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From: "Zuleika Zull" <zuleika@cheerful.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Tina and The Fatman (FM, angst, implied sex) Zuleika Zull
Date: Wed, 7 May 2003 12:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Tina_and_The_Fatman.txt" begin>
Zuleika's Glimpses of Life - Tina and The Fatman
by: Zuleika Zull - zuleika@cheerful.com
May 5, 2003
--------
FM, angst, implied sex
I retain the copyright to this story.
This story contains adult themes and discussions. If it is
illegal for you to be reading this sort of thing, please go
elsewhere.
Thank you for pausing for a moment and letting me touch you.
All my love,
Zuleika Zull
==============
I wrapped my hands around the cheap plastic cup and stared
morosely out the filthy window of the diner that had somehow
become the center of my life. 'Tina, maybe it's time you
admitted you don't have a clue...'
"Excuse me. Would you mind if I sat down here? All the other
tables are full."
Huh. Any other time this dump is deserted. I sighed and didn't
bother looking at him. "Go ahead."
"Thanks." I felt the table shift suddenly and I cursed as some
of my coffee spilled on my hands.
"Sorry. Sometimes I have trouble making my body do what I want
it to do. Here's a napkin..."
I looked and he was holding out one of the napkins from the
dispenser. His hand was steady, but it looked bloated and pale.
I followed his arm up to... I winced before I could hide my
reaction to what I'd seen. The man was well past fat. He was
bloated, pasty white, had more chins than I wanted to try and
count...
I blushed when our eyes met and he nodded his head. "It's OK.
I'm used to the reaction. Want me to leave?"
I hesitated and he smiled bitterly. "I'm not trying to pick you
up or anything like that. I've seen this in the mirror every day
for the last ten years. I haven't been out in a long time and I
remembered this place used to make some damn good coffee. I
didn't know it would be this busy or that it was under new
ownership. I can't make it back to my apartment without taking a
short break and you were sitting at the only table that had
enough room left for me to sit down. Again, I'm sorry. I don't
have the control of my body I used to have. I'll leave." He set
the napkin and his cup down before he braced himself and started
to push himself up.
"No. Wait." I reached out and grabbed one of his his hands.
"Stay."
He resettled and I studied him awhile. Something in his eyes
prompted me to take a chance. "Look. I'm tired of the whole
woman-man thing. You ever get tired of playing the game and just
want a chance to toss all that out and be yourself?"
The bitter smile returned. "Ten years ago life tossed it out for
me. I didn't have a choice about quitting. What woman would be
willing to play with me?"
"I would." My jaw dropped when I realized what I'd said.
"Lady, I don't know what your game is, but I'm not playing." He
gently pulled his hand from mine.
I glared at him. "Dammit, You can sit there and finish your
coffee while I tell you something. Then you can leave--if you
still want to." I grinned and he flinched. "I don't know
exactly what made me say it, except I know damn well it wasn't
because I wanted to play games with you. You willing to listen
to some truth? Maybe share some of your own truth with a woman
who just wants to get some honest answers from a man--for a
change?"
He looked at me. "The same truth that was in your eyes when you
got your first good look?"
Damn. That hurt, even though I knew I deserved it. "I was
thinking about what a mess I've made of my life when it comes to
men. I haven't been fucked in years, because I turn men off with
my honesty. *That's* the truth I was talking about. Truth
about me. I'm sorry about my reaction earlier. I was thinking
about sex, saw fat and..." I blushed again when he laughed.
He held his hand out. "You really don't know how to avoid the
truth, do you? I'm Sam. Where've you been all my life?..." He
made it a question that asked me if I'd give him my name.
I wrapped his hand with both of mine. "Tina. Tina Allison. I
don't know about all of your life but for the last five I've been
haunting this dump."
He squeezed gently. "Tina. The last time I was in here, about
eight years ago, it wasn't a dump. It was a place any man would
have been proud to take his SO for a night out."
Something in the tone of his voice touched me and his earlier
comment about the coffee suddenly made sense. "You were a
regular?"
He looked around before he turned back and looked down at our
intertwined hands. "Yeah. Until I had the accident she and I
came in here a couple times a week. It wasn't the coffee that
made me force myself out of the apartment. I wanted a last fling
with my memories before I decided..." He left it hanging for a
few seconds then shrugged. "You wanted honesty. I came here to
see if I still wanted to live--or not. The jury's still
deliberating."
"What in HELL did she do to you?" I was angry. Angry with the
woman who had left this man when he needed her most. She'd left
him and... I paused in my thinking. Who left who, and why?
"It wasn't like that, was it?"
He shook his head.
Dammit. 'Truth to Tell' Tina had done it again. At least this
time I knew I couldn't make things any worse than they already
were. I reached out, lightly touched his cheek and made him
look at me. "Sam. Life's a bitch most of the time. Yeah, I can
be one, too."
