Rosie Cheeks Ch. 03: Night Life

"I think they want to! I have their numbers -- they asked me to give you theirs, too. And, um... speaking of numbers..." Grace shot a thumb over her shoulder, pointing at the woman that she had been dancing with, now waiting awkwardly behind the pair. "I think I'm about to get hers, and take her home. Is that okay?"

Rosaline stared at the new girl, silently evaluating.

"If she's trashy, she sleeps outside."

"That is a DEAL, Ros. After you."

The pair of friends meandered home, Grace and her dance partner flirting with various giggles intermixed. Rosaline followed behind tentatively, not wanting to get in the way. They walked down the slowly emptying streets until they once again came upon Swirled -- it's dingey lights still shining into the deepening darkness. Rosaline paused.

"Gray?"

"Yeah, babes?"

"You girls go ahead. I'll be home later."

Grace appeared to grow more sober at the mere mention of the words "home" and "later."

"Rosie... you are not walking home alone, if that's what you're thinking."

"I won't be. I... think I want to see someone." She smiled tenderly at her friend. "I'll call you when I get back, ok?"

"You don't need a Lyft, or anything?"

"I promise, Gray. I'll be ok."

Grace considered her quizzically before sighing. "Be. Safe. Call me if ANYTHING happens."

"You know I will."

And with that, she was alone again.

She took a deep breath. Fixed her hair in the reflection of a nearby window. Examined her silhouette with a perfectionist's eye. She was still there -- still freckled, still tall, still too thick for her to know what to do with it all. Somehow, though... it felt ok.

Steeling herself, she descended down the ratty concrete staircase and into the bar. The interior was near entirely empty -- the music absent, the dance floor, a vacant platform on checkered tile flooring, and the bar, isolated -- save one man in a tight-fitting black tee who's gaze rose to meet her own.

"Hi," she called across the bar. "I... never asked your name."

The bartender stared at her with vacant eyes and open jaw before seeming to come to his senses. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance for a moment there.

"Titus," he breathed, regaining his composure. "Titus Langley."

"Titus," she repeated. "Titus Langley." She took a few small steps forward. She barely noticed the wobbling of her hips as she did -- her green eyes were focused squarely on him.

"Rosaline," he responded, placing his hands firmly on the bar's surface. "Rosaline... don't think I caught your last name."

"LeBlanc," she exhaled. Getting closer.

"Rosaline LeBlanc... the boat girl."

She snorted. "Come on. Look at me. You know I was the other one." She felt different -- confident. She wanted, needed someone to see it.

He chuckled, plopping down onto his elbows, enjoying her approach. He had been cleaning the countertop, and his forearms were dipped into the soapy water that coated it. He didn't notice.

"True. But I can't just go around calling you the butt girl, can I, LeBlanc?"

She bristled at the way her last name rolled off Titus's tongue. Sweet with a punch right at the start, like cranberry juice. "Why not? Isn't that what you noticed first?"

"It is. But what was that talk we had about finding other things to like?"

"I have other things. I'm a hard worker. I love history. I have a best friend. And apparently, people are jealous of me. But..." she reached the barstools. Her mammoth hips collided ever so gently with their unyielding metal seats. "I think that sometimes... being shaped like this is... mmf!"

She had tried to take a step forward, only for her leading thigh to wedge itself between the two stools. Exasperated, she pushed forward, working in one elephantine leg, then the other. Her crowning features, her colossal cheeks, came next. They met the barstools with a meaty collision and squeezed together, leaving her half in and half out of the space closest to the bar. She decided not to push her luck and settled her arms on top of the bar adjacent to Titus.

Titus raised an eyebrow, watching her plight with a smirk. "Got it?"

She blushed, confidence momentarily shaken. "G... got it. Is there any way I could... get another drink on the house?"

Titus feigned exhaustion and groaned in a played-up display of annoyance. "Gah. You hand out one free drink, you hand out a million. Vodka cran coming up, LeBlanc."

"Actually... what's your favorite drink?"

He turned, shocked she'd asked. "Breaking the mold today after all, hm?"

"The mold doesn't know what it is, Titus."

"Well, like any pretentious twenty-something, I love a good old fashioned. Want one?"

Rosaline cocked her head, curious. "I'd love one."

