Virtual Reality - Part 7

It took me a few weeks, but I was already feeling more like myself. My face had filled in, my skeleton was now completely invisible beneath a healthy layer of subcutaneous lipids, and I no longer kept vastly overestimating the distance between me and various objects.

It was with some pride that I realized I couldn’t read the numbers on my bathroom scale without bending over almost far enough to topple, but I did manage to read a value that seemed more in-line with where I thought I’d begin to feel comfortable. It was still nowhere near where I’d like, of course--it might take years for me to gain that sort of bulk. But at least I didn’t feel like a leper in my own skin.

There were still moments of bizarre incongruity, though. Like reaching for something you knew should be there but was inexplicably absent. I still felt that sometimes when I was pulling up my socks and bending to scrub some of my deeper recesses, but these days it was more often felt around my apartment. I’d reach for snacks that should be there but weren’t, sugary cereals that used to be on top of a fridge that wasn’t there, and cans of soda that I distinctly felt should be on the bottom row of my refrigerator, even though that row seemed to be occupied by fresh produce at the moment.

Every time I found these inconsistencies it was like a reminder that something was wrong but I couldn’t figure out what. So instead, I just fixed everything as best I could so I was comfortable. And after a few more weeks, I was. More or less.

Except for clothes. Nothing fit. Everything I owned seemed built for a midget. I spent an entire week throwing away clothing that I couldn’t even imagine fitting into as a child let alone an adult. That was the most disorienting thing, having to order a whole new wardrobe. I even ordered some clothes that I knew I’d fit into one day but didn’t at the moment. It was less me setting a goal and more of an expectation, and maybe a little bit of future-proofing.

It was after reaching just shy of 400 lbs and finally fitting into that tight leather suit that I felt ready for heading back to the clubs again. God, I missed getting out.

I shouldn’t have come here. If I thought clothes made me feel unease, then being in this place made me feel like I was an elephant treading on water. Nobody recognized me--not a single person. A few months ago and this was a regular spot for me, but now? I was like a stranger walking into a strange land filled with people giving me strange looks full of… what? Terror? Confusion? I didn’t understand why people kept staring.

Especially this one guy. Smaller, a bit mousey, sort of how you’d imagine one of those hacker geeks that never really leave their rooms except to eat and shit. He was cute in a way, but what really got my attention was how he didn’t look at me like everyone else. His expression didn’t turn to confusion, alarm, or revulsion when he looked at me. He actually just kept smiling the whole time.

So of course I went over to him with a pair of drinks and a smile of my own.

“I’m Cedrix,” I said, and handed him a drink. He just kept smiling, sipped, and told me his name: “Leo.”

“You wanna dance?” I asked. He nodded, and we danced. People kept giving me looks, but now I didn’t care. All these vapid assholes came here looking to party but really only came here to judge others to feel better about themselves. I liked how I looked, and this guy clearly did too, judging by how his hands managed to find every single one of my curves without me prompting.

We danced the night away, got stupid drunk, and then I invited him back to my place. Along the way, I offered him a stick of bliss I’d been saving for a special occasion. This felt like it could be very special, so what the hell?

He said yes without hesitation and I just knew he’d be a lot of fun. I wasn’t wrong.

That night we fucked until dawn. He wasn’t intimidated by my size--on the contrary. He was drawn to it. He relished in it. The way he played with my belly and tits while I rode his cock to his third orgasm was so much like how I played with them myself when I was in the shower and feeling frisky. The way he buried his face in my fat pad somehow knowing there were extra inches of cock to suck if he just pressed in as hard as he could… He really knew how to please a big boy.

The night was magical, and we ended up both fully satisfied and exhausted. We napped until noon, and then he stayed for lunch. He even fed me a cold slice of leftover pizza.

I think that’s when I fell in love.

He left after promising to see each other again tomorrow. And it was only after he left that I had this bizarre feeling of deja-vu… Like I’d experienced last night and all its orgasmic glory once before. But I put the feeling out of my mind and just went about the rest of my day, washing off the filth that had accumulated in our foreplay and subsequent carnal acts. Besides, I’d be totally fine if I experienced last night again and again forever.