**This is a continuation of the adventures of the main character from the "Quid Pro Quo" three part series.**
*****
I'd been irreparably changed by the whole affair and would be a "Chubby Chaser" for the rest of my days.
...six months later I was training a new employee named Ankine Kazarian, a blonde from Armenia. She's got at least two hundred pounds on her five foot four frame with most of it in her tits and one hell of a thick heart shaped butt.
So what if she has a little bit of a gut?
*****
I sat in my window watching the sparse activity on the bank floor before my eyes wandered over to her desk. She looked awkward and a little anxious in her first week as a loan agent and most of our coworkers held her in acidic content for her leap from teller to loan agent-in-training. Me, I wanted in on that huge, squarish butt. Ankine Kazarian however seemed to be oblivious to my overtures however and this only made me try harder. We maintained a friendly enough relationship since my days training her but there was always this sort of disconnect. I couldn't put my finger on it but she had some sort of barrier up whenever I was near. I made sure to keep my "creeper vibe" to a minimum only faltering once at a company party.
Ankine wore this form fitting red dress that put her charms on display and I just couldn't get enough of her exaggerated hourglass shape. It was pretty obvious that the dirty blonde had some pendulous boobs through the material of her dress. She was wearing a strapless bra and what appeared to be a thong plainly visible through the tight material. Ankine had an innate love of the drink that came back to haunt her in a mishap on the dance floor with a coworker who wasn't me. She lost her footing in some too high heels sprawling out on her belly and inadvertently causing her dress to ride up on her wide hips. For a minute I was treated to the sight of a peach colored thong buried between her pillow sized ass cheeks. She squirmed about on top of one of the lucky guy that had been dancing with her making me green with envy. Most of my drunken coworkers had a good laugh at her expense while I was stuck at my table with a raging boner for a good twenty minutes.
The image of her wide, squarish butt haunted my nights for a few weeks prompting me to make a number of overtures towards Ankine that went nowhere. It almost felt like someone was sabotaging my efforts to bag this hefty honey. Every time I closed my eyes I seemed to get closer and closer to that big fucking ass and new minute details would be revealed. Sometimes I noticed the deep cleavage Ankine possessed due to her habit of leaving one button too many undone on the blouses she wore to work. Sometimes it felt almost like she was trying to tease me on purpose. I imagined burying my cock in-between her fun bags and giving her the mother of all pearl necklaces when my phone rang.
"Don't you have anything better to do than gawking at Ms. Kazarian?!" It was the bank president who'd been watching me the entire time and I quickly mumbled my compliance awkwardly returning to work.
I'd been irreparably altered after my experiences months ago with my former supervisor finding myself looking sideways at any plus sized women I encountered. I definitely had a type preferring my women to have what apparently were rare body types for larger women. The pear shape and what amounted to an exaggerated hour glass figures. Kind of made sense seeing as how I was somewhat of an "Ass Man" before my experience with Melanie Santos. It seemed as if my coworkers were cock-blocking due to the fact that I rarely found myself alone with Ankine. One evening I decided to blow off some steam finding myself in a local pub near my job during happy hour.
"So tell me something true my friend; you prefer the fat girls?" I'd been sitting at the bar working on my fifth Heineken when I heard a familiar voice call out to me. I was more than a little surprised to find Ankine sitting at the end of the bar working on a very large glass of wine. She was Armenian and spoke with a thick accent that was hard on the ears initially. She still found a way to look uncomfortable in her own skin sitting there on that stool with a too tight skirt. Today she happened to be wearing what looked like a billowy peasant's blouse with a mismatched, rough looking sports coat covering her prominent chest.
"Pardon me?"
"Your friends there at work; they say you have a preference for the fatties." She was a little off putting but direct and I guess she'd worked up some liquid courage.
"Who the fuck said that shit?" I guess I was a little bit liquored up as well.
"Most of the people who work with us; they have been telling me of the fucking pig Melanie Santos that you stuffed before she got "moved" to a little itty bitty bank." She punctuated her explanation by emptying her glass.
"Oh is that right?"
I decided discretion was the better part of valor and continued drinking while Ankine stared a hole in the side of my head waiting for an answer.
"So it must be true since you refuse to answer; I was right about you after all." Her thick, alcohol soaked voice stirred something nasty inside of me.
"Oh and what's that Ankine?"
"You do like fucking the fatties and that means I could never make fuck with you because that would mean I was a pig too." She fished around in her purse for a wad of bills which she waved at the bartender who was none too pleased with the blue language she was using.
"You're not a pig?" Her big blue eyes widened at my insult and I laughed inside as her mouth became this gaping maw of outrage.
"Listen up mother fuck; you could never hope in your deepest dreams to have some of me. I know that you watch my ass all the time and that's all you get fuck face." The bartender was tapping my drunken coworker on the shoulder to abate the attention she was drawing.
"I love bacon." I raised my glass and smiled at Ankine.
She swatted at the bartender hopping down from the stool on rubbery legs to confront me. She surprisingly made it over to me in three strides pouring her drink over my head. I was drenched from the top of my head to my crotch from her drink of choice.
"Oink, oink." The fire flashed in her eyes as she swung an open palm at my right cheek. I caught her wrist at the last moment before I was struck.
"Asshole!" We struggled a bit before she calmed down a bit as the bartender threatened to cut both of us off. She looked over her shoulder glaring at the tattooed and pierced gentleman as if he were scum of the earth.
"Relax, we're just talking aren't we?" My hand was already resting flat on her right ass cheek luxuriating in the subtle curve of her backside.
