Pushing the Limit

"Oh my god," Brent said.

I was still rigid, examining the big boulder of a man in front of me as though I were a bunny beneath the gaze of a bear. I didn't breathe.

Brent's smile only grew. We met eyes. Something gleamed in his gaze and poured into my eyes like oil.

Brent shook his head. "My god. I... I know pictures are worth a thousand words, but I am speechless."

Brent chuckled. I blushed. I couldn't help myself. The validation swept over my skin like lava, warming me to the bone. Standing there before a stranger, I was wary. But I watched his eyes travel my body and saw him smile and heard his words... and Alan faded into oblivion. I was purely Alison, a girl on display for the man that had ordered her.

Brent pushed the door open wider and motioned to me to enter.

"Well, don't stand out there looking gorgeous, c'mon in. Stay a while," Brent told me.

I was still blushing. Nerves were colliding in my mind at high velocities. A part of me pleaded to turn away from this man's house, but Alison stepped forward on her break neck heels and entered the home. I passed the huge body of the strange man as I entered, and I could feel him breathe. I tried to put it out of my mind. Peter was lean and pretty and perfect. He was nothing like Peter.

In the few seconds it took to step inside, a million thoughts and worries assaulted me. The house was nice. It was clean and cozy and dim. I didn't even look at Brent at first, but directed my eyes around the house. The man was three times my size. He was a real man, meaty and thick. Was he fat? I didn't look at him. I didn't want to pass judgment. I was here. It was done.

The door closed behind me and I heard the deadbolt turn. It shouldn't have sounded so sinister, but I couldn't ignore it. I gazed about the house into the neat little living room with the long couch, fireplace, and recliner. I saw the hall leading deeper into the house. A kitchen opened up just to my left.

Brent was beside me in seconds. I could feel his imposing presence. He was a head taller than me, and in the light, I could see how much older he was. Just the gravity of being near him made me feel so weak and inferior. The man was still grinning at me. His eyes sank down my body, no doubt drinking in the way my dress hugged my body, and the color my legs in the hose. I saw nothing but sheer admiration and surprise in his face, though, and it made me feel flutters deep inside.

"Alison... girl, you look... astounding," Brent told me.

I felt my shoulders creep upward and my cheeks flush warm. I muscled the nerve to speak, making sure I didn't sound like Alan.

"Thank y-you," I stammered with a smile. "It's... nice to m-meet you."

I froze when Brent stepped close, his monstrous body looming toward my own. A thick arm slid around my narrow waist, and I felt truly invaded for the first time. His palm and forearm hooked me around the small of my back, his fingers fanning out across my skin through the fabric of my dress. I was gently pulled toward his massive body in a kind of side-hug. Through the thin buttoned shirt he wore, I could feel the overbearing heat of his belly and his chest as he closed into me. Unsure of how to react, I allowed my arm to slide around him. There was so much of him it made me aware of how small I was.

Brent's face came close to mine as he embraced me, and I went rigid as his hairy lips pursed against my soft cheek. The kiss was brief, a greeting, a simple peck. I bristled in his arms, feeling his meaty fingers in my lower back just above my ass cheeks. His body was against mine. My space was violated. This was so... soon, it was weird. I'd never been greeted this way, or touched like this by a guy, or pulled close....

I shivered. It felt wrong, but a sinister part of me knew I liked it. I let him hold me with his single arm. I stared back at him, my eyelids blinking rapidly.

"I'm so glad you came by, Alison," Brent growled.

I could have melted against his big body. Just like that, his meaty forearm and thick fingers slid away from my hips, and we were apart. I was left dumbfounded, staring at a thick boulder of a man while he turned away from me.

Brent motioned to me with a single hand, beckoning for me to follow.

"C'mon," He said. "I've got some drinks made up for us. You gotta try this."

The man was already turning and heading into the kitchen. For a few seconds, I just lingered there, trying to gain my bearings. I felt so... odd. Maybe I felt shocked, or let down, or violated, or horny... I couldn't make sense of it yet. At some point, I allowed my legs to move, and Alison followed Brent into his huge elaborate kitchen.

The moment was too surreal to harness, so I just went with the flow. Brent was talking, telling me something about the drink recipe that he'd learned in some country he visited on a cruise. I was only distantly aware of what he was saying. My attention was on the man himself. I still felt vulnerable, and I was now sizing him up, trying to decide if I'd made a mistake by paying this guy a house call.

