tagFetishBecoming a BBW

Becoming a BBW

byarachnophile52©

My name is Celia. I'm 25 years old and I'm a porn star; but not the kind you might be imagining. I'm a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman); you know, a fat girl. It's for a new Web site in an increasingly crowded field so maybe you've seen me, maybe you haven't.

On a movie set, I have sex with guys who wouldn't look twice at me on the street. The ironic aspect of performing sexually with lights and a camera is that my size, formerly a turn off to most men, is what now attracts viewers to the site, thus making me a hot commodity.

How did I get involved in this and why? Well, I'm 5' 5" tall, brunette, pretty (I've been told), with very light skin. My breasts are 42C. I also weigh 235 lbs. so I haven't usually gotten a lot of attention from men; unless of course they needed an object of fun and derision, which I have been at various times in my life. One guy that dated me (once) even said to someone later on that he wasn't sure he could find "it"(my pussy) let alone fit his cock into it, as if that was supposed to be funny.

Until about a month before I started having sex in front of a video camera, I was a virgin. I had some experience jerking guys off and giving blowjobs but nobody was interested in seeing me without my clothes, let alone fucking me.

Consequently, in matters of love and sex, I resolved to be very cautious. Sex for me had always been about getting the guy off and never about getting me off. I guess because I was so fat I was supposed to be grateful for just being out with any guy. Well, I wasn't. I may have been overweight (whatever that means) but I was still a person with feelings and sexual desire, something that's difficult for many non-fat people to understand.

And so my sex life came to consist alternately of masturbation and deprivation. That is, until about six months ago when Tammy, my best friend at work, asked if she could introduce me to Eric.

My day job was, and still is, managing a local framing store. Eric had been friends with Tammy's boyfriend Mark in college, though Tammy said they hadn't seen much of each other since. Eric came into the store one day and had seen me. He asked Tammy who I was, and expressed interest in meeting me. I was surprised and somewhat curious since I didn't remember him, so I told Tammy I'd meet him after work one day and see what he wanted.

Though I had been "burned" a lot in the past, I decided that if we liked each other and he asked me out, I'd go. Mark has always been kind and polite to me so I figured any friend of his was worth the risk. If Eric wasn't attracted to me, that would be OK, so long as he was respectful. If it didn't lead to a date or if it led to a date and no sex, I still had my faithful "rabbit" vibrator and "he" had never failed me.

Eric called me the very next day. Knowing what I know now, that should have made me suspicious. Anyway, we got together after work a couple of days later. Since I assumed he had already scrutinized me physically, I was a little puzzled as to why a good looking guy would want to go out with someone considerably less than svelte. I thought, "Isn't he afraid of being laughed at in public?"

In any case, we got on well and he asked if I'd care to see a film with him that coming Saturday. I really like movies and while I prefer avant garde or foreign cinema, I was willing to see whatever he wanted, though I told him I drew the line at splatter films. He graciously let me choose and I selected something I thought we both might enjoy. Eric picked me up Saturday evening and we went to the theatre.

Afterward we went to a small, out of the way bar for a drink. I learned that Eric was a film major in college so we had a lot to talk about. We discussed our favorite directors and our favorite films and then Eric got around to telling me about his work. He was working as a cameraman, assistant director, and scriptwriter for a documentary filmmaker. I thought that was pretty cool.

How films are actually created has always interested me. I liked hearing about everything he did. He didn't get paid much, with most documentary filmmakers being almost always underfunded, so Eric also worked doing free-lance editing. He also mumbled something vague about producing video for the Internet.

Before I could ask about that, he asked me about my job, which isn't all that interesting, certainly not compared to what Eric was doing. The only thing that kept me from being bored to death was my every other week stint as a docent at an art museum. He asked me if I would ever consider working in film since I had the arts background, an art history degree, and was obviously knowledgeable. I said I didn't think anyone would hire me without experience. I didn't say, "In something as glamorous as filmmaking, no one is going to hire a fat girl with no specific skills who isn't a friend of the director or producer." Eric said maybe he could help if I were interested. I thought that was very nice. At that time I didn't know to what he was referring. If I did, I might have stood up and walked out.

