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“Stupid fat slut!” Ginny hissed at me as I walked past her at her locker. I probably should get that tattooed on me or legally change my name at the DMV I hear it so often. For Ginny, she’s just mad because I sucked off her crush (again). It’s not my fault, he texted me that he wanted his balls drained, what am I supposed to do? I’m a stupid fat slut after all.

I’m Penelope (no one calls me Penny, especially guys, who call me…well, you know already). I’m 18, a senior in high school. Am I fat? Sure, kind of. My stomach sticks out some. I’m less than 5 feet tall, I have shapely hips and a big fat (phat?) ass. My tits are large for my size and are round. Hourglass figure, that’s what they used to call it. I have a pretty face, I’m cute, at least that’s what people say, though I wonder if it’s meant in the same was as “people say” Melissa McCarthy is pretty….”but,” or Amy Schumer is pretty….”but.”

I could stand to lose some weight, for sure. I’ve tried many times, every time I do I tend to gain it back, and then some. I finally stopped dieting, now my weight and shape has stayed pretty constant. My skin is tight, I haven’t got any cellulite, so it’s not like I’m obese. I’m just….curvy.

I’m pierced, in a whole lot of places, my nose, my lip, my nipples and even my belly button. I have several tattoos, including a tramp stamp on my lower back that guys really seem to enjoy when plowing me from behind. My psychologist says I’m covering my body with “ornaments” in order to distract people from focusing on my weight issues. I see him ogling me, too. He doesn’t know that the framed picture on the wall is reflective when I’m lying on his couch (he actually has a couch, so cliché).

That’s the funny thing, being a stupid, fat slut. I am still obviously attracting attention. The first time someone called me that it was my step father, who himself was guilty of inappropriateness when it came to me. It happens all the time in school, too. So I’m the stupid, fat slut yet for some reason you guys can’t keep your comments to yourself or your hands off of me?

I’ll back up to my 18th birthday (no sex happens before age 18 per rules). I was “taking too long,” in the bathroom so my step-dad Merle felt it was his right to barge in when I was doing my makeup, only covered with a towel. He saw my bright red lips and said, “slathering on the slut makeup to please all your boyfriends, stupid, fat slut?” as he groped my round ass cheek under the towel. There it was, the first time I heard it. I yelled, “stop!” and he only did, after yanking the towel away from me and shoving me out of the bathroom. “Yeah run, you big tittied whore, I’ll bet the guys love those!” he yelled after me (of course mom wasn’t home, she always said Merle is the “perfect gentleman.” Sure he is, only when she’s home.

It was later that day that I began to earn the reputation that has branded me now. Justin, a constant irritant bumped into me in the hallway. I think it was on purpose.

“Outta my way, you cow!” he smirked.

We grew up together, we played together as kids, our parents always said we’d “get married someday,” in that goofy, delusional parent kind of way. It escort bursa was only when we reached high school that he started mistreating me because his friends all did and he wanted to be one of the crowd. He didn’t want to be caught dead treating the fat cow nicely or anything (again, fat cow? No, I just wasn’t a stick pipe cleaner figure like all the popular girls).

“Oh please,” I smirked back at him. “I think you just wanted to touch me.”

“God, I wouldn’t touch that….with my ten foot pole,” he joked lewdly.

“I bet you would,” I challenged.

He looked shocked. He got tongue tied for a moment, then spat back, “fat slut” (I guess I wasn’t stupid, yet).

“I’m a fat slut? You mean you wouldn’t cum all over these?” I said, gripping my tits and shoving them together lewdly. I stuck my tongue out for effect.

His eyes got wide looking down the huge valley of cleavage I was showing him.

“That’s all I’d use you for,” he sneered.

“Prove it,” I challenged.

And that’s how I ended up on my knees after school, on the nature path that led to our subdivision sucking his cock. True to his word, he painted my tits with his cum. I scooped it up with my fingers and started licking it from them, mostly just to gross him out.

“God, you really are a stupid, fat slut!” He snarled dismissively (ok, so NOW I’m stupid).

Funny thing was, I did the cum licking thing for effect, but I found I actually….liked it. I liked all of it. I was amazingly wet, which is saying something for me, I get wet with a cool evening breeze.

Word got around, boys talk, I sucked a few cocks. I was craving that creamy reward. Ronnie, the psychologist (he is Ronald, he hates being called Ronnie, which is why I do it) says my desire to feel like I have to please and be debased is due to feeling that it’s my only self-worth. It’s not because I enjoy it and love the taste, smell and feel of it all, and that the treatment gets me wet beyond reason, that can’t be it.

Word also got to the girls, like Ginny, because they were interested in some of those boys or, they were the girlfriends of (oops!). Trevor, her crush, mentioned earlier, took me to a whole ‘nother level. He really is a hottie, preening, cocky, narcissistic jerk notwithstanding. He also was quite handsy, even before word had gotten around about me he had felt me up in the hallway at random times. He goosed my ass, pinched my tits, always with that dismissive smirk, like, I should feel lucky he chose me to molest. It got me wet, I’m not gonna lie.

One day after school I saw a bunch of the guys sitting in the bleachers, watching the cheerleaders as they often did. I was walking past them, towards the nature trail to our subdivision and I shot them a “shaking my head at you pervs,” kind of look.

“Hey fat slut!” Trevor called out (the term had gotten around as well) followed by the rest of the boys laughter. “You know if you lost some weight, we’d ogle you, too.”

I just stuck my tongue out and pulled my top and bra down at the same time, exposing my big tits to them. I doubt some of them had seen tits before.

“God, what a whore,” Trevor sniffed.

