AlexandertheCrepe
patreon
PLASTIC CHAIR: 1 | FAT GIRL: 0 (BBW, WG, STUCKAGE)
🕑 Added 2025-05-09 15:00:03 +0000 UTCThe late afternoon sun blazed overhead as Alyssa waddled up the stone walkway of the suburban backyard. Tugging her cardigan over the soft rolls bunching around her arms. Sweat had already begun to collect under her breasts, throughout her back rolls and along the crease of her lower belly which pressed insistently against the front of her stretched leggings. Her crop top—bright pink and covered in little watermelon slices—was riding up, exposing a band of pale belly that jiggled with every step.
She should’ve said no. She knew it the moment she got the invite. Backyard BBQ. Casual. Come hungry & thirsty! All her friends were skinny, athletic, and active. The kind of girls who still wore jean shorts without fear, who could sit on picnic blankets and pop back up like nothing. They knew nothing of her struggles as a fat girl, and frankly didn't want to know.
Alyssa had always been a fat girl and had to plan her seating like a military operation. A wooden bench? Maybe. A deck chair? Possibly. A goddamn plastic lawn chair? Hell no!
The last time the whole gang was together—maybe two years ago—she’d weighed 180lbs. Still chubby, but manageable. She could still pass as thick, squeeze into a booth without worry, and laugh along with any teasing. But now she was 290lbs… Only 10 pounds away from 300! And every pound of that gain clung to her body like an extra layer of shame.
Every step felt like a silent announcement: Hey! I’m a fatass and I like to eat chocolate cake before bed.
She had always been the big girl in the group. Back in high school, she was the one with the rounder face, the thicker thighs, the softest belly. Her size was just part of her identity—something she learned to laugh about before anyone else could. Her friend Jess used to be the only one who came close to matching her in size. They were the curvier girls, the ones who wore hoodies and long sleeves in summer so they can hide their arms and belly.
But things had changed.
Jess got serious about fitness a few years ago. She started tracking calories, lifting weights, posting gym selfies, and gradually melted down into someone unrecognizable. She was slim, sculpted, and camera-ready. Now, she could cross her legs effortlessly, wear low rise jeans, and shop in any section.
Alyssa? Not so much.
The pounds had crept on like fog—subtle at first, then suffocating. Late-night Uber Eats, skipped workouts, days where leggings were the only option. Her belly now poured into her lap when she sat. Her thighs had graduated into thunder thighs. Her ass? That thing had a gravitational pull now.
The small size gap between her and Jess was more like a canyon now. Alyssa couldn’t help but notice it in every group photo. She was the one always behind someone else, the one with the cropped frame, the one you couldn’t miss even if you tried.
And she could feel how different things were now. The way Maya’s hand lingered a second too long on her arm when saying hello, like steadying her. The slight pause in conversation when Alyssa walked up. The way everyone automatically stepped aside to make more room.
She hesitated by the gate, fanning herself with the sleeve of her cardigan. Her thighs brushed together audibly. Her calves throbbed from the short walk. She was already tired, already regretting everything.
“Oh my God, Alyssa! You made it!” squealed Jess, her blonde friend waving from the grill. “We didn’t think you’d come, girl!”
Alyssa forced a smile, waddling into the yard. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she said, huffing. She could feel the eyes. Subtle glances. No one meant harm. They loved her. They really did. But none of them got it. No one ever did.
When Jess stepped into the backyard, the sunlight hit her like a spotlight—hot, sharp, and exposing. But that wasn’t what made her stomach turn.
It was the chairs.
All around the yard, scattered like traps in plain sight, were plastic lawn chairs. White, hollow, lightweight. The kind you could hear creak just from a fat girl looking at them. The kind that folded beneath girls like her like an envelope.
Her throat tightened.
No benches. No deck seating. No folding chairs. No hope.
There was only one option.
She stood frozen for a moment, sweat already beginning to bead beneath her breasts, thighs shifting with every nervous shuffle. Her eyes darted from group to group. Laughter, food, drinks clinking. Everyone else moved so effortlessly. They didn’t even glance at the chairs before plopping down. None of them had to calculate.
She did.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She could feel the weight of her own body like it was draped over her shoulders, reminding her of every meal, every snack, every “just this once” that brought her here.
But no.
Not today.
She forced a breath through her nose and straightened up, tugging at the hem of her top where it clung to the swell of her belly.
She wouldn’t sit. Not this time. Not at this party. She was not going to make a fat fool of herself in front of all of her friends
She would stand tall. She would float from table to table like she didn’t weigh nearly three hundred pounds.
Maybe—just maybe—if she smiled enough, if she didn’t break a sweat, if she kept her posture just right, she could win back some of the confidence she’d lost somewhere between delivery apps and midnight binges. Maybe she could forget the number on the scale.
Just for one afternoon.
Just long enough to survive.
At first, Alyssa stood strong. She made her rounds, sipping punch, nodding politely. She leaned against the drinks table, then against a tree. Then against the wall.
But her body was already protesting.
Ten minutes in, her slides started to pinch. Her ankles began to swell. By the thirty-minute mark, she had discreetly slipped out of her flip-flops and tucked them behind a flowerpot. Her feet throbbed and burned against the warm grass.
She shuffled from foot to foot, subtly gripping her back. Her thighs were starting to stick together. Her crop top rode higher every time she moved. Her belly was damp, her armpits soaked. A dark patch had appeared beneath her breasts.
She caught sight of herself in the sliding glass door—red-faced, shiny with sweat, heaving slightly just from standing. Her arms were puffier than she remembered. Her belly was rounder, more present. Even her neck looked fuller.