Eric took me home and I thanked him for a lovely evening. I was still a little puzzled about his interest as I couldn't see what he would want with me. Of course we did have a nice time. Maybe I was more intellectually stimulating than his usual companions.

He took my hand as he walked me to my apartment door. He kissed me goodnight in a way that was more than just polite. He took my face in his hands and kissed me very deeply. I was surprised and somewhat breathless. One hand moved down to my breast as the other started up and down my back. I was a little woozy; I had a nice looking guy feeling me up on my doorstep; something quite unexpected. I swallowed hard and asked if he'd like to come in for "coffee." I was surprised and relieved and scared all at the same time when he said, "Yes."

Inside the door, instead of immediately groping me, Eric took my hand and kissed it. He drew me close to him. It was romantic; but also hot: I could feel his erection. My pulse was racing and my pussy was getting wet. He had been so nice to me and had made this the best date I ever had. I quickly made up my mind: If he wanted a blow job or a hand job, I was going to do it.

I led him to my bedroom where I put the table lamp on its softest setting. To my further surprise Eric put his hand up my dress, reached inside my panties, and started caressing my buns! No one had ever gone for my butt before. I unzipped his pants, pulled them down, freed his fair-sized member, and dropped to my knees. I started fellating him by taking the head in my mouth and stroking the shaft as he ran his hands through my hair.

Even if this was all he wanted, I enjoyed doing it for him and wasn't going to regret it. Instead of cumming in my mouth as I expected, he stepped back and helped me to my feet. He then proceeded to unzip my dress and lift it over my head. He actually wanted to see me naked! He knelt in front of me and pulled down my panties. Then he kissed my pussy. I was literally weak in the knees by this point and completely in his hands. He stood up and finished taking off his clothes. He turned me around and undid my bra. It was then, as I was completely naked, that I remembered how fat I was. I started to feel embarrassed about my size.

I put my head down but Eric, seeming to sense exactly what I was feeling, held me close to him and said, "Look at me: I think you're hot and I'm going fuck you like you've never been fucked."

Wow! I was finally going to get laid.

As he was taking a condom out of his pocket, I said, "Eric, I'm a virgin. Please don't be upset."

He stopped, looked at me, and said, "Do you want to just do oral?"

"No!" I said quickly. "No, I want you to fuck me. Please."

"Celia, are you sure? Are you sure you want me to do it?"

I said excitedly, "Yes, I'm sure; surer than I've ever been about anything."

"OK, get on that bed," he commanded playfully.

I lay back, spread my legs, and bent my knees. Placing the condom on the bed next to us, Eric put his face between my legs and started licking my pussy. I couldn't believe the sensation! I started moaning softly. I was hoping he liked doing it; I hoped I smelled and tasted OK. Was I crazy to agree to this? Would I be embarrassed by it the next day?

As if on cue, Eric lifted his head and said reassuringly, "Your pussy is luscious." Was I dreaming?

I was too uptight, too nervous to cum, so he finally got up and put the rubber on his still-hard cock. I lifted my arms up to embrace him as he positioned his erection at my entrance. He fell slowly forward and sank into my softness. I felt the pressure of the hard cock on my hymen. He moved in and out with shallow thrusts, gauging my tightness. (He was clearly experienced with the defloration process. I was glad one of us was.)

He said, "On the count of three, I'm going to push hard into you. Is that OK?"

"Yes," I said, hoarsely. "Do it! Split me open! Take me!" (OK; I got a little carried away, though I think I can be forgiven under the circumstances.)

"One..."

Yes, finally!

"Two..."

At last: I was going to be a real woman ... sort of.

"Three!"

Down he thrust, quickly and forcefully. My hymen gave way with a "snap!" I was amazed: some pressure; very little pain; and it was done. I held him as he fucked me until he came.

When he had finished, Eric lay close to me, cuddling and caressing me. I'd half expected him to doff the condom and run out the door but no, he kissed me and asked how I felt about the loss of my virginity. I wasn't a little girl; I wasn't going to get overly emotional about it, but it was so nice of him to care. If I had been 16, it might have meant more. I was happy to have done with it, frankly. Virginity is overrated. I was happier still to have lost it to someone so sexy and so solicitous of me. As we lay on my bed, he actually started complimenting me on my body. Me! This had to be a dream, right?

