Holly groaned as the thick black dick popped free from her molten cunt and a flash of irritation danced over her face as the deliciously nasty balls withdrew from her honeyed mouth. Propping herself up on her elbows, the naked redhead looked about at the forest of now-naked fat men that surrounded her, her disheveled hair a mess of saliva and cum, her makeup smeared and faded on her red-cheeked, panting face, her creamy white skin red in places from the hands and fat flesh rubbing on it. She looked desperately about her, her groin aching with frustration at having been taken to the edge of orgasm and having been denied. She wanted to bark at these men, to order them to fuck her, to give her their bloated, ugly bodies that she now insanely craved. But before she could utter a word, the men parted and up to her strode Harold Brock, her husband. Stone-faced and deathly serious, his voice was even and low as he told her what he demanded of her. His words penetrated her mind deeply and revealed her true nature, a petulant and demanding brat who was a burden and detriment to society, much as he once was. As she sat, dazed and tearful as she realized all that Harold said was true, Holly felt her haughtiness and superior attitude shatter inside of her. As she sobbed her regret, begging Harold to forgive her, she gasped as he crouched down and raised her cum-splattered chin in his strong hands and kissed her delicately on the lips. Not daring to believe what she heard, Harold now spoke not of demands or orders to her but of a chance for her to show him that she had truly changed. Now she could show her husband what kind of girl she had left behind and what kind of woman she was prepared to become.
Backing away from her, Harold returned to his chair and the men stood once more around her, still and quiet. Looking down at the floor, Holly thought carefully for a moment, her husband’s words sinking in to her mind, her own feelings whirling with them. After only seconds that felt like hours, Holly raised her head, her flaming red locks stringed over her cum-spattered face as she peered out from behind that curtain, smiling a wolfish, hungry smile.
Rising steadily, purposefully to her feet, the short girl began to sway and dance, moving her hands over her body, feeling the slime the men had deposited there. She looked each big man in the eyes and made them believe that she desired them; her words, sexy and low, traveled over them, embracing them with her pleas to serve them. Holly danced, seducing her once-attackers, begging them now to make her theirs.
Her fingers ran through greasy, uncombed hair and she grinned as she licked the sweat and gel from her fingertips. Her face dipped in close to kiss and lick folds of fat underneath the men’s flabby chests, her tongue grateful for every dollop of sour paste she cleaned from them. She pouted so sweetly, asking for the privilege of slurping the moisture from the hairy, scabby armpits of the workers, wanting to please them. Her red hair flashed about the circle of men, her pale body flickering in the dim light as she danced, her pert ass cheeks offered to any hand that touched it, her breasts two toys to be handled by their delightfully rough hands, her smile and laughter an acknowledgement of her devotion to the crusty, soiled dicks that were hardening under her loving touch. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, whether she was straddling a walrus-like belly, it’s cock inside her while another behemoth filled her volcanic asshole, or if she were the center of a circle of nasty cocks that had just occupied her holes and needed further cleaning, Holly always managed to cast her eyes across the warehouse floor to her husband, Harold. As he sat watching her, she beamed inside and increased her enthusiastic gyrations when she saw the look of pride and love in his face. A new feeling overwhelmed her, one that felt so right and good to her; she wanted him to be proud of her, she wanted him to love her as she gave her sweet, toned body to these wonderful, beautifully obese, dirty men. Never in all of her years of petty cruelty and self-absorbed behavior had Holly felt the rewards she now experienced as her pretty face wedged deep into the sweaty ass cheeks of one of her lovers, her nose and tongue making her portly darling shake and grind against her. She giggled as her bung-hole kisses made the fat man twist and pull her nipples so delightfully hard, making her clench her pussy even tighter on the diseased, ulcerous cock of the brown-skinned Mexican workman who was hammering her from below.
