Bart is desperate for giant alpha males, and he may have met his fill in a dirty old traphouse. There’s drug dealers galore in there, but Bart has eyes only for Thickie Large, a fat Blood with manmeat worth seeking out! Can Bart land this whale?
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Bart sat in his car working up the nerve to go in there. He was pretty sure his plan would work, it was just anxiety-provoking. He was a puny white guy about to go into a crackhouse, one that was probably full of guys who were only interested in buying or selling crack. Bart wasn’t there for that, so they were going to be annoyed.
Still, he had a plan he was confident in.
He took a deep breath and headed in. The Broad Avenue traphouse was legendary, everybody in town knew where it was and not to ever go in. It had been raided by the police a half-dozen times in the last year alone. They never caught anything or anybody of note. A couple crackheads, a few guys with open warrants for petty bullshit.
The yard out front was brown and overgrown, not having been mowed in years, most likely. It was sad to think this was a nice family’s house once upon a time, probably. Children’s toys were scattered around the lawn. That had to be recent, not a relic of the nice family that lived here years ago, the toys were too new, some crackhead had emptied them. Probably stole an Amazon package off a porch and threw the toys on the lawn because they can’t be pawned.
The home itself was wracked with graffiti and big brown stains of what Bart hoped was mud. The door was unlocked (and indeed, being off the hinges, was un-lockable). Inside it smelled like marijuana smoke, which surprised Bart, as he was expecting crack. He wasn’t aware that crack didn’t have a very strong scent and was easily overpowered by the high-grade marijuana that was recently smoked upstairs.
That’s where Bart went. He figured his man was probably up there. A few of the sallow-faced men and semi-conscious women on the ground floor glared at him, but none reacted. They seemed to be pretty out of it. Bart wasn’t sure they registered him at all.
On the second floor, he went straight to the room at the end of the hall, where he could hear deep-throated voices talking. This is where the floral, mephitic plumes of acrid blunt smoke were coming from. He went straight in. Four black men stood as though ready to attack as soon as he opened the door.
When they saw that it was a flamboyant white man who was both short and skinny, they hesitated. Bart grinned and giggled like a slutty girl, which made the four black men furrow their brows. Bart said, “Hey, guys, my name’s Bart.” He held his hand out as though he expected the guys to kiss the back of his hand. They didn’t.
“Yo, what’s up, boi?”
“What’re you doin’?”
“You crazy-ass fool, you ‘bout to get yaself shot-!”
The first three to talk were Ratty, Nailboy and Dumphry. They were all Bloods in good standing, as evidenced by the tats. Only Dumphry’s tattoos were visible though. He was heavyset but strong as hell, thick as cold oatmeal. Ratty and Nailboy were skinny. Ratty was outright ugly, like a smashed dog biscuit. Nailboy was handsome and eager and cute like an abandoned puppy, and he kept sucking on his teeth like he was too good for literally everything happening around him.
None of those were Bart’s preference. He adored men of a certain physique, and that physique was not the handsome prettyboy, six-packed studs, muscular bodybuilding types, and definitely not the malnourished crackhead look — Ratty looked like that — Bart liked men of largeness.
Men of extra largeness.
He was after the fourth Blood hanging out with the other three, the biggest of them all, a few inches taller and much heavier than them. “Thickie Large”. ‘Antoine Wall’ was his real name, but everyone called him Thickie, and he had even released one single under the name Notorious F.A.T. He was six and a half feet tall, and he was fat. Not just a little chubby, he was outright fat, with a belly that hung over his crotch and thick flabby arms.
He was also very strong, easily the strongest of the four, his muscles were just buried beneath that deliciously wide body. He had this dry, raspy voice that turned Bart on so much he didn’t catch what Thickie said. It was easy to not hear it, it was oddly hummy, he talked like a cartoon moth, and you could hear his heavyset frame in his voice, like his words ricocheted around in his chest on their way out.
“I heard a rumor that you guys could help me with something,” Bart said as he came into the room with a grand swoop to his walk. That got their attention. Most people who came in here tried to come across as tough and dangerous, not flighty and effiminate. That was part of his plan, throwing them for a loop so they’d be on edge and more likely to agree to his request, or at least refrain from robbing him long enough for him to make the request.