Chubby was the best way to describe Brent. He was easily twice my age. He sort of hobbled back and forth from the refrigerator to the island in his kitchen, the weight he carried clearly taxing his every move. I couldn't help but think of Peter. It was the only thing I could compare this guy to. Peter was middle-aged, but he was fit, lean, and easy on the eyes.

Brent wore a casual plaid button-down shirt that draped itself about his big body but clung to him enough that I could make out the shapes on his chest and his broad midsection. He wore simple shorts and padded about the tile in his kitchen on big bare feet. Brent was balding, and what hair he had was a mix of salt and pepper. Still, he was tall, wide across the chest, and more manly than I knew I'd ever be.

I watched him in the kitchen and couldn't help but feel my insides sink a bit. Horrid doubts crept back in, and I wondered if these were the depths I'd fallen to. This was my reward for growing bored with Peter. A balding, chubby guy that was twice my age. It made me feel like a cheap crossdresser there in a stranger's kitchen, and a bead of sweat trickled behind the ridiculous silicone breasts I wore.

"...And look, I may not be great at anything else in life," Brent was saying, "but I know my way around a grill and a bar, and even if you don't drink heavy, this will be sure to warm you up, baby."

Brent was busy shaking a metal container as he spoke, which drew my attention to his thick arms. He poured a few different bottles of something into a couple of tall glasses on the island. He garnished the mixed drinks with a slice of lemon on the rim of each glass before sliding me one of the tall beverages. I blinked myself out of my troubled daze and offered Brent a grin.

Staring him in the face was an entirely different ordeal. His eyes were tired, but... kind and mysterious. My body shifted, but not as much as my insides did.

Brent winked and said, "Just a sip. Try it. Guarantee you'll want more."

A sudden awareness of reality settled over me. I blushed anew, hoping that the makeup I wore hid my reaction from this stranger. I looked at Brent as he slowly pushed the tall glass toward me. He was so much bigger than me. The way his older eyes peered right down through me felt strange and scary. His brown eyes felt so much darker in that moment. I could only guess as to how he viewed me. Was I truly Alison to him? A pretty "girl"? Or did he see me as a whore? I couldn't guess his intent. That stare seemed so calm but excited, so welcoming and daring.

Yet again, a part of me wanted to excuse myself and run. It seemed so ludicrous to be in a stranger's house, with a drink pushed toward me in mere minutes. I glanced at the fruity beverage, fearing the worst, wondering if I would come to in a few hours chained to a bed feeling groggy and used.

Then that picture surfaced in my mind, and the sexy panties I wore grew so tight against my little bulge. My thighs slid against one another behind my black dress. I was a crossdressing sissy in a stranger's house. Maybe the drink was just what I needed, dangerous as it were. Who was I to judge this older chubby guy? I'd made up my mind years ago when I'd made a Grindr account. Peter was a lucky shot.

Maybe the guys that had fat cocks looked just like Brent.

I grinned and reached for my glass. I looked him right in the eye, determined to fight the quiver in my voice when I spoke.

"Just go easy on me," I said, taking the glass in my fingers. "I'm kind of a lightweight."

With a grin that I hoped was sexy, I put the tall glass to my painted lips and took a generous sip of the concoction Brent had made.

Sweetness hit my tongue, followed by a tart sour flavor. The intensity of the alcohol soon chased the flavors down into my stomach, and a white hot shock blasted my brain. Still, the contents settled in my stomach like cold honey, and I immediately craved another sip of the drink Brent had made. Vivid smells of the ocean surfaced in my mind, followed by a raw aching need for... stimulus.

Brent smiled, the jowls on either side of his head spreading.

"Good, ain't it?" He nodded. "But strong?"

I nodded and offered him a grin.

Brent waved a hand at me. "Trust me. Even lightweights love it. But you won't want just one."

The huge man was making his way around the island in the beautiful kitchen while I tried to hide my eyes from him in the drink he'd given me. The next few sips were ice cold, but fell to my stomach like warm feathers. Goosebumps spread on my hairless arms as Brent eased beside me while I stood at the island. I couldn't keep my gaze from him forever. I peeked at him from behind my hair, offering him a nervous grin as his big body drew closer.

Brent was staring at me. His eyes kept traveling my body. God, I wish I knew what he was thinking. I was so scared and aroused at the same time. When I glanced over at him, he lifted a finger and brushed a lock of my hair away from my forehead. The slightest brush of his finger sent a shiver down my back that went right through the heels I wore. His mustache pulled aside in a little grin.

