Undercover Freaks Vol. 01: Size Queen

"Why you so nervous, Gerald?"

"Are you kidding; if my wife finds out, I'm fucked."

"Did you tell her where you were going?"

"Nuh, no!"

"Then what're you worried about, man; let's just go to this convention, enjoy ourselves for a few hours and get a bite." Gerald was my running buddy as of the last six months, but he was seriously whipped in his marriage. I regretted offering him the free pass I'd won in an online contest entered on a lark.

"Yeah Derrick, you're right man; it's just that I always feel guilty when I leave Mazzy with the kids." My squat, chubby compatriot still looked shaky making me wonder if his condition went part in parcel with multiple years of marriage. It definitely wasn't an endorsement.

"Hey, check that shit out." Both of us glanced to our right from the line we were waiting in that stretched almost a block and a half.

Six models were walking by grouped together in a huddle, all of four of them black women, two likely Caucasian. It was hard to make the two because of their decidedly urban hairstyles and war paint makeup. All of the women were outrageously thick, but I guessed that maybe three out of the six were naturally endowed.

"Damn, I know that female, right there!!" He gestured timidly towards a ridiculously stacked blonde sporting shoulder length Dutch braids. She almost looked like some exaggerated cartoon character equipped with what appeared to be a fifty plus inch ass. The woman in some divine act of genetic fairness, had modest sloping breasts.

"WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!!" I blurted out uncontrollably as some of the other waiting convention goers chuckled and laughed at my reaction. Gerald wasn't any better, grabbing on me in tugging fashion like we were seeing a movie star of sorts.

"Uhm, she uh-goes by a single name on IG; uhm her name's Chrystal!!" Other enamored fans were cutting out of the winding line to get photos of the group as some security guards appeared.

"Why does she look, familiar?" She was beautiful enough with this sort of, harsh crazed look I'd unfortunately noticed on a lot of hood rats.

"Don't you remember; she used to be on this reality cooking show? She was super popular after they did an episode with some sort of competition on the beach; everybody was wilding out when she popped up in this bikini showing off all that ass; on network television, too!!"

The memory hit me like a ton of bricks, as I recalled it being a point of contention between me and my then, girlfriend. My somewhat plain in the body paramour, erased the cherished episode from my DVR in a fit of jealous rage that eventually led to our breakup. It felt like karmic reparations now being ten feet away from the ass that destroyed my complacent relationship.

"I got you man; I remember that shit. Chrystal won the show, right?"

"Well, supposedly she won, but the network made them reshoot the ending with the runner up winning instead. She had a sex tape leaked, some people said it got leaked on some talk show, but that's just a rumor."

"Bummer."

"Yeah man, she was supposed to be going to Paris for an internship and shit; but now she been celebrity clout chasing for a minute. She's going the C-List celebrity route with other reality shows, and IG." Harold was surprisingly in the know, obviously more of a fan than I was.

"So, she doing porn, now?"

"I don't know; heard she sold that sex tape to one of the big companies for six figures. Probably marketing that shit, or something." Gerald was probably a walking Wikipedia of the adult industry.

"Serious; you seen it?"

"Fuck yeah; downloaded that shit on my computer too."

"Better hope your old lady don't find that shit." I warned, completely joking.

"She don't know shit about no computer if it ain't her phone!" Gerald shot back, both of us still watching as the group of women were escorted towards the convention center surrounded by a phalanx of Maglite wielding security guards.

C-List Chrystal took our eyes with her wearing a pair of micro mini, jean printed, short leggings that wear basically ceremonial in nature. Over two thirds of her massive, heart shaped butt was exposed, jiggling slightly as she strolled into the building. The pavilion in front of the convention center was inundated with visitors, vendors pushing varies food items and trinkets and assorted porn stars, media personalities and their myriad, sycophants. It was a madhouse that was just what the doctor ordered after a hectic couple of weeks at the job.

I'd entered an online raffle on this social media page I visited as a lark one night after heavily drinking. A month later I found an email with two downloadable tickets to the biggest porn convention in town. I didn't really have too many close friends, so I offered the ticket to Gerald, a buddy from a previous temp job we held together. I'd been pushed out due to limited openings at the law firm we worked at but returned because he got fired. Ironically, Gerald was shit canned for making comments about our boss, a blonde bitch who could've undoubtedly given Chrystal a run for her money.

