by Alexis Angel
Eric and Chase approach me, but they leave it up to me to close the gap.
I open my arms and embrace them both.
“From here on out, Kara…whatever happens, we’re going to take care of you,” Eric reassures me.
“Protein shakes or no,” Chase adds, “you’re still our girl.”
I still like the sound of that—their girl.
I just hope it lasts.
I really, really hope it lasts.
Chapter 35
Chase
Sometimes, I don’t think people can fucking recognize a good thing when they’ve got it, even when it’s currently right there in their fucking hands.
Men do it all too fuckin’ often, if you ask me. They think once they’ve got a woman, she’s theirs forever, no matter what they do.
It’s flawed fucking thinking in my book—and I’m not just saying that because the woman currently cooing, sighing and moaning beneath my strong, practiced fingers is easily the sexiest woman in the goddamn universe.
“You’re amazing at this,” Kara sighs as I rub her shoulder blades beneath my thumbs.
“I just don’t understand how you end up with so many fucking knots in these pretty little muscles of yours,” I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Does that mean I’m a knotty girl?” Kara asks, giggling.
I grab her throat and dip my lips down to growl in her ear. “It does. And naughty girls get punished.”
I pinch one of her plump, pretty nipples between my fingers and twist it just enough to make her hiss in pleasure before rubbing the last of the knots out of her shoulder.
“There,” I say, kissing her back with the satisfaction of a job well done. “I think we’ve finally worked out all those kinks.”
“Have we?” Kara says, licking her lips and pulling me towards her. “I think I still have a few more kinks I could work out with you.”
Eric walks in at exactly the right moment. Kinky bastard’s dick probably gets hard on instinct, alerts him that Kara’s thinking about chains and whips all the way from the other room.
“I’m game,” he says. Of fucking course he is. “But first—how are you feeling, Kara?”
“Amazing, now that I’ve had a total rub-down,” she says with the most gorgeous fucking smile. “Or…an almost total one…”
Kara bites her lower lip and not-so-subtly points between her legs as she spreads them. I start to drop to my knees in an instant—because Kara is a fucking goddess, and when it comes to worshiping at her altar, I’m always game.
But before I can bury my face in that tight, hot snatch of hers and get myself drunk on Kara’s juices, Eric grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me away.
I nearly fucking bite his arm off like a fucking animal for it, but I fight back the beast for the time being—he’s probably got something important to say.
“You’re still pretty horny, Kara—excuse the observation,” Eric says, standing before her and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Do you blame me?” she asks, a flirtatious glint in her eyes. “I mean…having two men like you guys at my beck and call…a girl gets certain ideas.”
“But you’re off the protein shakes,” Eric points out. “Anything feeling different for you now?”
Kara shrugs. “I always thought you two were insanely hot. I bet most women do. I think…I think I’m always going to want you guys. Being off Protein Plus just makes not having your dicks inside me every waking moment of the day a little more bearable…” She looks over at me and winks. “Just, not preferable, by any means.”
I lick my lips and try to go to my knees again. Like, that’s my fucking cue, man.
Kara wants to come? I’ll make her come so hard she can’t think straight. I don’t need a protein shake to warp her mind when my tongue has the exact same effect in a more controlled dosage.
But fucking Eric fucking stops me again.
“And you’re feeling ready for the pageant?” he asks.
“Yeah, definitely,” Kara reassures him. “I’ve got it all figured out, babe—so can you please let Chase go down on me before we both die of longing?”
Eric moves in between her legs in my place, running two fingers along the dark blonde stubble growing on her pussy lips and capturing her lips in a kiss.
Makes me fucking hard just watching it.
Makes me want to steal a kiss of my own.
“You haven’t gotten a wax since we got here, have you?” Eric asks with an evil glint in his eyes.
“Wha—oh. I guess not, no,” Kara admits, trying to grind her clit against his fingers before he pulls them away.
“We need you smooth for the pageant, babe,” Eric tells her.
I know what that means.
I’ve already gone and retrieved the proper equipment from the bathroom by the time Kara reaches the apex of her argument.
“You guys are not shaving me,” she says, crossing her arms over her tits and pouting.
“You either need a full bush or a clean shave,” Eric informs her. “So unless you’re planning on growing a complete lower beard in the next few hours...”
“But…ugh, isn’t it like, weird?”
It’s still fucking cute, her thinking that she can bend us to her will. The only one getting bent in this relationship is her—over the table, the couch, the edge of the bed. Wherever we can fucking get her, really.
“I’m into it,” I say with a shrug. I’ve already got a lather going in the shaving bowl and everything—pretty much any activity that puts me in proximity of Kara’s sweet little cunt is fine by me.
“So am I,” Eric agrees.
“Ugh, fine,” Kara relents. She giggles as Eric picks her up over his shoulder and carries her off to the bathroom.
When he sets her back down, he has her bent over the bathroom sink.
Seeing her like that, all bent over, back arched—her firm, curvy ass stuck up in the air and her pussy free for the taking—makes me even fucking harder than ever.
This girl, man. This gorgeous fucking woman. From this angle, you can really see the effect training has had on Kara since we met her.
