A Chunky Champion

A CHUNKY CHAMPION

Carly leaned again, my left foot on her shoulder as she stretched my hamstrings. She was a massage therapist and kinesiologist, meaning she dealt with sports injuries and more generalized average injuries and therapy for average people. I typically came to her twice a month for the hammy work and also to let her crack my back.

Right now, our session was concluding and I righted myself on the mat. The door chime sounded, a gentle

BONG, BONG

as someone entered Carly's working space. As she approached, I recognized her as one of Carly's very solid clientele. She owned a magazine that published widely varied articles on sex. Porn, fetishes, classic mainstream sexual practices, and the downright taboo were all within its purview.

The woman, Alice, addressed Carly quietly now. Alice went into her tote bag and produced a folded, simple pamphlet. My ears were good enough to discern Alice asking about participating. I watched Carly nod.

Alice now turned to me and proceeded to ask if I was comfortable giving an interview on body contrast. Carly would also be providing some input. I asked a couple of pointed questions, and Alice assured me that the magazine was not widely circulated so there was no case for widespread judgement of people based on them providing content to the magazine.

It wasn't terribly late, so we closed down Carly's space, locked up, and left. Alice had biked down, and she accepted my offer to let her drive my three-year-old Jeep Grand Cherokee to her office/social establishment. We made it there and Alice pulled my Jeep into a parking bay and unloaded her bike. We did the interview, and I was glad I had eaten before my appointment with Carly.

Alice asked a series of questions of each of us, some gaining input from both of us, others specific only to each of us. I admitted, as did Carly, that our two distinct body types--me a lean five-six and hundred thirty pounds, and she at five-eight and two hundred ten pounds-- was a big part of us enjoying each other's company, though we had not ever officially called anything a "date."

Alice asked me about the parts of Carly that were appealing. Given her size and thick waistline, I named the typical suspects; waist, hips, thighs, boobs and butt. This last area was ample, except thicker and more bulging backwards as opposed to being exceptionally wide. Carly had brown eyes, a natural dark brunette who had worn her hair in a long straight bob parted and hanging down each side of her face, ending two inches off her shoulders. It was dyed a flat, dark rust color that gleamed in a certain way under the light, even though it wasn't a bright, shining type of color. She wore it well and it looked both thick and fine. I was correct in both of those estimations, as I would later discover.

Carly admitted that my contrasting body was a primary factor for her, but also that she had an attraction to me due to a limping stride caused by being disabled since birth. I was a tad taken aback by this, but also knew it was a thing in the fetish community. There was a sixty-four dollar word for it, which Google had supplied after I typed a search phrase.

The interview wrapped and Alice remained in her office to do the outline for her article. Carly and I found a dim corner in the lounge downstairs. She withdrew the folded pamphlet from her pocket and passed it to me. Apparently it was a notice for an event appreciating big girls, known in the porn and modeling and fetish worlds as BBWs--big beautiful women.

To be featured at this event were hugging and cuddling, passing gas, and pooping. Other things were optional if both parties agreed to the activities in question.

At this point Carly said, "Ben, if I wanted to do this together, would you be game?"

My reply was "I like you a lot. You know I like your figure and your ass and your knockers. I just didn't think you were quite this kinky. Have you done it with anybody before?"

Her answer was, "Alice invited me once and I sat and watched for a couple hours. I found myself thinking about having a partner I could work with. And then I started thinking about you, because you were already a client and I was already lusting after you a little. I left Alice's with her contact info, and she became a client. At home, before bed, I got thinking about the things I had seen, and I thought about you some more, and then I masturbated and came so hard I cried. I stayed naked and slept in a fucking pool of wet pussy all night. I showered and changed sheets, and I came to recognize I was not mainstream entirely."

It turned out there was a monetary structure to the core activities. Ten dollars for a thirty-second hug or two-minute cuddle. Twenty-five bucks if you cuddle for thirty minutes or more at a time. Twenty-five bucks to pass gas at least three times within a minute with a total duration of three minutes. Fifty dollars to join a big girl while she pooped. And finally, a hundred bucks a crack if you let the big girl poop on you or do something even more taboo with you. Alice's guests and subscribers to the magazine could also buy clips when the weekend was over.