However nice he was to me, I was under no illusion that we would become a "couple" after this and told him so.

He was caught off guard by that and hemmed and hawed before I let him off the hook with the question: "Do you have a thing for fat girls? Is that why you went out with me?"

He said, "Well ... yeah, sort of; I mean, I like all types of girls but I must admit, big girls really turn me on."

That was OK, however, since my level of expectation regarding love is always fairly low anyway.

"That's fine," I said. "I'm glad we went out. I'm glad you fucked me; really."

"Celia," he said, "I'm surprised you were a virgin. You're very attractive."

That was nice, even if he was lying. It was then that he surprised me by asking how open-minded I was.

Hmm ... was he going to suggest a threesome or something even kinkier? Or maybe abusive? I said warily that I was fairly open-minded, at least to a point. He asked if I had done any modeling. Modeling? Me? Even the plus-sized store models were slimmer than I was.

"OK," I said, "Stop beating around the bush (no pun intended) and get to the point."

It was then that he told me about the BBW Web site he and some friends had started and wondered if I would consider modeling for them. I didn't even know what a BBW was until he told me all about this phenomenon in the world of pornography. He described how they set up the site and how they interviewed women to perform sexually with them in front of the camera.

I was instantly deflated: it wasn't a dream; it was an audition.

"So when were you going to ask me to fuck for your Web site?" I said with a note of indignation.

He looked rather sheepish as he replied, "Please don't be angry, Celia. Tonight was really great. Like I said, you're very attractive; you'd be so hot on camera."

I didn't know what to say. I was angry, hurt, irritatingly buoyed by the back-handed compliment, and intrigued all at the same time.

Seeing that I hadn't firmly rejected the idea, Eric tried another tack: "Let's look at the site. If you don't want to do it, forget I ever asked you."

So, we got out of bed and went to my computer. We navigated to the Web site and there were profiles of large women with images of them masturbating or sucking cocks or being fucked from behind. I must admit that it was exciting as well as astonishing to see.

I navigated through the "Free Tour" and asked Eric some questions. "Are these professional models? Were they already porn stars?"

He told me that they tried to find new and different girls all the time and that it was an amateur site. Their intent was that the production should not look too professional. So, the models needed to be the "girl next door" type. (Fat girl next door, of course.) He and his friends did the fucking, etc. and paid the models by the session.

"You could be a star," he said to me.

Oh, sure. The women on the site actually were amateur looking. Some had tattoos, some had stretch marks, and all of them were fat.

"Do people actually pay to watch fat girls having sex?" I naively asked.

"Yes, they sure do! It's becoming lucrative; we're really starting to pull in the subscriptions. We just got a good review from one of the bigger porn site reviewers. That's helped us."

He looked at me and said, "We're looking for new models all the time. I think you'd be great."

He took my hand. "The guys are really nice. They always treat the girls respectfully, if that's what you're worried about."

I reached for a tissue to clean up the little smear of blood on the inside of my thigh. "And remember: It's a sub-culture. No one you know is likely ever to see you."

Eric leaned over and gently kissed my lips and stroked my hair. He started to feel my tits and I could see him getting hard again. We went back to the bed for another fucking after which Eric left, excusing himself with some story about needing to do some documentary editing early the next morning.

He kissed me good-bye very tenderly, though, and said, "Promise me you'll think about it?" I said that I would.

Think about it I did. Of course, I had more than a few reservations. On the one hand, I'd had sex with an attractive man, more attractive than I'd been used to. On the other hand, he fucked me as part of a strategy to help him make money by persuading me to perform sex acts in front of a video camera. Still, that had its "plus" side, too.

Before this evening, I would never have thought someone would pay money to watch fat women have sex. It became apparent that a lot of people were prepared to do so; all they needed was an easily accessible place that provided them with continuously refreshed images and the assurance of anonymity.

In a fit of imagination inconceivable before this evening's events, I started to fantasize about having sex with attractive men on what was essentially a movie set. I would be the star, the center of attention. More assertive sexuality than that probably wasn't in the cards for me.