"Man, you gotta get me a copy of that shit." The clique of semi-famous thots along with one C-List celebrity disappeared into the crowd. We glanced around at some of the other women on public display.

"I'll email it to you tomorrow when the wife's at church."

"You don't go to church, Gerald?"

"For what; sides, it's the only time beside today, I get a break from the wife and kids." His answer added to my reticence about marriage. Most of my married acquaintances, were similarly afflicted.

"That's sad."

"Fuck you, man." We both started laughing as someone tapped me on the shoulder. The person seemed to reach through a deluge of people pressing in against us from both sides. Security had done a shitty job of cordoning off the winding line with stanchions with these neon cords lacing them together.

"WHAT?!!" I wasn't in the mood for any line jumpers, not even looking to see who'd tapped me. Gerald instead clapped his hand on my opposite shoulder, eyes saucer wide. He wasn't looking at me.

I looked over my shoulder finding some woman's massive, olive colored cleavage staring me right in the face. These enormous breasts were so huge, each was undoubtedly bigger than my head as my gaze traveled up finding the irritated face of their owner. This woman looked all of nineteen, maybe early twenties, likely Latina, Black or mixed with a nappy looking afro of sandy brown hair framing her round face. She was beautiful, even visibly angry.

"I don't know you, but if I did; I'd ask you what crawled up your ass and died, maldita cabeza de polla!!" She was Spanish mixed, but her voice oddly reminded me of Oprah Winfrey.

"Look, I thought you were somebody else, ma'am."

"STOP LYING NIGGA; I just wanted you to tap that guy over there!!" This young woman didn't give two shits about anything I had to say leaning in obtrusively tapping a white guy at my immediate right. Her huge breasts actually engulfed my arm on either side. She was wearing a white dashiki mini dress which had been altered to give her impressive bust face time with the public.

"HOLLY SANTOS, YOU'VE MADE IT GIRLFRIEND!!" The guy's screeching falsetto voice caught Gerald and I by surprise as he lurched forward wrapping his arms around this uber busty woman. It just contrasted with his mop of brown hair, handlebar moustache and full mountain man beard. He was also anorexically thin in a flannel shirt and corduroy slacks.

"YOU GOT ME DOWNTOWN WITH ALL THESE FUCKING PERVERTS!!" She responded loudly, giving me the eye over his shoulder as they hugged, wedged uncomfortably against me. Gerald was checking her out.

"Uhm, you don't mind if I let my girlfriend in, do you?" The guy asked and I just shrugged my acquiescence partly out of embarrassment.

He tired to lift the neon cord so that she could go under, but she found it difficult petulantly snatching up the stanchion cutting in line amid loud jeers as a few people snapped pics of her tits with their phones. She squeezed in facing me close enough that her immense tits were pressed against my torso.

"Pequeña perra." She insulted through gritted teeth continuing onward until she cleared my side.

"Damn, that's fucked up, man." Gerald was somewhat bilingual.

"What?"

"She called you a little bitch." He was laughing in my face as I glared over at the plus sized woman, model cute in the face. The offending party was already deep in conversation, annexed into her effeminate cohorts, clique. I was looking at the back of her head while Gerald was looking at her butt.

"It's okay, I guess."

"What?"

"Would you step to her if she said that shit to you? Besides, she said it in a different language, anyway." We both knew we didn't want any part of that big bitch, still watching the outline of her somewhat prominent rear end. A lime green thong was visible through the light material stretched across a tight looking butt.

We surged forward slowly towards the entrance as more people began to mill about getting into the swing of things. There was definitely this sort of pregnant sense of expectation in the air around the crowded pavilion as I noticed a local news reporter talking with some bystanders on the sidewalk while Gerald looked like he would end up with whiplash for acute girl watching.

"Damn, look over there, bruh!" I followed his gaze to another big butt, blonde followed by some toadies. My reaction was decidedly different, just shrugging.

"You don't like it?"

"Ah, it's just the same old shit; you my friend, have a type."

"Don't give me that shit, Derrick; my wife is black, and she don't look nothing like that bitch over there. It's just that when I jerk, I like a bit of variety, some difference than what I'm looking at every day."

"Too much information, seriously."

