Patting the space next to her, she invites me to lie down on my own bed.
The wine bottle goes on the nightstand, but knowing I’ll need it, I swig the last of it first before moving to lie with her, both of our legs hanging over the side, and she starts.
“Blue, it was no coincidence that we were both at that meeting on the same day at the same time.” Hmm. I consider this, and she continues, “That was your third meeting, right?” I nod, wondering how she knows that. “I don’t even go to those meetings, well not for years. It’s true we did need another girl. The workload around here had been getting out of hand. Everyone was on edge, bitching about the amount of Favors each of us were pulling off. Once Daisy started threatening to strike…well, no one wants her job, if you get my drift.” We both nod at each other, and she continues. “I started trolling the fat blogs, looking for girls who might fill the void we had, but Javi had other plans.” She reaches between us and grabs my hand, holding it tight. Her claws must be retracted, because this comforts me.
“The women’s club is in the same parking lot as Mailboxes, Inc. where our PO boxes are…” I’m listening, and I give her hand a squeeze to encourage her.
“Javi’s the only one allowed to pick up mail.” Still waiting. I’m sure the blood has stopped flowing to her hand, but I’m not letting up. Finish!
“He picks up mail on Sundays.” If she wants to drive me up the fucking wall, she’s succeeding! Then it hits me.
“And Javi saw me.”
She nods, confirming it. “And wanted you.”
I take a sec. Hell, I take a few, and she’s quiet. Sitting up, I let go of her hand, watching her shake it to return the blood flow to the claws. She even checks them, making sure they’re still kitty sharp and that I didn’t break any off.
Not knowing how to feel about this information, I concentrate on my breathing, trying to relax the huge knot of flan in my belly. “I might have to use the toilet,” I say as I head to my bathroom and pee closet. She waves a hand breezily through the air. “Shit away, I’ll be here when you get back.”
Minutes later, I’m washing my hands, and hell, throwing palmfuls of water on my flushed face. I stare at myself in the mirror, face dripping. Am I different? I don’t look different. But something inside has shifted. I had a friggin’ stalker! Me! I’ve never even had a date, and now I’ve got a fully-fledged stalker on my hands. If Jessica, the skinny, not-real best friend from my old life could only be a fly on the wall and hear how some hot guy spotted me at a freakin’ WW meeting of all places! The least sexy place on earth! I do a mini version of my Flash-dance, running in place, my happy dance. Wanted me and had me. Well, my mouth anyway. My cheeks pinken at the thought of the monkey banging against its cage of pants, begging to get out. Ugh, my thighs clench at the thought of his crazy dirty talk. Crazy? Is he?
“Sasha?” I call around the door.
“Did you fall in?” She asks as she moves towards the closed door.
“Is he crazy? I mean, is this normal behavior for him?” I pull the door open to a long sigh.
“Honestly, you’re the first girl he’s, uh…how do I say this gently? Fixated on? Does that make sense?”
Nodding, I head back over to my big bed, and Sam’s in my spot. I push him over, and he stretches towards Sasha. Guess he recognizes a kindred spirit.
The TV’s back on, and she’s got the remote in one hand, pushing buttons in a frenzy. When she stops, a menu I’ve never seen before appears. She scrolls down, hits Daisy’s replay, and rewinds back to this afternoon. Right to the part where Javi is holding his hand up, his fingers hooked and dripping. My thighs clench and my pussy trembles at the sight. All I can think of is flan dripping off other parts of him.
“What’s this?” I ask, like the sight of him in that gimp mask isn’t blazed into my brain.
“Right there. Look.” I do, the screen’s frozen on a very kinky boy. It would take gouging my eyes out not to look. Everything’s the same. A gaping zipper smile on the gimp mask, Javi dripping Daisy’s juices all over the carpet, tight, low-slung jeans, bare feet, Daisy caught in mid-writhe behind him. “What am I missing? Or what should I be looking for?”
Clearly frustrated, she turns back to me with a smirk. “It’s not what you’re missing Blue…what’s he missing? Think about it. He’s got a woman dripping and tied to the bed. Not just any woman. A big, beautiful woman. Spread-eagle. Sex is heavy in that room. What does my boy not have?” She taps a pointed nail to the side of her head. Better be careful. She’s going to give herself a concussion like that. Those nails could puncture a semi’s tires… My thoughts quit running around in my head and slam to a stop. “A hard-on!”