I asked Carly what she envisioned as far as what we would be doing, and she affirmed the three core activities and had three or four more in mind that only she and I would be discussing at Carly's house later that evening. Before we left, Alice took a photo of the two of us together to use with the article, changing names in the caption. Alice gave me a wink, a long hug, and a handful of gentle pats on the butt before we were out the door.

My Jeep stayed in the bay Alice left it in, after she returned the key fob to me. We rode to Carly's in her spanking new Lincoln Aviator. Once we were inside, she wasted no time. Things happening other than the three specified core activities had to be recorded and prize money doled out. Carly had GO PRO cams ready and could adjust lighting to minimize our facial features and render any embarrassment moot.

She said to me, "Part of this will definitely freak you out a little bit. I am naughty when it comes to this. I like filthy."

Carly continued, "All right. I want to poop on your face. I want to blend some hot cereal and a turd or two and give you a filthy foot bath. I want to maybe paint your face a little with it. I definitely want to wash your hair with it. I'm gonna shoot some turds a little bigger than golf balls at the bathroom wall. I will bake some muffins and load them with some turds a little smaller than those golf balls. You can eat those. If there is a record for eating a turd of a certain length, I may want to ask you to break it. Alice should be able to tell us if there is."

I was struck speechless for an entire minute as Carly went quiet. Trying for some humor, I said, "I might die from eating shit."

Carly said, "I promise it won't kill you." Then she busted up laughing, her boobs shaking as she opened her mouth and let out a belly laugh. Then she added, "You need to know more. Even though I am human for the most part, I can generate a cat's tail that's as soft as the softest cat you have ever touched. I can manipulate my belly and my butt and make them both grow and surround something or someone."

I was quiet again. Eventually I said, "So this is on for three days. Is it okay if we start basic and go to some of the wicked stuff late in the day tomorrow and then into the weekend?"

Carly nodded, saying that she thought it was the most reasonable way to tackle it. She also noted that as long as she ate three times a day, she could poop and pass gas pretty much on demand.

"Does it get overly noisy? Unbearable odor?"

"Well, we're talking moderate egg smell. There can always be more, but it won't intensify. As far as noise, I can do some mild buzz, low crackles, and some power rumbles. Shooting turds at a wall just means I can clench right before I push and send something almost perfectly round traveling through the air."

"Hopefully the neighbors aren't close enough to hear anything," I noted.

"They're far enough away," Carly confirmed. She parked herself on her leather couch and lit up the flat panel TV. She peeled off her shirt and unclipped her bra, letting it fall.

"Cuddle?" I asked.

"Absolutely," she said. She set up one GoPro off the left end of the couch and we settled in, me tucked between her legs, her arms hugging me loosely as we started some Top Gear UK. Carly nestled in, and I felt her belly softness and her body heat. She leaned forward and said quietly in my ear, "Letting my tail out." She uncoiled a long, black, somewhat fluffy cat tail.

She let a portion of it rest in my lap. She worked my pants down, letting me feel the softness on my bare thighs. She made it slither down my legs onto my feet. "Tickle?" she asked.

"A little. But it feels nice. And it is soft."

She raised it up off the floor and let it caress the left side of my face. Then she let it rest on my shoulder and tickle the side of my neck. Eventually I started laughing. Another twenty minutes passed.

Carly said, "Let's try some gas." We stood together and I hugged her. She breathed easily, and I heard gentle, quiet crackles from her ass. A relatively noticeable sulfur stink hit the air. Things stopped for several seconds, and then Carly farted again, same noise and smell. She unleashed two more of the same, and then shifted to a powerful, blasting buzz that made racket for ten entire seconds. Then there were three quieter buzzes, all egg smell pushing into the immediate space. We got our three minutes and resumed our seat.

Once the episode ended, Carly said, "Let's go shoot some turds at the bathroom wall." We entered the bathroom from the living room. Carly had another GoPro here and activated it as she took her leggings off. She bent over, and I settled carefully, looking at her rounded ass, with my chin on her shoulder. She put her hands on my hips. I heard her breathe, and then I saw a round brown projectile shoot out of her rump, thump the wall, and stick before falling to the floor. She fired four more, all of them slightly off target from the first.

