SPH Experiences: The Fat Chick
By ShrimpMaster12.
The place reeked of stale beer and fried food, booths sticky under neon signs. I nursed a whiskey at the bar, scanning the room. That’s when I spotted her—Bev, she said her name was. She was massive, easily 300 pounds, crammed into a floral dress that strained at the seams. Her face was round and pockmarked, hair a greasy mop pulled into a ponytail, but she had this bold energy, laughing loud with a group of rough types. Our eyes met when she waddled up for a refill, and she grinned, teeth yellowed.
“Buy a girl a drink?” she asked, voice gravelly from smokes.
‘Why not?’ I thought. No expectations, no judgments in the dark. We talked—nothing deep, just complaints about work and exes. She was a cashier at a warehouse store, divorced twice, no kids. Two hours and four drinks in, her hand squeezed my thigh under the bar.
“Wanna get outta here? My place is close.”
My pulse hammered. Yeah, I wanted that. We stumbled out, her arm hooked in mine, the cool night air doing nothing for my buzz.
Her apartment was a third-floor walk-up, cluttered with fast-food wrappers and laundry piles. The bed sagged in the corner, lit by a single lamp. Things heated up fast. She yanked my shirt off, her thick fingers pawing my chest, then pushed me down and straddled my lap. Her weight pinned me, breath hot and boozy as she ground against me. I kissed her neck, tasting salt and perfume, my hands sinking into the rolls of her belly. She moaned, peeling off her dress to reveal stretch-marked skin, massive tits spilling out of a frayed bra.
“Fuck me, handsome,” she growled, unhooking it and letting them flop free.
I was rock hard, or as hard as I got, straining in my jeans. She slid down, fumbling with my belt, zipper rasping open. She tugged my pants and boxers down in one go, my pathetic boner springing out, tiny and twitching. Time froze. Bev stared, then her mouth twisted. A snort escaped, turning into a belly laugh that shook her whole body. She clapped a hand over it, but the guffaws kept coming, deep and rolling.
“Oh shit, oh my God,” she wheezed, pointing at my cock like it was a freak show. “What the fuck is that? Your little dick’s a joke! Look at it—barely a worm, poking up like it’s trying so hard. I’ve seen bigger clits on skinny bitches.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks from laughing, her double chin quivering. I froze, exposed, my erection wilting under the assault. Heat flooded my face. I grabbed for my pants, but she swatted my hand away, still cackling.
“Wait, wait, you gotta see what you’re up against, tiny.”
She heaved herself up, kicking off her panties—massive, stained things—and turned, bending over the bed. Her ass was enormous, pale cheeks spreading to reveal a deep crack, cellulite dimpling the flesh. She reached back, slapping one globe, making it jiggle.
“Look at this fat ass. Your babyDIck couldn’t even dent it. And this?”
She spun, plopping down and spreading her thick thighs wide. Her pussy was buried in folds of fat, plump lips protruding like overripe fruit, slick but hidden in the padding. She pulled them apart with sausage fingers, exposing the pink inside.
“My plump pussy lips are bigger than your dicklette. It wouldn’t even reach my cunt. Ha! It’d probably get lost in the bush before you even poked the entrance. I’d feel nothing—just a tickle, like a mosquito bite.”
She laughed again, harder, the bed creaking as she rocked.
“Pathetic. I figured you were desperate to pick me up, but this? You’re packing a clit-dick. No wonder you’re slumming it with a fat hog like me. Bet you’ve never made a woman cum, have you? Just flop around like a dying fish.”
Her words sliced deep, each one landing like a kick to the gut. I sat there, naked from the waist down, my shrunken dick confirming every insult. Shame burned through me, mixing with the alcohol into a nauseous swirl.
“Get out,” she finally said, wiping her eyes, still chuckling. She tossed my clothes at me, not even looking as I scrambled to dress. “Don’t call. And seriously, buy a pump or something—that thing’s useless.”
I bolted for the door, her laughter chasing me down the stairs, echoing in the empty hall.
Outside, the night air hit like a slap, sobering me fast. I walked home in the dark, head down, replaying it all: the build-up, the reveal, the cruelty, and at my age, still striking out like this? My small dick wasn’t just small, it was a curse, turning every shot at intimacy into humiliation. I swore off bars after that, but deep down, I knew the cycle would repeat. The little guy between my legs had sealed my fate.
The End.
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