Tara leans over the end of our bed grunting and snuffling with aggressive piggish glutting noises, plowing through a large box of Krispy Kreme as I help slip on her string-bikini bottoms. Rested atop her walrus gut her toes just barely touch the floor, she's exhausted from the exertion of momentarily supporting herself. Not that I blame her, weighing 575lbs can make chores like standing up or watching other people exercise a real labor. While she's working her way through the 13th course of lunch I tuck the considerable waistband of her thong underneath her flubbery dripping shelves of back flab, her hips melting over the waist band like an ice cream cone, the vertical strip swallowed between her colossal ass cheeks. With that done I give her a flirty spank causing a hypnotic undulation to ripple rhythmically across her Rubenesque rump. Next I turn her onto her back so I can fit her into her high-heel shoes while she lays helpless as a turtle munching Doritos. Tara's new house keeper, Hazel, is here to help with feeding her, constantly running to and fro the kitchen to insure a constant heap of food is permanently accessible at Tara's side. Hazel's one of those wrong-side-of-the-tracks girls, having gotten pregnant at 15 and dropping out of school to move into some rat versus cockroach battleground with her abusive much older boyfriend. Tara, in contrast, is privileged and pampered and has gotten everything she ever wanted since the day she was born. She takes great pleasure in reminding Hazel of her superior fortune and perversely delights in taunting her with the contrast.
I go over the list of what we need.
"So we’ve got all the picnic baskets loaded. The second car is already on Main Street hitting up the drive-thrus. We’ve arranged the pizza deliveries to meet us when we arrive. Hazel, don't forget the sun lotion, we’ll need a couple of bott--"
Tara interjects.
"Bedder NYAAAAARRMMM CHOOOMOOMMM put it BUUUUUUURPPPP SSSSSMAKK on me nowd 'coz SSSLLOOOOORPPPP BBLUUUURRRKKKK you’ll be doo biddy GLLUUKKK gidden me GUUUUULLPP food wen we SNOOOKKKKK gidd dere!!"
She's right, Tara can't risk us being distracted during her feeding. A sunburn could damage her career, especially since she’s already announced to her followers she’s getting beach shots. It’s some special beach I've not been to yet, Tara's been a couple of times but I could never make it as she’s forced me to work so much lately. I'm a fighter for the UFC, I used to only train a couple hours a week because I had to take care of my baby but now Tara is "self-sufficient" (meaning, she has someone else to take care of her) she says I'm not as useful anymore so makes me go to training every day. She also makes me take as many commercial fights as possible. She doesn't need the money but she loves to watch me take a beating before spending every penny on jewelry and shoes and manicures and fake tans. I don’t mind, it keeps me in shape and whenever I’m seriously hurt she gets seriously horny.
Although she could always be somewhat domineering Tara’s been exceptionally imperious ever since we visited her parents last week. I won't bore you with details but basically Tara feels I betrayed her. Tara's father offered me sex with his wife (don't ask) and in exchange for a bunch of gifts for herself Tara pimped me out to her Mom. She’s been using it at to guilt me at every opportunity, telling me I’m a shitty boyfriend. Her gifts included a maid and a new house on the coast, which is why we’re so close to this private beach now. Tara has decided she wants to go there all the time.
Forty minutes later we pull up. The clear blue ocean is like a painting. The day is hot and the sun is sharp, and through my squinted sight I just make out a sign.
WELCOME TO BEACH-WHALE PORT!!!
It’s beautiful, the place seems to be crowded, but there’s a border of security keeping certain people off the beach. There seems to be a mob of protestors shouting about something. No time to worry about that though as Tara shrieks to be attended. Hazel runs around from the front seat to help lift Tara out into her new wheelchair. I don't know who makes these things, these SAKAs, but they're perfect. This model cost almost as much as Tara’s car and, crucially, comes with changeable tires. She has the caterpillar tracks installed right now so she can maneuver the virgin white sand of the beach. We help her climb out (meaning we lift her out) and she sits indolently in her skimpy swim suit and $200 sunglasses, stuffing her face with a bucket of chicken. Her long professionally styled jet black hair extensions are already slopped with pizza sauce and hastily spilt chocolate milk. Her venomously vicious valley-girl visage is hidden beneath a dusty blanket of powdered sugar from the 75 Oreo donuts she just put away. Her chest and cleavage are littered with crumbs and a sticky membrane of hunger induced drool running between her beach-ball breasts. They strain against her swimwear, only her nipples being concealed by the sky blue bikini bra. Her lordly stomach sits heavily on its thigh throne, pressing her elephant legs apart and hanging past her knees like a great cradle of dough. She's so wide her hips droop over the arms of her wheelchair. Fluffy Ugg slides rest lazily on her feet.
