A Perfect Kali-Incarnate flexes her social muscles.
-I need you to get your pathetic fucking ass over there into that corner and sit down. And you stay there! If I look over at any time and you're not sitting there, I will come and find you and I will beat your fucking ass to a pulp! Do you understand me, asshole?
-Yes, Ma’am.
-Good. Now get the fuck away from me and let me mingle. There are a quite a few good-looking guys here tonight, and I want to meet them all.
-Yes, Ma’am.
_Yes, Ma’am, she mocked cruelly. Get out of my sight, pig. Just remember to stay put over there.
It is hard for many people to believe that the man in the conversation just recorded is an exceptionally handsome former actor and model, a man who has always been accustomed to having any girl he wants. Everywhere he goes, he gets hit on constantly. The woman that has just degraded him with such abject malevolence is a fat, gorgeous bombshell of a woman named Misty. Not exactly your run-of-the-mill Hollywood starlet. The scene unfolding before us is provocative indeed, as we will quickly begin to wonder what keeps such a desirable man, with so many prospects, groveling at the feet of a massive bitch that mainstream culture would generally consider a BBW curiosity at best. Well, that’s part of the point. Public perception and the real world of sexual violence and domination don’t always walk hand-in-hand.
To begin with, we should point out that Misty is no ordinary Fat Chick. She is, in fact, a perfect Kali-Incarnate. She is a rare creature indeed, as Kali comes in perfect incarnation almost exclusively to women of color. We know then that Misty is a most special kind of woman. What qualities does a white woman need in order to be possessed by Kali? It always depends on the situation. But whatever she’s got, it is most certainly something that is key to the destruction of Kali’s target. Perhaps Kali has been seeking dominance over this man for reasons of her own, and knowing that Misty is possessed of the necessary qualities for ‘landing’ him, she is come in this particular form. But here, this scenario is unlikely. Her victim here has never been known to be attracted to big girls before, and has certainly never shown any signs of interest in domination. Perhaps we shall learn more simply by letting the story unfold.
Misty is decked out in a skin-tight black cocktail dress that is obscenely short, especially for a semi-formal occasion such as the one they’re attending. She wears matching black vinyl go-go boots with scandalously high stiletto heels, and trims her look with accessories of red. The Devil’s color scheme. Her gargantuan breasts threaten to explode from the confines of that little nothing of a dress at any moment, and her spectacular cleavage is doing a number on the whole room, ladies included. Her fat, sexy body wrapped so tightly in that black spandex, her big legs wreaking havoc with each powerful step she takes, Misty’s incredible total package dominates the scene with an ease and arrogance that is laughable.
As she scans the room for her prey, she naturally gets the most vile looks from the other women, women who know exactly how badly they’re being outclassed, and who also know they couldn’t do anything about it if they tried. One makes a comment to her friends who break into a fit of snobbish giggling. Misty turns and moves toward them with purpose. She addresses the loud-mouthed bitch.
-How would you like me to rip your fucking head off your shoulders and let your pussy-assed friends here drink the blood? Don’t you think it would make a lovely little exhibition? Here, in front of all your fans?
Her expression says she means it.
-Or, if you prefer, we can take it outside and I’ll plant your fucking ass upside down in the garden. How about that?
The catty bitches disperse immediately.
Misty makes the rounds, flirting with the men and intimidating their women. Every so often, she looks over to make sure that hunky boy is where he belongs in his corner. No problem. He’s cowering there, scared shitless of doing anything that Misty might perceive as insubordination. It doesn’t take her long to find her target; a wealthy doctor, average looks, a very attractive wife. That’s the perfect combination. She can do this any way she wants. She could walk right up to him, step between him and his wife, and simply walk him out the door if she wanted to. Instead, she decides to take it slow, to tease him and torture him until he’s begging her to allow him to be a good little puppy and follow her home. She’ll get to torture the wife this way, too. It starts easily enough; dark, sinister, sexual glances across the hors d’ oeuvres table. He’s already ensnared from the first satanic smile. His eyes desecrate her fat, glorious body and she laughs to herself, thinking how ridiculously easy this is. She begins to wish there were more of a challenge to it. Misty flaunts her mind-fucking legs, turning ever so sensually this way and that. Within minutes he’s practically drooling, complete with shit-eating grin and nervousness beyond description as he gets the picture, worries about the wife. For her part, Misty just keeps ratcheting up the heat. Suck on a strawberry, burn through with the Devil’s eyes. Work him into a frenzy effortlessly.
