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This is a short piece I wrote that inspired a scene in a much longer work.

My name's Jim, and sometimes I can be a real bastard.

I was sitting in the hot tub of a mid-priced chain hotel. It was about 7 o'clock in the evening and I had the pool area to myself. Who am I? I'm the man your mother warned you about. I am your worst nightmare. I can read minds and influence them. I can make you see whatever I want you to see. I can change shapes at will. I am the most dangerous person you will ever meet. And, most of the time, I'm a pretty nice guy. Sometimes, when the mood is right, I'm an utter bastard.

I was pissed. I'd discovered a magical computer program called Master PC and some days I was not sure that was such a good thing. Since I got the program I dropped about 150 pounds, got myself back into the kind of shape I was in as an 18 year old, and did a bunch of other things that you can read about elsewhere (mostly beneficial things although I can hardly be called an altruist). That was all good as far as it went.

The bad news? The feds know about Master PC too and they don't want anyone else to have it. Why they don't use it themselves I'll never know. Anyway there's this little twerp in a (mostly) anonymous agency called the Federal Mind Control Administration or some such thing who's been giving me fits. He even started hassling my friend Tiffany. One thing I don't stand for is someone bothering my friends or my family. So, I had to do something about him and I did, poor bastard.

That's why I was in Washington, D.C. And so was my assistant, Cheri. She thought we were here on a consulting job. I used to have a regular job in my home town but since discovering the power of the Master PC program I've developed a rather lucrative consulting business -- people have a hard time resisting my sales pitches.

Anyway, Cheri was back in our room, unconscious. Why? Because that's the way I wanted her, until I needed her conscious again – it was just easier that way.

Where was I? Oh, the hot tub.

Like I said I had the pool area to myself until the door opened and in walked a woman in a modest one piece swim suit with a cover-up – soccer mom, I thought at first glance. She grabbed a towel and then dropped it and the cover up on a chair near the hot tub. I suppose I should describe her to you. She was about 5-6 with dark brown, almost black, shoulder length hair. She had big tits – probably at least a 38 C or D cup and a nice shape. She looked like someone in her upper 30's maybe early 40's at the most. Wedding band on the fourth finger of the left hand; decent stone, not too big or too small. Nice legs and a clear complexion. She was a nice looking woman and she was alone.

Time to have some fun, I thought, and I began to probe her mind.

Hmmm...married (happily) but does exotic dancing for extra cash – with that body she'd get lots of tips – slightly submissive at times but nothing too kinky. Can't stand fat men. Well, that's something to play with.

You see, I used to be fat. Really fat. I never went into pools or hot tubs in hotels unless there was no one else around. It was embarrassing. Now, I can go anywhere I like. Women look at me and smile instead of trying not to puke.

Maybe I'm still carrying around some baggage from those days (d'ya think?).

Anyway, the woman waded into the shallow end of the main pool and swam a few laps (breast stroke), being very careful to keep her head out of the water, and then got out and came over to the hot tub.

"Mind if I join you?"

"By all means, but you might want to reset the timer – I think it's about to quit," I said, smiling. Did I mention that I have great teeth and a killer smile?

She walked over to the wall and I watched her ass. It might have been my imagination, or maybe she walked this way all the time, but it looked to me like she was giving it a little extra sway as she stepped up to the control panel and reset the timer on the whirlpool.

She was smiling as she walked back – nice smile with lots of pearly white teeth. I didn't look away – I let her know I appreciated her beauty, but I wasn't leering. She seemed to like the attention. Some pretty women act like they don't want you to look. What a bunch of bull shit.

I decided to have a little fun. Just as the woman was stepping into the hot tub I gave her a vision of what I looked like when I weighed 330 lbs. And, I kept up that illusion. She was committed to coming into the tub with me – it would have looked really weird if she'd backed out – and I saw her shake her head as if to clear it and then she looked at me again.

She sat down on the opposite corner of the pool from where I was sitting.

