Chapter 5 - Fatflix & chill

I hadn’t realized that the car that was sent over would not contain Basil. I opened the door and, without his bulk taking up space, the luxurious SUV felt like a cavern. The driver had introduced himself – Barry, a short and gregarious Orc – but the ride had been silent and full of squirmy anticipation for me.

Would he like my outfit? As requested, I wore my joggers, a pretty royal blue in velour, and had, on impulse, gone shopping. While a sports bra might not work, I did find a crop top. He’d sounded quite interested in the look. The matching hoodie to the joggers kept me warm and added more strokably soft fabric for Baz’s enjoyment. My makeup was minimal: mascara, tinted moisturizer, and a sheer gloss. Nothing that would end up smearing were we to make out – as I fervently hoped we would.

“Millie, welcome!” Basil greeted me with wide-open arms and a huge smile. He’d texted me later, asking what he should wear, and I’d told him that we should match formality. As promised, he was wearing sweats and a tee. The draping fabric did nothing to obscure his body. Every roll down his side was on display under the thin tee, and it stopped about an inch short of covering his gut. I wondered if he even knew that it didn’t fit. It's not like he could see his underbelly without some carefully placed mirrors.

I stepped in to hug him. It felt incredible to be enveloped by his soft, warm embrace, and I definitely didn’t keep my happy sigh in. There was no way I could reach around him, my hands only reached his sides, but I restrained myself from squeezing him quite like I wanted.

“Shall I give you a tour?” he asked once we’d parted. I looked around his apartment, and saw a flight of stairs. It was then that I realized that it was only the first floor.

I forced a grin, feeling outclassed again, and said, “Sure, I might get lost otherwise.”

“Oh, it’s not that big,” he said cheerily and guided me in. He had a warped sense of what was big, although that was quite understandable given his frame of reference. Basil showed me his apartment, three floors, four bedrooms, six bathrooms (three with bariatric toilets designed for large Occults, three without for human-sized guests), the home gym (dust coating the machines), the kitchen, the library, and more that I forgot even as we walked. Finally, we arrived at his “den”, a home theater that would have been more than adequate for any Hollywood director. He gestured at the huge sofa, and stopped by an intercom, “I’ll have Jessie bring the popcorn.”

He gave some instructions that I didn’t quite hear as I sat down. Basil was so rich he had his own driver, a cook or maid in his home, an intercom to speak to them, and a three-story penthouse in a ritzy building. Meanwhile, his fat ass wouldn’t even fit in the door of my teeny apartment. I felt so goddamn out of place. Feelings of shame that I thought I’d left behind as a poor kid resurfaced so fast that I barely knew how to stuff them back down.

“Millie? Do you like kettle corn?” Baz repeated from the intercom by the door.

I shook myself back to the moment, told myself to focus on the positive. “Sure,” I said, mustering some cheer. “Kettle corn is great.”

“Good,” he beamed and finished his order before joining me on the couch. It creaked under his weight despite the reinforced frame inside. My loveseat would have been in fragments. “Last night you mentioned that you still hadn’t seen _Army of the Night_, would that be something you’d like to watch?”

It was the latest entry into the long running body of work by my favorite horror director. His first had been made in the 60s, yet the ghoul-filled story just kept rolling with updates every few years. “Yes! You said you’ve already seen it though.”

He shrugged, a gesture that sent seismic tremors through his whole body. “I liked it enough to see it again.” A little grin crept up on his face. “Besides, I’ve never seen it with you. Do you ever get scared?”

I laughed. “Well, yes, that’s the point. There are definitely movies way too scary for me, but Jorge Tomero’s movies are just right for me.” There were several inches between us. His couch was enormous, but felt normal sized once his bulk filled it up. I scootched a little closer to his soft warmth. “If I get scared, could you hold me?”

“I was hoping to do that anyway,” he said a little sheepishly and pulled me close to his side with a sweep of his arm. He was quite strong. I assumed he would have to have some serious leg strength to haul all that blubber around, but his arms were blessed with power too.

He leaned down to kiss me, his plump lips set in an adorable pucker, when Jessie entered the room with a rolling cart with three shelves, each laden with treats. She was another pixie, like Sadie, but plump, with a serene air. “Okay then, Baz,” she began. Her accent was either midwestern or Canadian, folksy and warm. “That was the kettle corn, the cheddar corn – both with extra butter – the usual array of candies, the box of Oreos…” She went on, and on.

