The Perfect Pig

Chapter 1

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he said to me with a twinkle in his eye, “you’re the one I’ve been looking for all my life.”

“Marlon, you must be crazy,” I responded, nervously shifting about in the passenger seat of his SUV.

“Why do you say that?” he replied, still smiling but sounding a little defensive.

“Look at me,” I said, gesturing toward my generous physique, “I’m short, I’m fat, and I have this huge bulbous nose in the middle of my big fat face!”

Marlon got quiet for a moment, looking dead ahead at the road in front of us as we drove through the darkness. I was afraid for a moment that maybe I said something that really hurt him. I didn’t mean to at all – I guess I’d just never been very good at accepting compliments.

My name is Jemma, I’m thirty years old and I’ve never been married. In fact, until I started seeing Marlon I never really had anything even close to a real romantic relationship. All my life, ever since I was very young, I’d always been looked down upon for my weight and my looks. Kids at school would call me fat and ugly and tell me that I looked like a fat pig. When I’d get home from school with tears in my eyes, I would prove those mean kids right by stuffing myself like a pig, making myself get fatter and fatter.

By the time I was eighteen years old I was over four hundred pounds, my belly was big and round and I wobbled all over the place as I waddled about the house. My parents, who had always been supportive of me, encouraged me to go to night school and get a business degree. That’s how I ended up working at one of the top cosmetics companies in the city. Of course, I’m just a receptionist, but at least I’ve got a foot in the door.

I started seeing Marlon just a few months before my thirtieth birthday. Marlon was a delivery guy who made frequent stops at the office where I am a receptionist. He would always make playfully flirtatious comments every time he saw me, until one day he actually got up the nerve to ask me out on a date. For some reason, everytime he called me “sexy” or said that I was “beautiful,” I never took him seriously. I always thought he was just being nice.



“I’m going to pull over for a minute,” he said with the utmost seriousness. He pulled the car into an empty parking lot, pulling into a space and putting the car in park. We both sat perfectly still for a while, listening to the motor hum as he let it run. Then he surprised me by reaching over and putting a hand on top of my belly. I started to squirm; my instinct was to try and push him away – but for some reason, I didn’t.

“Jemma, do you know why I asked you out?” he said, still looking ahead into the darkness in front of us.

“Actually,” I said to him earnestly, “I’ve kind of been wondering about that.”

“You have?”

“Well,” I said, “yeah, sort of.”

There was another long and awkward silence. I was getting a sinking feeling that I was making a mess of things. I don’t know why it was so hard for me to just accept his complement and go along with it. Why did I have to complicate things?

“Jemma, do you find me attractive?” he said, finally looking over at me with his big brown eyes. Marlon was indeed a very attractive guy. He stood out to me right away the moment I first saw him. Apparently I caught his attention pretty quickly as well.

“I do,” I said to him finally.

“Do you really?” he asked. “I mean, are you sure?”

“Absolutely I do,” I said to him, “I mean, I’ve never really met someone like you before. I just –”

Before I knew it Marlon had lunged forward and planted his lips on top of mine, stuffing his tongue halfway down my throat. His hands had suddenly come alive and they were all over my rotund belly. He was feeling up every inch of my jiggly tummy like he were inspecting a piece of meat or something. It was shocking and alarming, but at the same time kind of exciting.

“Oh, Jemma,” I could hear him gasp as he pulled his lips away, breathing heavily as he kissed me and licked me all over my neck and my face, “you’re so big, so plump.”

I was beginning to get the picture then; I’d always heard that there were certain men who were attracted to fat girls like me, but I’d never actually met one. Some people call them “chubby-chasers” and I’ve heard some people call them “fat admirers.” Whatever you call them, it was a completely foreign concept to me at that point, but apparently I was in the presence of and being heavily groped by one of them at that moment.

“I want you so bad, Jemma,” he gasped, “I can’t help myself.”

I didn’t know quite what to say or do. I felt frozen in time, unable to speak as this man caressed me all over, exploring every inch of my fatness. I could feel his hands running down toward the gap between the waistline of my stretch pants and my ill-fitted t-shirt, lifting it up and exposing my bare flesh. His finger found my naval and began to penetrate it, poking itself deep into my soft and malleable flesh.