"I like the red," he told me.

It took me a second to realize he was talking about the streak of color I'd added to my hair. I smiled and took a generous sip of the alcohol. I prayed my words would slide out smoothly.

"It's not the only thing red I'm wearing," I replied.

I was both proud and terrified of the dare that I'd proposed. Brent's smile grew just a bit. His eyes fell, and at first I thought he was eyeing my breasts through my dress. A part of me hoped he wouldn't focus on them too much. The silicone achieved an incredible effect, but they were truly the most faux part of me. Brent eased himself off of the island and reached for his drink.

"Already bottomed out, huh?" Brent said.

I stared at him, trying to decipher the words. Did he mean....

"Told you they were good," He said. He slid the other glass of alcohol toward me. "Here, take mine. If you kill that I'll make us a few more. I already had a bit before you showed."

I blinked at the drink in my hand and realized Brent was right. It had only felt like seconds, and yet the alcohol was almost gone. I felt a little twinge of panic that I'd finished this stranger's drink so quickly. My wary brain hoped there was nothing sinister added in. I took the second sweaty glass from the man as he eyed me curiously. I tried to read that expression, but Brent was already shuffling away from the island and back toward the living room.

All I could think to do was follow. As I walked, I wondered if my head was starting to swim. No. That was ridiculous.

Brent reached for something on a table as he passed it, but took a seat in the middle of his sprawling couch in the living room. His big body sank back into the cushions, the button-down shirt spreading across his wide chest. His legs fell open, and my mind couldn't help but wander up those meaty thighs. The reason I was here hid somewhere in those shorts. I kept myself steady, my heels moving slowly across the hardwood floor toward the fireplace. I took my time, trying not to seem awkward while I examined the decor and the picture frames on the mantle. Sipping my second drink of the night, I stared at photos of a man in uniform.

Brent pushed a button on the thing in his hand, a remote. Gentle music started playing from somewhere in the room. Immediately, I thought it was corny... but it was also a bit unnerving. Why else would someone put on soft music like this? It felt like a nudge in a certain direction. I wasn't even sure I could fully go through with this, yet I was here. It felt so odd being dressed this way in a stranger's house, someone I'd met just minutes ago, while the TV was off above the mantle, and music drifted through the house. I could sense eyes watching me. I hoped I was pretty. I hoped I didn't look ridiculous. Neither of us said anything for several minutes.

I broke the ice first.

"So," I said. "Um... you're a cop?"

I eyed him out of the corner of my eye over my shoulder through the curtains of my long hair.

I saw Brent smile, his mustache fanning wide.

"Yeah, what's left of one," he told me. "Hoping to wrap that up in a few years. Damn job has done a number on me. Believe me, if I knew then what I know now, I'd have been a baker."

I heard Brent chuckle.

I sipped the beverage in my hand, careful to indulge more slowly, but I loved the warm glow of courage it gave me.

"I just... didn't know if you were gonna lock me up when I got here," I admitted.

I gave him a little side glance to watch his reaction. His eyes were not on mine. They were far below. I straightened my back when I saw this, hoping it helped my heels push my backside even higher.

"Well, I might still do that," Brent said. "But I'm not taking you downtown to do it."

I had to look away. My panties grew tighter instantly.

"How long have you and Peter been a thing?" I heard him ask.

I shook my head. "A while. Close to a year."

Brent made a sound with his breath. "Huh. It sure took him a while to admit it. Man, to think all that time... he had something like you on the side."

I turned toward Brent, facing the widened eyes that still wandered up and down my body. He wasn't coy about checking me out, and I was beginning to enjoy that gaze. I should have felt invaded, but it just made me feel sexy.

I shrugged. "Pete's cool. But... he's always real brief. He used to have me meet him at Stargaze Hill to do things, and it was only for a few minutes. It took months before I saw his place. But it's still... brief."

"Is that right?" Brent said. "The way he talked after poker the other night, you were one hell of a gal."

Gal. Just the word itself made me bristle. Brent still saw Alison. I was intrigued.

"What did he say about me?" I said stepping a bit closer and putting one hand on my hip. "Did he... tell you things we did?"

Brent shrugged. "A bit. He did say that the other day you gave him one hell of a shoulder massage. Are you as good with your hands as he says?"