“Bingo! Tell us, Johnny, what she’s won!” Jumping off the bed, we both do a version of the happy dance, giggling and jiggling until we fall back on the bed, almost killing Sam again. This poor cat, he jumps in the nick of time. Out of breath, giggles still escaping, I don’t know why I’m acting like a loon. Is it a good thing he’s not hard after fingering Daisy? I know he’s not impotent—his junk put me and the flan to very good use.
“Wait…so what’s that mean for me, exactly? Maybe he just doesn’t find Daisy attractive in that way.”
She waves me away. “Honey, Javi is a full-blown chaser, as in, chubby. The bigger the better, in his eyes. And don’t forget, he loves a good feeding. Sick little bastard can plan for weeks for a Feasting.” Remembering I’m a feeder virgin, or I was till Javi violated me with his dirty monkey, I roll my eyes. Now he’s got me thinking of his cock as a furry primate.
Again with the wave, she adds, “I keep forgetting you’re new. You’re just so comfortable with all this. More comfortable than even I was in the beginning. I’m starting to think you won’t need a full two weeks to break into the business.” She eyes me up and down, not exactly eye-fucking me, just assessing me. “Yep, after hair and wardrobe, I think you can take some of the tame shit.” She nods. Apparently that’s settled then. “Anyhoo, the sight of a plump girl, belly rolls, thick thighs, fat pussy lips, these are all triggers for him. Yet, there he is,” she points a pointed black nail at the Dominant Javi on the screen, “Master of the Universe with a limp cock. Why, Blue? When this is all Javi ever wants? Hell, I had to beg him to take a paycheck in the beginning. He felt like he was robbing us, for God’s sake! Because this shit right here?” Two more points at the screen for emphasis. “Add a chocolate cake, this guy should be blowing his nut, right?”
“Right,” I agree, everything making sense except the chocolate cake part. “Wait, what? Why does he need a cake? Can he only get off if it’s inside of sweet confections?” She takes one look at my face and falls straight back on the bed, laughing herself to tears. Kicking her legs and flailing about while my brow just knots in frustration. “I’m being serious here! Does he…need to stick it in a baked good to, uh, get his nuts up?”
This gets her going again. And she drags me down into the gutter with her, tickling me till I’m laughing just like she is. “It’s not ‘nuts up!’ Nuts only go one way!” She says while making a waving to-and-fro motion over the side of the bed. “It’s ‘get his nut off,’ you dildo!”
“You’re a dildo!” I say, laughing right alongside her, which feels great! Girl talk. It almost feels like a sorority party in here.
“I only play one on TV!” She screeches through fresh peals of giggles.
Halfway through another bottle of wine, her on a blue suede beanbag on the floor—one I didn’t even know I had—and me lying on my stomach on the bed, kicking my feet behind me, Sam twitching his tail in the corner, in pounce position just in case a mouse or a bird might stroll by. Comfortable. That’s the word of the moment. Right here, right now, in this sexed-up chunky house, I’m comfortable. Javi has a stiffy only for me, it seems, and that warms all my hidden spots.
“So what? He was at the post office, saw me, called you up, and said, ‘Hey, get over here. I’ve got a live one.’ Is that how it happened?” Now I
’m picking at my bedspread, but I don’t miss her penciled-in eyebrow arch straight up.
“Oh honey, he didn’t see you the same day I met you…” Quiet isn’t her strong suit. I look up to see her looking uncomfortable. “Okay, don’t freak out.”
I’m officially freaked out.
“He only picks up mail on the first and fifteenth.”
“That was…” I do the math. “The first day I went to the damn trifecta of meetings!” Why am I shouting? And why’d he wait three weeks to pounce?
Both hands go up again in her signature ‘don’t shoot me, I’m just the messenger pose’ before she explains. “He came home, hair all mussed, no mail!” As if this is the worst of his crimes. “Went straight out to the work shed, muttering the whole way about rope and trunks.”
A chill slides down my spine, making my gut clench. “A rope and a…car trunk?” I whisper, visualizing being grabbed by a hunky Spaniard intent on kidnap. What would the Blue-Haireds think of that? What do I think of that?