I stared, somewhat surprised at what her asshole was able to do. She undoubtedly had practiced technique, because I couldn't do what she had just shown me. Carly straightened up, looked at me, grinned, and said, "Cool, right?"

I answered, "Well, it's different. And I know I couldn't do it."

Carly cleaned up the wall. She wiped, then told me to pick up her round turds and put them into the toilet. I gingerly did the first four, bare handed. Carly had the final one, moved over, and slowly put it under my nose. "Smell it. Inhale," she said. I did so, and noted earthy odor. She deposited it into the bowl and flushed. Both of us washed hands and went back out to the living room. We hugged again, after starting the camera rolling. Carly tooted for another three minutes as well. More eggs surrounded us. She had put her leggings back on, lending her gas the effect of making a little more noise.

We then made a trip to a name brand outlet store for some decent, comfortable clothing and toiletries. By the time we returned it was closing on time to hit the hay. Good thing it was a Friday evening. Both of us took fast showers. Carly hugged me one more time and we both found our beds.

Saturday morning I woke to the smell of food. Pancakes, bacon, fruit and coffee. Carly also had what I figured was a protein shake, and a moderate serving of a slightly grainy hot cereal. She pointed at it. "Cream of Wheat. Helps me pass really nice gas. It's also the basis for our filthy foot bath and hair wash, after I shit a load in the next batch," she finished.

It took fifteen minutes for both of us to finish eating. Carly washed dishes, rolling the GoPro so she could pass gas while she did. With everything washed and rinsed, I dried while Carly stood with an arm around me, alternating gentle gas with ripping buzzes from her ass. She brought the stink, and with dishes completely dry she hugged into me and let her body take over. She farted mercilessly for two entire minutes more, plenty of big, naughty rumbles joining the quieter crackles.

We took a brief walk and hit the home gym, then sat and read for half an hour. Carly took time to group all the video footage into one file, then put the media cards back into the cameras. An hour after that, she beckoned me into the bathroom. She had a waterproof GoPro stuck to the inner toilet bowl, and also a microphone in position to capture noises. She also had a fabric sling secured in the bowl so that the entire turd would be visible when she was done pooping, and it could be more easily seen.

"All right, let's take a shit on the potty," she suggested. She got naked and I left my t-shirt on. Carly parked herself and opened her legs, carefully sliding me between them. It was a snug, cozy fit, but not uncomfortable. I verified this with Carly.

"It is hard to shit when you can't get comfortable on the toilet," she admitted, "but right now I'm good." I felt her gentle belly bulge at my lower back. As it happened, I could tilt my head down and rest it on her right shoulder, and she put it there, turning my face toward her so we could look at each other while she dumped one out.

Carly's gas was hypnotic on the porcelain throne. Everything ran three to five seconds, smelling of eggs, but gentle buzzes and deep raspberries, and even a couple foghorn blasts just for variety. After these last two, Carly actually blushed at me and said, "I'm sorry, that was wild even for me and given that we are doing naughty things all weekend."

At this point Carly was relaxed, and I was basically in a trance. She continued to look at me, and I could feel her tummy moving as she worked to start pushing her turd. Her legs clamped in just a little, and I noted a long, quiet grunt, then watched her eyes widen. I felt her breathing and tensing slightly again, and she exhaled with a soft moan as she dropped her load. I didn't hear anything, and I guessed the turd had ended up in the sling where it was supposed to.

Carly whispered in my ear, and both of us moved off the toilet and let the camera roll for a five-count or so. Unable to resist, after Carly stopped the recording via remote, I looked in the bowl. Her turd was dark, smelling a little ripe as opposed to earthiness or mild stink. I estimated it to be about eight inches long, a healthy diameter all the way from one end to the other.

She tipped the log out of the sling, then scrubbed it with color-safe bleach in the sink and hung it over the tub/shower to dry. We both washed up and returned to the living area. Carly settled me in her lap again. We found the fourth "

Matrix

" movie streaming and decided to watch it. We had made sure to round up some beverages so that we wouldn't need to get up or interrupt the film if we got thirsty. In two and a half hours, both of us did have to pee, the only activity we didn't record over the weekend.