One of them scoffed. “Yeah, man, we got whores, but you can’t just come bustin’ in here like this.”
“We got what you want-“
“You still gonna get busted up-“
“Whiteboy crazy!”
The only one of them who didn’t say anything was Thickie Large, who brimmed and bristled under that shade-casting baseball hat he always wore. He shifted his weight between his feet as he puffed on his blunt, hotboxing the cherry like a madman. He opened his mouth full of smoke, then inhaled, then exhaled slowly through his open mouth. He didn’t listen to his niggas talk heavy smack at the whack-ass whiteboy who came through the traphouse like a foolish-ass whiteboy.
“Yo, what?”
“You lookin’ for a female?”
“I got a fat bitch at home, she’ll rock ya socks off, white man. She’ll suck yo’ dick so good you turn into a nigga,” Nailboy said.
“You want crack?”
“No, no,” Bart said. He’d been trying to get a word in. His plan to attract attention by being eccentric and thereby get them to shut up long enough for him to make an offer was not working. “Wait, guys-“
“I got pills. Whatchoo want?”
“I got a hundred bucks,” Bart blurted out. He blushed as they at last fell silent, which was mainly sparked by Ratty realizing the blunt rotation was halted because Thickie Large was hogging it. Ratty swore at him and took the blunt. That interrupted the convo long enough for Bart to explain at last. “I’m not looking for a woman. I want to jack one of you off.”
A long pause filled up the mouse-scented room. Outside sirens blared as a parade of cop cars went past, the sound of which seemed loud because one of the windows was shattered. The four thugs all exchanged looks, all except Thickie Large who stood there like he hadn’t heard that.
Then at last, Thickie Large spoke. “Yo, what?”
“Whiteman a freak.”
“He prolly was a prison bitch, got a taste fo’ nigga meat. It happens. That’s science,” said Ratty. “Shit, fo’ a hundred bucks, I let you take a swing on my meat too, boi.” He grabbed his crotch. He lowered his sagging jeans enough to bring out a big dick. It was kind of knobbly and unpleasant, like a Fijian warclub.
“Hmmm… You’re getting close,” Bart said. He placed one hand on Thickie’s arm. “But I’m only willing to pay for the thickest of meats.” He giggled as they all erupted in whoops and hollers. Thickie himself seemed to be more surprised than anyone else. His eyes opened wide, and his lips parted but only a dull croak came out.
“Ah, shit!”
“What? That don’t make no sense!”
“What’s wrong wit’choo?” Dumphry lifted up Thickie Large’s shirt, revealing his broad Santa-like belly. Dumphry slapped his bellyfat to make it jiggle. “You crazy!”
“This is fucked up,” Nailboy said. “Man, boi, hey, whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout?” He took his shirt off and made Bart look at his perfectly etched body and powerful muscles. His pecs rippled, and he flexed first one bicep, then the other, then both. “You want him? You want that flabby ass? Instead of this?”
“Hmm-hmm-“
“You crazy,” Ratty said. He took his dick out again. “You want thick meat, I got thick meat-“
“You got one thick cut of meat,” Bart said. He patted Thickie’s belly. “But he’s made out of thick meat. He’s thick all the way through.” He looked up at Thickie. “So what do you say? A hundred bucks?” Bart had actually brought two hundred, but Ratty had thrown a ‘hundred dollars’ out there as a reasonable amount, so Bart went with that. He fully expected them to rob him at the end of this anyway.
The room got quiet. Thickie was flush. He looked like he was unused to being flustered. He glared at his friends. “Y’all get out.”
“Man, Thickie-“
“I say get out,” Thickie said.
They all grumbled a bit but walked out into the hallway. Thickie looked down at Bart. “You came in here lookin’ for some fat dick? There’s fat guys downstairs. Or was you lookin’ just for me?”
“You mean the crackheads? I’m not just into random fat dudes,” Bart said. He dropped to his knees. “I want you. I saw you selling weed at that frat party last weekend. They said I could find you here.”
