When BBWs Act UP

Who you think you is, BITCH!!!???

Who you think you is BITCH!!!??? MY BITCH THATS WHO!!!

Sorry for the hiatus my chub-brothers. Nigel X. Davis is back in the house to rupture volcanic ass and spread the word of Big Game without shame baby. I’m back with a vengeance after the rough shit I had to deal with two fuckin’ weeks ago in my house. This one BBW became so belligerent with her straight up crossin’ the line, Big-Mama-Drama-Queen bullshit, that I had to check her. I had to put the hippo down; you know, sometimes you get these wild bitches that got a potato chip on their shoulders, man they think they are something. They bring the trouble that makes me like, “Hell no bitch, you are finished!” every single time.

So it was roughly two weeks ago that I invited a big bitch over my house for a nice, home cooked, six course gourmet dinner. I was on my best behavior with candles lit, music turned up, and in my professional chef clothes as I escorted her via wheelchair to my dining room. As I rolled her on up to the table she started looking unhappy. I was like, “baby, is everything all right?” She pointed at the food and rolled her eyes, “that’s not enough!” I was like “Ok baby, I got this, I got this!” And I went back to my kitchen and made her extra food. By the time I came back with more food she had already eaten most of what was on the table, without me. I was stunned, what a rude bitch! But, praise the lord, I kept my mouth shut like a southern gentleman. Soon after she tilted her head back and opened her mouth, then I realized she expected me to feed her. I hesitated at first, but she waved me over and pointed toward the mashed potatoes. “okay…. fine.” I gave in, took out this big spoon and shoveled three bowls into her mouth. Soon I was feeding her everything on the table with my bare hands, and letting her lick my fingers. I tried to get her to lick some food off my dick but she just pushed it away. What nerve! I just shrugged it off as hot foreplay at first, but then I remembered from past experience: she’s just trying to make me her bitch. My inner voice was like “No way hoe! I’m not your black slave” — you know, I prefer it the other way around.

Then it was time for dessert. I decided to continue keeping this smooth. I brought out the cake and she got really excited when she saw it. She was flapping her flabby arms in the air, grinning with a triple chin smile. Eight layers with vanilla ice cream on top: It was a wedding cake just for us. I cut out a piece and popped it in her mouth with the utmost grace of a perfect basketball shot. It landed so perfectly, it was a moment of glory. All of the sudden she spit it out and sneered at me. I couldn’t believe that shit. I was like “WHAT THE HELL BITCH..”  Her: “This is NOT AN ICE CREAM CAKE!!! EW!!! I WANT ICE CREAM CAKE!!!”

I ran back into the kitchen so fast that my toque blanche (chef’s hat) almost fell off. I tossed the first cake out the window and scrambled for supplies to make a new one. I was sweating with fury, forgetting the original reason I had brought her over for dinner: to fuck her fat white ass. I was too busy to think about myself… too busy carefully scooping up and sculpting the vanilla ice cream into a cake, a cake fit for a queen. I patted each layer down with my dick a few times to give it just the right texture, hardening the crust. Despite my blue balls I pushed on, working like a true artisan who mastered his craft. I did it all for her, I went the whole nine yards. I even coated the top layer with jizz and blow-torched it into a creme brulee. I was so proud of that cake when it was finished that I ran out with it, but as soon as I set foot back into the dining room, somehow I tripped into the cake. FFFFFFuck. I fell face first into that cake, with most of the layers all squished up all over the floor. That’s when she stood up from her wheelchair and pounded her fat fist into the table, “GOD DAMN IT, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY CAKE!!!!!!” When she said that I was so I fucking pissed… I grabbed my chef’s hat off my head and threw it on the ground with intense anger. I was so mad, I jumped on it too. I even ripped my apron off. “I ain’t your chef no more, you fat bitch!” Yup, I called her a fat bitch. I had to tell her the truth. When chef Nigel throws his hat down, that’s the signal that I’m about to throw down.

The final straw came when she threaten to sit on me as punishment — now don’t get me wrong, I like gettin’ sat on by a big bitch, but only voluntarily. When she dared to threaten me, I got back up real quick and ran on back into that kitchen. She was half way across the dinning room when I popped back out with my three-foot egg beater. I turned the lights off to set the mood: a beatdown for dessert.

i-beater ass

I whipped that thing out and beat her ass and pussy down to the ground. I took that thing and whisked her pussy up so hard, she gonna need a separate funeral for it. I fucking plunged her head first into what was left of the ice cream cake, making her finish it off the floor while I went ball deep in her. It was gameover. I put her in her place.