Carly also took to kissing me on the left cheek periodically, slowly, gently using just her lips. She also used one hand to play with my earlobe. At one point I did mutter in her ear; I asked for her tail out. She obliged, telling me to take my shirt off. She let her tail drape over my chest, the end on my belly, where she let it twitch. She also let it move enough to tickle me gently.

The rest of the day passed. We took meal breaks. We got deli sandwiches for lunch, Carly eating two to my one. We had chicken fajitas for dinner, balancing both meals with fruit. Carly doubled up at dinner again. As we loafed on the sofa, Carly said, "Tonight you take my log on your face. We save the muffins and the hair wash and the foot bath for tomorrow."

I couldn't resist a verbal jab. "You were thinking about the hair wash and foot bath for today. You postponed just because you wanted me to be wound up anticipating all the bad wickedness."

Carly made a show of sighing. "Yes. Yes I did. I did it on purpose, and I don't feel bad at all." She waited about another half hour, and then she disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a bed wedge and an old feather pillow. "More old stuff. Not anything I'm gonna make you sleep on." She positioned the low end of the wedge angling down from the couch and put the pillow on the high end.

"I wanna be sure your head is comfortable. This is naughty, but I don't want to create a position that hurts you," she said. She positioned herself with her ass near my face, turning to look over her shoulder. "I want to look at you while I dump this. Look me in the face for as long as you can." She rolled the GoPro via remote.

I met her eyes. No question she was a pretty girl. I heard her sigh deeply. Part of my vision watched her anus swell open and immediately turn brown, a load already beginning to grow out of it. Two inches showed, the one massive log formed and slid down in one motion, one fat end touching my forehead. The smell rushed into my nose. I watched Carly, seeing her face soften as she let the loaf drop, it settling across my nose and trailing down my left cheek at an angle.

It managed to remain clear of both my eyes, so I continued to watch Carly, adjusting to the smell and the warmth on my facial skin. Carly disappeared rapidly to wipe herself. She came back out and squatted next to me, angling down to kiss me carefully full on the mouth. "Hey, you. Good boy," she told me. She eased down and let the load rest on my face while I counted to thirty in my head. Then she got up to grab a tape measure and came back to carefully place the turd on my torso and measure it at fourteen inches. Then she took it off me and went to flush it and wash hands. She returned and carefully cleaned my face.

Carly leaned over me and dropped her pelvis to my groin, and I relaxed my legs to accommodate her thickness. She looped one of my arms across her back, just above her ass. Black leggings again present, she ripped a powerful, ten-count buzz from her second set of cheeks, followed two seconds later by a second identical effort.

She winked, then her eyes brimmed and I watched a single tear run down her cheek. She dropped over my shoulder gently and said, "Fuckin' hold me. I'm not gonna do anything except lay here for a minute." Then I felt her quivering, and heard muffled crying for something more than a minute. I asked if she was okay. She said yes, that it was a happy cry versus a bad one. Eventually she composed herself and we elected to turn in for the night.

Smells of coffee and breakfast foods greeted me after what seemed minor minutes of sleep. I wandered out to the kitchen to find Carly at the counter. She dished a plate with French toast, a small serving of eggs, then bacon and a little fruit. It landed in front of me and I dug in but watched her heap her own plate. She had another small serving of the hot cereal.

When both of us had finished and things were cleaned up, I remained at the table just watching Carly. She turned. "Just taking time to enjoy the view?" I nodded. "That's good. You should."

We stayed in after taking a fifteen minute walk an hour removed from breakfast. We found streaming coverage of a classic car auction on TV and enjoyed that for a while. Carly recorded the cuddle for long enough to net us more dollars. As it stood, we would each receive more than four hundred bucks cash for working the weekend in compliance with activities.

We made sandwiches and had fruit and some salad and dessert. An hour after finishing lunch, Carly broke out a large pot at least a foot tall. The box of hot cereal came out again and Carly measured out several dry cups and a guesstimate for water content. She put the cereal on the stove to cook, checking it after less thin ten minutes. She removed it from the burner and let it sit for a little more than five minutes.