Fat Camp Curves Read online

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  FAT CAMP CURVES

  by

  Aya Fukunishi

  Copyright © 2012 by Aya Fukunishi

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First Printing, 2012

  A Bangkok Nights Publication

  The block of creamy milk chocolate melted slowly between his fingers. He was waiting for just the right time, allowing it to liquefy just a little before placing it delicately on the glistening tip of his cock. I no longer knew which I wanted more, I was so confused. So hungry. So horny.

  I knew my mind wasn't working properly any more. Warm, melted chocolate and hard, juicy cock. They both meant one and the same now. Whatever else I craved, I knew at least one of them would pass my lips in just a moment. I was either that or completely lose my mind.

  'Are you ready to eat, Christa? There's a good girl.' His voice was soothing, calming, like a gentle stroke to my hair. He smiled, smoothly massaging the gooey chocolate the length of his cock. 'Now get down on your knees, girl. I want to come in your pretty little mouth.'

  Chapter One

  They used to call it fat camp when I was a kid. We were more open about it back then. Hell, I'd been going to them every summer since I was thirteen. Some of them even wrote it on the signs. Welcome to Collingford Fat Camp: promoting health since 1963.

  We live in different times now. We don't go to fat camps these days. It's a little too blunt for our modern sensibilities. No, we go to 'health resorts' and 'detox centers'. We mix the starvation and constant exercise with hot oil massages and spa baths to fool ourselves, but it's the same thing. The only thing that's really changed is that we're less honest about it now.

  My name is Christa, and I've been overweight since I discovered the existence of chocolate. Oh, we've had a tumultuous relationship over the years. We've married and divorced a dozen times, sworn we'd never be in the same room together and sworn we'd never be apart. I always come back in the end, like a beaten wife terrified of the belt and yet mortified of life alone.

  When I was a teen I weighed... God, I don't even want to say it. I was one of those deluded fat kids who thought she was getting away with it. I spent years subconsciously sucking in my belly every time I passed a mirror. I wore baggy clothes and told myself I wasn't fat, I was just wearing the wrong thing. Sometimes I actually believed it.

  It was cell phones that finally got me. Cell phones and the God damned Internet. When I was a kid it wasn't so bad. I could fool myself, then almost overnight everyone started carrying cameras in their pockets. Every day I'd log on to Facebook and see I'd been tagged in a new photo. Rather, my chins had been tagged. My muffin top. That nasty swell of fat that hangs out from the armpits when you wear a too tight bra. Those thick, chunky thighs. Those blubbery arms.

  It was horrifying. There was no way I could keep kidding myself. I couldn't claim that this one was just a bad picture. I couldn't claim they'd caught my bad side. Nobody has that many bad sides.

  People always tell themselves they'll drop the weight. After the holidays, they'll say. In time for the summer. Everyone plans to get in shape one day, but it never happens.

  I did it, though. I figured it was a straight choice between throwing away the chocolate or throwing myself off a bridge, and I chose to ditch the chocolate. In just two years I transformed myself from Free Willy into... well, into a woman who would be described as curvy. Voluptuous. I knew I'd never be skinny, but after two years of fasting and exercise I was no longer 'oh, but she has a wonderful personality.'

  I was 22 before it occurred to me that any man might actually find me attractive. Until then I'd never thought of myself as a sexual creature. Not beyond the dildo in my nightstand, at least. I'd never thought that a man could ever look at me and feel his pants tighten as his cock stiffened. I'd never thought a man might relish the idea of laying me down and sliding himself into my wet pussy. That he might enjoy kissing me, licking my body, thrusting into me, slipping in and out of my tight little hole until he filled me up with hot, creamy cum. That was a world in which I'd never belonged.

  Even after I lost the weight I struggled to see myself that way. Even when the guys started calling I couldn't believe they really wanted me. I could never convince myself that the cute guy across the bar was really looking at me. There must be a hot girl behind me, I always thought.

  You can lose the weight but you'll never exorcise the fat girl inside, is what I'm saying. She's always hanging around in there. She'll always tell you to stop looking at that guy. Why would he want to fuck you, you disgusting blob? Even after the weight falls off she's still there, pulling you down with her.

  If you're strong, though, you can ignore her voice. You can realize that men do want you. They certainly wanted me, it was clear. As soon as I dropped the extra pounds they couldn't get enough. While the flavor of the week was size zero waifs who'd give a paper cut to any guy who tried to fuck them I found myself in demand. Guys - good guys, attractive, interesting and successful - loved my new curves. They loved being with a real woman, someone they could get a hold of. They loved grabbing hold of my full, firm breasts and fucking me while staring down at my beautiful, smooth round ass. I was in heaven.

