Matt Forney
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A Super-Sized Love Story

This is an excerpt from my now-discontinued book Big Lovin’: The Guide to Picking Up Fat Chicks, a satire of the fat acceptance movement and pickup artists.

Hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the veritable Captain Ahab I am today. My road to (fat) poosy paradise was paved with the diarrhea dumps of countless whales I speared the wrong way. Here’s a little story from my past to help you avoid making the same mistakes I did.


I was but a tender young lad, 21 years old and living in the run-down metropolis of Cortland, New York. Cortland is the fatty capital of the Empire State; at any moment during the day, you can see hordes of warpigs rolling down their street, cottage cheese thighs and undulating stomach rolls in full view. Understandably, I felt like a wino locked in a liquor store. It took all the disturbing mental images of anorexic supermodels in the world to keep me from leaking into my tighty-whiteys every time I left the house.

One day, I was shopping for organic vegetables at Tops when I saw her. She was eating free samples of haddock in the meat/fish department. Her cellulite-ridden skin poked out of her pink cotton short shorts, jiggling like Jell-O; her arm flab hung down like a freshly caught salmon. Her ginormous jowls wobbled with every turn of her head, her cheek fat making her eyes look slanty and Chinese. And her ass… my God. It erupted out like two molten moons. I was sprung like a mousetrap and I knew I had to have her.

“Gee, you look like you’re having fun.”

She turned her head to me. “This is some real good fish,” she drawled in a cutesy hick accent.

“You’re beautiful,” I slurred, running my hand alongside the cart of her mobility scooter. “I love a girl who knows how to put away the vittles like that.”

She giggled. “I’m Kayleigh. What’s your name?”


From there, I launched into my usual routine, honed to perfection (or so I thought), talking about my life, cool stories from my past, annoying the minimum-wage sample monkey with my witty banter. Ten minutes in, Kayleigh asked me to take her back to my place. Score!

I wheeled her and her groceries into the back of my Dodge Caravan (she had taken the bus to the store) and set a course for home. My dick was straining against my jeans like a convict rattling the bars of his cell. I could feel pre-cum leaking out, a growing wet spot on my Fruit-of-the-Looms. I wasn’t gonna make it.

Barreling down 281, I crash-parked in the garage and pulled Kayleigh out of the side door, shoving my lips onto hers. She slipped to the ground in rapture as I rolled her up the porch stairs into my living room. As I was shoving her up the staircase towards my room, she suddenly started yelling and panting.


“What’s the matter, baby?”

“Just gimme a minute… need to catch my breath.”

She was already pooped out. Splaying out onto my staircase, she suddenly dozed off. Agog, I walked into the bathroom to jack off while her snores echoed through the house.

A few hours later, I was playing a game on my laptop when I heard a rumbling sound coming from the living room. I suddenly realized that I’d left Kayleigh there and sprinted back over like I was being chased by the Grim Reaper.

“Mmmm… where I am?” Kayleigh’s eyes rolled in their sockets like marbles. “Oh wait, now I remember you.”


“Mmmm… so are we gonna, like, have sex or what?”

“Sure.” I thought fast, my eyes flitting over to my weather-beaten couch. “How about over there?”


I walked over and started making out with her again, slamming her into the couch like a cannonball. Suddenly, a horrific groaning interrupted our kissing.

“What the hell is that?” I thought the hot water heater might be acting up.

“I’m hungry!” Kayleigh whined. “You got anything to eat? I like chips.”

“Sure, hold on,” I stammered, dashing into the kitchen. It sounded like Cthulhu was being birthed in my house.

Frantically searching through my cupboards, I finally found a bag of unopened tortilla chips. Zooming back into the living room, I shoved them into Kayleigh’s paws.

“Omigod, thank you!” She tore the bag open and started devouring the chips like she was dying of hunger. Gnawing her way to the bottom, she turned the bag upside down over her mouth to suck out the last bits of corn dust.

“God, I feel better,” she panted between bites. “Let’s fuck.”

We resumed our game of tonsil hockey, bits of chewed-up tortilla making their way into my mouth. I tore off her 4XL T-shirt and bra as her watermelons drooped to the floor. Sliding off my jeans, my little soldier stood at attention. Peeling off her panties, I stared at her pussy lips, protruding from her crotch like a beautiful flower.


I sacked up and dove right in, my dick comfortably filling her canyon-esque vagina. She oooohed and aaaahed with every thrust, despite her relative lack of lube. Even with my cock safely ensconced in a latex prison, I felt myself ready to bust.

“Do me in the ass!”

I stopped thrusting. “What?”

“I really love it when guys fuck me in the butt,” Kayleigh blurted out. “It feels so much better.”

“Well, okay then.”

I rolled off of Kayleigh’s stomach and went to go fetch some Astroglide from the bathroom. As she flipped over onto her belly, I squirted a half-cup into her puckering, brown-stained hole. Slipping on a new Trojan, I took the plunge.

“Ooooh, aaaah, just like that…” she moaned.

I loved it too; fat girls’ colons are just as tight as skinny girls’ are, even considering all the food they crap out. About five minutes in, though, I suddenly felt the tip of my dick in something wet.

What the…

Like a dam bursting, my cock was suddenly forced out of Kayleigh’s ass by a flood of brown. Liquidy, gooey feces gushed out of her sphincter like melted caramel on an apple, running onto my crotch, my couch, my floor, everywhere.

“What the fuck!” I yelled, jumping backwards onto the carpet.

“Aaaah… why’d you stop?”

“You’re shitting all over my goddamn couch!”


The anal evacuation finally ended, the whole left half of my couch soaked in runny diarrhea. It was even dripping onto the carpet. Suddenly, the reek of two gallons’ worth of liquid shit hit me.

“Ugh, ack!”

I scrambled over to my clothes and wrapped my nose and mouth with my T-shirt. Kayleigh seemed oblivious to her rectal ruination of my living room.

“Uh, sorry?”

“What?” I was going from disgusted to angry. “You shat all over my couch, you gross bitch!”

“It’s not my fault!” She was defiant. “My ass is sensitive!”

I tried to make Kayleigh clean up the mess, but she just passed out on the floor, ass juice still bubbling down her voluminous folds. I reluctantly let her shower and drove her back home that night, but my couch was stained through with her diarrhea; I had to throw it out. Not only that, it took a week to get the smell out of my living room.


Now, can you see where I went wrong?

The first place I screwed up was trying to get Kayleigh up to my room. Bitch needed a motorized scooter to get around the supermarket; no way could she have climbed more than two steps. If I’d just fucked her on the couch straightaway, I’d have gotten my nut faster.

The second mistake I made was going straight into anal with a girl who’d just scarfed a whole bag of tortilla chips. There is no fat chick on Earth who can shit properly, so I was setting myself up for a destroyed couch, a raped olfactory sense and an expensive steam-cleaning bill. I didn’t have any enemas available either, so I should have just kept pounding her pussy.

Fortunately, I have never slipped up like this since. The white whale may have eluded me once, but I have never failed to harpoon the little bastards since.

P.S. If you’re ready to start meeting BBWs now, click here.

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