That got me a faint smile. "I noticed."
"Nevermind. I came in here and was brooding about how I seemed
to screw up every relationship I've ever started. When you
showed up I had just admitted to myself that I don't have a clue
when it comes to how to deal with men."
I stood up, leaned over the table and planted a kiss on his lips
before I resettled in my chair. "Dealing with pain is something
else. *That* I have plenty of experience with. The one thing
you *don't* do about pain--is give up completely. You find
something, anything, that makes you happy, even if it's only for
a few seconds. Force yourself to do it often enough and
eventually you wake up, realize the pain is gone--and you are
enjoying life again."
He looked at me, then at the diner.
I waited while he thought about what I'd said.
"Tina? What do you do when you get that depressed?"
I blinked. Then I managed to force down another blush, barely.
"You're hetero?"
"Yes."
"Then what I do probably won't work for you." I hurried on. "I
go to this bar, 'The Beef Palace'. They have nude male dancers.
If I can't get screwed, at least I can fantasize."
He chuckled, then turned serious. "You still want to play? I'd
like to take you there, now, to repay you for your kindness."
I tried to remember their schedule. I winced when I realized
what day it was.
He caught the wince. "Something wrong?"
"Ummm. Maybe. It's 'Old Fart's Night'."
"And that means?..."
I sighed, somewhat bitterly. "It means that there won't be any
of their regular guys dancing. It's the night when men from the
audience get on the stage and show their stuff, so to speak." I
hesitated and then told him the rest. "Most women are there for
the amusement value, not because they want to fantasize about a
night with them."
He nodded. "You?"
I looked at him and wanted to cry. "Amusement."
"I don't have a problem with that." His eyes suddenly went
distant. "Nude dancing? I haven't... Maybe..." He shook his
head slightly and then refocused on me. "Tina, may I treat you
to an evening at The Beef Palace?"
Perversity, thy avatar is named 'Tina Allison'. "Yes."
* * *
Allen, the bouncer for the night, bless his heart, didn't even
blink when Sam and I handed him our IDs. "Tina, it's good to see
you." He returned my ID. Then he looked at Sam's ID, lifted his
eyebrows and bowed deeply. "Mr..."
Sam stopped him. "That's done with. Sam will do."
Allen smiled slightly and returned Sam's ID. "Sam, welcome to
The Beef Palace. Tina's a regular so she'll be able to answer
any questions you have." He motioned us through the door.
Before the noise overwhelmed us I looked at Sam. He had a
wistful look on his face. "What was that all about? I got the
impression Allen knows you."
"He does. We haven't seen each other in years."
"The bow?"
Sam chuckled. "Nothing much. He always used to greet me with
that. It's something of an old joke between us. I'm surprised
he did it after all these years."
It was a struggle, but I managed to keep my mouth shut. Allen
was a fixture at the Palace. Over the years I'd seen him greet
all sorts of people and I knew damn well that he didn't use that
deep, respectful bow unless he meant it. I finally shrugged
mentally and admonished myself: 'Tina, let Sam keep his secrets.
At least he's not thinking about suicide. And you, you're
finally with a man who appreciates your honesty rather than
resents it. Enjoy yourself while you can.'
Sam touched my arm. "You know where you like to sit. Lead, and
I'll follow in your footsteps. Don't worry. When I move slowly
I still have good control of my body."
I caught a waiter's arm and we held a whispered conversation. I
pointed at a table next to the runway and he nodded. He blinked
and grinned when Sam quietly shook his hand. I caught a glimpse
of green and smiled to myself. Sam certainly knew how a place
like this operated. In spite of his bulk and the attention it
was getting, he moved as if he was totally relaxed in the raucous
environment.
He chuckled quietly. "Some things never change. I saw you point
and I figured it would be a good idea to encourage his patience
with us while we worked our way to your table."
I couldn't stop my smile. "Thanks. It wasn't going to be a
problem. Regulars do get some perks here. Table holding is one
of them."
We settled at our table, ordered our drinks and I started paying
attention to the men on the runway. Every time I whispered a
comment Sam seemed to hear it and ask me why I made it. His own
quietly made comments and questions eventually had me forgetting
my problems. I began to relax and enjoy what was happening.
I also forgot about Sam and only noticed he was missing when I
turned to ask him something about one of the dancers.
I figured he'd gone to the restroom until people started laughing
and pointing at the stage. 'Look. I've never seen anyone so
fat.'
The comments reminded me of my initial reaction to Sam.
Suddenly my brain caught up with my ears and eyes.
Sam not at our table. People pointing at the stage. Fat.
I forgot about the man on the runway and switched my attention to
the stage.
My... God...
Sam was on the stage and he was smiling and laughing with the MC.
He was also naked.