I couldn’t believe the list I was hearing, and Baz looked more embarrassed by the second. He waved and interrupted her, “That’s great, Jessie, thanks. I’ll call if we need anything else.”

“Sure. I’ll be in my quarters, so send me a text if you don’t mind.” She nodded to me. “Have a lovely evening you too.” Then she flew out, her small wings buzzing, and gave me a sidelong glance just before she left the room.

An unease settled over me. I worried that she harbored some vague ill feeling toward me, though we had just met. It didn’t seem right to ask Baz, and accuse his employee of… what exactly? So, I let it slide and asked, “So, what’s with the nerves, Baz? You know I like your appetite. You seemed almost embarrassed just now.”

He sighed and slumped against the couch, his shoulders sagging. “Old habits die hard, I guess.” Basil pulled his mouth to one side, then the other while he thought. “And it’s all junk. I guess when I’m dining on fine cuisine I feel… sophisticated. Kingly even.” A small chuckle escaped him and he squeezed me tight. “When I eat this junk, I feel like just a fat kid again.”

His posture was as despondent as his words. My heart ached for him, though I was surprised he was so open about this raw, early wound. “Were you picked on a lot?”

He nodded slowly. “So, you know what the whole tiefling deal is, right?”

“Sort of, I know that it means you have some demon heritage or something?” I bit my lip uncertainly. “Or Infernal? I’m sorry if I used the wrong word.”

“Both are fine,” he said with a wave of his hand. “That’s the gist. Demons and willing or unwilling volunteers… I don’t like to think about it too much, even though it's far in the past. Anyway, every family has certain, well, I’ll call them gifts from the Infernal in their bloodline. My family? Our ancestor was a fucking gluttony demon.” The hard, flat tone he used, the tension in his body told me how painful this was for him.

“Oh Basil,” I said and stroked his belly consolingly.

Basil ran his hand over his face with another big sigh. “Honestly, that’s all the gloominess I feel like talking about tonight.” He looked down at me. I loved the way the difference in our heights meant that every time he turned his head to see me, his double chins deepened, and the fat of his cheeks pushed up. His face was perfect in every angle. “Shall we dive into the world of ghouls?”

“Sure,” I said, and got to my knees to kiss his cheek. “Did you still want to snack or…?” It occurred to me that, having just talked about the shitty parts of being a big guy, he wasn’t in the mood for the fun parts.

He laughed straight in my face and pulled me in for a passionate kiss. “Oh, Millie, there are things that are quite unpleasant about being this big, and then there’s the occasional pure delight. A luxurious meal, the feel of my gut in my lap is quite pleasant, and right now a beautiful woman feeding me candy sounds like it might qualify.” His eyes were tender and hopeful, his big, strong, soft hand cupped my ass and squeezed a cheek rhythmically.

I pushed myself off of his pillowy belly and chest and skipped over to the cart laden with snacks. “Am I really the first woman you’ve let feed you?”

“You’re the first woman who’s wanted to. My money makes my size tolerable to some women, but uh. The truth comes out once I try to head to the bedroom.” Even a few feet away, through the fat padding his neck, I could see him swallow heavily. His eyes didn’t meet mine.

The cart’s well oiled wheels rolled quietly across the floor. I walked slowly while I considered what to say, and parked it next to his side of the sofa. I opened the bag of chocolate chip cookies – soft baked, my personal favorite – and took out one for myself and placed it on a napkin. I took another and held it up to his mouth, my body pressed against his big soft warmth. “You’re so perfect, and sexy, and masculine.” He opened his mouth and gazed into my eyes as he chewed and swallowed the cookie. His hand cupped my jaw and his thumb stroked my cheek thoughtfully. Basil opened his mouth in a silent request for more, so I obliged happily. “I can’t wait to see all of you, and share all of me with you.”

He swallowed and a little smile showed up on his face. “What if I decided to take all of you?” The pressure of his thumb became harder on my face, firm and controlling. The swift veer in his manner from glum to confident and dominating was surprising but welcome. He licked his plump lips and looked at me hungrily. “Straddle my thigh and feed me,” he ordered.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I swung my leg over his thigh, just above his knee. His gut pressed against my flat (well, flatter) stomach, and molded against my body, heavily weighing against my pelvis. Essentially, my mons was squished between his fat thigh, resembling the arm of a much overstuffed couch, and the warm weight of his gut. My clit started throbbing, and I could feel myself getting wet. I was definitely going to soak through my joggers and the silky high cut panties underneath.

