Here’s a fun idea. Your girlfriend devises a crazy new weight loss regimen. She casts a spell that makes it so that whenever you come inside her some of your fat gets transferred to her. So you get skinnier and skinnier while she gets chubbier and chubbier.
“I mean, round is a shape right?”
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve used that joke. I mean, it’s at the point I can deliver it perfect. The right angle of my lips, my tone, everything. It rolls off my tongue and nails the delivery. People laugh in this polite way that they always do. Then I pat my belly, and spurt off some line about loving myself. The subject changes. They drop their invitation to the gym. For whatever weightloss product they’re on. They realize I’m just the “fat friend”, and they like me that way. Me?
I fucking hate it.
It’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve pumped iron, cardio, yoga, and more. I’ve done every fad diet, and even fasting. My shoulders would swell, my biceps would grow a little fuller. But I’d never get rid of this fat around my middle. No matter how many hundreds of sit ups I did, it clung to me desperately. This roll that jiggled with every step. My girl, she said it was cute. That I had a “dad bod”, and it suited me. I’d laugh when she said that-all the while, ignoring the jiggle of my midsection.
She meant well, really. I think she did at least. She always supported the weights, the shakes, the sudden changes at dinner. She always told me I was cute, that a little weight was nothing. But she knew. She knew it bothered me being the “fat friend” when we had company. The constant jokes of “well, shouldn’t you know how to cook?”. The snide comments about heart disease. They wore me away, and no amount of reps strengthened me to that.
So when she told me she wanted to try something, who was I to say no?
I’d known she had her “eccentric” interests. But being a “witch” just seemed like another trend. Hell, they were even selling kits in Saphora now. I didn’t pay Meryl much mind when she mentioned Yule. The books on her shelves all seemed harmless enough. I did as she did with my weights-a polite nod, a smile. Because I loved her. Because that’s what you did when you cared for someone-lie out of love. Tell them it’s all alright and pretend you can understand. That you’re sure that’s the fix.
The book Meryl held, it wasn’t like the others. Most of them had these piss-poor photoshopped pentagrams on them. Hued in purple, they had what read like new-age buzz words for titles. “The Modern Wiccan’s Guide To Taxes”. “How to Invocate 8 Hours of Sleep and Healthy Bowels”. I laughed at them, when she wasn’t around. But this book, it wasn’t some tatty paperback. Not some thrift-store reject. It was an old hardcover, bound in leather. The writing on it was angular in in style, printed in a gold emboss. I eyed it while Meryl flipped the yellowed pages. Her finger darted line to line, and finally came to settle on a single page. I watched as her lips moved, brow knitted as she read the words. She looked up at me as her lips curled into a grin.
“Bobby? You’re really going to like this,” she said. She walked towards me until her face was right below my chin. The book pressed against the soft mound of my stomach. Her free palm met the small of my back as her face drew closer. On her tip-toes like that, I knew what she wanted. Just a single thing, something I couldn’t deny if I tried. Crazy idea or no.
I pressed my lips to hers, only to feel hers move. Rolling, muffled words escaping the corner of her mouth. Her palm rose along my back, and cupped my rounded chin.
I mean, it hadn’t been the first time we had sex. Much less so spontaneously. Our love life didn’t suffer even a little. But this time?
This time she was aggressive. The kiss, it was just the start. She had pushed me back until my ass met my recliner. She pulled the lever to the side and straddled me, her hands deftly pulling my zipper. A gasp came easier than a thought as she mounted me. Her cunt gripped my cock, slick and warm as her hips stirred. We went at it for a half hour before I finally came. My heart was pounding in my ears as she collapsed atop me. On a ragged breath, she said “I love you, Bobby. I love you so much,”
We passed out for a few hours. When we woke, it was because she had felt the twitch. My cock waking to the realization her bare thigh was against it. Meryle mounted me again, the walls of her cunt still slick from the time before. Though my heart pounded no less, I let her do the work this time. My balls seized against me as I came a second time, breathe tight in my throat. Meryl’s hips rolled against my lap, taking every single drop she could. She kissed me again, smiling wide as her thumb and forefinger gripped my chin.
“How’s it feel?” she said, every syllable coming on a heavy exhale. I laughed, and wiped the sweat from my brow.
“Shit, you’re always magic love,” I said.
Cheesy, I know. But she laughed, and pressed her head to my chest. We sat there for a moment, talking about everything and nothing at all. When I mentioned dinner, she rolled to the side. I rose from the armchair, ready to scrub my hands.
Only to have my pants hit the floor. I laughed and bent down to pick them up. I figured she had just undone my belt while we’d been at it. As I hiked them up around my hips, I looped the leather through the buckle. I arrived at the hole I always used, third from the end. I fastened it all, and went to take a step.
Down they went again, my belt buckle letting out a clang against the floor. I looked down, eyebrow cocked. I bent down, and started to ask Meryl if that had been the trick. Screwing with my buckle, letting my pants out, something. I turned my head, and almost choked on the words.
She hadn’t touched my pants, save to unbuckle them. To flick my zipper down. Sitting there, with that old book propped on her rounded stomach sat my girlfriend. Her face had filled out, her clothes had tightened. When she smiled, I saw the faint hint of a doubel chin. She tilted her head, and let it come to rest atop her knuckles.
I stood there speechless, pants punched up around my waist. Far, far too big for me. She just cackled, and said “Well? Now do you believe me when I said chub could be cute, mister?”
The words never came.
But I did, a third time. With her thighs warm around me as I gripped her ankles. I pressed them back to her face, my balls clapping against her as I furiously bucked.
It was the first time I’d been happy to throw my weight around in years.