Still, there he was, görükle escort coming up behind me on the path a few minutes later.

“Hey slut, slow down!” he barked.

I stopped. He was glaring at me. There was an awkward silence, I felt myself getting wet automatically.

“Show me those tits you are so proud of,” he demanded.

I complied immediately. My top was bunched around my waist.

“You have some nice, “fat cow titties,” he grinned coolly.

He came up and got behind me and took them in his hands. He squeezed and twisted them roughly.

“Yeah, these are nice,” he sighed contentedly, “I want you to show me these fat puppies whenever I ask, even if we’re in the fucking hallway at school.”

“Okay,” I moaned softly. It was chemical, hormonal, psychological, whatever, it was natural. He wanted it, I wanted him to have it.

“Get on your knees, get that fat ass out,” he growled.

I did. My face was nearly in the dirt, my tits were scraping the ground and my big, round ass was up, my panties and shorts around my knees. I felt his hands grip my hips and his nails dug into my flesh.

“God, such a nice round ass, for a fat slut,” he joked crudely, “perfect for fucking.”

I felt him poking his cock around my wetness. He slid it in with a grunt. It sliced me open. I’d never had a cock in me before, only dildos which, honestly, weren’t quite as large.

“Ohhhh,” I groaned, involuntarily.

“Yeah, that’s it, you fat slut, take that cock! You love it in you, don’t you?”

“Uh…uh….yes….I do!” I panted as he drilled me.

He didn’t care about me at all. He didn’t ease it in, he didn’t try to play with my clit, he just used my pussy to get off. I was his own personal Fleshlight (I have the internet). He pounded me, basically just shoving me into the dirt while he got his cock off. He gripped my ass tight, which caused bruises I had for days as he jetted his cum deep into me. No sooner than he’d cum, he yanked it out, which caused me to gasp. He rubbed it back on forth on my ass to wipe himself off, then he got up.

“You might wanna get Plan B if you aren’t on birth control,” he grinned evilly. “Stupid, fat slut,” he said, repeating a mantra I hear pretty much every day now. “I’m going to use you to drain my balls from now on. Give me your number.”

He walked away, leaving me cum filled and dripping, not just his juices but blood from my hymen. I’d never felt more sexually alive.

From that day on I’ve pretty much been his “on call fat slut.” He really does get off using me. I get looked down on, glared at by the pretty girls. But, I’m sure I’ve had more sex and better sex than all of them, combined. I’m not trying to rationalize it. I dig it, I want it, I deserve it because I allow it. Ronnie tells me my self esteem is tied up in being used, to feel useful as a person. To “prove his point” he makes me do exercises with him where he puts his hands on me like my tits. I’m supposed to push him away and say, “I’m not that kind of girl!” Or, with his hand down into my panties, I have to say, “stop! I’m not like that!” talk about denial and rationalization. It’s just a matter of bursa escort bayan time before he has me naked, on his couch, his repressed little dick all the way up inside of me.

Merle has also found that he can take liberties, when mom isn’t there, of course. He gets his fingers inside me as I lie in my bed trying to sleep. Then he whacks off telling me what a dirty slut I am to seduce him in this way. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night, getting splashed on my tits or my face with his cum.

“You fucking slut,” he’ll growl. He always tells me now that, “someday you’re gonna get that fat ass fucked from all the teasing!” I’m glad he’s already found a way to place the blame on me.

I remember the day Ronnie told me that sluts often cover themselves in tats and piercings to distract from their bodies. I thought, “wow, that’s an awesome idea!”

Both the piercer and the tattoo artist got their dicks wet in me (different days, though a girl can dream!). It’s like they all have a group message thing going or there’s just a vibe on “how to treat fat sluts like me,” but the tattoo guy promised me a discount if I pulled my pants down while he did the lower back tat (so he could “get in the right position,” he said. Even while the tat was still stinging he was filling me up. I was still standing at the counter to pay, dripping his cum down my legs when he hit me with a bill that was actually larger than he promised, along with a hefty tip.

He just stood there with a, “so what are you going to do now, stupid slut, sue me? You’ll be back for more.”

I was, for more tats and more of…the treatment. The piercing guy left puddles of cum in my newly pierced belly button, which I don’t think is totally sanitary and I don’t think you REALLY need to be naked on all fours with your fat tits hanging, in order to get them pierced, but it worked well, including the fucking, after.

I notice that Ronnie has to adjust himself in his chair more now when I see him, especially if I have my loose tummy hanging out of a too tight crop top and he can see the belly piercing.

Back to the present. I’d just gotten back from the text from Trevor, “I need my balls drained.” So I showed up at his house while his parents were at work.

“Ah, there she is,” he smirked. He was on the couch, his gorgeous dick hard in his hands. Two friends were in chairs by him. He forced me to strip and “get those fat titties and ass out for us.”

I sucked him off right there in the living room, his friends watching my tits sway back and forth as I blew him.

“Suck that dick, little piggie!” (that’s a new one!).

He rewarded me with that manna from the gods. His friends berated me, watching me lick up all that spent cum. He slapped me on the ass and shoved me out the door, my clothes in my hand. Sometimes I have to blow his friends, too, I guess today was just for him to show off his slut piggie.

“See you next time, stupid, fat slut!” he said.

“Yes you will,” I grinned to myself.

“Stupid, fat cow!” Ginny hissed at me in the hallway. I smiled and licked the corner of my lips where I could still taste Trevor. I winked at her, “at least I know what Trevor’s cock is like,” I laughed to myself. There’s just so much more to tell you but I see one of Trevor’s friends give me “the signal.” Luckily I’ve discovered a janitor closet that’s always unlocked and rarely used.

{The end}

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