Now it gets pathetic, in a hilarious sort of way. Ole Doctor tries to make his move. Excuses himself from wifey. Bathroom break, check in with his old friend (whom he hates) Dr. Lanier. Talk and talk and say nothing and eyes following this monster of a woman, the most glorious thing he’s ever laid eyes upon. She stalks him, teasing mercilessly, flashes of cleavage, hikes of skirt, undulations of exquisite ass. It doesn’t take long. He catches up with her at the bar. Dumb chit-chat he starts. Not for Misty.
-Give me 60 seconds, she says, and you’ll be divorced by Wednesday.
Oh shit. It’s for real. She pushes her phenomenal fat thigh up into his crotch and breathes hot whiskey into his brain.
-How do you want to do this? He asks.
-For starters, introduce me to your wife, Misty answers.
-Excuse me?
-Hard of hearing, Doc?
She leans into him, inviting a kiss.
-I can’t do that.
-Mmm. That’s a shame. Could’ve been very nice. Oh well.
She begins to walk away.
-No, wait!
Misty smiles knowingly.
-Yes…
-Why would you want to meet my wife?
-Well, I think it’s only right that she should know who you’re fucking tonight. And why.
-Why?
-Yeah. Why? Why are you fucking me tonight?
He looks at her, incredulous, trying to put something together.
-Who are you?
-You know who I am.
-Oh God.
-Say it.
-Shit!
-Go ahead.
-You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever seen.
-That’s it?
-What else is there?
Misty laughs at his candor. Throaty, bourbon-laced rasp.
-Mmmm. Nothing like an honest man. So you’re into arrogant fat girls, eh?
-Can’t say I’ve ever even met one.
-You should know, Doc, that I am VERT demanding. A supreme bitch, really.
-I need you.
-More than you need her?
-A hundred fold.
-OK. Then introduce us, and let’s get this thing over with.
-I can’t.
-Shall I just go tell her myself, then, or do you want to go home with her?
The good doctor needed to walk away. Right here, right now. But he made the cardinal mistake. He kept looking at her. Flaunting that magnificent body, that bombshell sexuality.
-Feel my ass, she said. Go ahead, she won’t see.
The good doctor reaches behind her, trying desperately to be discreet. His hands make contact with the most incredible flesh ever to grace the physical plane of earth. He trembles; nervous, near-destitute. It becomes a violent shaking. He can’t control his body. He knows he is lost, but doesn’t yet know how to surrender. He guesses the introduction is his next move.
-What’s your name? He asks.
Proper little wifey is making small talk with acquaintances, and has already taken on an attitude from what she considers her husband’s extreme rudeness in failing to be attendant to her. She is accustomed to having her fragile little ego fed at these socialite shindigs by the good doctor’s continual fawning over her. Tonight, he’s been A.W.O.L. and it’s got her pissed off. Now she sees him coming with this fat fucking harlot in tow, and she goes steely. Eyes of Ice. Deep blue.
-Darling, he begins, I’d like you to meet a patient of mine. This is Misty. She’s—
-He’s lying, dear, Misty interjects. We’ve never met until tonight.
Both women give doctor the evil eye.
-You want to try it again, sweetie? Misty asks.
-Well, darling, he stammers, the truth is that…well, the truth is that I’m going to need to spend a little time with Misty this evening.
Deafening silence.
-Because I…because I…
-Will you say it? Asks Misty.
-I-I
-Because I’m going to fuck his goddamn brains out, dearie, that’s what he’s trying to say. We thought you should be the first to know.
-I see, says wifey. Oliver, is this some kind of a joke?
-I’m afraid not, he says contritely.
Misty looks the elegantly slender wifey up and down.
-You see, she says, ‘Oliver’ here has finally come to the conclusion that he needs a little more ‘substance’ in his life. He’s quite right in thinking he’ll get it from me.
Misty laughed her devilish little laugh and took Oliver’s arm in a sort of grand gesture that was sure to be noticed by many in the room.
-I think you’d better take your sleazy hands off my husband, ‘dearie,’ and right now!
Misty smiles at wifey with supreme contempt. She could squish this little pencil-neck like a snail.
-I see, she laughs. Or what? You’ll huff and puff and throw a glass of Dom Perignon on me?
Come on, Oliver. Let’s go.