Sasha sidles up next to me, rubbing my shoulders reassuringly. “It wasn’t easy, believe me, but we talked him out of it.” Thanks? She snorts at her own joke.
“Well obviously,” I whisper, but I’m not snorting. My head’s still spinning, but I don’t think it’s the wine. Maybe my kidnapping isn’t the best topic of conversation on my first night here. If she wants me to be here a second night, that is. I glare at her. “Details! Now!” I bark, causing her to snap to attention, sit up straight, pull her shoulders back, and proceed to tell me the tale of how she and Gretchen, so graciously mind you, stopped a crime.
“Okay, so he comes in. I say, ‘Where’s the mail?’ Which he doesn’t even acknowledge. He’s got you on the brain. We don’t know that, of course. Gretchen runs out to the Suburban, thinking it’s packed with goodies for us only to come back empty-handed. Pause.” She gets up, heading towards the door.
“No fucking pauses!” What the hell?
She holds up a pointy dagger. “One sec.” I almost have a crime of my own on my hands, cause in this moment, with her calling pause on me, I’d like to wrap my chubby fingers around that throat and pause her breathing.
She’s out the door before I have time to react, and I can do nothing but pause.
So Javi saw me at the first WW meeting, no biggie. Oh shit, not at the first meeting. Before the first meeting! Oh no! My shoulders slump, and I feel the heat of a blush burn both cheeks. Before the meeting. When I was sitting in my car, shoveling gas station delicacies in my face.
A ritual for me. Before I start a diet, I work my ass off to eat every single thing I won’t be allowed while on the diet. He caught me on the tail end of a sugar bender! I’d bought forty bucks worth of Ho Hos, Snickers, Funyuns, Drumsticks, Twinkies, gas station hot dogs, and Slurpees. “Jeeesuuusss,” escapes my mouth, and I hang my head in shame. No wonder he noticed me. Hell, didn’t just notice me, wanted to seize me and shove those Twinkies down my throat himself. Shit, I was like a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label to an alcoholic. I was like flour to the Pillsbury Dough Boy. I was…ahh. I was out of control.
I’m still cringing and hanging my head when she bounces back into the room, slamming the door behind her. She sees the look of shame. “What? What happened? What’d I miss?”
If I’m going for it, I might as well go all the way. I give her every fat detail from my parking lot binge-fest while she passes me a mug of chocolate milk and, of course, her favorite, the treat that started it all, powdered donuts. I hold one up, giving her the stink-eye, and she at least has the grace to look guilty.
“Full disclosure?” she asks. Why not? I shrug and eat my milk-soggy donut.
“Don’t freak out...”
“Stop saying that!” I mumble around a mouthful of donut and smack her plump thigh but it doesn’t hold any real heat.
“We’re live right now,” she giggles, and jumps from the bed before I can bring the heat.
“What?!” I yell at her and throw a pillow in her direction.
“Oohh, that’s so good! A pillow fight, that’ll bring in extra!” She grabs the pillow, of course it’s the blue, fluffy, cum-pillow, and smacks me square in the face, upsetting my chocolate milk and knocking my breath out of me.
“It’s a client,” she pouts. “I got buzzed. He wanted me naked on all fours in my room, sooo boring.” She rolls her eyes at the thought. “But I said I was ocupado with girl talk…”
Stage fright is making my leg bounce up and down. I’m looking in all corners like I’m going to find some creeper with his cock in his hand, jerking it to the bounce of my leg.
Holding her hand up, she cajoles me, “Only picture, no sound. I muted the room. You’ve gotta pop your cherry sometime, Blue, and this easy money is the way to start.” My eyes stop darting around the room long enough to settle on her face. I see sincerity there. She’s telling the truth, and what better time than now, right? “How much?”
She throws her head back and laughs. I watch her throat work up and down, her long red locks hitting the bed. Perfect. Her pushed-up bosom quivers with the laugh, and I can’t help but notice her kick her legs out for emphasis. We are definitely live now.
“How’s five hundred apiece for this little Favor?” My mouth drops open. She shoves two donuts in. I can take it, they’re minis. “Sounds like show time to me,” I say, really exaggerating the show time. I sound more like a carny worker then I do myself. There’s not even sound and I’m already hamming it up.
I get up, stroll like a beauty queen to my closet, step inside, and close the door on her astonished face.
Why she whispers, I don’t know. “Err, what are you doing, Blue?”
