tagFetishPussy Rules

Pussy Rules

bysoflabbwlvr©

Author's note: This is a work of fiction. All characters are fictitious and over the age of eighteen. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

* * * *


An attractive, plus-sized, African-American woman walks onto the stage. The clacking of her high heeled pumps is drowned out by the applause rising from the audience. She flashes her trademark million dollar smile and waves at the audience with one hand while she reaches behind her back to switch on her microphone. She taps the lapel of her off-white jacket and glances at the director standing off-stage. She waits for her cue, waves to the audience once again, and then looks into the television camera.

"Good morning friends, I'm your host, Opal Winfield. We are coming to you today live from sunny Miami, Florida. Hellooo Miami!"

The audience rises to its feet amid cheers and roaring applause.

"My first guest is the author of a new book that is currently rocketing up the New York Times Bestsellers list. The title is provocative and the subject matter is controversial. Today's discussion will contain colorful language, to say the least. My producers and I went back and forth for hours debating whether we should or even could do this show. In the end, we decided that the subject matter is too important to ignore, even though some viewers may find the language offensive. For that reason we have brought in an extra censor to work a back up dump button. Those of you watching at home are likely to hear repeated bursts of silence, but those of you in the studio audience will experience the full, unfiltered discussion. I apologize to both groups of viewers for any discomfort.

"In an age of remarkable change, this nation has made stunning progress addressing issues pertaining to discrimination, prejudice, and opportunity. That progress has not been evenly distributed, however, as persons within the affected groups can attest. One group which feels that its concerns are not being sufficiently addressed is the size acceptance movement. Heavy people–and I'm one of them–find that they are still denied employment, charged higher premiums for health insurance, and are made the butt of jokes based solely upon their weight.

"Against this backdrop, author Paul McKinnon has written a controversial book which has inflamed both sides of the size acceptance debate. Ladies and gentleman, put your hands together for my first guest, author Paul McKinnon!"

Amid scattered applause mixed with boos, a mid-thirties gentleman in a charcoal grey suit walks across the stage. He waves to the crowd and then embraces the host.

"Paul, welcome to the show."

"Thank you, Opal, I'm happy to be here. Hello, Miami, and hello, America."

The audience applauds as Opal and Paul take their seats at the center of the stage.

"Paul, let's jump right into this. The title–'How to Fuck a Fat Girl'–what in hell were you thinking?"

"Opal, I had three goals when I wrote this book. The first was to express my undying love for fat women all over the world. The second..."

"Paul, let me stop you right there. Your 'love for fat women all over the world'? Don't you realize that your terminology is insulting to the women whom you profess to love?"

"I'm glad you asked that question, Opal. It ties in directly with my second goal. I wanted my book to empower fat women. I want fat women to recognize their beauty and express it proudly by taking back the word 'fat'. Homosexuals have done this by reclaiming the word 'queer.' African Americans do this when they call each other 'Nigga.' The way..."

"Hold on a minute, Paul. Now you've crossed over into a whole different show, and that's not a dialogue I we're going to have today. Frankly, I don't think you will be on the panel when I do that show–its not your area of expertise. Why don't you go ahead and finish explaining yourself without implicating the African American experience in your discussion?"

"Alright then, Opal. Let me put it another way. Every victimized group in this country has suffered verbal abuse by bigoted individuals who have nothing better to do than to inflict pain on others. In recent years, however, it has become unfashionable to make fun of some groups. No one makes racial jokes in public, anymore...."

"Paul. What did I just tell you?"

"Let me finish, Opal. Very few people make homosexual jokes anymore, either."

"I'm not so sure about that, but go on."

"Thank you, Opal. My point is, it's still okay to make fat jokes. Why is that? Because 'fat' is still a funny word. But if we turn that around and teach people to appreciate the beauty and sexuality of fat women, the word will lose its sting."

"You think so, Paul?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then what about 'blonde.'"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Have you heard any blonde jokes lately, Paul? I can tell you that blonde is the beauty standard throughout this country, yet a week doesn't go by that I don't hear a new blonde joke. Millions of women dye their hair blonde every day. Are you telling me that your book will cause women all over the United States to start binge eating so they can become fat?"