When she first came into Power Plus, she was a skinny little thing. She could’ve turned sideways and disappeared. But now, she’s got gorgeous, shapely arms—tight, thick thighs that can lift impressive amounts of weight with a gap between them wide enough that my big, thick cock can easily fill it.
Her tits are perkier than ever, her waist has even more of an hourglass effect, and her whole body has this healthy fucking glow to it.
I feel like we’ve genuinely helped Kara make herself into a woman she can be proud of. A woman who feels good, looks insanely fucking fine, and can eat whatever she wants without worry.
“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” I ask, lathering up the shaving brush and painting her gorgeous little pussy with the foam.
“I think you’ve mentioned it a time or two,” Kara says back with a sweet little laugh.
Eric starts to smooth Kara’s pubic hair away with a straight razor while I watch her, ready with more lather or a towel if he needs it.
But the whole time, I’m just reminded over and over again how fucking lucky I am to have this girl. How lucky we both are.
I couldn’t take her for granted if I fucking tried.
And what really fucking gets me, I realize, is knowing that other men must have done just that. Taken this amazing fucking woman for granted. Expected her to love them unconditionally, even when they couldn’t love her back the way she fucking needs. The way she deserves.
It pisses me off, the thought of another man mistreating my woman like that. It crosses my mind that I ought to track down every fucking one of her ex-boyfriends and make them pay for ever making her doubt herself or her body—for making her feel like she deserved any less than what she has right now.
But Kara’s got too good of a heart to be okay with that. I know that well enough. Still, it’s a nice little fantasy—beati
ng the shit out of anyone who’s ever hurt this gorgeous, perfect girl. Starting with that asshole Ryan and working my way from there.
“This feels weirdly good,” Kara admits as Eric finishes up the shave job. “I like when you guys take care of me.”
Eric does a good fucking shave. Once we rinse away the extra shaving cream, it’s obvious that her pussy is perfectly fucking smooth for the pageant later.
But for right now…
“What do you think you’re doing?” Eric asks me as I shoulder him out of the way and drop to my knees behind Kara’s gorgeous, hairless cunt.
“I’m hungry, man,” I tell him. “Don’t even fucking try to stop me this time—I’ll take that razor away from you and slit your throat with it if you do.”
“You’re assuming I won’t slit yours first,” Eric says with a laugh. “Fine. One orgasm—but then it’s my turn.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” I say, and then I dive the fuck in.
Once I’ve got my tongue shoved deep in Kara’s delicious cunt, I can finally show her how grateful I am for her forgiveness—and for her passion, her hard work, her beautiful body and her crazy fucking love—in the only way I know how.
“Oh my god,” she gasps. “I’m gonna come!”
“Damn right you are,” I snarl into her pussy, and after that, it’s just a matter of riding the waves.
Chapter 36
Kara
“You’re so ready for this, I can feel it in my bones,” Eric says, laying a kiss on my cheek.
“Which bone?” I ask, eyeing his crotch and licking my lips.
He pinches my ass for that, but I just preen. I love my men.
“You look fucking amazing,” Chase says. “You’re going home with a crown tonight.”
“Baby, you’ve got this,” Eric declares, running his hand up and down my body.
We’re standing off in a private corner, tucked away in near darkness backstage where it’s not likely that anyone would ever roam by and find us. I’m only wearing a silk robe to cover up the gorgeously toned body that I’ve worked so hard for.
“So…” Chase grins wickedly, making me giggle. “Are you in the mood for a quickie?” He places his hands on either side of my hips and gently rocks me back and forth with him as if we are slow dancing without music.
“Might help you keep from missing us,” Eric presses the hard bulge in his pants directly up against my ass cheeks.
“I can feel that snake in your pants pulsing on me,” I giggle because I’m barely wearing clothing.
“You’re meant to,” Eric quips back with a laugh and begins to playfully thrust and grunt against me.
I graze my hands over his chest and give him a seductive glance, my mouth wide open to consume his lips but I know I need to push him away instead of pulling him closer.
“Ugh. I can’t, guys. I want to, don’t get me wrong—but I think I need to prove to myself that I can do this without all my holes full of your cum.”
“You sure?” Chase asks.
“I’m sure,” I say. “Rain check? I promise to reward your patience later on.”
“You’d better,” Eric growls against my neck.
It’s already been several days since I stopped drinking my super cum-filled Protein Plus shakes. My goal is to prove to myself that I don’t need the momentum or boost from the fucking things. Not that I don’t love it, because like…I totally still do.
I’d just rather guzzle cum from their exploding, dripping cocks instead and besides, I’m a strong, healthy and independent woman.
Exceeding limits and shattering records is basically my forte, now that I’m boosting my career and empire.
“Give me a kiss before you go?” I ask sweetly.
They lean back, waiting for me to make the move. I wrap my arms around them, and their arms encircle me right back.
They’re strong, warm and handsome and make me feel so protected and safe.
I don’t know why I have more nervous jitters than usual for the pageant today. It’s like I have an ominous feeling or something looming over my head.
