Fat Guy With Dreads Novels & Stories

"Brother Zhou, don't ask too much. Let's go. He will hear us later..." Xiaoyu said to Zhou Tian nervously. In a hurry, she even pushed Zhou Tian to the side of the car and asked Zhou Tian to get in the car and leave as soon as possible. Zhou Tian was really puzzled. Just as he was about to ask what was going on, a short and fat man in his forties suddenly walked out of the supermarket. Although this man was short, he weighed more than two hundred kilograms. He was a fat man. His arm was covered with tattoos, and he looked fierce. There was a big golden chain as thick as a finger hanging on his neck, which made him look like a social man.

I said, a smile pulling at my mouth. Even as my inner bitch cringed, she shook her hair back and gave a little finger wave. The lead guy, his bald head shiny under the light, laughed. This guy had all of his teeth. The crop of closely trimmed salt and pepper hair outlined his mouth. Old tattoos looked like bleeding green snakes around his neck. "The suka has fire." His lean, beef jerky body, shook under his laughter. Baldy apparently had at least a passing sense of humor.

Faye’s heart skipped a beat. Six large men walked out of the crowd led by a man with the pudgiest face she had ever seen, a big frame, and a very prominent beer belly. He looked to be about 200 pounds. His friends sported very similar physical attributes too, and all of them possessed large swathes of tattoos.

“The fuck do you want?” Something caught in my throat. I couldn’t swallow, looking at the man in front of me. He was completely grey. Not in a good way. In a crack addict who gave up on life kind of way. It was mangy and matted and I wondered if maybe rats lived in it. His body looked weirdly misshapen. Thin arms and legs with a potbelly that rode his shirt, or maybe crop top, up higher than his belly button.

I want to appear rigid and unmoved, so, yeah, I find myself plopping down into the empty chair. Richard stalks across the kitchen a few seconds later. He pulls out the chair beside me and sits down heavily. I keep my head up and gaze straight, but I can still see the smirks around the table. “How are your biscuits this morning?” one of the new guys asks. They’re all wearing various shades of black. I mean, black, but different kinds of it. Anyway, this guy looks tough. He has his hair cut into that up-cut style that makes people appear gangster-like, but this guy truly looks the part. He has a long scar that runs from his forehead, zigzags across the bridge of his nose, and down over his chi

I can hear my intestines wiggling like worms in protests. And oh that hissing sound? I bet it's fat sizzles. I carefully and quietly appear from the wall and what stands in front of my eyes, the back facing me, is Jordan Crown himself. He's topless, only wearing an apron. I can see the well-defined muscles of his back, the rough and firm muscles that link his broad shoulders. That athletic structure reaches all the way down, which his round and healthy buttocks restricted from going further. I know he has the cake. It forms against his gray sweatpants. HIS GRAY SWEATPANTS!

The biting, sarcastic voice of my fiancee, Madison Hodge, rang out once more. "Can you stop eating? I can see your double chin already. Do you seriously expect me to marry you when you look as fat and ugly as a pig? I'm warning you. If you don't get your weight down to 140 pounds, you can forget about us getting married!" I stared at my reflection in the mirror, having just gotten over the shock of hearing my cat, Furball's, thoughts.

he whispered, his thumb now grazing my bottom lip. "How do you know my name and that I'm crying over a man?" I asked, my voice trembling. I'm telling you, this man was standing at a towering 6'4", his massive frame casting a shadow that swallowed me whole. His hair was styled in a perfect, dark pompadour, and his face was clean-shaven, highlighting a jawline that looked like it was carved from granite. His icy blue eyes were predatory, fixed on me with an intensity that made my knees weak.

His gaze cut through me, cold and heavy with disgust, before his fist slammed into the kitchen island. “Look, Myra, I’ve had enough of this,” he snapped. “You’re too stiff. Too boring. And most importantly…” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh as his eyes dragged over me like I was something he couldn’t stand to touch. “Too fucking fat.” The words landed hard in my body, like they didn’t belong in real life but still somehow shattered something inside me anyway. I knew I was a bit bigger than most women, but I was putting a lot of effort to try and stay fit. It wasn't like I wasn't trying my hardest to loose weight and Vincent knew that.

Madison Sofia mentioned Dax’s new bodyguard the last time I spoke with her. Apparently, Dax met the guy in prison and at some point, saved his ass in a yard scuffle. To step in as Dax’s bodyguard meant the guy was dangerous. What I didn’t expect was his size. Dax is a large dude. Duke takes large to another proportion. He’s the biggest man I’ve ever seen in person—pure muscle on an almost seven-foot frame, shaved head, surprisingly intelligent blue eyes, clean-shaven, wearing jeans and a black skintight tee, with chain-accented black biker boots. The perfect, if there is such a thing, Aryan comes to mind. Sofia had reservations about him until he rescued her two-year-old hellion daughter fro