Silence of the Hams

Recently a very clever brother I know, we’ll call him JW, came up with a very interesting tactic that I decided to borrow (thanks brother). I’m sure he won’t mind since he’s left the game to live an ascetic existence in the Caribbean. Anyway, I’ve already successfully incorporated this method into my own chubby chasing arsenal. Let me break it down for you.

The idea behind this: Instead of going to Walmart all the time, why not get these mammoth-walrus sluts to waddle there way to my place? Ahah, light bulbs lit up and then exploded in my head like fireworks when I figured out how to do this shit. It’s simple: just pretend you are some kind of talent scout for a beauty pageant or modeling agency. I started putting out flyers and ads on craigslist for a BBW beauty pageant promoting fat acceptance. Here’s the flyer I used:

The results were off the chain. It was like something out of Hansel and Gretel, and I was the witch with the gingerbread house; but instead it’s made of pizza and cornbread too. In fact, the auditions were held at my house, and I laid out trails of cornbread covered with nutella from the front door to my bedroom. When each BBW entered through the front door for the audition, she knew this is the place to show off her fat acceptance, where she can comfortably embrace her lack of willpower.

When a fattie approaches, I leave my door unlocked and open it just a crack, so it swings open when she knocks. As she enters, the BBW sees the trail of food and hears the voice “Come on in baby. Treat-yo self.” It’s my voice coming from the bedroom, as I lie in wait for the impending ambush. She starts eating the food that leads to my bedroom, as I put on my ski mask and turn up some R&B music. As she follows the trail of food into the hallway, getting closer, the tension thickens.

The sound of her chewing gets louder and louder as she gets closer, and my dick gets harder and harder as I hear her grunting like a hog while she eats. My body starts sweating, as I become more impetuous. Finally (this is where my experience in Mixed Martial Arts comes in handy) I leap out of the bedroom and judo throw her extra-large ass to the ground, then hogtie her up. Now the pipe laying commences. My joint is harder than wood in wintertime when I plunge it into that pussy, balls deep. It goes in so hard sparks fly out because of all the friction. She squeals in pain with the nutella and cornbread still stuck in her mouth, while I’m throwing up her flabs like a pizza chef tosses dough in the air. Finally smoke starts coming out that pussy — time to switch holes! After I break off a nut or two in that ass, I turn up some James Brown and bust a move, woooo. That’s how I celebrate a fine day. After beaten that fat pussy up, time to put some ice cream on that ass to cool it down; open a few windows to let the tension out, and hear the birds sing.

If she is still around, I let her have some cookie dough as a treat. BBWs get hungry after sex. Plus It definitely ain’t rape if she licks cookie dough off my balls.

follow me on twitter for more big game advice @NigelBigGame

With huge size comes huge responsibility.

“Daddy, why is my dick so big?” These are the words I remember so vividly, that one terrible day when I came home from school in tears; I was only 10 years old. My new step-dad was hanging out on the front porch, smoking a joint in his rocking chair when I asked him. I told him I couldn’t handle all the teasing and insults from all the other kids at school about my penis being too big. At first he just laughed at me and didn’t understand, then he told me “shut the hell up you idiot” and ripped off a huge ass branch from the tree in the front yard — the kind that black parents typically use to discipline their children — and beat my ass with it. My grandmother showed up and stopped my step dad, grabbing the branch out of his hand. I thought I had been rescued, but it turned out she just wanted a piece of the action. She beat me even harder while the whole neighborhood cheered her on. Growing up black in the south is not easy.

From then on I kept my emotions to myself; and eventually the teasing also stopped, but things didn’t necessarily get better. While other boys openly fantasized about becoming professional football players or baseball players, my ever growing dick brought me nightmares of being confined to a wheelchair. I couldn’t dream like they could, I couldn’t feel comfortable in my own foreskin. Because of this, it became harder and harder for me to socialize with other boys. Instead of playing basketball, football or baseball with other boys, I was wrestling with wild hogs in the mud, all by myself.

Drawing I made while I was in elementary school. My worst nightmare was that I’d end up in a wheelchair.

As I got older, it became a sexual insecurity. And It didn’t help that every pair of pants I bought, within a couple months, started to get holes in the front where my tip hung out. I never could maintain a nice pair of pants. Some of the girls made fun of me and called me patches, because I had patched up my pants to cover up all the holes and stains. At one point my dick was big enough that it would sweat all on its own, leaving hot sweat spots on my pants. It looked like I peed my pants sometimes, shit. And in high-school, where having a bigger dick was all the rage and gossip, you’d think I’d be the top dog. Not at all, every bitch in town knew there was something wrong with Nigel the recluse. I felt like I was the Hunchback of Notre Dame or something.