-Oliver! Protests Wifey.
-I’m sorry, dear. I’ll try to explain it to you later. It’s not what you think.
Misty leads him away, mouthing the words toward wifey; ‘Yes it is!’ She parades the good doctor around in front of the partygoers, clinging romantically and proudly to his arm. He is well-known by almost everyone here and the spectacle of Misty’s utterly unexpected presence has caused an uproar all around the room. People are circling around wifey now, who can only continue to watch in disbelief as her husband makes his way to the exit arm-in-arm with the God-Queen of Women.
-I just need to pick up my husband before we leave.
-Your husband?
-Of course. You don’t think that I engage in such trivialities as cleaning, cooking and the like? No, no. That’s what a good husband is for.
Over in the corner, Hunky boy has been sitting faithfully, awaiting the return of his owner. Unfortunately for him, a woman has stopped to engage him in chit-chat at just the wrong moment.
-What the fuck are you doing? Misty demands. You know better than to be talking to strangers!
-I’m sorry, Ma’am. She just stopped here and—
Craaaaack! Misty slaps the living shit out of him, knocking him off his chair. One glance at the woman and she is off and running.
–Why do you do this? Why? I try to be nice to you, to let you sit here and watch me, and this is the kind of shit I have to put up with.
Misty jerks him up by the hair and slams a massive thigh into his mid-section. Hunky boy screams out briefly and then goes silent as she has completely kicked the wind out of him. He begins to struggle, and as he does, she thrusts his head between her plump, gorgeous thighs and drops to the floor, crushing his brain in a powerful head-scissor hold. It doesn’t last long. Within a few seconds the force of her big legs on his skull causes him to throw up violently. As he pukes out some very bizarre-looking multi-colored excretions, Misty bursts into demonic laughter, especially amused at the horrified looks on the faces of the stuffed-shirts and blouses all around. For them, it is like a scene out of some unimaginable nightmare. Misty quickly finishes Hunky boy off with a flourish, giving the last few seconds a substantial tweak in psi, and causing his body to convulse wildly from the pain and the almost certain cranial damage. The crowd is standing back, keeping their distance from this beast of a woman. She agilely picks herself up, straightens her skirt, and looks down upon her husband. He’s in bad shape. He is still throwing up a little, and doesn’t seem to have recovered yet from the big knee bash that robbed him of his breath. He lies on the floor, twitching uncontrollably.
-If you’re not in the car in exactly 3 minutes, mister, I’m coming back in for you. I don’t have to remind you what that means!
With that, this giant powerhouse snatches Oliver on either side of his face, pulls him toward her and plants a luscious, wet kiss on his lips. She practically devours him as the crowd looks on, gasping. The good doctor struggles only slightly at first, quickly giving in to the most incredible kiss he’s ever had in his life. Misty doesn’t stop. Tongue, teeth, and lips in a virtuoso performance. Hot red lipstick adorns his face and he clutches at her now, desperate for what she’s got, and completely severed already from the world around him, his world.
They take their leave, arm in arm, and Dr. Oliver is all hers. Misty points out her car and tells him to drive around to it. Having obviously been through this drill numerous times in the past, Hunky Boy arrives at the car just under the gun. He is staggered, still heaving to fully recover his breath, and noticeably agitated, fearing he wasn’t going to get to the car on time. The doctor pulls his car up and Misty commands Hunky Boy through the window.
-You’re damn lucky you got out here on time, Jackass, she said. I am VERY disappointed in you tonight. You’re going to being staying home for quite a while because of this. Now I want you to follow us to Oliver’s house, park the car and await my orders. Do you think you can handle that, dumb-ass?
-Yes, Ma’am.
-Good. Now you stay right behind us and don’t you dare get lost. If you do, call my cell phone. But know that I will be seriously pissed if that happens.
-Yes, Ma’am.
-Fucker’s becoming downright insolent any more, she says to Oliver.
-He’s your husband? Asks the good doctor.
-Shut up! You will speak when you’re spoken to, and not before.
Her gruff command took him aback, but also had a strange effect on him. He didn’t stand for such talk from women, and yet he now found himself feeling aroused and fascinated. He had never before been attracted to domination, at least not consciously. But this powerful woman’s unqualified control, not only over him, but over his wife, the others at the gathering, and not least this poor good-looking fellow who was her husband, well, the whole thing had his cock throbbing in anticipation. In anticipation of he knew not what.
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