"Yeah man; heard the whole fucking thing, guys." We found ourselves looking at the stern features of that busty Latina, once again. I was embarrassed even though I hadn't said anything. She followed our visual trajectory noticing the blonde walking by with several phones hovering near her body snapping endless pics.

"Oh, so you two goons, are that type." My brow furrowed at her suggestion.

"What type is that, huh?" I was indignant.

"Color struck, obviously."

"I think you're jumping to conclusions; besides why you up in our conversation, anyway?" She flattened a palm against her own prominent cleavage making this incredulous expression like I'd spoken out of turn. Her associates giggled and jeered making things take on the atmosphere of some schoolyard scrap.

"I'M STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, HELLO STOOPID!!" Some raucous laughter exploded in our section of the long, winding line.

"You could've played it off; we're outside in public. You grow up in a plastic bubble or something, lady?" Gerald facepalmed knowing I had a temper. It was probably one of the reasons I'd been let go early at the job we formerly shared.

"WHAT-EVEEEERRRR; I gotta keep my head on a swivel with thirsty losers on my back! You'd probably whip it out if I weren't looking!!" She made a jerk off imitating gesture while her friends and others laughed enjoyed the incidental show.

"You wish, baby." I waved my hand dismissively, looking away.

"Uhm, sorry." Gerald cut in trying to cool things down between us, but she looked like she wanted to clock him.

"Yeah you're right about that, tubby." She insulted, hands on her hips.

"Should've never let your ass cut in line!!" Gerald had enough, too as this woman rolled her neck in stereotypical fashion killing her friends with laughter.

"But you did; now what you gonna do about it, huh Kenan Thompson!! WHAT-the FUCK are you gonna do about it!! STOP STUTTERING!! STOP LOOKING AT MY BIG ASS TITTIES AND TELL ME WHAT YOU'RE GONNA DO ABOUT IT, NIGGA!!" Honestly, she was between five eight and eleven in height, so it was impossible not to look at something directly in my shorter friend's line of sight. Phones were hovering about ready to catch a donnybrook.

"I don't look like Kenan Thompson." Gerald replied somberly.

The woman's angry expression dissolved as her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised like she'd experienced an epiphany. Her face softened into a whimsical smile as she wrapped her thick arms around Gerald's head burying his face deep in her cleavage. She broke the iron grip giving him a peck on the forehead. Gerald was flushing despite being a medium toned black man. There was this impish smile on his face as he tried not to grin.

"I'm sorry brother; I didn't mean to call you a coon. That shit was uncalled for and I apologize." It felt like I was in the twilight zone as she playfully pinched his cheek, giving Gerald a side hug while her friends clapped, still laughing.

"Eh, when I have my moustache grown in; people say I look like Craig Robinson from Hot Tub Time Machine." My buddy didn't care that he looked like a fool as the warm glow of voluptuous female acceptance flowed over him.

Before things could progress further, my buddy was snagged backwards drawing everyone's attention to this large black woman in custody of his shirt collar. A large purse collided with his head several times as I noticed a small boy and three more likely related women of the big and tall variety.

Later it was found that the wife did know a thing or two beyond the use of an android phone having logged into his account remotely. Gerald now attends church with the wife and extended family who'd accompanied her that Saturday afternoon to set her husband on the straight and narrow.

"Who was that?" The busty ingenue asked as we watched Gerald dragged off to a waiting car stuffed with his other children.

"The wife."

The line surged forward more actively after that while that hyper-busty woman more or less ignored me conversing with her friends. I people watched and checked my phone for messages from Gerald as I neared booths situated in front of the convention hall entrance.

This was definitely a huge show with people and various camera crews everywhere. A lot of them were amateur vloggers and small outlets, but the place was jumping as the multiple lines merged in front of the booths. I was worried about getting lost in the mix when I was audibly subject to a familiar voice.

"SHIT MAN; I BEEN WAITING IN THIS FUCKING LINE FOR LIKE, THIRTY MINUTES AND I CAN'T EVEN GET IN, EH?!!"

"Holly, calm down; you're making a scene." Her effeminate friend whined as she shoved him, looking like she wanted to take his head off.

"I AIN'T PAYING NO SIXTY DOLLARS; YOU SAID I HAD A PASS!!" Some people, bystanders were backing away in anticipation of something.