The two paused their conversation briefly as Titus began assembling the ingredients for his drink of choice. Led by muscle memory, he mixed the bitter concoction and presented it to his guest with an orange peel floating gingerly submerged on the inside. Raising his glass to her, he took a sip, pinky extended in confidence. Rosaline, wanting to appear sure of herself, followed his lead and took a quick gulp from the glass. Immediately her mouth was overtaken by the bitter flavor beating down on her taste buds, and she fought the urge to spit it out, holding it loose in her freckled cheeks. Grimacing, she forced herself to swallow, feeling the burning mixture flow down her throat. Titus was smirking that off-center smirk at her again.

"Gah! That's... that's really awful."

Titus shrugged. "Nobody's perfect," he conceded.

The two blankly stared at one another for a moment. They felt as if an elastic band was stretched between them, pulling them together, but kept taut out of instinct. A fire was raging in Rosaline's abdomen, spurring her forward.

"Titus."

"Mhm?"

"I think... I need your help... getting out of this." She pointed downward at her hips.

The bartender caught on. He began to meander to the back corner of the bar, a small gap in its structure leading freely out into the interior of Swirled.

"Bit too much to squeeze in, hm?"

"Well... you know. Clumsy me." She rolled her eyes and exhaled an exaggerated sigh. Briefly, she considered taking another sip of the old fashioned, but turned her nose upward at the thought. The pair ignored that Rosaline knew full well of the levers that would allow her freedom.

He paced around her slowly, leaving the confines of the bar and exposing his full frame for Rosaline to see in her willing immobility. He was shorter than she had expected -- at about eye level with her -- barrel-chested, with tattooed biceps and a surprisingly thin pair of legs, concealed by faded jeans, blue rubbed raw to white in some areas. His ink danced up and down his arms in odd, tribal patterns that were unfamiliar to Rosaline. She was so honed in on his arms as he approached that she was honestly surprised to shift her gaze upward and see his dark eyes right there -- standing just to her left, removed from the ring of barstools she had imprisoned herself within. He was so close, so soon...

She blew out the air that had built up in her lungs without her knowing, shakily.

"Well?"

He responded wordlessly, his lower face approaching her in a flash, his lips impacting her own in a silent embrace as the two let their anxiety fade. For a moment, Rosaline regretted stuffing herself between the bar and its stools again -- she suddenly ached to face him, wrap both her arms around his broad shoulders. Her hip clunked uselessly against the bar as she tried, still held prisoner, unable to drive herself closer. Her regret were almost immediately forgotten as he wasted no time plunging a powerful hand into the nearest source of ass meat to him, the immensity of her right cheek bucking and yielding to his grasp. He was strong, but he touched her tentatively, gingerly, as if she might disappear their kiss linking them together as she relished in the feeling of his wandering hands squeezing every inch of her pound cakes they could reach -- which in the grand scheme of things, really wasn't too much of it. Rosaline had been kissed before, had her ass touched before, but this was different -- sensual, exploratory, carnal as opposed to mocking, teasing, awe at her expense. She had expected him to play with her most prominent feature, of course, but she certainly hadn't expected to love it. Playful, tactile sensations rose up her lower back and ascended her spine as her mountainous glutes were fondled with juuuust enough force to inspire lustful pleasure without shoving her around.

She couldn't contain it. A low, sultry groan of pleasure rose from her throat and directly into his mouth as their lips became acquainted, well met by Titus's own satisfied vocalizations as he toyed with the world's largest stress ball. Without warning, he placed his nomadic hand on the underside of her cheek and began to lift her up, nearly throwing her off balance. Their kiss broke, a pang of longing reawakening in Rosaline as her lithe arms caught her upper body on the bar, and she witnessed him near effortlessly raise her center of gravity to the point where she could wriggle out one immense thigh, then the other -- freedom, no levers, no sinking stools required. Still enamored by the lingering sensation of her fat enveloping his muscular arms, she stood near motionless for a moment as the bartender pulled her in close, and began to kiss up and down her pale neck. She gasped, unfamiliar with this sensation entirely, and the room was graced with the sound of a meaty THWAP as her cheeks clenched forcefully behind her, a humiliating reflex. She grimaced made to break from him, endure his laughter, but he seemed to not notice the interruption as he placed a firm hand on the back of her head, holding her in place as its partner returned to the enormity of her ass. She squealed, an involuntary, embarrassing thing -- and that only seemed to increase his fervor, kissing and fondling with more intensity.