It wasn’t until one hot Sunday at church that my perspective and self-esteem changed. After the church service and singing, the preacher pulled me aside for a little talk. He told me that he knew God had a plan for me. He told me that he had noticed that I had an extra beat in my walk, an extra skip in my step. He didn’t go into any explicit details beyond that, but he was an intuitive man of God. I knew that he knew that I possessed the staff of Moses. He told me that with a great gift comes great responsibility, and that’s why I gotta have a big heart too. After I parted with the preacher I headed outside to mingle with the crowd that had gathered for their after-church gossip. And I swear to God that sun rays were shinnin’ down on me, and also shinnin’ down on this very big lady with a small hat and a huge fan. Her ass was of biblical proportions: something you’d need to carry on Noah’s arc. And yet that mammoth momma looked sad, depressed… And she was dressed to the nines. What the hell I thought. So I walked on up to her with my 3 beat stroll and asked her if she had a man: a tear fell from her face. She told me that god made her so big that she could never find the right man. I put my arm around her and the spirit of God spit holy game from out my mouth. I lost my virginity that night! Praise the lord for showing me the path to the P. Through Jesus, I had discovered that my gift from God was perfectly suited for bigger women; my joint was perfect for flossing each slab and buttering every roll in her bakery. While other men fear Goliath pussy, I slayed it like David. I went on a path to feed the hungry and help the needy. I got the biggest, baddest, fattest ass in town when I accepted Jesus into my game. He showed me that my game is big game.

Be charitable with the dick, let God into your game. If you have a gift, you have to use it to help those in need, of all sizes. With a huge dick comes huge responsibility, so you gotta have a huge heart.

Accepting Acceptance: because we are all God’s children

God loves all sizes

As many of you have noticed, there’s been a huge, heavy movement within feminism for Fat Acceptance. As you know, yours truly is all up in that shit with support: one fat pussy at a time baby. However, there is one thing that the “fat acceptance” women have got all wrong: their movement has failed to return the love to us Chubby Chasers (there’s no Chubby Chaser Acceptance). Now tell me, how could Fat Acceptance even exist without Chubby Chaser love and Feederism? What other group is going to feed them and fuck them?  As you can see from comments in my blog, I have already gotten some anti-chubster hate for my feedin’ N’ breedin’ lifestyle. What dumb bitches…. Anyway, I think it’s re-DICK-ulous; Or maybe they really hate me because I’m black 😦  There’s been a lot of racism going on around the blogosphere too, lately — I sometimes wonder if it is all my fault as a big black dick owner. These white nationalists are afraid I’m giving fat white girls what they really want. They can all go to hell in a cheese basket. Let me tell you something, Hitler was definitely not a chubby chaser. At his deathcamps, the only Twinkies they served were laced with vitamin Zyklon-B.

You know what, I think all this anti-chubster racism just boils down to one thing: good old player hate. Clearly, you haters have not discovered Jesus. Jesus loves everyone, equally — people of all sizes, colors, races, creeds, and credit card ratings. And that’s why I prey to God every day, especially after I bang — “God, thank you for making my life so wonderful, teaching me to love others, and thank you for this new notch.” Let me say it out loud, I’m a Christian player. You want to talk about inner-game? Wait until you let Jesus into your life. Jesus doesn’t discriminate, and neither do I, because we are all God’s children. God showed me that my job is to help the needy, to feed the hungry, because there is an unequal distribution of dick. I’m doing God’s work by being blind to size and serving cream pies, bringing back equilibrium. Feminists, Fat-activists, and everyone ought to remember that the saying “all men were created equal” comes from the Bible, from God. Believe me, I keep the good old book on an accent table near my fuck station, with an extra condom in it for those just in case moments. One day there might be an accident, she might roll over. I want to be sure I go straight to heaven.

Before you go hating on my blog, just remember that I use this blog to preach fat acceptance, love, and total equality — all in the name of Jesus. The least you ladies and fat activists can do is reciprocate with Chubby Chaser acceptance. I’m color-blind, and although I’ve never gone with a girl below 170 pounds, I’ll also say I’m blind to size. This is why I love glory holes.