“Man, they shouldn’t be — I ain’t admittin’ I was sellin’ weed, nosir, don’t you think that.” Thickie was about to take his dick out, then he eyed Bart suspiciously and ripped his shirt and pants off to look for a wire. “Those motherfuckers shouldn’t be spreadin’ my personal information. I’ll have to have a talk with them.”
Bart smiled. “Okay. Yeah, sure. Cool. I’m not a cop. I’m not wearing a wire. Would a cop do this?” He crawled on his knees to Thickie’s backside, jammed his nose right in Thickie’s buttcrack, through his jeans. He inhaled loudly. “Cops don’t do that kinda shit, right?”
Thickie hesitated. “I dunno, man.” He paused. “This some nasty booty bandit shit.” Thickie lit a cigarette.
But that still wasn’t a no, so Bart just went ahead and played with the thick cock bulged in Thickie’s filthy jeans. Thickie ignored it and smoked his cigarette. Just like with his blunt, he let his mouth fill with smoke and opened it, then inhaled the smoke. This time he exhaled the smoke through his nostrils like an angry bull, while his cock throbbed beneath his jeans and under Bart’s soft touch. Hearing no objection, Bart undid Thickie’s belt.
His jeans dropped, and Bart pulled his boxers down. Thickie’s belly sagged thickly over his cock, which he hadn’t seen in years without a mirror. Bart first licked up some of the sweat off his big belly, then licked a trail down his cock, from root to tip.
“Damn, whiteboi,” Thickie said with a nervous tremor to his chuckle. He swayed his ass back and forth as Bart clasped it with both hands. Each cheek was as big as Bart’s entire upper body.
His dick got hard quickly in Bart’s mouth. It was veiny and strong, firm, throbbing. Bart loved the musky flavor. He stuck his tongue out and ran it up and down the shaft. He was quiet at first, still unsure if Thickie even wanted him to be doing this. Thickie showed little reaction the whole time.
But after a minute or two, Bart stopped trying to be quiet, and he choked up mouthloads of spit that ran down Thickie’s dick into his unkempt bush. Thickie at last straightened his back. He grunted. He murmured something incomprehensible on the underhush.
“Ah, shit, Thickie’s doin’ it! I hear that!”
“Oh, yeah, stick me in my mahjuicy ass!” Ratty was doing a Thickie-impression. “I wanna take that dick! I love white dick in mah ass!”
“Yeah, lemme suck on your belly-rolls!”
“Hmmm, double-D titties!”
They were laughing out in the hall, so loud as they banged on the door and stomped on the floor that it sounded like they were falling over themselves. Bart had to chuckle too, especially when Thickie wrinkled his nose. Thickie tried not to react.
He slipped his dick deeper into Bart’s mouth. Thickie was ginger at first, worried he would be unable to get hard, or that it would feel too much like a man. And, he thought, there was something clinical about it — it felt good in a strictly physical way, but Thickie remained intensely aware of the fact that it was a sin as he saw it.
Thickie shook his head. He didn’t want to think that. One of the old heads in his neighborhood last year had gone on a drunken rant about how punks in prison mouthed him off so good. He said there was nothing better than a prison wife going to town on your cock.
Precum streamed down Thickie’s shaft. He was surprised at how good this felt. It definitely was better than any woman’s blowjob. He grunted, not wanting it to be obvious how good it was to the guys outside the room.
“Yo, whiteboi, you cummin’ yet? Is Thickie swallowin’ ya load just like he likes?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Thickie roared, responding to them for the first time. He pounded on the door, which was already broken, so his fist went right through it. Splinters flew, and his friends jumped back. Then they crowded to poke their head into the hole and laugh at Thickie.
“Lookit his ass shake. Shit! Man, he got a godzilla-butt!”
“Hey, freak! Why do you like fat dudes?”
Bart pulled off Thickie’s dick and slapped himself over the face with it. Precum kept flowing. “Hmmm… They taste so good, boys… I already talked about this-“
“But that don’t make no sense! I am way better than him!”
“Hey! Shut the fuck up!” Thickie shouted. He backed up so his hefty body blocked the hole in the door.
