Disclaimer. The following story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality. Any resemblance of characters to real people or plot lines to real events is purely coincidental. Also, I know you're horny - but please practice safe sex.
Comments, tips and constructive criticism are most welcome. Complaints and nonconstructive criticisms are most definitely not.
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THE RED PLANET
Most people know how the laws of gravity work. Objects with a large mass attract other, less weighty objects. That's why apples fall out of trees towards the earth. And occasionally hit scientists in the head on the way down.
But there's a little known inversion of these laws when it comes to people. The higher a person's mass, the more likely they are to repel other, smaller people. Especially if that plus-sized individual is a nerd, geek or occasional dabbler in board games. Think about it. Have you ever seen a tubby guy in a lab coat cradling a bucket of fried chicken under one arm and a baby in the other? Didn't think so. And it's not just babies. Adults who teach their kids equality for different ethnicities and sexual preferences won't sit next to you on the bus if they suspect you're capable of eating them. They're also pretty nervous getting into an elevator with a fella they're worried exceeds the maximum occupancy weight.
The trend is even more pronounced with skinny people. For those lucky few with a Hollywood BMI it's like they're physically incapable of sitting next to the fatty with the garbage bag of popcorn at the cinemas. I've lost track of the number of times I've sat down next to the girl of my dreams (or, at least, the girl I've spent the next few nights dreaming about) only for her to move on before the end of the previews. One time I went to see a film on opening night and they had allocated seating. The bombshell given the spot next to me actually made her gym junkie date leave the movie. Not that the whole cinema seating thing worries me. It just means my popcorn bag gets its own seat.
The point is that unlike planets, fat people repel skinny people. And babies, I guess. I call it Mars' Special Law of Gravity. And it is, largely, why I'm still a virgin at 25. A virgin universally known as Mars, the red planet.
To be fair, plus-sized pants aren't my only impediment to my sex life. I also work nights in an observatory and see less sunshine than your average vampire. I'm not obscenely overweight. I don't ride around on a mobility scooter. And I don't have to lift a roll of fat out of the way to use a urinal. But I am big enough that they don't make belts with holes for a guy my size. Which is about when you stop being able to convince yourself you can hide your weight with baggy clothes. But, as a silver lining, I do all my clothes shopping online. Which means no judgmental sales clerks orbiting me while I skim the XXXL sales rack trying to convince me that 'salmon is my colour'. So that's a point in favor of obesity.
This isn't a pity drive, by the way. Lack of sex aside, I'm pretty happy with my lot in life. I even love my nickname. Probably should have seen it coming with me working towards a doctorate and thesis on the gravitational effects of large, non-stellar objects on light. It was only going to be so long before someone decided my super-sized waist was big enough to make a joke about me being one of the planets I studied. But once it was out there I embraced it. I might be a fatty, but I've got a heavenly body. And I'm not unattractive. As the four girls who've actually gone on a date with me have put it, I'd be cute if I was a few sizes smaller. But as it stands, I'm the kind of big that inspires the fairer sex with a fear of being crushed. And to refer to me as a planet.
At various points friends, coworkers and a handful of colossal arseholes who are unfortunately part of my life have gotten through the whole solar system. Jupiter, the gas giant, usually crops up if I'm going for Mexican. Uranus is the planet of choice for the arseholes. One idiot even tried to call me Pluto before I tore him a new one over being so ill-informed he hadn't heard that particular chunky object lost its planet status years ago. Seriously, don't fuck with astrophysicists on their home turf. Which is basically everywhere in the universe outside the Earth's atmosphere. And especially don't fuck with them when they're big enough to fill the only exit to the room you're in and can force you listen as they explain in excessive detail how your brain and dick size can only be measured at the quantum level, because they're both so small they might as well be theoretical. Doubly so if you're sharing that room with the kind of people who are going to nickname you Quantum Dick once they've stopped laughing at you.
But mostly it's Mars. And mostly, I like it. A few people flatter me they use the name because I'm a bit of a war history buff and Mars was the Roman god of war. But I'm not one to shy away from facts, I'm a chunky guy with red hair and whenever I climb a set of stairs or walk too fast my face turns red as well. I am the red planet.
Anyway, a few weeks back I discovered my special law on gravity also applies to roommates. Doug, a friend from my school days - before I reached planet status, decided to move out of the place we'd been sharing for the past six months. He was my exact opposite. Down to earth, but so ripped he could tear a phone book in half. I watched him do it once.
Officially, his reason was the rent was too expensive. And I'd have taken him at his word, if it weren't for his girlfriend. Jen is skinny as a broom handle, but with the kind of curves up top that make other women struggle to look her in the eye. She was easily the most attractive woman I was on a first name basis with. Which made it sting just that little bit more when she pulled me aside to inform me Doug was really moving out because I ran the AC all day and the take out and grocery bill was too high.
Basically, Jen was the 22-year-old version of a high school mean girl. But she was hot enough that most people still put up with her shit. Not Doug, though. When she bragged to him about what she had said to me, Jen became his ex-girlfriend. I honestly don't think I'd have done the same thing. Doug is a great guy and one of my best friends, but Jen is a knockout. And she is very, very sexual.
In fact, Doug and Jen didn't know it, but she was the only girl who'd ever made me cum.
It was one of those rare moments when working nights paid off. I'd come home at about 6am on a Saturday morning. Doug had gone out with Jen the night before, and they were supposed to be sleeping off an unlimited bar tab at a friend's place. That's why I figured it'd be fine to eat a burrito in my track pants and doze off on the couch instead of in my room.
Maybe an hour later I heard keys in the door. Doug was completely plastered, and Jen was guiding him through the door. She was barely walking herself.
A few steps in Jen shoved Doug onto the couch next to mine and straddled him.
"Mars is right there, Jen," he slurred.