"Mmh..." She purred, thankful for the wanderer's return. Her own hands gingerly touched his arms, tracing them up and down as his kisses made their way up her chin and back to her lips. Before she knew it she had lifted up his shirt, her nimble hands skating across a soft stomach before firm abdominals. Without a second thought she lifted her arms higher, bidding longingly to remove the suddenly very, very bothersome article of clothing. He responded in kind, hands travelling to her pelvis and toying with her belt. It had held steadfast all night, wide waistband of her jeans consolidated in folds along her miniscule waist, but it sighed with relief as he unbuckled it. The jeans immediately fell loose around her stomach, but remained tightly bound to her prodigious lower half. His proximity to her sex urged her to cross her legs slightly, enormous thighs squeezing together as she became aware of a sweet dampness between them.

The two parted for just a moment, Rosaline practically ripping off the bartender's black tee. She admired him -- his upper body showed clear signs of regular exercise, but he wasn't unrealistically cut. He smiled at her warmly before pulling downward with all his might. As of freed from years of imprisonment, her donk flew out of the constraints of her jeans as they fell weightlessly to the floor around her ankles, their task finally complete. They seemed to sigh with relief as Rosaline's monstrous hips and thighs claimed all the space around her, dotted and decorated with perforations revealing where the stitching had embedded itself into her lower body's tonnage. She couldn't resist exhaling a sigh of relief.

"Freckles," Titus noted with a joyous timbre, pointing out the constellations of them that dotted the expanse of her cheeks.

Rosaline's mind was elsewhere. "Are we doing this? Right here?" There was no apprehension -- she wasn't at all opposed to the idea.

"There," he exhaled, pointing behind her. "There's a breakroom through there. It's just me tonight."

Practically giddy, Rosaline made an about face to follow his guidance to this fabled break room. As she did, she felt a sharp pain, the impact of a bare hand against the underside of her gargantuan right cheek. The angle sent it careening upward, impacting lightly with her back and lightly colliding with its partner and inspiring a symphony of wobbles to travel throughout the entirety of her soft flesh.

"Ooh!" She yelped. The sound surprised her -- as did the sensation. She reveled in the residual wobbles, feeling every centimeter of her hundred-inch ass recoiling from Titus's spanking. When the Three B's had done this she felt revulsion, she felt pain, she felt eyes observing her undulation. That was all still there, but a new, wonderful ingredient had been added -- desire. Lust. It surprised Rosaline just how much she adored the feeling clung to it as the last of her wobbles slowed to a standstill.

"Get your ass in there, LeBlanc," he teased. Rosaline's face was crimson.

"Yes, sir," she thought pointedly, though she'd never say it aloud. She bit her lip and obeyed, butt jostling heavily from side to side as she did. She could feel his brown eyes burning a hole in the back of her jeans, and... good God, she... liked it. She REALLY liked it. Despite herself she threw in an extra little sway to her hips, motivating her gelatinous booty to intensify its never-ending dance. She was rewarded with another spank, this one across her right cheek.

"Hah! Mmm... mhmmmhmm..." Giggles erupted from her throat like foreign creatures as her cheeks were thrown into waves of motion yet again. The pear-shaped woman shot a seductive glance over her shoulder, meeting knowing brown pools in the eyes of Titus as he met her gaze without a flinch. She bit her lip and watched him approach as she walked blindly forward... not a care in the world other than the bottomless desire that lit up his face. She was burning hot, echoes of filthy needs rising up from her pelvis, tickling her brain so thoroughly that she didn't notice Titus's expression turn to concern as she squeezed partially into the doorframe on either side with her titanic thighs, scooting forward a foot or two before being ground to a halt by her sheer mass.

"Oh... wow." Titus was awestruck as the legendary ass from Fortune faced him, once again holding its owner captive in a small space, this time completely unintentionally. Rosaline gasped, panic rising in her chest and nearly extinguishing her horny demeanor -- before she looked back, peeping over a narrow shoulder to see stars in Titus's eyes, a bulge extending outward against the constraints of his jeans that had not been there a moment previous.

"I'm... I'm stuck." She whined, pulling forward ever so slightly. As expected, her butt refused to offer up an inch of purchase.

