatties don't run, son. No, I go out, notice the one I like, usually drinking a Diet soda, because she's trying to watch her weight next to her skinny friends who complacently and condescendingly keep telling her: 'Omahgod! You've lost soooo much weight!' but behind her back, they make fat jokes that usually revolve around the Kool-Aid ads. But so, my target smiles sheepishly and looks down at her drink, thinking that no one there would ever want her, so why bother making eye contact? Plus, don't make any mistake about it, she knows that the kind of dudes who'd fuck her, well, she definitely wouldn't want to fuck. That's the tragedy of plus-sized people: they know they're out of their depths when going to a bar or club, but they also know there's no way they'd fuck someone as big as them. First of all, because it could destroy their Ikea bed and secondly, because logistically it's a nightmare.

So, I see her, I walk to the table and, forgive me for stating the obvious, but I'm not a bad looking dude, as you can see. So, usually the 'classically hot' girls smile and ask me if I want to buy them drinks. I politely, but firmly, tell them no, I do not. Then I start talking to the lonely big girl. First, she's usually surprised, then she, as well as her friends, think it's some kind of pulling strategy: ignore the skinny ones so that the skinny ones want you more. Sad thing is: it usually works, because little Miss Anorexia got some deep-seated daddy issues and really wants to be loved and can't understand why I'd wanna go for her fat friend. Ha! Fuck you, you skinny bitch!

When I buy drinks for my lady and ask her if she wants to go to another table, everyone understands I'm actually into her. So, my girl blushes and accepts, still a bit confused, but also thinking one of two things: 'Oh, he must be one of them chubby chasers. Fine.' Or: 'Finally, someone appreciates me for my personality.'

Uhm, no.

I like the big girls, but I'm still an asshole and, at the end of the day, I'm still hunting for pussy. I'm no white knight, I'm just a horny dude. In other words: I'm just a dude.

Meanwhile, her friends all think I'm a freak or an asshole or whatever. But it'll end well for them. Thanks to me, they'll be able to slag off their friends who's talking with me, while drinking way more to convince themselves that they're super cute and totally doable. Then they'll go home with a tattooed jerk who plays bass in an indie rock band and who'll fuck them raw before disappearing forever from their lives; and they'll actually convince themselves that they'd had a good night and that they're definitely still hot, chlamydia be damned.

So... What the hell was I talking about? Yeah, so, yeah... The girl. We end up going to her place and she's super shy to get her clothes off, as if I might only realize at this point that she was not slim. But eventually, she disrobes, and so do I and then, well, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. Wink, wink, am I right?

Then, yeah, as I said before: I'm still an asshole, so I leave and never see them again. But I am convinced that they don't mind, because they got to fuck someone most people would say was out of their leagues. I also make sure they cum at least once, I'm not a total monster, thank you very much. So it's a win-win for everybody.

Now, before I let you be on your way, I want to say I only like the shy ones. Some of them are all about: 'That's who I am, fuck you if you don't like me!' or, you know, they're actually proud to be fat. Good for them, but why be proud of your body type? Whether you're ripped or bubbly, skinny or not, nothing to be proud of, I think. But anyway... Those girls are aggressive. Most of them used to be Goths, too, so they think they're cooler than the average. But they're not. They act tough, but they cry themselves to sleep to Morrissey every night. Most of them end up being dykes, that's cool. As I said: no judging here. I'm just saying I don't like the aggressive girls. I'm a hunter, not a prey. If they don't like that, let them fuck one another, is what I say.

Right, so that's my story. Now if you'll excuse me, it's 3 for 1 taco Friday at my local eatery and I've just bought a box of condom that begs to be used, so I'm gonna head out. Take care of yourself, and here: have a bagel. On me.”