"I don't follow you. You're twisting my words."

"No–not at all. I'm just punching holes in your logic. I know you've heard some of these objections already. Let's move along. Tell us about your third reason for writing the book."

"I want to make it possible for the men who love fat women to come out of the shadows and embrace them publicly. I wanted chubby chasers, fatty fuckers, piggy pokers–all of these are terms used to denigrate those of us who love these women–I want all men to feel proud about the women they love and stop feeling ashamed to be seen with them."

"Uh huh. Well Paul, even if your motives are pure–and I'm not yet ready to say that they are–but your methods are questionable, at best."

"I've sparked a discussion, Opal. People are buying my book and embracing my message."

"Let's talk about that message, shall we? Your first chapter is titled 'Fat Women are Beautiful.' Is that supposed to be a groundbreaking revelation?"

"Opal, if you've read my book–"

"Oh, I've read it, alright. I've read it–cover to cover, in fact."

"OK. Good. Then you will note that it is comprised of three sections. The first part is about empowerment–that is, making fat women feel better about themselves and making men feel better about loving them. The second part is a guide for men that teaches them how to approach fat women and initiate relationships with them. The third part details techniques for satisfying them sexually."

"Yes. Let's deal with the first section. What you're saying, Paul, is that larger women should look in the mirror every day and say to themselves 'I am beautiful,' and this will somehow inspire enough confidence to break down the prejudice against them?"

"Opal, confidence is empowering. You know that, already. It's like body armor. And it is contagious."

"I see. Paul, where did you get your education?"

"University of Phoenix."

"On line?"

"Yes."

"In what field?"

"Marketing."

"Did you graduate? Receive a degree?"

"I'm short a few credits. When I finish this book tour, I'll take the last two classes I need to earn my bachelor's."

"I see. Go on."

"Where was I? Oh yes–empowerment. When fat women get over their body image issues and start to feel better about themselves, they will become more confident. An important step toward developing a better self-image is dressing better. Stop shopping at Walmart and spend more time in Macy's and Bloomingdale's."

"What I'm hearing is, if plus-sized women just spent more of their hard-earned money on clothes, the world would stop teasing them."

"Exactly. No–it's not that simple. You're twisting my words again."

"Tell me where I'm wrong, Paul."

"What I said, is, fat women need to become comfortable with their fatness. They should love the way they look. Primitive cultures adored and worshiped the earth mother physique. Modern culture can do the same. Embrace it, ladies. Be bold. Stop hiding your curves beneath tents and mumuus and show the world your beautiful figures.

"Let me put it another way. What's more interesting, a monotonous drive down a long straight highway in the middle of the flatlands, or an exhilarating ride over twisty, hilly, mountainous terrain? One is dangerous and requires your full attention. The other is sleep-inducing."

The audience breaks out into applause.

Paul leaps out of his chair sporting an enormous grin, spreads his arms wide, and gestures to the audience.

"Am I right? Am I right?"

"Sit down, Paul. Let's move along so we can address the second section of your book."

"Of course. The purpose of the second section is to teach men how to overcome their inhibitions and approach these lovely fat goddesses. Men..."

"Hold on. Check yourself for a second. For the time being, let's stop using the word 'fat' to describe larger women."

"Why? Fat women are beautiful. I have no intent to offend when I use that word."

"That may not be your intent, but you cannot know what is happening in the mind of the listener. You have no idea who you may be offending when you use that language."

"That's why my book is so important, Opal. My purpose is to elevate the conversation, redefine the terms, and remind the world that fat is indeed beautiful."

"I hear what you're saying. But just for now, for the next half hour, let's use a different term to describe heavier women. Can we agree on that?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"How about 'BBW'? Big beautiful woman?"

"That's a porn term, Opal. I expect better of you."

"Actually, the term predates its adoption by the porn industry, but that's irrelevant. How about 'plus-sized'?"

"A fashion term. And a highly inaccurate one, at that."

"Women of size?"

"Everyone has a size."

"Overweight?"

"According to whom? In feudal times, what we now call overweight was considered pretty damn healthy."

"Paul, work with me. We have to move on. For now, we'll refer to these ladies as larger women. OK?"