She felt huge. And she was huge. No matter how much she tried to act normal, she could feel her weight in every breath.
“Alyssa, seriously—come sit,” Maya said gently, patting a plastic chair. “It’s way too hot to stand like that.”
“I’m good,” Alyssa replied quickly, forcing a smile. “Just stretching my back.”
Jess gave her a look. “Girl, it’s been like an hour. Take a break.”
“Really. I’m fine.”
They didn’t get it. Sitting meant risking the humiliation of her fat ass collapsing a chair in front of all her friends.
“You sure?” someone else chimed in. “You look flushed.”
“I’m good!” Alyssa repeated, harsher than she intended.
But eventually—after another fifteen minutes of wobbling from foot to foot, back aching, thighs slick with sweat, stomach churning from the weight of fried food and sun—she reached her limit.
Mayas came up behind her, drunk and placed a hand on her lower back and said softly, “Come on honey. Take a seat before one of my brother's friends takes it.”
And before she could resist, Jess grabbed her arm, steering her toward the chair.
“Careful,” Alyssa whispered under her breath as she braced herself.
Alyssa sat down as lightly as she could. As lightly as a nearly 300 pound woman could be.
The chair creaked—angry and pitiful—but did not break.
It held.
“Oh thank God,” Alyssa whispered.
And then she laughed, for real this time.
Her confidence bloomed.
She ate. She relaxed. She let her belly spread across her lap, let her thighs ooze into the sides of the chair, let herself enjoy it. For a moment, she felt... normal again.
An hour later, when someone called out, “Who wants some ribs!?” Alyssa licked her lips in excitement and rose from the chair.
It didn’t break. There was no snapping or cracking.
She was in the clear.
She grinned.
Triumphant.
Victorious.
She waddled forward, eyes already on the tray of fresh cornbread and mac and cheese by the racks of ribs that were piled high. Her belly jiggled with each step. Her double chin wobbled and her thighs sloshed like pudding.
Behind her, the chair followed.
Literally.
It bounced with her rhythm. Tapped against the backs of her legs with every stride. Its white plastic frame wedged completely into the breadth of her backside, so tight it looked like a warped extension of her body.
She didn’t notice.
Not at first.
Jess blinked, then stifled a giggle.
“Uh… Alyssa?”
Alyssa turned, still beaming. “What?”
Maya’s eyes were wide. “You… um. The chair.”
Alyssa tilted her head. “The what?”
She twisted to look behind her—and gasped.
The back of the chair was still attached. Not under her. Not behind her. On her. Wedged so deeply into her overstuffed butt that the entire seat came up with her like it had grown there. Its plastic arms clung to her hips like desperate claws. Its base disappeared entirely beneath her mountainous ass.
She shrieked and spun around. The chair swung like an absurd tail.
Laughter exploded around the yard.
Alyssa’s mouth dropped. She tried to pry it off, yanking on one leg. No use. The thing was fused to her curves like a second skin.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” she muttered. “It’s stuck!!!”
Her heart thundered. Her whole body jiggled with panic.
She yanked one more time with a red face and tears in her eyes, her arms trembling from the effort, breath hitching in shallow gasps. The plastic groaned in protest, wedged so tightly between her cheeks that it might as well have been molded onto her. The chair wouldn’t budge.
“I knew I shouldn’t have sat in one of those stupid chairs…” she muttered, voice quivering, cheeks blotchy and wet with sweat and tears.
Her body heaved, belly rising and falling like dough in an oven. Her pink top had rolled up halfway, bunching beneath her breasts, leaving the full stretch of her pale, overfed gut exposed—thick and round and shiny under the sun. Her thighs were spread wide to make room for the bulky seat, the plastic arms pressing deep indentations into the soft flanks of her hips. Her ass swallowed the seat entirely—engulfed it—only the chair’s back remained visible, rising like a pathetic white flag above the swell of her rear.
She stood there in the open, panting, mortified, sweat streaking her back, hair clinging to her face. Her swollen feet had left damp impressions in the grass. A breeze lifted the hem of her top slightly higher, revealing stretch marks like pale lightning bolts across the underside of her belly.
Then it started.
Laughter.
Snorts, then cackles, bubbling up from the far side of the yard where Maya’s brother and his friends were gathered near the cooler. One of them doubled over, slapping his knee. Another pointed, barely able to speak through wheezing laughter.
“Bro, it’s stuck!” someone choked out.
“No way—she took the whole chair with her!”
Their laughter crescendoed, cruel and unstoppable, as Alyssa stood frozen in place—sweat-soaked, red-faced, half-dressed and trembling.
She could feel their eyes on her. Feel the way her ass jiggled with every breath, the chair bobbing behind her like a grotesque accessory. Her arms hung limp at her sides, fat and glistening, fingers twitching slightly from the adrenaline.
Maya’s voice cut through the laughter like a whip.
“Hey! Shut up!” she snapped, spinning around. “Seriously? You think this is funny? Grow the hell up!”
The laughter faltered instantly, replaced with awkward coughs and a few muttered apologies. Maya stormed over, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment.
“David! Come help her. Now.” Maya called out.
Her brother and one of his friends exchanged a look, then slowly crossed the lawn toward Alyssa, trying not to meet her eyes as they removed the chair.
She sniffled, wiped at her eyes with the back of her damp arm, and let out a shaky, half-laugh, half-sob—her voice barely audible above the ringing in her ears.
“Well… at least it didn’t break.”