By the time we've got her comfortable she's finished a family sized bag of Doritos and callously drops the empty packet to the ground. A gentle sea breeze carries it off as she sucks congealed orange cheese residue from her fingers.
We wheel Tara over to the beach, Hazel carrying a 50lb picnic basket in one hand while balancing her 2-year-old kid on her hip. On the sand we reach Tara's reserved area, a nice private spot away from the boardwalk and about 50 feet back from the ocean. I'm surprised to find not one deck chair but five. One of them is occupied, a girl, the same age as Tara, sunbathing.
"Whass ub NYYOMMM GGLOOORPPP bitch?" Tara smirks as we transfer her onto the lounger. She's one of Tara's obese friends, I met her before on a double date, a long time ago before either of them got fat. I'm pretty sure her name is Chloe. We went to a restaurant and those two must have gone through the complete menu three times each. I guess once she left high school Chloe took some inspirado from Tara because now she’s seriously fat at about 540lbs. Her muscled boyfriend, the dude from the date, is massaging sun tan lotion into her bronzed and broad belly. She reclines decadently, enjoying the sun and the feel of her lover's strong hands kneading and needing her hippo gut. She moans softly, sensually. I gotta say, she's pretty fucking hot. She was a measly 140lbs when I met her last, her supermodel body now inflated to this massive form, all crammed tightly into a tiny swimsuit. She has long soft brunette hair and bright blue eyes, now hidden behind expensive sunglasses. Any man would have given his best testicle to sleep with her and I certainly wouldn't mind a go on her now. She has an apple shape dough-ball of a body, and though she’s smaller than Tara her thighs are exceptionally wide and her ass is twice the size, sticking out like a bustle. As she receives her stomach massage she knocks back a 2ltr bottle of Dr. Pepper's in a single swig before dropping the empty detritus on to the sand and turning her gorgeous face to Tara.
"BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRPPP! Hey, slut. Late much? Brett!! Go get me the rest of the pop from the Porsche, and hurry it up this time!!"
Her loving boyfriend runs off before he further infuriates his obese mistress. Pathetic. Tara snaps her fingers (attempts to) and I hand her a breezer from the cooler.
"Ugh, my boyfriend is soooo lazy" she declares in that familiar cheerleader question intonation, patting her tubby tummy with content.
Tara swallows back her mouthful and licks her lips as Hazel begins to unpack the picnic basket.
"Where are those other whores?"
"Madison went to take a shit and Brooke isn't here yet."
But Tara barely hears any of this because she's already slurping back a 2-foot sub. It's full with ham, salami, bologna, tomato, lettuce, mayonnaise, mustard, onions, pickles and four types of melted cheese, these congealed contents slipping out as she lazily holds the sandwich up to her face and guzzles, slopping it all over her chest and bikini top and smearing her face with the combined condiments. She moans with hedonism, this is only the first of 50 and nowhere near her entire picnic. While I'm feeding her the flotsam of her feasting she scolds me to stop being "lazy and useless" and to go grab the rest of the picnic baskets out the back of the car.
"Fugg! Yoo so CHEEEW SHHLUUUUUURK fuggin stoobid!! LOOOORPPP!!! "
With her massive burp bits of barely chewed lunch meat hit me in the face.
"Did I tell you, babe? He cheated on me! With my own Mom!"
Chloe starts yammering about how Tara should use this as an excuse to bleed me for everything I have and to punish me, as if she didn't already. I quickly hurry off to the car before Chloe gives Tara any more bright ideas.