"Y-yeah. You are. Stuck... in a doorway." He stared at her twin mounds, blocking his passage entirely, and the little owner haplessly staring back at him.

"This... happens to me... a lot." Rosaline's hands thrust backward, apologetically caressing the pounds of pale flesh she could reach given her insane anatomy. "You must think... you must think I'm pretty disgusting, huh?"

The shirtless bartender looked as if he'd just been slapped in the face.

"Rosaline... this is... hot."

Her back straightened. Her eyes widened. Her hands grasped nervously at her bare flesh.

"P... push me..."

"...You sure, LeBlanc?" His hands were already on her exposed ass. Praying for a yes.

"Push my... push my b-big ass through..." She leaned her minimized torso forward, helpless to resist his touch even if she wanted to. This was a good wedge -- she'd never make it out alone. "I want you..."

She couldn't finish her sentence with the overloading stimulus of Titus pushing into her fleshy walls. They dwarfed both his hands, and she felt his full upper body press into her enormity as he worked forward with his feet, pushing her forward with all his power. She didn't move. Her ass simply spread out, colliding with the wall and rippling like a waterbed.

"Mmmmm-AAAH!" It was just too much! She felt her bare cheeks slap against the wall to her right and her left, she felt the powerful thrusting of both arms into her mass, she felt the grazing of his stubbled cheeks against the outer edges of her asscrack... she even felt the pleasurable little scratches of each fingernail as they buried themselves into her immensity. Was it possible to be this sensitive?!

Titus roared in frustration and changed his approach, lifting an arm to the underside of each cheek and lifting with his legs in an upward motion. He was rewarded with a thunderous clap originating from right in front of his face, each bit of pain and each jiggle it produced experienced intimately by Rosaline. She sunk her teeth into her lower lip as she felt herself move forward, just slightly. Like a bodybuilder Titus raged against the weight of her lower half in reps, pushing her upward with force that could only be accomplished by a man denied sex by the obstruction before him.

"Haaah... ahn... mmmf! Hoooooh... Eep! Aha, mmmm~" Rosaline gave up on suppressing the foreign sounds. Her knees buckled -- it was all she could manage to stay standing in the doorframe. Keen on not wasting time, she used what little mental acuity she could muster with the orchestra of sensation and sound focused squarely on her ass to begin to remove her top, tossing it carelessly before her into the break room. Inside she spotted a modest looking futon, a few chairs far, far too small for her, and a kitchen area with a dirty sink. It was ratty, it was the back of a bar... and Rosaline had never wanted into any room so badly. Still, she couldn't muster up the strength to aid her partner in pushing her through the door... gone was her logical thinking, replaced by a single minded focus on the feelings her ass produced.

"Mhmmm... come on, Tiiituss... I can't get through... you have to push me through..."

Titus responded by forcing an arm straight forward into Rosaline's crack, extended hand making contact with her doughnut-sized asshole. She yelped with a mixture of surprise and arousal as the sensitive flesh around it was pushed inward, and with the added leverage Titus finally managed to force her immense proportions through the doorway. Gasping for air and giggling uncontrollably, Rosaline popped out of her constraints and stumbled forward. Titus wasted no time forcing her forward until she reached the futon, laughing blissfully and waggling her ass back and forth.

"Hah... there. Got you out, didn't I?" Placing a hand on Rosaline's lower back, forcing her upper body forward. The awkward position forced her to extend her arms fully to support herself, enormous ass propped upward. She placed wither knee on the lip of the futon's cushion, arching her back and loyally presenting herself for him. Her baby blue panties were still wedged into the crack of her ass, doing sweet fuck all to hide any of the swell of her ass. Titus, beyond sexually frustrated, gripped the fine material at Rosaline's front. She gasped as she felt one of his knuckles graze against her pussy, lips propped open in the position she found herself in. Her body burned with the sweetest mix of embarrassment and carnal want, and the feeling intensified as he pulled against the material, ripping off the soaked undergarment with a few forceful yanks and discarding its remains to the side. Rosaline couldn't even find herself bothered by this as the cool air of the room made contact with her open slit, sending shivers down her petite spine. She was entirely nude, save for her bra, but she figured that Titus wouldn't be able to reach over her immense ass in her current position to unbuckle it without actually being inside of her.