Queen of the Cookout
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As she walked out into the back yard, Haley drew the attention of everyone in attendance. She tried to ignore them staring, as she marched sharply off the sidewalk, past the poolside, towards the refreshments area, well-stocked with authentic American delicacies, as the town's fourth of July cookout always was. She pretended she didn't notice the men of the town following her every move with their mouths wide open, or the women with judgmental glares, but her apparent ignorance was all an act, she knew why they were staring.
It was her bikini.
No, it wasn't, she corrected herself, the bikini wasn't the problem, it was fine, a bit skimpy, but nothing too outrageous. The stares were because of how it fit her, which is to say, poorly.
She knew how she looked in it, but what could she do? It was the fourth of July, and this outfit was designed for just such a holiday. Red, white, and blue, stripes and stars completely covered all her naughty bits, or, she reckoned, they would have, except for the weight she'd put on in the last year.
She'd bought this outfit months ago, as part of a vow that she would lose weight, that she would fit into it for the summer. That vow didn't last long in the face of the good old, Southern home cooking her mother provided her with, but she still had the bikini and, well, it did fit, sort of. It was on her body, at least, it's effectiveness at containing her curves was debatable.
It was never a very sturdy swimsuit, you could fit it in its entirety under a small notecard. Haley's swollen, beefy body required a sturdy swimsuit if only to keep everything in place. As it was, the spaghetti thin straps were straining, stretched to their outer limits, and her thick, curvaceous body was pouring out of it on all sides, her belly over the bottoms, and back fat bulging out around the bindings of the top, but it fit. The clasp had closed, and the bottoms were on, so no one could say she hadn't succeeded. At getting it on, anyway, she'd more than failed at losing weight for summer, as the extended detour of her tan, round belly proved.
She adjusted her top, ensuring her nipples were covered by the cloth, a real danger, everything considered. Everything was tucked away, not safely, never safely, but for now, she kept her dignity.
First stop for a Fourth of July barbecue and pool party, obviously, the beer, and Haley made her way to the cooler, feeling her gelatinous body jiggling wildly and knowing that this time, everyone could see it, that they couldn't look away. Alcohol would help her forget. Bending down for a beer, she felt her bottoms slip into her crack, wedging deep into the depths of her ass crack, and the resistance from her chubby belly was greater than ever. She popped the top off the bottle and took a swig, god, she needed that beer just now.
She sat onto a lawn chair and lazed back, feeling all of ten thousand pounds, the wire frame sinking into her soft form. there would be red lines when she got up, she knew. She glanced down at the acres of cleavage she was blessed with and smiled at the biggest upside of all this. Her boobs were never small, but however fat she'd gotten, this rack sort of made up for it, overflowing her top the way it was. Great, fat tits, big as her head, softer than pillows, jutting proudly above her well-established gut, round and firm, lightly marked with stretch marks, but otherwise perfect.
She felt a flush of pride looking down at her swollen chest, a feeling that subsided very quickly once her hands went to rest on the forgiving fatness of her stomach. She'd let herself go bad, this was clear. She took a swig of her beer, trying to flush her weight problem from her mind.
This was a cookout, a holiday, she couldn't be worrying about a diet.
Her self-confidence wasn't helped when more people arrived, a train of four vans full of women, many in similar states to Haley's, fat, almost every one of them, but baring it all for just one day. There were a lot of them, and watching exiting parade of porky pigs, Haley's confidence grew. There were no real, or even potential threats to her status as the hot girl. Fat, she couldn't say she wasn't, but she was hot, too, compared to the rest of the townswomen, anyway.
Then, Lindsey Sparks came out, wearing a red, white and blue bikini of her own, the difference being that on her, it fit. It fit well, and she had exactly the body for it. There was no pockets of fat overflowing anywhere on her body, just smooth, perfect firmness, a pair of C-cup breasts, and a small, tight rump. Haley felt a mixed rush of jealousy and rage at the sight of the threat.
She didn't speak to her, they never spoke, the two had a long history of unspoken competition, the both of them fighting to be center of attention. Maybe, there was some kind of psychological thing between them, Haley didn't know, all she knew was that she wanted to win, whatever that meant. She knew how the game worked, better than Lindsey, she figured, and she knew that if she was to win, she had to stop thinking so negatively, to stop worrying about her belly, accept her soft, fluffy body, and then, all of that internalized, work those extra curves, make the squishy sexy.
Which she did, expertly.
First, she needed some admirers. She didn't need to do anything to emphasize her zeppelin-sized breasts, but all the same, she leaned forward and puffed her K-cup chest up like a pro as she held her arm up and called to the nearest boy, "Matt?" She called, signaling to a scrawny, brown-headed boy who had been transfixed by her tits since her arrival, "I was wondering, could you go fix me up a plate of food? It'd be awful nice of you, I'd be mighty grateful." she concluded sensually, a slight, seductive smile playing at the edges of her lips.
Matt moved amazingly quickly, returning seconds later with a plate of hot dogs, a fresh beer, and a bowl of ice cream, "Oh, going beyond the call, Matty-boy?" Haley teased, making eye contact, just before wrapping her plump, pink lips around hot dog number one suggestively, moaning appreciatively, winking at Matt while she did so, "Believe me, your efforts have been noted!"
From the dazed look on Matt's face and the very visible bulge in his pants, Haley knew she'd won one over. The rest of the men at the party, well, she'd get to them in a minute. First, though, there was the issue of this plate of food.
It wasn't much by Haley's standards, but then, Haley's standards were why she was officially deeply sunk into the plus sized range these days. She didn't eat quickly, though her hunger told her to; instead, she made a show of it. Why wait until she was done eating to start being sexy?