"For now. It's your show. My book, but your show."

The audience laughs.

"Speaking of your book, let's get back to the second section."

"I would love to."

"Chapter five states, and I'm reading from page 186:

'Every group of four or more women will have one token fat girl in their midst. She believes that she is an integral part of the group, but the reality is that her friends bring her along to make themselves stand out in comparison. She is used to being ignored, shunned, and relegated to buying her own drinks all night long. She is your target. Put two Long Island Ice Teas inside her and you're in for the night of your life.'"

"Paul, how can any larger woman read that passage and not find it offensive?"

"Opal, any fat girl..."

"Paul, remember our agreement?"

"Right. Any larger woman reading my book must now know by now that I say 'fat girl' with the utmost respect and admiration."

"So you say. Let's stick with 'larger women,' OK?"

"If you insist."

"I do insist. Let's get back to the book. What about the rest of this passage?"

"Look, you can persecute me for stating the truth, but I'm just saying what every skinny bitch is thinking. They're the ones you should be going after, not me."

"You're saying that larger women are desperate and easy."

"No, not at all. What I'm saying is that all women crave attention. That's the reason why they go out to dance clubs in groups. They want to meet men. They feel more comfortable in groups. It's the herd mentality. The skinny bitches and the fat–I mean, larger women–they all want the same thing. The difference is that the skinny bitches have a plan and the heavy women are left foundering. I'm just trying to help men develop the confidence necessary to approach them."

"If that's the case, what about this passage from chapter six, the title of which, incidentally, is 'Closing Time.' I'm reading from page 213:

'There's really no point in showing up before last call. Save your money for gas and alcohol. When the bar is about to close, survey the room and identify the fat girls sitting alone. By this point, all of the skinny bitches will be paired off, leaving the fat girls sitting alone on barstools where they are desperately checking messages and nursing fruity drinks. Pick one out, order her a double Long Island Ice Tea, and introduce yourself. Thirty minutes later you'll be in a motel room enjoying the ride of your life.'

"Paul, that passage clearly and unequivocally states that larger women are desperate and easy."

"Opal, you're twisting my words. I don't use the terms 'desperate' or 'easy' anywhere in my book."

"Nonetheless, the meaning is clear."

"Opal, I think you are trying to confuse your audience. I've watched your show for years, and you're better than that. I love these women. I want them to have a good time, and I want men to

feel comfortable approaching them, talking to them, and making love to them. You should be supporting my work instead; instead, you're a syndicated cock block."

"Sir, I do question your motives. I question your intent, I question your sincerity, and I question your qualifications. We have limited time, however, so let's move on to the third section of your book."

"By all means. In the third section I detail specific techniques for arousing, making love to, and satisfying larger women. I believe I'm the first author to ever address the specific sexual needs of the larger woman."

"Let's take a closer look at your advice. In chapter eleven you recommend thirty minutes oral sex as a method of arousal. Specifically, you posit fifteen minutes of, and I quote:

'...sucking on her big titties. Fat girls have the biggest tits, and they loved being sucked. Latch on like a baby at feeding time, and then nurse until she moans.'

"Paul, are you aware that not all large women have big breasts? Did you get this notion from watching too much porn?"

"Opal, what size are your breasts?"

"I'm EE, but that's beside the point."

"No, you've just proven my point."

"How so?"

"Big woman, big breasts. Curves on top of curves. Mounds of mocha..."

"Paul, that's enough."

"...capped by twin chocolate peaks."

"Mr. McKinnon. Stop. Now."

"Of course, Opal. But no matter how much you resist, the evidence speaks for itself."

"Do you have some empirical evidence to share with us? I didn't see any in your book."

"You're all the evidence I need, Opal. Have your camera man zoom in on your chest. Just talking about sex has excited you, and it's apparent from the way your nipples are responding. Jesus, those things are sticking out like bowling pins."

"Mr. McKinnon!"

"I'm just stating the obvious. Hell, even the last row of the audience can see that I'm telling the truth."

"We're going to break for a commercial, and when we come back we'll hear an opposing viewpoint from someone who disagrees with the premise of Mr. McKinnon's book. We'll be right back–don't go away."