I had to take a second and hide my face the glass. I was failing at taking slow sips. I was feeling so warm, and I couldn't tell if it was from the drink or Brent's challenging words. I could still feel myself climbing into Peter's lap, my body against his while I rubbed his shoulders. More distant images surfaced in my mind as well. I wondered if Peter had told him of the oily handjob I'd given him on his back porch, the time he'd spewed cum on my face. Those days had seemed so exciting and risqué.

A deep swallow of the alcohol warmed my insides anew. The glass was almost empty anyway. I knew I felt something. I eyed Brent's broad body, already feeling the urge to accept that challenge.

I strutted forth, setting the near empty concoction on a little table at the end of the couch, then positioning myself right in front of Brent. He gazed up at me with eyes that said so many silent, vile things. I could hear him breathing as his big chest rose and fell. I already knew I was committed, but I had to take a breath to get a hold of myself. I could feel my fake tits quivering atop my body under the dress.

Leaning far forward, I brought my face near Brent's but reached behind him to clutch the top of the couch. I slipped a knee beside him, deep into the cushions, then fought to lift the other. Climbing onto Peter had been nothing. To straddle Brent was to open myself wide to fit my knees on either side of him. I settled myself close, feeling my narrow body dwarfed by the belly I now rested against.

I stared down at the huge man, hiding my own disbelief at what I was doing. I was in drag sitting on a stranger's lap. I sat up straight, sweeping my hair over one shoulder, hoping that the neck seam of my breastplate wasn't too visible. If it was, Brent didn't seem to notice. His lust glazed eyes were darting up and down my body all over again.

I somehow kept my fingers from shaking as I reached for the buttons of his shirt just beneath his thick neck. I had to ignore my thoughts to keep going. This was unreal. Taking my time, I unfastened one after another to reveal a reddened, meaty chest covered in curls of dark hair. The slabs of flesh that rested atop his chest were as big as my head, and I trembled when my soft fingers skimming through all that hair.

"You want a massage from me, Brent?" I cooed as smoothly as I could.

There was an odd wiggle behind the man's mustache, but I didn't have time to decipher his expression. Heavy hands settled themselves on the small of my back and glided down the soft fabric of my dress. I nearly gasped at the sheer power I felt from the smallest touch of his palms and meaty fingers. I knew that those hands could crush me if they so wished. Part of me wanted to feel them squeeze just to sample that.

"I'd love that, baby," Brent growled.

I nearly forgot what I'd set out to do. Brent's hands were exploring my back, and as spread wide as I had to be just to sit in his lap, I could feel the end of my dress slipping up the cheeks of my ass. Pure perversion began to pump through my veins. Thick fingers squeezed at my lower back, daring to go further.

I fanned my hands out beneath Brent's shirt, spreading it open to reveal more of his hairy chest. Our eyes locked for a bit, and I felt frail and scared all over again. I swallowed the last taste of alcohol in my throat and slid my hands further up the mat of hair until I was clutching him by his chunky shoulders. I discovered his back was just as hairy. Alan would have been so repulsed. Alison felt a surge of dirty energy that bent her further down onto this big man's body, easing onto the girth of his belly.

I squeezed my frail fingers through the flesh just beside his neck. Heavy breaths cascaded from his nose, and I was lifted on his swelling body with each slow inhalation. Chubby fingers clutched at the very tops of my ass cheeks, daring to go further, and I felt the dress slip up just a little more. I kept kneading the hairy skin through my fingers, feeling taut muscles beneath the layer of thickness that I rubbed.

"You feel amazing, Alison," Brent breathed onto me.

I smiled. It wasn't the fake, girly smile of a wannabe that was pretending. Hearing her name, my name spoken that way by such a man lit me up. I snickered nervously and flipped my hair over one shoulder, feeling a feminine surge of energy coursing through my every limb. My back arched a bit more. The dress was slipping another inch, then another. I could feel air on my exposed as cheeks, as well as under the little pouch in my tight panties.

Brent finished the ascent for the dress, sweeping it up my back while his other meaty hand slid down to clutch me by one of my bare cheeks. I was as violated as I could be, and it only served to spur me on. I wasn't even so much as rubbing the man's shoulders anymore as I was grinding my body against his. It felt like I couldn't slide away or fall anymore, not in the arms of Brent, not with his huge heavy hand locked onto the flesh of my ass cheek.