All too soon the afternoon wore on and still Holly could not do enough for her obese army of lovers. The girl squealed with delight as some of the men had taken food from a nearby table and began smearing it on her body, eating it from her wriggling flesh. She happily deep-throated a Salami and then flavored it with her pussy juice before serving it to her hungry boys. Sticky sweet pie was piled onto her slick breasts as she walked to each seated man, offering each in turn a nibble. She would take a mouthful of milk and French-kiss each thirsty worker, letting them drink their fill from her sexy mouth. When mealtime was done, Holly would lick and wipe any errant crumbs from the workmen, kissing and cuddling each one as they left out a side door, thanking Mr. Brock on the way out. Finally, as Holly saw the last fat worker out, she returned to where her husband who was standing and presented herself, arms behind her back and looking up into his eyes, hopefully. She stood before him, completely naked and spattered with all manner of bodily fluids, food and filth. As Harold surveyed her form with an amused look, he began commenting on how her hair was a scarlet colored birds-nest, tangled and cum-soaked. Her makeup was a fright, and she looked almost clownish. Her red-marked body was smeared with streaks of God-knew what and she reeked of garbage, sweat and cum and Harold remarked on how he could already see some bruises starting to form on her skin.
Holly’s eyes searched his as a hopeful smile spread over her face.
“Well Harry,” she asked with a slight tremble in her voice, almost afraid of the answer,”how do I look?”
Tilting his large head to the side, studying her for a moment, Harold Brock took off his $800 designer coat and wrapped it around her naked, trembling form, taking her in his arms as they walked back to the waiting limousine.
“Holly, you look like the perfect wife, honey.” he said, smiling.
Chapter 2
As the limousine drove away from the warehouse, the scene of her rebirth from a pampered, spoiled child into that of a new woman, Holly cuddled against her husband’s rotund figure, sighing contentedly as he engulfed her tiny form, her right shoulder swathed by his meaty hand. Although she was now warm and comfortable in the back seat of limousine, a flicker of doubt crossed her mind; wondering if Harold was indeed completely reconciled to her change of heart. Her sudden fear was increased when she looked up to see his stony, grim face as he passively watched the scenery passing by as they drove. Certainly, the gorgeous redhead was sincere in her newfound appreciation of the sexual, physical dominance of being with fat, obese men. It was like a flame in her mind that ran wild, an almost laughable revelation that she had previously thought impossible for a girl like her to acknowledge; yet, there it was, this weird mixture of feelings inside of her. Whereas before she had sought out only the most physically perfect of boys which (now that she could be honest with herself) only bored her, giving her mere orgasms and little else. Now, as she slid a hand over Harold’s immaculately fitted shirt, relishing the feel of his corpulent belly beneath her fingers, she shivered a little at the thought of not just the sex but the power, the intensity, the enveloping domination of being helpless before such a massive, relentless man. She felt so deliciously tiny and small with him and so aroused at being made to take on such an enormous man’s lust and passion. But now, as she studied Harold’s dark gaze as he worked through his own private thoughts, Holly worried that her past taunts that she carelessly assumed were unheard were now possibly troubling him and perhaps casting doubts on her own sincerity.
Holly was brought back to reality with a jolt as the silence in the limousine was cut by the deep, even voice of her husband,
“So, not disgusted by your fat husband, darling?” he said evenly, careful not to let any emotion creep into his question. His eyes were hooded in the shadows of the car but she could feel them piercing her, as if looking into her very soul.
She knew he was no fool; indeed he was possibly the cleverest, most cagey man she had ever known. She also knew that any deception, any attempt to deceive him as she had done before would be found out immediately. Holly knew that her relationship with her husband from this moment forward would require her to be open and honest with him, which in turn meant that she had to be open and honest with herself.
“Harold,” she said in a small voice, laying her head on his belly by her hand as if a child were sleeping, “I know I was horrible to you, that I treated you with disrespect even if I didn’t know that you were aware of it. I made fun of your body to my friends, I fucked around with so many young cocks and didn’t care a bit that it would hurt you, dear.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, making wet stains on his white shirt as she continued,
“I wasn’t worthy of being your wife, Harold. I wasn’t worthy of being anyones wife, really. But you saw something in me that even I didn’t know was there; you saw someone to love. Back at that warehouse, at first, I thought it was a punishment you were giving me. I thought that being forced to fuck all of those fat, blubbery men was some cruel justice you wanted to hurt me with. I hated you for that, Harold. At first.”
Holly then raised up, her cheeks shining with her tears as she looked him squarely in the eyes, a tender smile breaking across her face,
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