Thickie pounded on the door behind him, but Bart had an idea. He crawled after Thickie and licked a trail up his massive thigh. He sucked on the flesh of his left buttcheek and spread his cheeks, aiming his big brown hole right at the opening in the door.
“Ah, shit! Thickie’s asshole!”
“Damn, he got fat ass! He got ass for weeks!”
Bart pushed his own head into the hole then, and in moments he had his tongue in the crack of Thickie’s ass, close enough to the opening in the door that Thickie’s friends could tell what he was doing. Thickie laughed, making his whole ass shake around Bart’s tongue.
No one had ever licked Thickie’s ass before. He could get girls often enough that he wasn’t ashamed of his sexual experiences — though he did pretend to get laid a lot more often than he did — but he had never even tried to get a girl to lick his ass. He figured big guys like him just couldn’t do that, what girl would ever do it? Someone like Nailboy who was all muscle and sinew and seemed to secrete his own cologne? He probably got rimjobs all the time, or at least he claimed to.
But Thickie had never had a rimjob. So he was surprised when he felt Bart’s tongue push into his hole, and he was even more surprised when it felt good. He had assumed it was like ball-licking — a nice idea, but not really very much fun for more than about two seconds.
Instead, however, a surge of primal pleasure ran over Thickie and made him grunt. He had to stay quiet because he was unsure what sounds he would make and thought his friends would make fun of him. He couldn’t keep himself from emitting a sort of a low thrumming sound that slowly turned into a howl.
“Shit, Thickie, you alright?”
Thickie grunted. He dropped to all fours, unable to control himself. He jutted that giant ass up high in the air. His friends guffawed at the sight of Bart’s tiny twink head being swallowed up into Thickie’s sweat-choked crack.
Bart’s tongue explored every crevice of his ass. It tasted deliciously funky, and Bart loved that there was plenty of meaty flesh. He kept licking and somehow he was always licking some unlicked swathe of man-meat, suckling on the sweaty hairs that clung to his ass-cheeks.
When Bart sensed Thickie getting near his orgasm, he stopped. Thickie’s whole body kept undulating for a minute as though he hadn’t noticed Bart slip out of his ass. Bart crawled forward, sliding underneath Thickie, who was still on all fours.
Bart raised his ass. “You ready to get in my ass? Please?”
“Hell yeah,” Thickie said.
“You can pound really hard,” Bart said with a giggle. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the guys out in the corridor. It sounded like they were on the phone now, telling everyone they knew what was happening.
Thickie grunted. “I know, boi. If I’m gonna ram, you best believe I’s doin’ it hard.” He lifted his upper body up. He had to hold onto his belly and heft it above Bart’s tiny body. He used one finger to loosen Bart’s hole, ramming it all the way in — he remembered only as he did so that he had decided he wouldn’t do that, that it would be too gross to ass-finger a man. He thought he was going to vocally tell Bart so, that way his friends would hear him be tough and macho.
But he had forgotten, so he just rammed one finger in and chuckled at Bart cringing. He was just going to have to pretend it was normal to stick a finger in a man’s ass. Bart oomphed and clawed at the ground. Thickie’s finger was thick and stubby, and it made Bart’s whole body cry out in both pain and desire.
His ass loosened. Thickie gripped it with both hands, to separate Bart’s cheeks and wedge his dick in. He was used to struggling with his belly, which sometimes got in the way when he plowed in. Normally he was self-conscious because he was never sure how much his females were okay with him being a big man. So it was nice to stick his dick in someone who genuinely liked it. He flopped his belly onto Bart’s back and forced him into a convenient position.
Then he drove his cock right in. “Damn, boy, damn… Keep it loose.” He grunted. When it became clear Bart wasn’t going to make him stop, Thickie came at him from an angle just to make Bart cry out and squeal some more. He wanted his friends to hear that.
Bart didn’t care about the pain. He loved the feel of a massive cock inside him while an even more massive man pounded away from above. The difference in size was even more apparent now that they were actually plowing, because Bart was dwarfed by the belly above his head.