I decided that I should really think about this seriously. If I was going to blow and fuck guys like Eric and even get paid for it ... well, it was worth considering. I liked the way he made love to me, even if he had been sneaky about the modeling proposal. I knew all along that I wasn't the prize he made me out to be. Though I had suspended my disbelief while it was happening, I was back to reality now. Still, he got it up for me more than once tonight. That was something.

I also thought of the down side. First of all, would I have the nerve just to take my clothes off in front of people, let alone have sex? Wouldn't I be embarrassed to have my sexual performance available for anyone to see? What if someone I knew saw it and recognized me? Wouldn't I be stigmatized? Wouldn't I lose my job? Wouldn't the evidence of my depravity cause me to be ostracized from the rest of society (a society that didn't like me that much anyway, I reminded myself) and condemn me to a downward-spiraling life first of pornographic sluthood, then drugs, and finally, crime? I saw myself disheveled, without makeup, clad in gray, and sitting alone in a prison cell as the bars clanged shut.

As part of his entreaty, Eric had given me a temporary password to the site. I returned to it, curious about these women who seemed to have risked everything for a few minutes of fame... or was it infamy? Were they social deviants – ex-cons and biker chicks? Were they on drugs during the shoot? As it turned out, none of that was true. As I watched them, I was struck by how ordinary they looked. These were women I might see anywhere: shopping in the grocery store, standing in line at the movies, or ... managing a framing store.

Did men really get off seeing fat women fucked and cummed on? Well, apparently they did. I noticed, too, that the men in the films (the same two, by the way) really were respectful of the women as Eric said they were. They complimented them and treated them in a way that I thought was reserved only for the slinkier among us. I had been prepared to see something bordering on the grotesque. Instead, what I saw was plus-sized women having explicit sex with normal-sized men and accepting it as their due. No one made fun of them. There was no humiliation involved. There was the impression only of lust and pleasure for both the male and the female. It occurred to me that there was something both uninhibited and accepting about it that was missing in most of the rest of society and certainly in my life.

About a week later, I got up the courage to call Eric.

"Celia! I was hoping you'd call," he said. I asked him if I could watch a filming, if that was allowed.

"Of course," he said.

They didn't let just anyone on the set but that they were always happy, understandably, to have prospective models come to check things out. He told me they were filming the next Sunday morning and asked if I would I like to see how things were done. I swallowed hard and said "Yes." He gave me the address and said he'd see me on Sunday.

I arrived at the location, a house in a nice, quiet neighborhood. I knocked on the door, hoping I hadn't gotten the address wrong.

A guy opened the door, introduced himself as Terry, and said, "You must be Celia. C'mon in. Eric said you'd be coming over. He said you might be working with us."

Hastily, I told him I was still thinking about it.

"Cool," he said. "Let me introduce you to the guys."

I met Todd, who I recognized from the Web site, and Mike, another performer who, today, was doing the lighting, and Chris, the cameraman. I also met David. He was sort of nerdy compared to the rest of the guys, shy but very nice and kind of cute. David was the one who took care of the technology on the set and maintained the Web site as well. He was busily preparing the monitor and the digital recording equipment. The filming was set to start in about 15 minutes so there was a flurry of activity. I stood to the side, trying not to get in the way. Eric came into the living room and greeted me.

"Hey, Celia," and kissed my cheek. "Stick close to me; I'm going to be directing today."

I looked around for the model, who was nowhere to be seen.

When I asked Eric where she was, he said, "Andrea is in the bedroom, being made up by Marsha."

As he said that, two women came into the living room. One was obviously Andrea, red haired, busty, and bigger than I was. She had on a black spaghetti-strapped gown. The other woman was blond, pretty, and normal sized. That was Marsha. In addition to doing the makeup, Eric told me, she was also the "fluffer."

Before I could ask what a "fluffer" was, I heard David say, "Ready, Eric."

Eric then called everyone to attention. "OK, guys, we're ready to start. Andrea, you look great, doll."

Andrea, very nicely made up, smiled, tossed her curly hair, and nervously kept smoothing imaginary wrinkles in her dress. I thought she looked very pretty. Mike had moved the lights into position. Terry had the boom microphone ready. Todd waited alongside Andrea. Apparently he was going to be the male performer today.

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byarachnophile52© 15 comments/ 70032 views/ 19 favorites

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