As I'm walking back to the beach I notice something extraordinary about it, something I should have noticed from the moment I got here, but with Tara not around for me to focus my entire attention upon, it finally strikes me. This beach isn't nearly as crowded as I thought, it's just entirely covered in fat girls! Seriously! Looking up and down the beach I can't make out a single girl less than 350lbs! This is... I don't know. The whole beach for fat women and their carers. Up and down the promenade are booths selling nothing but fried foods, ice cream, taffy, pretzels and candy floss and pop. There are double-wide porta-potties dotted everywhere, a necessary measure with all these women eating so much. At the edge of the sand there's a guy with dreadlocks and a tie-dyed t-shirt handing out information leaflets and, intrigued and excited, I take one and read;
Welcome, to Beach-Whale Port! We hope you enjoy your visit! Beach-Whale is a privately owned free beach resort, designated as the hippest hot spot for size acceptance, body positivity and the alternative-health community! Like nudist beaches and gay specific beaches, fat beaches are growing in popularity and quickly becoming a summer destination for thousands all across North America!
FAQ--
What is Beach-Whale Port?
Beach-Whale Port is one of Vancouver's most pristine and beautiful beaches. It is also a place where large women can come to hang out without fear of judgment from the patriarchy or oppression from medical experts.
Awesome idea! Is this the only beach of its kind?
No! The owners of Beach-Whale also own beaches right across Canada and the United States, all to further the cause of tolerance. We've got forty properties on the East Coast alone, so come hang out with us!
What do I do with my garbage?
The patrons of our beautiful beaches are well known for leaving a record amount of garbage behind, but that's ok! Our beach staff and life guards are more than happy to take your garbage and clean up, so you don't have to!
Are dogs allowed on the beach?
No.
What beach activities are there?
Fireworks every night starting one hour after dusk, eating contests every afternoon from 2 o'clock onwards and free ice cream after midday! Plus loads more!!
Is the water safe?
Of course! Beach-Whale Port is well known for its calm waters, and indigenous sharks and Jellyfish have never been reported closer than 80 KM away!
I need to use the bathroom, where do I go?
There are porta-potties across the entire length of the beach and indoor toilets on the promenade. But if you can't be bothered to move (or if you can't move, period!) ask one of our staff and they'll happily bring you a mobile chemical toilet without you having to lift a finger!
I'm getting hot, can I ditch my threads?
Any female over the required minimum weight is welcome to go nude! (Please no male nudity, this is a safe space.)
Why did I get kicked off the beach?
Beach-Whale Port is a site that encourages fat acceptance and challenges the media ideal of beauty. Any woman who is not obese or caring for an obese woman will be asked to leave. Your passive body-shaming is unwelcome.
I hear whales get beached here a lot, what do I do if that happens?
You'll know. You'll just know.
You guys are all about body type acceptance, right?
Totally! 100%!
Well, I'm a fat guy, can I come?
No.
What are the local attractions?
You'll find a list of local attractions as well as information on renting equipment and food outlets on the back of this leaflet!
ENJOY YOUR TIME AT BEACH-WHALE PORT!!
I hurriedly stuff the leaflet into my pocket once I realise I've been gone 2 minutes, Tara will be furious! Back at our spot I find Tara has forgotten all about me. She has Hazel hand feeding her the subs now and messily gobbles them all back, getting food all across her face.
"UUUMMFFF she's fuggin stoobid NYYOMMM GRRAAAAAWWRRR she god pregnunt wen she wass fibdeen BLOOOOOORRK!!"
Hazel continues to feed her malicious and enormous employer, welling up with humiliation as Tara gossips cruelly about her right in front of her face. A few feet away I see Hazel's baby daughter, sat out in the blistering sun, ignored and crying for her mommy. I don't doubt Tara ordered this to torture poor Hazel.