"I thought it was an add-one; maybe you should think about this because it could be a really big opportunity. I mean, you want us to pool our resources so that you can go inside, or what?"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK, PETER?!" She glared at a few of the phones getting too close to her mountain of cleavage. I noticed the other members of her clique standing off to the side with their convention badges.

They were these laminated cards with a neon rope attached so that it could be worn like a necklace. Peter shuffled over to his friends as she waited, talking in a huddle with his friends. I saw one guy shrug in the negative in regards to ponying up money for the entrance fee. I bit my lip allowing my inner white knight to bubble to the surface.

"Hey." She didn't respond watching some visibly annoyed members of her clique reluctantly going into their pockets. I lightly tapped her on the shoulder, but she acted like she'd been poked, rolling her shoulders.

"WHAT?!!" She turned ready to fight.

"Don't make me regret this." I offered Gerald's pass to her against my best wishes. She stared at it in my hands drifting up to the innocuous expression on my face before cautiously tugging it from my fingers.

Her youthful looking features were fixed in a perpetual sort of pout as she slammed the ticket on the counter in front of the agent. Peter returned with a handful of crumpled up bills as she received her floor pass. I was receiving my pass internally kicking myself because she hadn't even thanked me.

"Alright Holly, if you got about ten bucks; we can get you a floor pass." He was counting the crumpled up bills as I hung my pass about my neck.

"Ah, don't worry about it; I took care of it, myself." There was a smugness in her voice that stung at my ego like a dagger. I wanted to snatch the pass off her neck, but thankfully was still in control of myself. That action would've likely resulted in a street brawl of epic proportions and jail time for me considering her size and gender.

"No good fucking deed goes, unpunished." I mumbled to myself through gritted teeth as I stomped off into the convention center to enjoy myself.

"HEY!!" She called after me as I stalked off towards a two tiered staircase leading up into the convention center floor.

There were huge twenty foot banners framing the entrance to the convention floor advertising the numerous porn companies. One was an obvious advertisement for the leaked sex tape for that C-List celebrity I'd seen earlier. Whoever put together that giant poster knew their business advertising her extraordinary black girl curves. People and couples were actually taking pics in front of the banner as I heard that voice again.

"Oye, sé que me escuchas llamar a tu negro trasero; deja de llorar porque te ignoré, pervertido!!" I did a slow burn knowing she'd insulted me as I reached the first landing before turning to face the petulant, entitled woman.

"YEAH?!!" She was standing two steps up from the bottom of the first stairwell. Her cleavage was so massive, I couldn't see her feet.

"I didn't say thank you, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

Holly smirked in condescending fashion as I noticed both of her pointer fingers inside the plunging cleavage of the ill-fitting dashiki dress covering her abundant figure. Her breasts suddenly surged and jiggled as both of her huge, saucer sized areolas appeared. She had thick, chewy looking nipples that were erect surrounded by visible little bumps in those cinnamon hued spheres. I popped wood dramatically as she quickly covered up.

"Now, we're even." She turned rejoining her friends as I stood there in sexual shock. The group blended into the crowd before I even blinked. Part of me wished I'd never seen those spectacular breasts because I'd never be able to close the deal. Part of me thinks that's why she did it.

"Bitch."

***********

The first thing that you noticed was the noise and droning electronica which was thumping from an onsite strip club set up in the center of the convention center floor. The surge of people pushing in on you as you approached the entrance was incredible, almost like fighting the incoming tide.

The second thing I noticed were all the unofficial camera men wielding high-end digital equipment of varying degrees of luxury. A lot of these guys were what you'd refer to as incel oriented, some looking like they teens who needed an id check. I didn't see any women with similar camera rigs, finally getting onto the floor proper.

"FUCK!!" The scene was the stateside equivalent of the carnivals of Brazil, in my opinion.

Everywhere the eye could see was legions of scantily clad women strolling about making their dime with paid photo ops, conducting innumerable podcast interviews, and just generally talking with their pimply faced audience. This was a trade show similar to Comic Con. But the difference was apparent in this inherent sense of perversity and accepted sleaze. There was all manner of porn as far as the eye could see, something for everybody.

Some of that shit was goofy, weird and a bit sick as I traversed one of the myriad aisles subtly getting caught up in the ambiance of it all on a Saturday evening. A couple of times, I bumped into oblivious guys caught up in filming the porn star of their dreams. I made apologies but got no response due to a laser focus by the offended parties. The guys mostly grunted, if even that.