The MC frowned and asked Sam a question. I saw a glint of anger
in Sam's eyes before he smiled again and nodded slowly. The MC
shrugged, handed Sam the portable microphone and waved him onto
the runway.
The spotlight hit him and I winced in sympathy. Strangely, Sam,
instead of trying to hide himself, stood straighter. It was as
if he was proud to be there.
He waited out the catcalls and taunts. When they'd died down a
bit, he smiled and lifted the microphone to his mouth. "Ladies,
I'm 'The Fatman' and I'm going to dance for you."
I stiffened and looked closer as I noted his words. He hadn't
said 'try and dance', he'd clearly said 'dance'.
"The young lady I'm here with tonight said that most of you,
including her, are here to be amused. That's fine with me." He
made a gesture that took in his bloated body. "I doubt if any of
you ever fantasize about fucking someone as grossly obese as I
am." He smiled to take the sting out of his words.
"With that in mind, if the band knows 'The Pink Panther Theme',
I'll improvise something to go along with it." He chuckled. "At
least it's slow enough that I can move without losing my breath
after a few moves. Oh, by the way. The management made me sign
a special release form before they would let me up here.
Something about them denying responsibility if I have a heart
attack on stage." There was a collective gasp of shock. It was
understood that men never mentioned what was in the forms they
had to sign. He gestured at himself again. "I'm fat, yes.
Otherwise I am quite healthy, as my doctor assured them when they
finally called him. So, after a bit of negotiating, here I am."
I groaned. I'd never heard of the management being that
stubborn. But then again, I couldn't recall anyone as fat as
Sam wanting to dance on the runway, either
After I forced myself to ignore my misery about the position Sam
had put himself in, I realized I was hearing something unusual at
The Palace.
Silence.
I noticed Sam was looking at the band leader. Some sort of
communication was going on between them. Sam spoke into his
microphone. "A count of three to set the beat?"
The band leader nodded and turned back to face his musicians.
When his baton reached the bottom of its third stroke, Sammoved.
His feet slid forward and his rolls of fat bobbed and rolled, all
in time to the music. It was slow, it was funny, people were
laughing--and then there was silence and a few gasps. I looked
away and noticed some of the women were watching him intently.
They looked like predators. A few of them looked over, saw me
watching them and saluted me, as if to say: 'You lucky woman.'
I looked back at Sam. His penis was barely visible. His rolls
of fat still bobbed as he moved with the music. His hands moved
slowly, as if to suggest he was courting a woman. Their
movements hinted at the pleasure he could give with them. He
pointed at his almost invisible penis, smiled and then motioned
as if he were telling her 'It doesn't matter. I can give you
pleasure in other ways, with these, and my tongue. Would you
like to play the game my way, this time?'
When he held his arms open at the finale, as if he were waiting
for a woman to enter them, he was facing me and smiling. His
eyes twinkled as he whispered into the microphone: "Ladies and
gentlemen, dancing and sex have a lot in common. They both
depend more on the attitude of the performers than they do their
physical attributes. I hope I've managed to amuse you with my
performance. We all know there's no way a body like mine could
be seductive."
He handed the microphone to the MC, gathered up his clothing, got
dressed and then stepped down to rejoin me at our table.
While he caught his breath I studied him thoughtfully. "Sam,
could I have some more of that truth?"
Before he could respond Allen pulled up a nearby chair and
settled in it. "Sam. It's good to see you again. Some of the
women have been asking me who you were." He tilted his head in my
direction. "I told them to forget it, that you were already
spoken for."
Sam sighed. "Actually, all of this is my gift to Miss Allison.
She pinned my ears back and convinced me that it was time to quit
being a coward. When we met this afternoon I was just about
ready to go back to the apartment and kill myself. I don't know
if I'm spoken for or not--and that's the simple truth."
Allen coughed discreetly. " 'Truth to tell', eh? That sounds
like the Tina we know."
I bent my head down and glared at my drink. "Sam's spoken for.
But, one of you is going to tell me what the hell is going on
before I take him home for the night."
When I raised my head they were ignoring me and looking at each
other. Sam finally looked away. "Allen? I still have trouble
with what happened. That little performance helped, but not
enough, it seems."
Allen leaned back in his chair and caught the attention of a
passing waiter. "I pulled some strings so I'm off for the rest
of the night. I didn't want to let Sam duck out on me this
time." He saw my surprise. "Not here. Nine years ago we ran
into each other when I was working a show. Before I could get
away from what I was doing, he'd pulled a vanishing act. If it
hadn't been for his ID he would have been able to walk right past
me and I'd never have recognized him."
He looked into his drink and swirled it. I don't know what he
saw but it must have been interesting. He smiled and without
looking up, began his story.
"Sam and Brenda were two of the best supporting dancers I'd ever
seen during my ten years of being a stage hand. Hell. They
should have been doing leading roles, not the bit parts that
made others look good. I never did figure out why they weren't
doing leading roles."