Moral of the story: Some fat hoes are straight up belligerent, possessed by the devil. You gotta make’em sweat it out.

follow me on twitter for more big game advice @NigelBigGame

Daygame: how to sack big ladies in the daytime

The difference between meeting women in the the day vs. at night is some serious shit. First of all, at night it’s harder to comprehend the size and scope of that ass-cavity you plan on drillin’ and fillin’. Women appear more spatially-ambiguous when it’s dark and you’ve got some cognac in your system. That’s why when I go out at night, I always always always bring my night vision goggles (or at least a flash light) with me into the club; but in the daytime that’s not necessary — this is why the ancients worshiped the sun. The day time requires different game, especially when they your targets are out shopping; things move more slowly and they probably have more food in their stomach to slow ’em down.

Before you go out, you got to pick your daytime venue: Where do you find big bitches at? In America it’s good old McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, the grocery store, other fast food joints, the dollar store, etc… But we’re going to focus on the best venue for meeting behemoth pussy in the daytime: Walmart. Why Walmart you ask? Besides the fact that it’s a low-income haven for plus sized mommas, logistically the stores are huge — designed to slowdown big women by strategically fatiguing and entrapping them in between aisles so they spend more time looking at products. All these aisles are an optical illusion, appearing to be large and accommodating for fatties. Combined with Walmart’s extra large shopping carts and a little traffic, fat bitches can get caught or “funneled” in between the aisles. This makes it more convenient for us to force feed them our big day game.

It goes down like this: I walk on in and grab myself the biggest shopping cart I can find. Then I usually head right and start patrolling the pharmacy section where they sell drugs at. Surprisingly that’s where you will find the thickest concentration of fat bitches; because they’re usually over there looking to buy painkillers. Fat women always have chronic pain in their feet for some reason, and they like to swallow down those white aspirin skittles while they shop. Anyway, when I spot one browsing the aspirin skittles, I roll up on her and use my shopping cart to block off her exit. Think of it as blockading a port. Let’s say the shopping cart is blockading her on the left side, that’s when I slip through to her right side and pretend like I’m looking for the same shit she is. You following me so far homie? This ain’t a football play here, all I gotta do is pretend like I’m heading back to my cart, but bump into her repeatedly several times as if her big ass is in my way. If I blockaded her correctly with the shopping cart, this maneuver is easy to pull off. So I’ll keep bumping into her, and every time be polite and say “excuse me ma’am,” and “my bad.” I usually do this about 10 times for each big momma.

How its done

What I love about this game tactic is how advance it is: It’s plausibly-deniable indirect kino-escalation game combined with a vicious physical neg that will force her to open you up conversationally. The physical neg well cause her to feel insecure about her size, and she’ll use the indirect physical kino-escalation to blame you for running into her. In most situations like this she’d probably scream rapist and you might find yourself getting beat down by Walmart security, but because I neg that bitch at the same time, she’ll be more focused on her size-insecurity first. Before she pulls the creeper card she’s going to try to qualify her self. When she qualifies herself with something like “motherfucker I ain’t fat, you just a clumsy f***…” that is the decisive moment when the Disney magic happens. You gotta quickly comeback with big swag, I usually say, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder; we are all gods children.” At this point there’s usually a small audience watching us, so I raise my voice like a preacher. Now that bitch is on the spot and in my pocket and I’ve got the moral high ground. All I have to do is say “I’m sorry” and offer to buy her a lunch at McDonald’s. Now that’s what I call an insta-date — I’m lovin’ that pussy.

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Now I want to give a much belated shout-out to all the blogs in the manosphere that have finally come around to fat acceptance. Bronanthebarbarian, thank you for helping me out to convert men back to lovin’ real women. Flyfreshandyoung, dangerandplay, donlakapocalypsecomethaaronsleazysocietyofamateurgentlemenlittlepdogtheprivatemanmattforneyscartissue, and all the other blogs that gave me a shout out, thank all y’all! God bless you guys. Holla back sometime.

follow me on twitter for more big game advice @NigelBigGame