Basil smiled like a benevolent ruler watching me get into place. He patted his gut indulgently, as if he was telling it to be patient. “More of the soft baked cookies,” he commanded.

I pulled the plastic tray from the bag. I suspected ‘more’ likely meant ‘all’. One cookie after another popped into his mouth and slid down his gullet. “More than one at a time, Millie,” he said with regal calm. “If you go slow it will take all night to fill me up.” The prospect of that sounded incredibly hot. My thighs squeezed together around his fat leg, entirely involuntarily, but I quite enjoyed the smug grin he got at knowing how aroused he made me.

“Humping my thigh already,” he mused. Basil’s tongue slipped out of his mouth and he licked his lips slowly, performatively. “Faster,” he said and gestured to his mouth.

I began offering him three and four cookies at a time, and he quickly finished that bag. I pulled out the Oreos next, as he hadn’t given me any instructions. He nodded at my choice approvingly and, to reward me, cupped my breast and stroked my nipple. I whimpered with need and clumsily shoved three Oreos into his mouth. He made a grunting laugh while he chewed, enjoying my little show.

“Wait one second,” I said, and whipped my hoodie off to show him the crop top I’d bought for his enjoyment. Baz’s eyes grew big and a delighted smirk tweaked at his lips. His plump hand slid under my little shirt to grope my breasts through my satin bra. “Basil, that feels so fucking good.”

His eyes were glazed and he breathed heavily through his mouth. “I want to find out exactly how sensitive your nipples are.”

“Oh, yes!” I agreed eagerly. My crop top joined my hoodie, flung somewhere in this luxurious home theatre for me to find later. My bra was, well, there are running jokes amongst amply blessed women about how ugly larger bras tend to be. It was sturdy, and comfortable, but it was only a simple white satin bra with a touch of lace at the hem of the cups. Plain as anything, though Basil looked at it like it was a work of art. Or maybe that was how he felt about what it contained.

I unfastened the hooks – I doubted that his fat fingers would have the dexterity – and let my big, heavy breasts drop. They rested on his belly when I leaned forward, far from his mouth.

“Come here,” he grunted and he patted the top of his belly.

“I’m as close as I can get,” I said with a shy giggle.

Basil shook his head, a stern expression on his face. “Give me your hand and get up on the arm of the sofa.” I obeyed and teetered on the arm. He put one hand on my waist, and offered me the other and I realized with a rush of lust that he wanted me to straddle his gut. I swung one leg over that boulder sized belly and got dizzy at the way his soft, firm, jiggling gut felt between my thighs and under my pussy. His severe look faded and another smirking grin replaced it. “Like what you feel?”

“Yes,” I whimpered. “You feel incredible.” His blimp belly spread my thighs so wide I felt a stretch in my hips and legs. I was going to have to do some working out to stay ready to pleasure and be pleasured by this amazing man.

Gently, he guided my hands to the curving arcs of his horns. “Hold on, your ride is going to get wobbly in a second.” Again, I obeyed his order. Leaning forward, my big breasts dropped into his face. His leering chuckle of satisfaction made me wriggle, but not as much as his fat tongue and plump lips on my breast.

He sucked with as much enthusiasm as he addressed his food, exactly as I had hoped. The grunts and groans that escaped him as he squeezed and licked my tits were constant and musical. Basil’s gaze flicked up to look at my face, contorted with ecstasy, and we locked eyes. The intensity of his gaze as he nibbled with demon-sharp teeth on my poor pink nipple made me writhe with pleasure-pain.

My violent movement on his cushiony belly jostled the content, and he surprised us both by burping. He looked immediately aghast. “I’m so sorry, Millie, I didn’t –”

“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Please don’t stop. I don’t care about a belch, for fuck’s sake. I like watching you eat. Please, please don’t stop!” I held onto his horns with a death grip, praying he’d have mercy and begin again.

Frustratingly, he didn’t start right away. He gave me a calculating look, and shifted his bulk underneath me. “My shirt is pretty thin,” he said deliberately, “And your joggers are pretty thick, yes?” I nodded, impatient but doing my best to be a good girl. “I think I can feel how wet you are on my belly.”

His eyes were alight with delight, pride, even a sense of power over me. He drove me wild, and my body couldn’t help but respond. “I believe it. I’m so turned on, Baz.”