“You’re so fat, Jemma,” he said as he nibbled at my neck rolls, “I love it so much!”

“Do you really?” I asked, still unable to believe what was happening to me at that moment.

“You’re perfect,” he said, “you’re the perfect fat little piggy I’ve been looking for all my life.”

I started to chuckle when I heard him say this, I couldn’t help myself. I mean, who says that? Who says that they’ve been looking for a ‘fat piggy’ all of their life. It just sounded funny to me, but I started to warm up to the situation a little bit.

“Will you be my fat pig, Jemma?” Marlon asked, pulling away from me and looking me in my eyes. “Will you be the fat pig of my dreams?”

“What exactly does that mean?” I asked, still struggling to control my laughter.

“It means I want to feed you,” Marlon said with a fiery look in his eyes, “I want to feed you and fatten you up like the gorgeous, sexy piggy you are. I want to make you get so big and fat and round; I want to watch you get bigger and bigger by the day. I’ll feed you and pamper you and spoil you, waiting on you hand and foot, and all you'll have to do is lay in bed and eat like a pig.”

“I have to admit,” I said to him endearingly, “that doesn’t sound like a bad life to me.”

I began to allow my fingers to explore his slender yet muscular body. He was shaking with desire as he continued to kiss me all over and fondle my fat. My hands ran down his back, his body felt so firm and rigid. Then he took my hand and slowly guided it down toward his crotch. Unbeknownst to me, Marlon had somehow undone his fly and let his amazingly long erection come out into the open air. I wrapped my fat little fingers around it and squeezed it tightly. It felt so stiff and rock hard against my soft hands, and I could hear him groan as I held it tightly.

“Stroke it for me, piggy,” he said in a low, guttural tone, “stroke my long sword for me.”

Never having done anything like this before, I felt a little awkward at first. In time however, I began to get into the rhythm of it, pumping his shaft harder and harder as his tongue came dangling out of his mouth, a steady stream of drool drenching my neck and my shoulders.

“Oh yes, Jemma,” he said, his voice getting louder and more excitable, “oink for me, fatty! Oink like a big fat pig!”

“You want me to do what now?” I said, still kind of giggling, my grip on his manhood easing up just a bit.

“Don’t stop!” he bellowed. “Please, just do it – oink like a pig for me!”

Never in my life had I ever expected someone would request something like this from me. Of course, I could remember times when I heard some stupid jocks in high school making ‘oinking’ noises as I walked down the halls. I was always subject to that kind of ridicule. It hurt, but I learned to deal with it. This was very different, however. At least it felt different. The fact that he was so desperate to hear me debase myself in this way was, in a strange sense, kind of empowering.

“Please,” he gasped desperately, “I am begging you, Jemma! Please just do it for me!”

Laying there like a lump in the passenger seat of Marlon’s SUV, holding his erect penis in my hand as I listened to him whine and moan so pitifully, there was indeed something that made me take pity on him, almost feeling sorry for him. I decided that I would take a chance and oblige his request. What was the worst that could happen after all?

Oink, oink!

“Oh yes!” he shouted. “Do it again!”

Oink, oink, oink!

“More!”

Oink, oink, oink!

“Louder!”

OINK!! OINK!! OINK!!

Marlon’s entire body began to tremble violently, and before I knew it a blast of warm liquid came shooting out all over my thick legs. Marlon collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily as if he had just run a marathon. His hands were still clutching my rolls of fat, and beads of sweat from his brow were dripping down all over me. We both lay there silently for a while, until finally I asked him what we were supposed to do then.

“I’m going to take you to the buffet,” Marlon panted, “and I’m going to stuff you like you’ve never been stuffed before.”

Marlon then lifted his head and kissed me softly on my lips, then he looked deep into my eyes with a burning desire like I’d never seen before or since.

“Then I’m gonna take you home,” he added, “and I’m gonna wear out that big fat ass of yours.”