"GUUUUUUULPPPP!!! Ahhh-- anyway, now she has to work for me 70 hours a week just to pay her rent, and whenever she gets home her boyfriend rapes her"
Tara and her friends giggle at the degraded girl's adversity. Tara and Chloe have been joined by a third girl, another member of their high-school clique of rich bitches. This must be Madison. She's bigger than both of them! Much bigger, her boyfriend, a well-toned hockey player, boasts that she's actually 734lbs, weighed just this morning. Madison chews through a whole roast chicken, ripping the crisp flesh from its dead owner, snarling hungrily with each bite and moaning with epicurean ecstasy. Her long red hair is held back in a ponytail to keep it from being pulled into her madly mechanical mouth. Her enormous breasts spread from their epicurean epicentre to rest flaccidly on each side of her equally engorged stomach spreading well below her knees. Her hips are flabby and she's six foot wide with a giant perfectly round ass. Her sparkling violet eyes shine with starvation, her snout like nose wiggles as she eats and her delicate chins are coated with grease. She's so fucking gorgeous, definitely one of the best looking girls here, and I make the mistake of staring at her for too long.
"Hey!!!"
Tara bellows at me, I snap out of my thrall.
"What? First you fuck my mom and now you're eyeing my bestie? Do you want to fuck everything on this beach? Why don't you just hit rock bottom already and bone Hazel?"
Hazel lowers her head again in embarrassment as the three fatsos laugh hysterically at this cruelty. Madison winks coquettishly at me, licking her lips sultry, apparently she sleeps with all her friends’ guys. Meanwhile Madison's lover sits on one of the two remaining deck chairs and continues to feed her.
Hazel's baby starts to cry.
"Oh for fuck's sake!" Chloe moans "Tara, can you tell that bitch it's not too late for an abortion!"
They all howl with laughter again, already drunk.
"Hazel!" Tara yells "your kid is annoying, go put it in the car or something."
"Umm, but, it's really hot in there, and the AC isn't working. Can I put her in the back compartment, where you guys ride, so I can put the fan on her?"
Tara laughs at this and starts tearing in to a large greasy leg of pork.
"Fugg no!! YAAAARRG SSNOOOORK ivv you wanded NYUUMMNM your SSHMMAKKK kid doo be GLUK cool GOLP LAAARP you shood 'ave GLUMMPF god a bedder NOOMMM YAAARP job!"
Hazel dejectedly carries her heat-stroked baby back to the car, followed by Tara's screams to hurry up as she places the reddened infant in the searing leather front seat, locking it in and leaving the windows up as per Tara's orders.
"Well" Tara announces, her mouth full, "look oo's 'ere."
Chloe and Madison continue to stuff their gorgeous faces as they look to the new arrival. Approaching us is another of Tara's friends, she's not fat like the others though, she's huge!
At first I think this fleshy escarpment is gliding towards me, then I realise she's also in a wheel chair, her fat form entirely concealing the eight foot wide steel frame, being pushed along by not one but three guys. Her creamy corpulent stomach is so huge it resembles a flesh zeppelin, or a squidgy parachute full of lard! It slumps, pale and lordly, down her body, covering her entire legs and resting heavily on a specialized ledge at the front of the chair, installed to save her stomach from dragging along the ground by at least a foot. Her massive tits stretch out 3 feet and flop dead-weight onto the side of her stomach. She's completely naked, I assume there's no bikini big enough to fit her and she wouldn't need it anyway. Her ass is so huge (each cheek as wide as my Tara!) that it would just swallow up any thong anyway and her blimp of a belly completely hides her privates. Her fat laden arms, as round as tree trunks with the texture of oatmeal, work with impossible effort to hand shovel a mixing bowl full of mashed potatoes and gravy into her food smeared countenance. Vivid green penetrating eyes shine out like lighthouses from her food focused face. Under the carpet of chocolate pudding and meat grease and ketchup is an upturned dainty nose and a constellation of endearing freckles. Her hair is a golden blonde, hanging elegantly past her shoulders. She gets on to the beach (her SAKA is even newer than Tara’s) as the other girls grunt acknowledgement, all slaves to their starvation. Her three buff shirtless feeders help her onto the two vacant loungers that were reserved for her and she fills them both out nicely, her blubbery hips dangling over the far edges of each chair and sinking into the sand beneath. She's finally allowed to rest as her three boyfriends take up the burden of feeding, the water-balloon flab surrounding her now rested arms gently jiggling back and forth, mirroring the tide.