"Where are you from?" I asked.

"Vegas," she said. She was trying not to look in my direction now – she had her head back and her eyes closed. "Mmmm, this feels good."

I sent her a mental command. Her head snapped up and her eyes opened. She was looking right at me.

"You don't like fat guys much do you Veronica?"

"How do you know my name," she asked her voice trembling a little – I'd scared her. Good.

"I know a lot about you. I also know you don't like fat guys. Why is that, Veronica?"

I had given her permission to speak her mind and she did. Did she ever.

"They're disgusting and they stink and all that flesh – it makes my skin crawl."

"You'd never fuck a fat man would you Veronica?"

"God no!"

"What if he had a 12 inch cock?"


"I said, would you fuck a fat guy if he had a 12 inch cock."

I also knew that Veronica had a big dick fetish. So sad. The female vagina is only about 4 inches deep, and that's stretching it. A foot long cock is a waste of at least 4 inches of flesh, accounting for the geometry of sex and how much dick a man can actually insert in a woman's pussy.

"Veronica? Answer me please, and tell the truth – I'll know if you're lying."

"Would I have to look at him while I did it?"

BINGO! I had the bitch and we both knew it.

"Maybe we'd use a blind fold."

"Well, I'd have to think about it."

"Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie. Can I call you Ronnie? You don't have to think about it at all. You're a big cock slut. So much so that you'd fuck Fat Bastard if he walked in here with a foot of man meat in his shorts."

She actually blushed. I laughed at her.

"C'mon, let's go back to my room and I'll take you some place that your husband has never taken you before."

"My husband..." I cut her off.

"Your husband is in Las Vegas with the kids. You're alone here dancing at some club in the suburbs and shooting east coast porn on your days off. Stop playing around, Ronnie. Now let's go."

I stood up and I didn't let her look away. What she thought she was looking at was a gray haired man in his late 50's carrying about 150 more pounds than he should have been. It must have been like watching Shamu come out of the tank at Sea World. The disgust on her face was as clear as it was predictable – I'd seen that look before.

But then she caught sight of the bulge in the trunks and her face changed in an instant. I wasn't going to need to blind fold her at all. But I had some other surprises in store for Veronica.

I held out my hand and she took it, smiling now, a look of lust on her face.

"Is it really 12 inches?"

"No, actually, it's 14."

"Oh my god," she gasped.

I laughed. She had NO idea.

We dried off with the pool towels and tossed them in the hamper. Then it was off to my room. She held my hand as we walked up the hallway. Several people saw us. She was uncomfortable being seen with a fat guy. Of course she had no idea that the people we met in the hallway saw a handsome man and a lovely woman walking hand in hand. They smiled at us.

"What's it feel like," I said in the elevator when we were alone, "thinking about those people seeing you with me in the hallway."




"Yes. Good. I want you to remember this night for the rest of your life. In fact, I can guarantee you will. And, after I'm through with you, you're going to go out of your way to be nice to fat guys, even if they don't tip well. When you dance you're going to look for fat guys and give them extra special attention."

"Fuck that!" she snapped as the elevator door opened. She started to walk out and I stopped her with a thought.

I took her hand and in a few steps we were in my room with the door closed and locked behind us.

"Who's this?"

"Oh, her? That's Cheri, my assistant. She won't know we're here. Don't worry about her."

Cheri was laying on one of the beds, perfectly still. Her eyes were closed. For all intents and purposes she was sleeping. Actually I had sort of switched off her higher brain functions for the moment. Her automatic responses were working – she was breathing and her heart was pumping, her kidneys and other organs doing their thing, etc. But mentally she was a null wave transmitter.

Veronica couldn't stop staring.

"She's gorgeous. How come you're not fucking her?"

"Oh I have and I will again. Just not right now. She's sort of a project of mine. She fucks my wife and my neighbor and her husband. She'll fuck anyone I tell her to. And like it. If you want, I'll wake her up and have her eat your pussy."