  Lately, though, my lifelong affair with my chocolate lover has taken a dark turn yet again. I can feel the pounds pile back on. I can feel my jeans tighten and stretch when I sit. My favorite dress doesn't fit any more. The temptation is too great, and after every overindulgence I stare at myself in the mirror on the verge of tears. I don't want to lose this body. I don't want to go back to the old Christa. I want my curves, but I want to be desirable. I want to overflow sexily from my dress, not squeeze out of my pants like moist cookie dough.

  And so I decided to go back to fat camp.

  I found the Willow Heights health resort online at a hardcore dieting site. They say it's the best. It certainly costs enough, but the guys on the site said its worth every penny. For a cool grand I get a week with my own personal trainer, 24/7. The resort is spartan, serious and remote, out in the woods fifty miles from the nearest fast food joint. They don't let you drive yourself there. No cabs will call. There isn't even a paved road leading to the resort. Once you're in you're in for the week. If you want to flake out you have to trek thirty miles through the forest before before you can flag down a car to take you to the nearest town.

  It's perfect.

  Chapter Two

  'OK, Christa, jus
t ten more and we'll take a break. One, two, three... Don't give up on me now, girl. Don't you dare give up.'

  Sweat dripped from my nose onto the rough, splintered wooden floor. My arms burned and my legs quivered with effort. The cabin must have been 100 degrees. No air con. Nothing but a small rotary fan to cool me down. These pushups were killing me.

  '... Nine, aaaand ten. OK, take five and then we'll head to the pool.'

  I fell face first to the ground, panting. I couldn't believe how hard Ryan was pushing me. I'm not ready for this.

  We were into day three of the week long session and already I was thinking hard about that 30 mile hike back to the highway. The idea of four more days of this punishment made me whimper with dread. It was just too much.

  The moment I arrived at the resort I'd been met by Ryan, my personal trainer/warden. Six feet tall with the body of a Men's Health model, Ryan put my physique to shame. His long, thick dark hair fell in tussled waves to his shoulders, and his smoldering eyes gazed out from an angelic, healthy tanned face. He even looked good in Lycra bike shorts, which may be a world first. His sculpted ass and large crotch bulge encased in tight, stretchy fabric would have drawn laughter back in civilization, but out here in the wilderness he looked perfectly at home, proud of his perfect body and happy to show it off.

  Immediately he'd made me change into my own Lycra vest and shorts and forced me on a five mile jog into the hills. My calves burned after a mile but he just kept pushing. He didn't stop when I slowed down, just ran ahead and yelled at me until I dug deep and somehow found the energy to pick up the pace. Since then it had been endless pushups, crunches, more jogging and hours on a cross trainer. By bed time on the first night - we finished working out at midnight - I was tired enough to fall asleep before my head hit the pillow. I didn't even ask about dinner.

  Ryan woke me at six the second morning for a ten mile hike. There was no mention of breakfast. I was given two rice crackers when I caught up with him at mile eight, and they felt like ashes in my mouth. He gave me another back at the the resort, and a fourth before I went to sleep the second night. I was exhausted, starving and drained, and through it all Ryan hadn't even broken a sweat.

  In my first three days here I'd taken in less than 200 calories. A dozen or so dry rice crackers and enough water to drown me had kept my stomach full, but there was no energy there. There was nothing for my body to burn but my own fat, but it couldn't burn it fast enough to keep up with this cruel training regime. Now, on the third day, I could barely stand. I couldn't even imagine being able to walk across to the pool, never mind swim for an hour.

  'Please, Ryan, I need to eat. I'm so hungry.' I could barely find the energy to speak. My voice came out in an exhausted whisper.

  'Don't worry about food, Christa. Food is the enemy. You have to show it who's boss. If you can get through three days on rice crackers and still function you'll soon learn that you're in control of your relationship with food. You don't need McDonalds, understand? You don't need Burger King. You certainly don't need that bar of chocolate you snuck in.' He looked amused at my shock and shame. 'Yeah, I found the chocolate. You think we don't search your bag when you come here? This is our temple, Christa. We don't allow things like that here. Now come on, it's time for the pool.'

  He pulled another rice cake from his pack and fed me from the hand like a dog. I couldn't even find the energy to take it from him. The crumbs fell from my lips to the hard wooden floor.

  'On your feet, Christa. You can eat after your swim.'

  Chapter Three

  The pool was freezing cold as I lowered myself slowly in. First it hit the back of my knees, enveloping them in an icy grasp. Then between my legs, lapping against my pussy and making me draw a sharp breath. When it reached my chest I began to shiver, feeling my nipples harden beneath my bikini as the frigid water hit my armpits. Fuck, why do they keep it so cold?

