Tomb Raider: The Fat Man Chronicles

BY : MF
Category: +S through Z > Tomb Raider (all) > Tomb Raider (all)
Dragon prints: 168534
Disclaimer: I do not own the Tomb Raider game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Note: the events in this fic are separate from the events in my other Lara Croft fic. The imagined model is still the Legend model, but the two stories are to be treated as separate because otherwise there would be a few possible linearity problems in the future.

This fic is a remake of Destiney’s Fat Man fic.

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The guns clicked empty

Lara looked at the half dozen or so bodies sprawled in various post-mortem positions down the hall. ‘Just as well’, she thought, to empty her twin guns of ammunition as the last of the opposition hit the floor.

A little annoying of course, since after making her way past the heavily armed perimeter patrols of the underworld billionaire’s mansion, from which she was supposed to retrieve her latest contract, Lara had found to her surprise that the guards she has encountered so far inside the mansion itself carried no firearms.

A quick assessment by looking around her made Lara smile with realization. Of course the rich bastard wasn’t going to arm his gallery guards with firearms. Asides from a conceited assumption that the armed perimeter guards would be enough, the man obviously did not want his multi-room display of multi-billion dollar artifact collection to be harmed by stray bullets. While Lara was careful enough with her trigger out of respect for these ancient relics, she figured the average grunt would probably fail to see the aesthetic value when spraying ineffective gun-fire at her.

The sound of a pot shattering made Lara spin around, her unloaded guns redundantly raised.

“Please, don’t shoot…I’m just the curator” begged the man. Evidently, he had tried to hide when the bulk of the fight broke out, but a nervous twitch had just cost his employer thousands of dollars judging by the intricacy of the shattered jar. Lara hesitated, but decided that the man didn’t look like a threat, and lowered her guns. ‘Wouldn’t have done much anyways’, she thought.

Lara looked the man up and down and modified her previous judgment of his threat level. The man was cowering, which made her initial gauge of his height inaccurate. He was a couple inches taller than her, around an even six foot. Lara forced back a wrinkling of her nose in distaste at the man as he straightened himself up. His facial features and bald head vividly reminded her of a rat, and was seemingly small in proportion to the rest of his body, which was not merely out of exercise but grossly overweight. Lara judged him to be at least three hundred pounds, adding another fifty after thought.

Lara heard the echoing of guns being cocked from the hallways ahead. She cursed at her depleted guns, holstering them as she turned to retreat, but heard more commotion from where she had come from. Lara estimated from the distance of the sounds that she had perhaps a minute before the guards located her in the many hallway splits and rooms. She turned her head to look at the man, who was looking her up and down with his beady eyes. Lara drew a gun and pointed at him

“You, I need a room to hide in, find me one, unless you want to eat some lead”

“Okay okay…just don’t shoot me…” the man begged, then motioned for her to follow him. Lara, pointing her unloaded gun at him for show (congratulating herself inwardly for choosing ones that didn’t lock back visibly when emptied) followed the man.

“I’m on shift for the security cameras, so I can lead them off” the man said hurriedly as he bustled his fat lumbering self down an adjacent hallway, Lara closely following. He took out a keycard, swiped a door open, and stepped, in motioning for Lara to follow. She stepped in after him, urged by the enclosing sounds of multiple sets of heavy boots rounding the corners. The man shuffled around her to close the door, and Lara stepped into the largely empty room, a sudden thought entering her head.

“Wait…I thought you said…” she didn’t have a chance to turn around and finish her sentence before a heavy strike to the back of her head stole her consciousness.

Lara awoke in total darkness, and tried to move only to find her hands cuffed from behind, her feet bound similarly and her mouth duct-taped shut. She was in a closet of some sort. It was rather cramped, and she could tell she had been hastily deposited in there by the fact that she was covered in a cascade of clothing. She cursed herself for not recognizing the discrepancy in her capturer’s claims to be a curator yet the security room man. She started to struggle when she heard the door to the room she was in open. Lara held her breath, but the footsteps drew near. Lara recognized the shuffle in the walk.

The light of the room was dim enough that it didn’t blind her as the door opened and she unceremoniously tumbled out, a last ditch twist maneuver allowing her to not land face down, but the fall still hurt the left arm, the side she fell on. Lara glared up into the beady eyes of

“Bitch didn’t think I don’t hear your guns run out of ammo” mocked the male Lara had by now dubbed “Fatass” in her mind. He leered down at Lara for a moment, then hoisted her to her feet, before pushing her onto a metal table. Lara by now saw that she was in the same room that he had let her into during her escape from the armed guards. The one-way mirror taking up a whole top half of a wall notified Lara that she was in an interrogation room. ‘Figures that a crime lord has one of these’ she thought. She also noticed that her boots and socks have been removed.