Thickie had a long dick that jabbed deep into Bart’s guts, stimulating his prostate and sending him to the edge of orgasm. Thickie loved it. He would later tell his friends it was “only okay” to save face. But he liked that he didn’t need to worry about minimizing how much his girl felt his belly. He could just plant down on him, grind his dick in deep and fuck as hard as he could manage.
“Shit, fuck yeah! Get it in me!” Bart called out. He clawed at the floor beneath him, and Thickie plowed into so hard he slammed Bart into the floor loudly enough that the crackheads downstairs heard and wondered what was happening. None of them got up to check though.
Thickie used both of his arms to keep Bart in position. One fist pinned down his back, while his other kept his hips up.
This had turned out both better and easier than Thickie ever thought possible. He groaned as he slammed his dick all the way in — no girl had ever let him get this deep in her guts. He vibrated, grinding, ramming his dick in every direction to hit every corner of Bart’s insides.
The pain was extraordinary, overshadowed only by the intense bliss that coursed through Bart’s veins. This was the part of getting plowed into by chubby guys that Bart adored, the nasty final rutting orgasm.
He barely needed to touch his own dick to climax. Bart shot his wad onto the floor beneath himself, but Thickie didn’t even notice. He was busy reaching his own orgasm.
“Damn, freak, you takin’ it good! Swallow up e’ry drop, boi!”
Creamy hot cum sprayed within Bart’s ass. Bart howled so loud crackheads outside the house woke up. Bart craned his head around as he felt cum flow into him, so he could suck sweat off Thickie’s fleshy pecs. His muscle flexed beneath the thick layer of padding there, and his whole body jiggled against Bart’s back.
His orgasm went on for what felt like forever. His balls drained into Bart’s ass, wad after after filling him up and dripping onto the scummy crackhouse floor. It was creamy and copious, and the heat of it seeped into Bart’s flesh.
“Shit…” Bart grunted. A long, low moan came out of him, as Thickie’s cock throbbed deep in Bart’s body. Each throb of the shaft sent a new wave of pleasure to wrack Bart’s tender body, and Bart twitched each time.
“Damn, boi, you done real good,” Thickie said. He chuckled. “You wanna be a whore for me? I turn you out on the street, make some good money.”
“No, thanks. I got my own thing going on,” Bart said. He didn’t want to reveal that he spent a lot of money chasing down chubby guys like Thickie (he thought, accurately, that Thickie would make him take more money out at an ATM if he knew how wealthy Bart was). Bart sighed as Thickie finally pulled out, his cock audibly plopping.
Thickie chuckled and slipped his finger back in there. It was deliciously disgusting, he thought, and no girl would ever let him do it. Bart squirmed beneath Thickie’s stumpy middle-finger, which made a big mess of cum over Bart’s asscrack.
“Here, lick that clean,” Thickie said. He shoved his finger in Bart’s waiting mouth, and groaned in both disgust and delight as Bart gladly sucked it clean.
His assjuice and cum was funky and musky, a bit slimy but oh-so-good. Bart moaned again and bucked.
Then at last, it was over. Thickie let go and stood. He didn’t want to do anything that would look too pervy, so he wasn’t about to keep messing around with Bart. Bart wasn’t going to let this stop until Thickie made him stop.
So Bart again kissed Thickie’s thigh and caressed his asscheeks. He got in the way until Thickie tried to pull his pants up, then swiped at Bart’s head. Bart giggled and stood.
Before he could say anything, however, Thickie grabbed for Bart’s pants. He went through his pockets. He took the full two-hundred dollars out of Bart’s wallet. Then he took the emergency fifty Bart also kept in there. “Thanks, whiteboi. You can get out now.”
Bart hesitated and stroked Thickie’s barrel-shaped chest. Thickie scowled at him then, and feinted like he was going to punch. Bart ran for the door.
Thickie’s friends were serious-faced, like they expected to see his dead body in there. Bart just smiled. “Hey, guys, nice to see ya!” As he walked past, he grabbed Nailboy’s dick in his jeans — Nailboy licked his lips and offered it to Bart, as seductive as he could muster, when Bart walked past. Nailboy grunted and frowned but didn’t say anything. Bart giggled. “If you ever gain like a hundred pounds, gimme a call.”