  Ryan dived in gracefully beside me, entering the water like a torpedo, piercing the surface with barely a splash. A few drops hit my chest, stingingly cold. I don't know how he did it. He didn't seem affected by anything. A ten mile run. Ice cold water. A hundred pushups. He took it all in his stride, as if his body had transcended physical discomfort. In three days I hadn't seen him eat a single bite or drink a drop of water.

  Halfway along the length of the Olympic sized pool he broke the surface, sweeping back his hair in a graceful motion before treading water, perfectly balanced and perfectly comfortable. I was still in the shallow end, reluctant to dip my head under the icy water.

  He talked calmly as he swam back over to me, barely pausing to take a breath. 'OK, Christa, now we're going to work on your core strength. Balance and poise are at the heart of any healthy body, so we'll do a few simple movement exercises to improve your core. Come here.'

  He stood in the shallow, chest deep water and watched me clumsily approach. I've never been all that at home with water. I'd always felt self conscious about my figure as a kid, worrying too much about the sight of my fat ass flopping around like a whale to concentrate on learning how to swim well. Ryan, of course, swam like a dolphin. He looked right at home just about anywhere.

  'Here's what I want you to do, Christa. I'm gonna hold onto you right here,' he said as his hands slipped around my waist behind me, 'and I'm gonna push forward. I want you to push back against me. Use your core to try to push me off balance. Understand?'

  I nodded, planting me feet firmly on the bottom of the pool. This I could do. This was the first time we'd done any exercise that didn't involve me pushing myself to my limit, and if it meant a break from jogging I could lean back against this guy all day.

  Even so, he pushed surprisingly hard. Behind me Ryan kicked his legs powerfully, propelling himself forward despite my weight pushing back against him, and try as I might I couldn't help but edge closer to the poolside.

  'Push harder, girl. Stay on your feet and give me all you've got.'

  I tensed my stomach muscles and braced against him, using all my strength to push back. Finally I felt his feet touch the ground as he fought for control. It was no use. I could feel my back moving closer to his chest, overpowering him. Eventually we came in contact, and I flinched with shock when I felt his erect penis pressing against my ass under the water.

  I moved away quickly, pretending I hadn't felt it. What the fuck? I turned around, expecting to find him looking embarrassed, but he seemed completely unfazed. 'Good work, Christa. Now I want you to give me ten laps. Off you go.'

  I set off swimming right away, eager to avoid mentioning his cock. I couldn't believe it. For one thing it was pretty unprofessional for a trainer to become aroused on the job. That kind of shit could land a guy in court. It was totally out of order.

  This wasn't what was on my mind, though. Far from it. As I paddled slowly across the pool all I could think of was that perfect body. Those chiseled pecs falling to a toned, tight stomach and a juicy, firm, erect cock tucked away in a pair of black trunks. I glanced back at him and saw he was watching me intently. Watching my bikini-clad ass rise above the surface as I swam. Watching the water roll over my curves, slide from my wet skin.

  I couldn't deny I was turned on by the encounter. It had been weeks since anyone had showed the slightest interest in me. Certainly not a man who looked like Ryan. I'd never been with anyone in that kind of shape. Never even considered it.

  I paused at the far end of the pool to rest, wiping the water from my eyes with one hand while I splashed my face with the other. I turned back to Ryan to find he wasn't there. Had he got out? I looked around, confused, and then noticed a blurred shape moving towards me under the water. It was Ryan, swimming a quick breast stroke near the bottom of the pool. The water shimmered as he rose and then broke with a light splash as he reached the surface. He didn't even need to take a deep breath after swimming the length of the pool. He just floated there, breathing evenly a couple of feet away.

  His swimming trunks were gone.

 
'You hungry?' he asked, smiling as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 'Come on, it's time for a treat.'

  He pulled himself easily from the water, his bronzed skin glistening as he rose. Every inch of his muscular body was tanned to perfection, his skin flawless. As his waist broke the surface I couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his long, thick erect cock, dripping wet and perfect. Fuck, it looked delicious.

  He vaulted from the pool light as a feather, turning to help me as soon as he was out. His dripping cock hung there just feet above my face, and it seemed for all the world as if Ryan was completely unaware he was naked. He simply smiled as he hauled me from the water then turned and strolled towards the showers, his perfect ass teasing me as he walked.

  I didn't realize until then just how much I'd missed sex. It had been two months since I'd been with a man, and since then I'd been so focused on my weight I'd barely even noticed the lack of any physical intimacy. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd played with myself. Now my mind was flooded with two overriding thoughts: food and sex. After three days without a meal I was almost delirious. I barely had the energy to move, I was so desperate to eat. It had been all I could think of all day. And now those thoughts were pushed aside by that cock. That glistening, rigid shaft I ached to feel inside me. It felt as if I'd denied myself far too long. Denied food. Denied sex. Denied any kind of pleasure.