As I give my men a kiss goodbye, I try to push those suspicions to the back of my mind and distract myself with the potential at hand here. My goal is to win again, no matter the costs. I’m worth it, and I’m fucking sexy enough to pull it off.
I need to get to my dressing room to prepare myself for my performance and to give myself a mental pep talk.
I cling to Eric and Chase’s hands until the very last second, until only my index finger remains linked to each of their hands.
“Bye,” I whisper as they walk away, and I fall back into the shadows behind the stage.
“Good luck, babe!” they call after me.
Walking to my dressing room, I’m feeling confident until I step inside.
Oh, god.
Oh, no.
What the fucking fuck.
All over the room, there are pictures of me at my heaviest weight, plastered all over every wall. I feel exposed, vulnerable, and damn near attacked.
Who would do this sort of thing to me? What a total fucking nightmare.
My mind feels swirly and dizzy, and my vision blurs as I stare up at the constant reminder of my plus-sized figure taunting me on the walls.
There I am, photographic proof that I was not always worthy of competing in this pageant today.
In one of the pictures, I’m sitting down, wearing a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. The memory is torture. Back then, sweats and lounge wear were the only types of clothing that would fit me.
I’ve come so far, but the pain of knowing that this wall is covered with my past ugliness is filled with venom. Somebody did this on purpose to hurt me, and I have a feeling it’s my bitchy ex-boss.
I take a deep breath, trying to shake off my feelings of contempt and remorse.
I squeeze my eyes shut and ball my hands into fists, gearing up to rip the posters and pictures off the wall.
Before I get a chance to charge over to the first picture and destroy it, ready to tear it in half, I hear cackling laughter behind me.
The other girls are looking at me, watching and giggling at my fucking shame—with Miss Australia front and center, laughing twice as hard as anyone else.
I glance down the hallway, hoping to see Chase and Eric still lingering backstage, but I can’t find them anywhere. How the hell did they disappear so quickly?
I push through the other contestants and step back inside my dressing room, trying not to have a panic attack when I feel my throat tighten and the air becomes hard to draw in to my lungs.
“Mon Dieu!” one of the other pageant contestants―a beautiful, tall and bronzed tan girl with a sash that reads Miss Sexy France―laughs as she points at one of the most unflattering pictures of myself that’s ever been taken.
Why the hell did I let anyone document me via photos when I was that heavy before?
I gulp and watch with horror as she walks inside the dressing room to join me, but I’m powerless to stop her, frozen in fucking place.
“Jackie, come in here, mon petite. You must see zis,” she erupts with laughter and a Parisian accent.
Then Miss Sexy Australia, my arch-fucking-nemesis, stalks into my room. I grit my teeth and glare at the girls as they come into the room, flocking one by one to see the freak show, me.
“Do you not have anything better to do right now?” I ask her as she cackles at the photos on the walls.
“Better than this? Not fuckin’ likely, mate,” she snorts.
It’s only then that I notice a note sitting suspiciously on the top of my makeup bag.
I know exactly who it’s from the moment I see it.
Evian.
Good luck today, Kara! Never forget where you came from, it says.
Which would maybe be nice, if she hadn’t included a little doodle of a whale beneath her words.
I might have lost all the weight, but right now I feel fatter than ever.
And any minut
e now, I’m going to have to go out on that stage and show my disgusting fucking body off to the crowd—and the entire fucking world to boot.
Chapter 37
Kara
My legs refuse to fucking move. I can hear the announcement for the contestants to go out onto the stage, but it’s as if I’ve grown roots here behind the curtain. Every pore of my body feels filled with fucking lead.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I lost the weight. I gained the muscle.
But there’s no escaping who I once was.
Suck it up princess, I try and tell myself and take a deep fucking breath. One foot in front of the other the way you’ve practiced. Off you go.
I try to imagine what the boys would say. Probably something like, Fuck it, Kara, you’re hot, suck my dick, babe.
It’s not a bad idea, but it’s not exactly, y’know…helpful right now.
Neither of them would let me get away with hiding in my dressing room, though. Both of them would reassure me and shower me with compliments, I bet.
Come on, Kara. I try a little mental nudging.
It’ll probably take more than a nudge. Right now, I feel heavier than ever. The images that Evian sent to my dressing room are impossible to shake off from my mind—and now, I feel fatter than ever. At the worst possible moment, too.
Inside, I’m just a fucking shadow of the woman I was when I won Miss Sexy USA.
I miss that bitch. She was hot. She was confident.
And she wouldn’t have let Evian get to her like this.
I miss Chase and Eric, too. I don’t need a man to make me feel good about myself…but right now, I’m at a fucking low point. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to have a little pick-me-up.
Fat feet. Fat knees. Fat thighs.
Fat, fat, fat. It’s all I can think about right now.
I need to walk perfectly across that stage in just a few moments, and I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to manage it.
Fat does not walk. Fat wobbles. Fat rolls.
Why don’t you fucking try rolling out onto stage then? a nasty little voice taunts. I don’t know where the fuck it came from, but it sounds awfully like my ex-boss. I need to quash it before it gets the better of me.