“Take off your pants.” His voice was hoarse and urgent. “Take them off and grind on my fat gut until you come. I need to see you come.” Basil seized me about the waist and lifted me off of his belly. I’d no idea he was so strong, and my desire inflamed me even more. He helped me steady myself on the sofa arm again and watched intently while I pushed my joggers down. He oohed at my white satin panties, and when I moved to take them off as well he stopped me.

“Nope, leave those on. I… kind of have a thing for panties,” he admitted sheepishly. “The idea of you soaking through them makes me a little crazy.”

“Well, then I’m all yours!” I held my arms out to him to get back on his monstrous gut, but he hesitated.

He chewed his lower lip, and looked at me greedily but with a trace of anxiety. After several seconds, he said, “Damn it, here we go.” He pulled his thin tee up – there was indeed a faint wet spot where I’d been sitting – and off over his head, giving me a full and longed for view of his body.

Oh god, he was even hotter than I’d realized. His moobs were rounded and plump, with hard, dark red nipples. The acres of fat, brick red flesh heaved softly with every breath. His belly was enormously plush, and his delicious looking moobs rested heavily on the upper curve. Though his sides were laden with juicy rolls, his gut was so round it was uncanny – perhaps a legacy of his heritage. His big, fat arms had creases at the elbows and wrists, and even his shoulders were mounded with plump flesh. Everything about him was more than I’d ever dreamed of, and I couldn’t believe I really was here.

“Come on, let me feel that wet pussy on my gut,” he said throatily. As my pussy met his bare skin, he groaned. “God damn it, Millie.” Basil grit his teeth like he was in pain.

“Does something hurt?” I asked as he helped me back into the position he desired.

Basil shook his head. “I’m just so damn hard it aches.”

“Ooh, want me to do something about that?”

He went quiet again for a second and stroked my thighs. “I’ve fantasized about this, about a teeny human girl riding my gut, since I was a teenager. And, damn, this is.... Well, you’re obviously into this, so I’ll just say it. I’ve made myself come by jiggling my fat, and I bet you riding my belly could do it too.”

“Oh fuck,” I breathed. We sat still for a moment, panty-clad human woman and immense shirtless tiefling, just looking in each other’s eyes. My whole body felt alight with lust, like a shimmering fire under my skin found a mirror in him and never wanted to look away. His dark eyes seemed to understand everything I felt. He reached for me slowly, and pulled me down into a slow kiss that built to greater and greater passion.

He caressed my breasts with rough need, making my hips buck on his sweet soft fat. We both moaned at the same time, then giggled. “Jinx,” he said, his voice quiet, “Now you owe me an ice cream.”

“Oh yes, Baz, I’ll feed you all the ice cream you want!” I ground my clit against his belly harder. The wetness dripping from my pussy soaked through the thin, satin fabric of my panties.

He pulled me forward to suck on my tits again, an obvious breast man. The way I rocked on his gut caused a few more belches to rise up out of him, but thank god, he didn’t stop this time. Two packs of cookies in anyone’s belly would cause a little gas, just one of the side effects of loving a fatty.

And not just any fatty, the biggest, fattest, most powerful fatty I’d ever met. A fatty so dedicated to food that he owned several restaurants and sucked on my tits like I’d start producing milkshakes for him. A fatty so immense he filled love seats, and held solo eating competitions and… oh, god, I was getting close!

He wobbled, belched, groaned, jiggled, a symphony of ecstatic noise and motion that maddened me with lust. My head dropped forward while my eyes rolled back. I was in bliss, and climaxed on his precious, sweet gut, soaking the upper swell of his fat with my juices. My thighs trembled around his lush body.

Just as I orgasmed, he uttered a disbelieving gasp, then, “Oh fuck, you came on my belly, my gut made you come, oh fuck!” The long held fantasy sent him over the edge, and he stuffed my breast in his mouth, groaning around it while he was jiggled to ecstasy by my violent orgasm.

I collapsed against his plush strength, and he held me tight. We stayed like this, catching our breath for several minutes of quiet communion.

“Huh,” he said finally. His voice was cultured again as he regained control of himself. “I think we both need to clean up. Did you still want to stay and watch a movie or do you need to go?”

I giggled and kissed him. “The first option, please. Cuddling you through a movie sounds like the best night possible.” Basil’s smile was bright, and he got a head start by cradling me against his shoulder.

This was already the best first date I’d ever had.