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

The Food Truck Experiment

Fat acceptance on wheels baby. Are you hungry now?

Check out my new ride. I had to finance that bitch, and use my house as collateral, but fuck that place. This is better than a house, it’s a fornication fortress on wheels. It was worth all the trouble. Since I’ve purchased this foodtruck and acquired my business license, I’ve seen my notch count go up and way out the ball park. It’s the perfect bait to get the whales out of the ocean. From feedin’ to breedin’, I left them fatties bleedin’. Every step of the way my man, got the right plan. Let me lay it out.

After getting a business loan from the bank, I walked out like a boss. I could hear Rick Ross music playing in the background, I knew I had it made. After getting that squared away, I went to my friend and bought the truck, got the windows tinted, and bought industrial grade cooking supplies, appliances, and lots of food. Also had to get extra suspension and support beams welded on the bottom of the truck to support extra weight (you should know why).

Now I know what you’re thinking, “Nigel, why didn’t you just get an ice cream truck? Wouldn’t that be easier and cheaper?” The problem with the ice cream truck is that it attracts more kids, and I’m not running Michael Jackson game here, so fuck that idea. Kids just get in the way. Also, try fucking a big girl in an ice cream truck: all the ice cream would melt at the very least, and my accountant would beat my ass for something like that. I chose the food truck because It allows me show off my gourmet cooking prowess, which really reels in the big game bitches. Finally, foodtrucks are bigger than ice cream trucks, so there’s more room to fuck.

So the point of the food truck is not merely to fatten my wallet by feeding hoes, no. It is about that next level, 2.0 game and logistics. It’s attraction and seduction (feeding and breeding) all in one place, on wheels, and in my control as the owner. Everywhere I stop I pop (ass) like you put poptarts in a toaster. It feels like cheating actually. Some locations I park at and serve ’em up: in front of the the dollar store, Rent-A-Center, Walmart parking lot, in front of first-cash-advance/checks cashed locations, and in front of grocery stores. The latter is one of the absolute best places to set up shop because when fat women go grocery shopping, they get hungry looking at all that food. They can’t eat the groceries until they buy them and get back home. That’s where chef Nigel comes in with the food truck and facilitates their need to feed. Oink Oink baby.

As you can see from the picture, I specialize in gourmet soulfood, but with a modern twist: like fried chicken sandwiches (in between cornbread-waffles), fried cornbread biscuits with secret sauce, fried corn on the cobs, fried chicken with beer batter, popcorn shrimp gumbo, and pizza. As you can see, I love cooking. I love serving food to fat women, seeing the look on their eyes — It’s like Christmas. Little do they know how much blood and sweat, and love I put into their food. It gives each dish extra flavor, that secret sauce. That’s when I wink back at them as I see them get all that food, that secret sauce all up in their mouth. A tent pops up in my pants. Once they get a taste of my flavor, my spice, they’re immediately hungry for more: all I have to do is shift gears.That’s when I serve dessert, “baby, that cornbread-waffle fried chicken sandwich was heavy, you should wash it down with some dick.”

follow me on twitter for more big game advice @NigelBigGame