She consumed her meal very deliberately, making it more than a meal. Each bite wasn't just a fat girl stuffing her face, well, it was, but there was another level to it, a sexual element to her little moans of almost sexual pleasure and her intentional sloppiness.
It was the little moments that made it sexy. There was nothing hot about her just eating, at least not as far as she could see, but she could make this hot. Use what's available, what does she have, a hot dog, oh*darn, she dropped it, now there's a wiener in her cleavage, and all that mayonnaise on it making it slippery, and now there's all this icky white stuff on her boobs, better wipe that up!
A few minutes later, oh no, a spoonful of ice cream slipped of the spoon into her cleavage, well isn't that exciting, good thing she's so well-breasted, she can clean herself up, just licking away at her mammaries, her tongue wiping away all the cream from the tan, salty surface!
This almost pornographic performance did its job, drawing a crowd of men, their excitement visible through their swim trunks, all staring at her bountiful bosom lustily, ready to assist her in any way she desired. If she so wished, she wouldn't have had to leave that chair until the party was finished. It wasn't enough, though. She had half the men obsessing over her, but Lindsey had the rest. She needed to draw them off.
She knew what to do. She stood up and walked through the ten or so men drooling over her, over to the idle boom box, standing on a picnic table out in the field, where she plugged in her phone, declaring loudly, "Let's get some music going, how 'bout!"
She pressed play, and Lana Del Ray's sultry voice flowed from the speakers, providing the perfect context for Haley's gyrating body, rhythmically twirling, stepping, shaking her stuff, impossible to ignore. As the song said, they were off to the races.
For the first minute, she was alone in the yard, center of attention, a plump princess, oozing pure, unconcentrated sexuality, her doughy body bending and bouncing, generous bosom bouncing about, dangerously close to breaking free, the strained straps looking thinner than ever, and in that moment, everything was perfect.
Then Lindsey came up beside her, an angry expression on her face, a thin, more flexible form versus Haley's heavier, more rounded shape, posing a threat to her. She was beginning to tire, but she couldn't stop, not while everyone's attention was on her.
It got difficult quickly, she hadn't developed the bountiful body she had by keeping active. Her rarely used muscles were weak, quickly tiring under so much exertion. her heavy layers of flab kept her well-insulated, in a setting where the heat was already intense. Sweat began to form on her brow, her skin beginning to glisten in the hot summer sun, the various creases and bulges of her bloated body pooling with perspiration. She couldn't go on past this song, she just couldn't do it.
In a moment of brilliance, she motioned a group of girls to come join, and they did, the addition of more dancers taking focus from both herself and Lindsey. She kept going until the last chords, and returned poolside, just as the next song began.
To her satisfaction, poolside was where her fan club was, and their loyalty was proven. She left the dancing field, they stopped watching the dancing field. Their eyes stayed glued on her, taking in every little motion, each ripple reverberating after every step, each motion sending shockwaves across her flabby body.
She had one thing in mind, though, the pool. She was way too slimy still to just sit back down and be adored, as much as she'd love that. She knew how to fix it, though.
"What kinda pool party*is*this, no one even swimming!" She yelled out to no one in particular as she stepped up to the diving board. "Let's get this started, boys!"
She bounced up and down for a second before jumping, breast flesh struggling to break free, putting on a bit of a show before leaping in, "Cannonball!"
Maybe it was the jumping, maybe it was the impact with the water, but upon resurfacing, she was missing half of her swimsuit. She should have expected this, she realized as soon as it happened, should have taken it easy with the jumping around, but she didn't, and now, she was topless at a town cookout.
She thought fast, she needed to cover up, before any of the women, god forbid, Lindsey Sparks, saw her like this. "Matt!" She barked out, scrambling to the edge of the pool and clambering out, her massive, unrestrained mammaries swinging wildly, "Gimme your shirt!"
Matt didn't think twice before pulling off his plain white, sleeveless tee, something he'd never have done otherwise. There was a moment where Haley second guessed whose shirt she'd asked for, looking at the size of what Matt had thrown her. Tiny man, tiny shirt, and she was a big, meaty woman, well-fed to an excessive degree, with a pair of breasts large enough to suffocate a man, and a thick ring of flab where her waistline was meant to be.
She didn't have time to get a second shirt, though, she needed to work with what she had. She heaved her heavy body up, out of the water and onto the edge of the pool, her exposed breasts flopping about wildly. Not wasting a second, she began fighting to get herself covered.
It wasn't happening. Matt's tiny top could not contain a chest so bountiful, at least not, she thought, without some modification. In a moment of desperation, she tore down the neckline, turning an ordinary tee into a deep v-neck, and more importantly, made it possible for her to wear it. She grinned as she pulled it over her head, feeling the rough cotton against the sensitive skin of her upper body.
Finally covered, she looked up at the guys around her, saw the dumb, horny looks on their faces, and felt in control. What just happened, as embarrassing as it was, had proved once and for all how hot she was. Belly and all, she'd had a wardrobe malfunction, and within seconds of asking for help, was given the shirt off a man's back.
She was sexuality personified, her damp breasts hanging heavily to the sides of her plump, fatty stomach like ripe, low-hanging fruit, delicious and sweet, turning her form-fitting, deep-cut tee slightly transparent, the pink of her nipples barely visible. The rest of the day, she had the power, the entire male population begging at her feet, consumed by lust, and she loved it.
Call her an attention whore, call her a fat slut, call her whatever, but just now, she didn't care, she was sexy.
It was a good day.
