Fat Guy With Dreads の小説・ストーリー

In fact, I’m pretty sure he had on dress pants earlier when he was pitching his tent. He pulls his t shirt over his head, setting it on top of his laptop. His gray sweatpants are hung dangerously low on his hips, giving a hint as to whether or not his ass really is as tan as his face. Blue eyes. Washboard abs. Filthy rich. Fuck me, this guy really is the whole package.

A viewer immediately chimed in. "I agree with Madam! I went through the same thing before. He told me he's 190, and I thought he was referring to his height. "When we decided to meet in real life, I almost called the police! He turned out to be a 190-kg obese guy! That's 418 lbs! "Can you guys imagine? He's literally three of me put together! His face was all flab, and they jiggled when he walked. I was terrified!"

He laughed. A short, fat man —who I believe was in his late 50s came from the first door that was next to the entrance. He was wearing a white sweatpants, an oversized white T-shirt, and red sneakers. He had a huge chain on his neck, diamond earrings, and a lot of rings on his fingers. He was bald and had a huge scar that covered most part of his left cheek. He had a round belly and beard that was mostly covered in grey. “This is Smash, your new boss.”

Agatha’s POV Then he emerges- Alpha Leo o. . He's exactly as I remember from our previous meetings, perhaps even more repulsive. Ew. He is a large man, both in height, belly, face, thighs and legs. He has a round face and small, sunken eyes. His shirt strains and is almost tearing against his protruding belly, and his suit jacket remains unbuttoned, unable to close over his oversized belly that rumbles when he talks. His hair is packed to a small brown ponytail. It is shining like a child's butt where oil has just been applied. It has too much product and the way he is packed reveals a terribly receding hairline.

I scoop up a large heap of noodles onto my fork and am about to take a bite when he answers. "B-beauty application," I drop the fork in my hand back down to the plate to stare at the guy in front of me. His hair is medium ginger, with hair product styled tightly into it. When I focus on his face, I can see the black lining around his eyes. "What are you, gay or something?" I didn't mean it in a bad way, but it sounded like it when it came out. Luckily, Carter chuckles and shakes his head while Daliah nearly chokes on her food.

He does not look as well built as Dayo, but will still pass for a good looking guy any day. While Ike on the other hand, is suffering severe obesity and he is on punk hair cut . He is just as tall as he is fat. As they are duscussing, the lady who has been in the room with Derick and Tobi, barges out of the room, practically running.

A business like theirs would usually have long-term cooperation with some social loafers. In less than 10 minutes, Fatty, who had a "deep" cooperation with Honey’s Car Dealership, arrived with three tattooed gangsters. As the name implied, Fatty was a very fat guy. He was about 1.62 m tall and his butt took up at least half of his body, so when he walked, he looked like a f*cking dwarf!

This guy was exactly who I would always lust over but never have a chance in hell with actually dating. He’d let his hair grow out this past month and just shaved it a bit underneath like Jude does. Now he had a messy carmel colored shaggy mess and when he sweats … oh fuck its hot. Illegal. “I want to ask you something, for real … for real on the real,” I said, taking off my gloves. He laughed, flashing his perfect white smile. For weeks now he’d become a good friend, someone I confided in about all my fat girl issues. Okay my mental issues, who knows.

she gasped, her face screwed up in disgust. He grinned down at her, his crooked teeth gleaming in the dim streetlights. He was wearing baggy ripped blue jeans and a grey T-shirt that moulded to his hard, lean muscles. His head was shaved and tattoos showed on every visible part of his body, including a grinning skull plastered across his face. Most of his tats were emblazoned with gang images. He reached out to grab her again and she threw up a hand to push him away.

I could see the male on the other side of the one-way mirror in his cheap suit, his pot belly bursting the seams of the nasty fabric, as he stuffed another pastry in his mouth. "Greedy bastard!" Wrath scoffed, watching with me as he shovelled it in his mouth like it was to be his last meal. He was in his early 50s, sporting a receding hairline and dead eyes that I could only imagine were from seeing far too much evil in this world.