Sam's comment was quiet. "We'd seen what happens. Neither one
of us wanted to work under that kind of pressure. We wanted our
lives to be ours, still."
Allen nodded. "Makes sense."
We sat there in silence. I looked at the runway but I didn't see
the man who was on it. I could still see Sam and his gentle,
flowing, seductive moves. "You're telling me Sam was a
professional dancer?"
"A damn good one before the accident."
"What happened?"
"He and Brenda were doing a routine. He tripped over a plant
that shouldn't have been where it was, fell off the stage and
Brenda landed on top of him, breaking his leg."
"But..."
"Something rare happened. The doctors think something in the
medication triggered a change in his metabolism. He was able to
fight it for awhile but when I last saw him he was pretty much as
you see him now. It takes a near starvation diet and iron
discipline for him to keep from adding weight. I have to admit
it looks like he's managed to maintain some sort of control over
the weight gain since the last time we met."
Sam turned and looked at Allen again. His smile was faint.
"Nine years ago I only weighed 300 pounds. I've managed to stay
under 400 pounds, barely, so far. It's nice of you to be so
polite, Allen."
I winced when I understood the undertones. Allen shrugged.
"Sam, I'd seen how fast the weight goes on. At the time of the
accident you weighed about 175 pounds. Within a year you were
at 300 pounds. Nine years? I expected you to be up near 600-700
pounds or more. Like I said, it looks like you have some control
over the problem, now."
"Allen, it wasn't your fault."
The change of subject was a surprise. Sam and Allen were
obviously continuing an old conversation.
Allen studied Sam's face before he turned away and sighed. "I
was in charge when it happened. My head knows it wasn't my
fault. My heart keeps telling me otherwise."
Sam looked around and then chuckled mirthlessly. "So now you're
a bouncer at a nude bar for women?"
"It's not what you think, Sam. I'm the head stagehand here.
Once everything's set up for the evening, I spend time greeting
people at the door. Audience participation night is the one
night a week I don't have much to do."
Sam looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "I remember being told
it's 'old fart's night'."
Allen saved me. "You've seen the guys who are performing. If
the women who have hunks with them have any sense at all, they're
keeping their dates away from the runway or taking them somewhere
else tonight."
Sam frowned. "I would have thought they'd want to show their men
off."
I drained my drink and signaled a waiter for more. After it
arrived and I was sipping it, I looked around the room and
sighed. "I'm a regular. Most of the women here tonight are
regulars. So are most of the men. You don't get to be a regular
unless you've made a mess of your life and want some way to
pretend otherwise. The men are gentle, willing to live with a
quick tumble and don't mind being passed around from bed to bed.
None of us are looking for anything deeper. Commitment terrifies
most of us. We'd be terrified if we found it--and most of us
run and hide as soon as we realize we might be developing a
deeper relationship with a man. The same thing applies to the
men. The people who aren't terrified don't come here for very
long."
Sam turned away and questioned Allen with his eyes. "She's
right. I don't trust myself enough to take charge of a serious
production again. This place suits me. So do the women."
"A day for strange truths." Sam sipped at his drink as he
considered what we'd told him. "Tina, Brenda and I were damn
good dancers, even after you ignored our egos. One night I
forgot to take the time to check out the stage before we did our
routine. I paid with a broken leg and this obscene body. Yeah,
eventually I drove Brenda away. She was too good to spend the
rest of her life with a dancer who couldn't dance in public.
Maybe it was a mistake but at least she's happy now and has a
family that she loves."
I thought about it. "Couldn't she have danced with someone else
and otherwise stayed with you?"
When he winced and ducked his head to stare into his glass I knew
I'd done it again.
"That's what she wanted to do. I drove her away instead, because
I didn't want to live with the pain of wondering if she did more
than dance with her new partners. She said she still loved me,
in spite of my body. It wasn't the same, and deep inside, we
both knew it."
"You absolute and utter fool."
His head jerked up and for the first time since we'd met, I saw
tears in his eyes. "I know. I've known that for the last eight
years--*after* she told me she was happily married to her latest
partner."
I gave myself a good mental spanking. 'Jesus, Tina. What is it
with you? Here you are, doing your absolute best to drive away a
man who is comfortable dealing with the real you. And you, you
sit here and call *him* a fool!'
"Sam?"
He waited.
"I'm not having fun any more. Take me home. Now. Stay with me
tonight."
He stiffened and then spoke a single word: "Why?"
"I want to be fucked by, and fuck--a real man for a change. I've
never done it before and I want to see what it's like."
Allen started laughing so hard people turned to look at us.
"Sam, she got you. Sounds like a good plan, to me."
Sam and I glared at him before we started laughing, ruefully.
<1st attachment end>
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