“Now listen up bitch, I saved you from the mother-fuckers outside, told them you seemed to have gone off camera, but you don’t be a good girl and I give you right back to them, understand?” Lara slowly nodded, hiding her disgust for the man, who was visibly stripping her down with his eyes alone. ‘Bastard’s going to rape me’ she thought. The man reached under the table, and Lara heard the clinking of chains as the fatass straightened up, pulling her bound feet over, cuffing one of them to the chain before untying her feet. He pulled Lara half-ways off of the table, allowing her to land on her feet. Lara glanced down quickly, and saw that the chain binding her feet was around five feet in length, one end attached to the concrete floor while the other terminating in the cuff to her left ankle. Reaching up, the man removed the duct tape, Lara cringing as it was removed.

“Now I’m going to free your hands, but don’t do anything stupid, and you will follow my instructions to the word and when I’m done I’ll find a way to get you out.” The man said, one hand drawing a service pistol and holding it against Lara’s head for emphasis. He had Lara turn around, and after fumbling with his free hand for a little bit, the man got her cuffs off. Keeping the muzzle of the gun against her temple, he lean down, nuzzling against her neck and took a deep whiff of Lara, who shuddered in revulsion. The man snorted at her response, but stepped back, allowing Lara to turn and face him.

“Now here’s my deal. I haven’t gotten any good lay in a while, and the bitches down town are all pay-per-view, and don’t measure up, so you will do whatever I tell you to do, or I’ll let the three dozen fuckers in this place have their go at you.”

“I’d rather have them than your fatass,” Lara couldn’t resist retorting, although she shuddered at the possibly humiliation of servicing thirty plus men. Fatass’s eyes narrowed, but he knew he was going to win out in the end.

“Quite a mouth you have, woman, we’ll find better uses for it, now I want you to strip, slowly” Lara glanced at the interrogation mirror, the man evidently reading her thoughts. “It’s three am in the morning, and after your escapade in the gallery I had them lock the entire place down, now every metal security door within three hallways of this place is bolted shut, and there are heavily armed guards patrolling the adjacent hallways. My shift has another three hours, so we’re alone until then. So strip, and be sexy about it.” With that he stepped back, sitting down in a chair with his back sagging against the wall, allowing himself a full view of his captive as she did his bidding. His gun was kept trained on her.

Lara sighed to herself. It seemed that she was out of options. Dressed in her normal job garb, there wasn’t too much to take off, but doing as told, she did the task slowly. Slipping her fingers underneath the bottom of her short top, she little by little pealed it away to reveal her black satin bra, momentarily (and gladly) covering up her view of the fat man who was as giddy as a school boy by the time her shirt came all the way off. Not wishing to bare her breasts yet, Lara allowed her hands to slide down the smooth skin of her belly and reach her short shorts, unbuckling them gingerly. She noticed that her utility belt and guns had been removed already. She slid the shorts down and off of her left feet, allowing it to traverse from her right leg into the length of chain attached to it. Underneath, she wore matching black panties.

After a short debate over which part of her privates she wanted to protect until the last second, Lara finally decided that it really didn’t matter, and reached around her back to unclasp her bra, letting it drop to the floor. Fatass audibly inhaled at the perfection of Lara’s breasts, the nipples on which were already responding to the cold air of the room, stiffening and standing up pertly. Lara ignored this, and proceeded to slip her panties off as well, letting it join her shorts looped through the chain, which clinked as she raised her right foot to clear the panties.

“Man, bitches like you deserve to be clean-shaven” exclaimed the man at Lara’s patch of hair above her lips, in his ardor fidgeting quite uncomfortably, but he steadied himself, and standing up, he issued his next command.

“Now I’m going to strip, and while I do, I want you to sit on the table and play with yourself. I want to see wetness when I’m ready. It’ll be easier for you anyways, I don’t like dry fucks.” Lara raised an eyebrow. She had never really shunned sex, and engaged in it when she deemed a suitor to be worthy, which was in reality very few and far in between. But Lara was in general revolted by masturbation, which she deemed improper, as she thought that pleasure should always be with another partner.

When she hesitated, the man raised the gun a little more, and Lara capitulated. She boosted herself up onto the table, the cool metal of it chilling her bottoms, and with a tentative finger, reached down and began to probe herself. Immediately she realized that Fatass had a point. It had been a while since she did it with anyone, and her orifice below was unbelievably tight due to her rigorous workout regimen and well-toned body. Dry sex would most probably be very uncomfortable. Pushing aside her aversions for self-arousal, Lara ventured two fingers inside herself and began sliding them back and forth. She could feel a buildup of arousal almost immediately, and was half ways disgusted with herself.

“Spread your legs out, I want them opened as far as you can take them” Said the man “and only use two fingers. I don’t want loose lips; I’ve had enough of those.”

Lara complied, and in an effort to lubricate herself for the inevitable sexual intercourse she focused her fingers against her clit, finding it by the feel and memory of foreplay sessions before, as she never really examined herself before. Her body responded rapidly, having not had this kind of stimulation in some time. Lara blushed a little as she spread her legs open as far as they went, which given her flexibility pretty much was the splits, and she had to lean back a little for balance, propping herself up on the table with her free arm as her buttocks rested precariously on the edge of the table, legs wide open, displaying her sex to her sole audience.