Once they're all comfortable and feasting they start in on their gossiping, blabbering bitchy white noise through muffled mouthfuls as myself and the other slave men continue keeping our women fed.
"Oh my god NYOMM CHUURKKK di yoo BLOOORK see GUULLLP Jennifer CHEW Baxter?"
"Shid yah NYYAAARM SHLUKK see god SO fad RAWR BLOOOORP she weighs SHHLUUUURPPP lige doo-undred bounds LUUUM now!"
"Yah see GLLAAARRMMM loogs lige CHEWWW a eraphant LOOOORPPP"
They all laugh except Brooke, who I don't imagine can hear anything through her intense binging.
With the sun in the best spot Tara demands I take some pictures for her Insta. She’s at nearly 300,000 Instagram followers mainly through posting sexy pics of herself. It’s obscene how much flesh and decadence she shows but no matter how provocatively she poses they never take down her pictures. She just cries discrimination and lets the PC brigade take care of her, even though she thinks they’re all a bunch of whiney faggots. I take pictures of her in the sand, some in the water, many of her eating. She takes some with her bikini top off, playfully covering herself the smallest amount. She also makes sure to get snaps with her friends, themselves huge on Insta (though only Brooke has more followers than her) in provocative poses, cheersing, kissing. We must take about 400 pictures before Tara is satisfied.
"Jay!" Tara screams impatiently through her fourth now nearly stripped pork leg "go gid me eye cream!!"
"Eye cream, baby?"
"NO!!! FUGG!!! NYARMMM!! EYE. CREAM!!!"
"Oh, ice cream. Sure, babes."
She rolls her eyes and sighs at my incompetence. I run off to get her ice cream and come back with as many tubs as I can carry, stacked in my arms, the cold containers pressing up against my naked chest, their ice shells rapidly melting apart like continents.
When I get back to the girls I don't like what I see. Some pretty-boy lifeguard dude, all swim shorts and six pack, is hitting on Tara. My Tara! Through mouthfuls of candy floss, which she's now eating with an air of seduction, she laughs at lifeguard boy’s bad jokes and caresses her stomach, her signature body language for "I want that D!"
"Wow NNYOMM GLLARRR yoo so GLLUKKKK hod!"
He smiles and tenses his pecs.
"Hey, buddy, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Maybe I overreact in situations like this, but I know that as much as I love her I can't trust Tara, especially not in the current state of our relationship. Especially when she’s got the “you banged my mom even though I made you” axe to grind.
"Relax, bro, we're just talking."
"Yeah? Well, go talk to someone else."
The testosterone is running high. Tara bites her lower lip, excitement, hands running across her soft body, through her rolls, through her hair, smearing barbeque sauce across herself, bursting like fruit with lascivious energy. Chloe, Madison and Brooke are watching too, instructing their respective boyfriends to rub them sensually, tangibly wet with potency.
"He was hitting on your girlfriend, Jay!" Madison exclaims, impatient.
"Whatever" the lifeguard turns away from the girls as he realizes they’re playing a game with him, trying to avoid conflict, but as he passes me our shoulder bump. He probably didn't mean anything by it but I push him back, punching him in the face and knocking him to the ground. Tara begins to moan and coo with excitement, becoming more and more turned on as I fight for her. I punch the guy on the ground three more times (blood trailing from his nose parodying the saliva from Tara's lips) and finally compose myself. The lifeguard scrambles up and staggers off, humiliated. I return to help feed Tara and she grabs my hair, yanking my head down so our lips meet in a passionate kiss. I gently stroke her nether regions. Through the kiss and her mouthful of chicken salad she moans and groans in bliss, the sexual sounds becoming louder and faster in frequency, her chest heaving and her stomach gurgling as she climaxes. Eventually she's left satisfied, panting and drenched in sweat.
Her moment of voluptuary reflection is broken by a KLAXON. Tara pushes me away from her face and demands I get her into her wheel now, urgency like I've never seen from her.