“Give me a sec to get myself together, will ya?” I’m sure she thinks I’m in here hyperventilating, and I let her think that. She sprung this one on me after all. I giggle when I hear her kissing noises. She’s calling the dignified Sam the cat like he’s a puppy. Hope he hisses at her for what she’s putting me through.
With her leather bustier and short shorts on my mind, I reach into the middle drawer of the built-ins in the walk-in closet, replacing my sweatpants—stained with flan, I see—to a pair of pink-striped boy shorts. Next, I pull the men’s t-shirt and bra over my head in one fell swoop, dropping those to the ground. My boobs thank me as they’re free to pendulum-swing around, flopping onto my ample belly. The relief at being free of all that Lycra is just too good. I forego my usual nighttime sports bra, reaching instead into my t-shirt drawer. It’s five hundred bucks, after all. I slip a too-tight ribbed white tank over my head. It’s so tight, when I bend forward to lift the girls up, they actually stay in place, showing off my enormous cleavage. I’m gonna have to remember to shake the powder out of this crevice before bed or I’m sure these’ll be anthills by morning! Smirking, I turn to look at myself in the full-length mirror.
Not too shabby. My soft pink nipples are tight for once, not their usual silver dollar flat. It turns me on thinking someone’s watching me. The shirt only comes to just below my belly button, and fuck it, these guys like the rolls, or so I’ve been told, so I roll the top of my shorts over. This pushes my lower belly roll out, giving the five-hundred guy an eyeful. My shorts just turned into short shorts with my little MacGyvering. Oh, I almost forgot…pin-up is my thing. I scrounge a long pair of men’s white tube socks with vertical black stripes out of the top drawer. They’re the ones I sleep in to keep my piggies warm. I slide them all the way up my calves. I can’t help but to keep stealing glances over my shoulder at my big ass. Today it doesn’t make me wanna hide it under sweatpants. Not after the flan incident. No, right now I feel sexy.
Hmm, and what I’m seeing is not too bad. I bend forward at the waist before flipping my hair back, fluffing it into place. Well, minimally fluffing. I wanna give Five Hundred the illusion of just-fucked hair. And I think I’ve got it. A quick pinch to each cheek and I’m done. This is about all the sexy I can muster from inside a closet. It’s better than a trunk. We
ll, roomier anyway. Taking a deep breath, shoving my shoulders back, and standing up straight, I push open the double doors and step out. I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille. The line from some old movie brings a smile to my lips, which I wet dramatically with my little pink tongue.
“Wowza, bombshell.” Sasha whistles as she looks me up and down, with maybe a tiny bit of eye-fucking going on.
“You’re hot, bitch.” Slowly, she circles me. When she gets to the back, she gives one of my ass cheeks a pinch. “Ow!” I quip, knowing it’s all in fun. “Feels like no panties back here,” she growls, and slaps my ass. I feel the jiggle all the way up to the belly roll, and for once I don’t tense up. Let ’em watch. Throwing caution to the wind, I growl back. “I know.”
Throwing her a smirk over my shoulder, my long hair swings as I walk further into the room, shoulders back, a bounce to my step. There’s a noticeable falter to my step as I think of my catty words. Well, noticeable to me anyway. Just a bit. There and gone. Seems only Sam the cat and I catch it. He’s on high alert what with all the dancing, stepping, and flouncing going on. Where did that come from? I know? Wow, conceited much?
I take my place in the middle of the bed, sitting with my legs crossed, mindful of my belly roll—the view someone is paying good money to see. I lean back just a bit to give him his money’s worth.
Sasha nods her approval, smiling wide. “Girl, Javi was right about you. You’re gonna break a lot of hearts.” Her smile widens in a wicked way. “Or at least get a lot of nuts up.” Giggling, she reaches over, pulling me into a two-armed friendly girl embrace, which I return wholeheartedly, mindful that this makes my cheeks rise up off the bed.
That falter? What was that? These thoughts niggle at the back of my brain during the hug. That was the birth of my confidence, I think. I’ve finally got some. Seems to be catching in this house.
Over the next few hours, well past three in the morning, we chat. Well, Sasha chats as I interject with, “wow” and “holy mother of God,” and an occasional “WTF!”
Becoming Blue (Chubby Chasers, Inc. #1) Page 10