"Wow. Who are you?"

"Sidney Greenstreet."

"Come on...who are you really?"

"You can call me Mr. Big."

I dropped my trunks and she gasped.

"My god! It's huge!"

"Wait until it's hard. Get that suit off and get on that bed over there. Daddy wants to make some moogie."

She continued to stare at my cock the way a rabbit might stare at a cobra – wanting to run but unable to move or look away. She stripped off her tank suit and moved to the bed.

She was gorgeous. I sent a pleasure bolt right to her clit and she squealed with delight, her hands flew to her pussy – she began furiously frigging herself. She was wet and ready – I had seen to that with a steady stream of stimulating mental prods aimed right at the pleasure centers of her brain.

Keep in mind that though she SAW a fat man, it was not a fat man who positioned himself between her legs.

"Now, Ronnie, get ready because you're about to get ALL the wrinkles worked out of your little cunt." She moaned.

I spit on and then notched the head of my enormous pecker in the opening to her vagina and then I buried about 4 inches of it inside her. She grunted with pleasure. I pulled back and pushed in again. Another two inches. She was still feeling pretty good. Back out. In again. Another two inches. Now she was starting to feel stretched. I was hitting the back wall of her pussy, bumping her cervical opening on the way. Back out again. I looked right into her eyes and smiled. It was not a nice smile. It was the smile that a shark might give, if it could smile, right before it took a bite out of a swimmer.

Slowly I pressed in again. She smiled back at me at first and then her facial expression began to change as I pushed past the point where any man had ever gone with her and kept going. The back wall of her vagina stretched to accommodate the intruder. It was not comfortable. What she didn't know was that I could control the length and thickness of my cock with a thought and I was making it thicker as I pushed.

It was now the size of her forearm. I was monitoring her. I didn't want to kill her – that would have been easy to do if my control was not absolute. Fortunately, she was a mature woman who'd had a few kids – she was still in great shape, but not like a virgin by any means. I tested her limits and then pulled back.

The look of relief on her face was replaced by fear a moment later as I pushed my cock back inside her again, once more stretching her to the absolute limit. She was groaning now.

I sent a shot of pleasure through her nervous system as I bottomed out. Her eyes flew open wide. So did her mouth. No sound came out. It was almost comical.

My cock was as thick as my forearm now and I began to really work Veronica's pussy over good. I didn't slam it in, but my strokes were vigorous. I was reaming her a new one, so to speak. And I had plans for her ass, too. She was going to leave my room a changed woman. Compared to the fat man in room 412 all other men were going to be just boys.

My hips were a blur as I really stepped up the pace. She began cumming almost at once. She didn't stop cumming for 20 minutes. That's when she fainted.

I rolled her over and spread the cheeks of her ass. Her pussy was wide open and the lips were a raw red color. Pussy juice dribbled out onto the bed spread. She wouldn't walk right for a few days.

I reached into my bag for the bottle of lube I always carry and I dumped a large portion at the top of Ronnie's ass crack. Then I started working it into her with my fingers. One finger then two then three – in and out of her asshole. She woke up just as I was positioning the knob of my massive and well greased boner at her rear entrance.

"What are you...I've never...noooo...don't...you'll kill me with that fucker!" she hissed at me through clenched teeth.

"Relax, Ronnie, it'll only hurt for a minute or two. Then you're really gonna like it. Imagine you, giving up your ass cherry to a fat old man like me. Turn your head to the right honey and smile."

I gave her another illusion. She was looking right into a camera hooked up to a computer. She believed that I was streaming the video on the net.

"Noooooo...please...not that..."

"Don't want anyone to know you're fucking a fat guy, right? You stream your naked body on line all the time – I'm just giving your customers a little something extra."

For all she knew, I was streaming this video on her own website.

"Smile for your fans baby cos here comes daddy!"

With that, I pushed the head of my massive erection firmly into the center of her well prepared anal opening. She threw her head back and started to scream.