The audience applauds.

"Cut," the stage director calls from an off-camera location. "Four minutes until we're back on the air."

Paul turns to Opal. "What do you mean we're coming back after the break with an opposing viewpoint? No one told me there were any other guests. I thought I had the entire hour."

"Paul, did you really think I would allow you to prattle on and on for an hour? You would put my audience to sleep."

"I think your audience is rather enjoying what I have to say."

"You know, I'm not surprised that you believe that. Don't be so full of yourself. These women are much more sophisticated than you would believe. They are entitled to your respect."

"I do respect them. Each and every one."

"Good. Then you shouldn't mind exposing them to an alternative viewpoint and allowing them to make up their own minds."

"Sixty seconds," the stage manager calls out.

"Would you like some cold water, Paul? I think this next segment is going to get a little hot for you."

"You're already making me hot, Opal. Shall we go out for drinks after the show?"

"I really don't think you're going to be up for it. Seriously, Paul, I think you should pay attention and keep your mind focused on what is happening here. Otherwise, you are going to make a fool of yourself."

"According to you, I already have."

"I'll help you out, if you let me. Just meet me halfway."

"Not necessary. I can handle anything you people throw at me."

"Suit yourself."

"And we're back in ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one. GO."

"Welcome back, everyone. My next guest is a spokesperson for plus-sized women everywhere. She is the President of the North American Women's Size Acceptance Movement, and the author of the book, 'Love Me As I Am.' Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Ms. Shari Wainright."

Applause.

A curvy, busty woman wearing a knee-length white dress with a blue and green floral print steps onto the stage. Mounds of curly brown hair reach the middle of her back, but the locks remain motionless as she strolls across the stage in her high heeled shoes. She waves at the audience and then walks toward the host. She pauses, smiles at the camera, and then receives a kiss from the host on each cheek. Mr. McKinnon stands, shakes hands with Ms. Wainright, and then moves over to the next seat. Ms. Wainright takes the seat vacated by Mr. McKinnon.

"Ms. Wainright, welcome to the show."

"Thank you, and please, call me Shari."

"Shari, I'm so pleased you could join us today. Tell the audience a little about your background."

"Well, Opal, I was born in Houston, Texas. When I was in still in elementary school my family moved to a small town in Michigan. I grew up, graduated from high school, and went to college."

"What was your major?"

"I double majored in clinical psychology and sociology."

"What did you do after college?"

"I went to graduate school. I earned my master's degree in behavioral psychology, and then got married."

"Let's fast forward a few years. You were divorced, and then what?"

"That's when I wrote my first book, 'Love Me As I Am.' It spent thirteen weeks on top of the New York Times Bestseller list for non-fiction."

"Have you had a chance to read Mr. McKinnon's book?"

"Oh yes. Yes indeed."

"What did you think of it?"

"It was ... interesting."

"In what way?"

"Well, the author has a viewpoint."

"Go on."

"It's an interesting viewpoint. I can say that he makes an interesting argument."

"You're holding back. What are you trying to say."

"Well, Opal, you know that the focus of my career relates to the issues contained within Mr. McKinnon's book."

"I'm aware of that. You're an expert in that field. I brought you here so that you can speak your mind, Shari."

"Truthfully?"

"Of course."

"OK. I'm sorry, Opal, but I thought it was the worst piece of garbage since Gutenberg invented the printing press. It's a shame that trees actually gave their lives so that this filth could be reproduced."

"Hey, hey. I'm sitting right here."

"I feel like I should be wearing a hazmat suit so I can share the stage with you, Mr. McKinnon."

"Call me Paul."

"No thank you, Mr. McKinnon. I have no interest in becoming so familiar with you. I already feel like I need a shower and we've just met."

"I'd be happy to scrub your back."

"Mr. McKinnon," Opal barks. "I'm sorry, Shari. Please proceed."

"Getting back to the book–upon further reflection, I suppose it could be used as the basis for a television show. You could call it, 'The Real Losers of Suburbia,' or something like that."

"Listen, lady. I didn't come here to trash your book, so I would appreciate the same courtesy in return. Are we in agreement?"

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