"But we've only been here half an hour, sweet heart, you want to leave already?"
She can barely summon words, grunting with panic and straining her arms to be lifted. Her friends are reacting the same way, in fact all the girls on this beach are getting up (boyfriend assisted) desperately, rushing towards the water. I wheel Tara over to where everyone is congregating as she screams in spoiled desperation, almost crying--
"Hurry up!! We're gonna miss it!!"
We’re among the first to arrive, shortly followed by Chloe and Madison and Brooke (who's maniacally knocking back a giant pizza splayed out across her mountainous gut while her boyfriends struggle and sweat) and are joined by life guards and beach crew and other sunbathers. Finally, I see what got the girls so excited.
A whale.
The beached creature lays helpless, 30 foot long and weighing approximately 25-tonnes, it reminds me of Tara’s Mom. I overhear one of the lifeguards say it's little over a year old. As the defenseless lost child cries mournful and terrified. Tara licks her lips. Men start wheeling over barbeques and heavy looking electrical cutting equipment and axes. Brooke is positively soaked in her own outpour of carnal slobber. There's a deep loud growl which first I think is the animal, only to realize it’s a soundscape of stomach rumblings from the assembled girls. The whale shrieks in agony as staff and boyfriends start hacking it to pieces, slashing and sawing through its resistant skin. The women hungrily watch as the trapped, thrashing beast is pulled to pieces, sand and surf red with misery. Tara’s one of the first to be handed a piece of the whale meat, raw and sticky and as big as a melon. She moans with pleasure as she crams her face into it, teeth in control. Other girls watch, jealous, histrionically screaming at their boyfriends to get them some NOW, kicking their legs like little babies and crying and swearing. One girl is even so desperate her boyfriend cleaves out one of the whale's eyes, handing it to his sweetheart as she excitedly giggles. She chows into the gooey, slimy orb like jelly, burying her face into what was so full of intelligence and soul. With the skin mostly stripped away the girls start pulling scraps of flesh free with their bare hands, stiletto nails shredding. I watch as this monstrous meat-mad mob mentality unfolds like a hoard of zombies ripping apart their victim, the long trumpet roar of their tortured prisoner resonating across the blood stained coast, its flippers limply skimming in hopeless defiance against this literal feeding frenzy. It's like watching ant pull apart a dead mouse, except cruel. It’s still breathing, tongue still lapping helplessly (though chunks have been cut from that too) as the rips start to expose. Inside is a buffet of raw organs, softer flesh, all scooped up and slurped back indiscriminately. Beyond the barricades of the beach I see the protestors crying out in fury. Out in the ocean a spurt of water arcs as the mother whale tries to come closer to save her lost child.
Before too long the whale stops crying, it stops doing anything. There's enough here to feed the entire beach but the women have stripped it almost bare in forty minutes. Men start handing out whale meat, whale bacon and whale burgers, and Tara happily knocks back a couple dozen pounds of each dish. There’s also some kind of blubber dish which smells ungodly but is more popular than any other.
As the sun starts to set all that's left is crimson sand and a mound of bones and a crowd of engorged girls soothing their stuffed stomachs and moaning with bliss as if a giant orgy has taken place. Tara dozes sweetly, a viscous tentacle of sleep-drool hanging precariously from the corner of her well-fed mouth. Chloe and Madison and Brooke are similarly asleep in their chairs, snoring heavily, their stomachs gurgling with demonic digestion. I decide to get Tara home before she wakes up since she'll need to take a couple massive dumps at that time. I instruct Hazel to take the picnic paraphernalia back to the car where she may also check on her passed out and dehydrated baby (I'll have to tell Tara about that tomorrow, she'll laugh her giant ass off.)
I roll Tara back to the limo, the gentle rhythm of the tide growing softer and more distant and the pink and orange horizon shining far out on the edge of the world. I look down at my sleeping princess in her blue bikini, covered in food and Whale meat, and I think about her vanity, her lust and her impatience, her anger and her beautiful cruelty. Leaning forward, I kiss her gently on her fat cheek and whisper "I love you" hoping maybe, if I'm lucky, she just might hear me in her dreams.