"Nuh-uh-uh, Ronnie, we can't have that," I whispered as I halted the scream before it had a chance to emerge.

She managed a whisper, which was all the vocalizing I was allowing her at the moment. "Who are you?"

"We've been through this, Ronnie," I said with as much boredom as I could manage considering that I now had six inches of dick buried in her warm tight backside.

"Just let go and enjoy," I said as I began to send pleasure waves from her ass to her brain.

Veronica moaned.

"Say 'fat guys are hot' Veronica," I whispered into her ear.

"Noooooo," she moaned.

I took the pleasure away and let her feel what was really going on in her ass as I pushed another two inches deeper into her colon.

"ohmygod" she gasped in pain.

"I can make it feel wonderful again, Ronnie, but you have to say the magic words."

"Noooooo....I hate fat men."

"Wrong answer," I growled pushing deeper and stimulating her pain sensors.

"You're hurting me," she moaned. I wasn't really, but she WAS experiencing some discomfort.

I said nothing, but just started fucking in and out with every inch I could get into her. I did nothing to enhance her feelings, I just blocked any pleasure she might have felt.

"Fat...guys...are...are...are...hot..." she gasped.

"I don't think you mean it," I said, soothing some of her discomfort as a show of good will.

"Fat guys are hot," she said, sounding more sincere this time.

"Keep saying it. The more you say it the better you'll feel."

"Fat guys are hot." A jolt of pleasure blasted into her nervous system.

"Fat guys are hot!" Another pleasure bolt rocketed up from her asshole.

"FAT GUYS ARE HOT!" That got a big blast of positive reinforcement.



There was more, but why repeat it? Her orgasms were hitting her like a series of freight trains at full throttle. She was chanting the magic words like a mantra. She was babbling. She was crying. She was squirting with pleasure. Damn...should have put down towels...

I put her to sleep.

Then I put her suit back on her and took her back to the hot tub. There was still no one else there. I reset the timer on the whirlpool and placed her where she had been earlier. Then I went over to where I'd been sitting and sat back down.

I woke her up and she saw me as I was, not as the fat guy who'd just thoroughly fucked her.

Waves of disorientation and fear crossed her face. She winced as certain parts of her anatomy made their recent activities known. I smiled at her – not the shark smile, but the one that just makes most women damp in the panty region.

"Hi," I said. "My name's Jim. What's yours?"

She shook her head.

"Was someone else here before? A big guy? Gray hair?"

I made a show of looking around. "No one here but us, ma'am."

She was trying to get a handle on the moment. Then she seemed to remember that I'd asked her something.

"Veronica. My name is Veronica."

"Pleased to meet you Veronica. What brings you to our nation's capitol?"

"Work. You?"

"Same here. Work work work – I need some time off."

"Forgive me for bringing this up, but are you sure there was no one else here a minute ago?"

"Are you OK? You seem a little woozy. Have you been drinking? It's not safe to be in one of these tubs if you've been drinking."

"Honestly I haven't had anything alcoholic to drink today," she said.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," I said. I got up and she looked at my buff body. I have a scar on my right knee – an old basketball injury. I didn't bother to get rid of it when I remodeled myself. She might have noticed it before. That was OK with me.

I stepped to her and held out my hand.

"Let me get you back to your room, Veronica."

She didn't resist as I helped her up the steps out of the whirlpool or when I dried her off with a towel. She was quiet as I helped her back to her room. She didn't even object when I stripped off her swimsuit and maneuvered her naked body under the covers of her bed.

After I tucked her in I leaned over her and put my mouth next to her ear.

"What are the magic words?"

"Fat guys are hot," she whispered. Her eyes flews open and she gasped. Her body jerked as a wave of pleasure swept over her. Then I put her to sleep – she'd wake up in 30 minutes wondering what was real and what wasn't.

I walked out of her room smiling with the knowledge that for the rest of her life the only man who could really make her cum would be a fat man.

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