Fatass was ecstatic. This would be the first fuck he’s ever had that wasn’t a low-cost whore, which given his relatively measly income was the only thing that he could afford seven days a week. Now before him, the lithe body of what surpassed anything Playboy could ever offer was in the process of readying its undoubtedly tight pussy for his personal use, two seemingly dainty but strong fingers caressing the nub that would soon be made familiar to his already painfully rock hard member. Keeping the gun trained on Lara, the man struggled to remove his pants and boxers as fast as one pudgy hand would allow, breathing in relief when his cock finally popped free of its plaid prison. Lara looked away in indignity, but kept up her masturbation. As the man approached her, Lara barely managed to fight down the shivers, but the blush to her cheeks could not be suppressed. This only pleased the man, who was quite proud of his member, which, like the rest of him, stood slightly above average in length but had a tremendous girth.

The cold muzzle of the gun touched Lara again, this time right against her pussy. The barrel brushed her fingers aside, pressing against her clit, and with his free hand he brought her own fingers up to Lara’s mouth.

“Taste yourself, you whore, you’re all wet for me” he said. Lara unwillingly opened her lips and took in her two fingers, which indeed had been covered with her own juices by now. She closed her eyes in shame, but felt the cold barrel of the gun, which encircled her clit, increase in pressure. “Keep your eyes open bitch, I want you to enjoy this, and even if you don’t make like you do.” He pulled Lara’s hand out of her mouth and pushed it behind her to join her other arm in supporting her weight, causing her to lean back further. The man was aching to thrust into Lara by now, but managed to control himself, as he wanted everything to be as perfect as he has imagined in his many late-night fantasies.

With deliberate slowness, Fatass lessened the pressure of his gun on Lara’s clit, leaving it to travel alone her toned belly, through the valley between her breasts, then up to the peak of one, pressing hard against her left nipple, which was too large to fit into the small caliber barrel. He kept it there, his other hand exploring Lara everywhere else. Lara looked straight ahead, at the bald top of the mans head, feeling but trying not to see what he was doing to her body, although the peripheral vision still passed the visuals onto her. She felt his hand examining her smooth thighs, abdomen, past her right breast to her neck and collarbone, then back to her breast, which he took the liberty of thoroughly feeling and massaging.

The man finally had enough of just admiring, which was hard given the beauty of his catch, and positioned his cock at Lara’s entrance, which had partially dried from the cold air and lack of attention. The lips were moistened, however, by the precum which covered the man’s member. Fatass wrapped his free arm around Lara for leverage, he slowly entered her, both of them glad (for different reasons) that Lara was still wet inside. His gun arm pressed the pistol against Lara’s chest.

The man’s self control buckled, and with a satisfying squelch, he sheathed his entire length into Lara, forgetting to let her adjust. His thick shaft stretched Lara’s vagina taut, eliciting a small yelp of surprise and pain from her. “No screaming or you’ll be heard” said the man, although given the fact that this was an interrogation room, the walls were generally soundproof to outsiders. Lara’s jaw line tightened as she gritted her teeth, her hands twitching to push the man away but she forced them to stay put.

Lara’s tightness was unbelievable to Fatass, who had never in his wildest dreams expected such a tightness, himself never having experienced anything but loosened whores before. Letting himself stay embedded in Lara for a spare moment, he drew out and hammered back into her, hampered only slightly by his overflowing beer-gut, which flapped against her contrastingly flat belly. The man’s weight made all of his thrusts quite accentuated, and as he started a steady hammering rhythm Lara was slowly driven further onto and into the table, her rapist thrusting deeply forward and downward. Her aching arms were allowed to rest as Fatass evidently decided that having her on her back would be easier, and roughly pushed her down onto the table so that her legs were drawn upwards, kept apart by the man’s gluttonous thighs.

“Keep your hands above your head”

Lara complied wordlessly, blushing furiously as she felt the slabs of meat smack into her bellow. As per ordered, she kept her eyes open, although now she had the relief of staring at the ceiling. She let the man do all the work, trying to space out against his prior orders, trying to envision herself killing this man later.

Fatass though better of making use of his prize, and with a sudden lurch he drew backwards, hauled himself upright, one arm pulling Lara up with him and away from the table. There he stood, Lara impaled upon his cock, weighing down on it painfully and supported otherwise only by his one arm. Lara gasped as her own weight forced her down onto the rod inside her. Her legs had started to drop down, but due to her being impaled she was forced to wrap them around the man for support, her until then unused arms draping around his oily neck, propping herself up. Fatass’s chest, which had enough flab to equal Lara’s own breasts in volume, pressed against her, and she felt the disgusting grease of unwashed skin against her own.

“I told you, you have to work for your freedom. Now fuck me, and do it hard.” With that the man started his own rhythm of bouncing Lara up and down his cock while upright, his gun arm now holding his trump card against Lara’s armpit. Coerced into action, Lara forced herself to move, her arms and legs synchronizing their movements with the man, letting herself be raised almost clear of his cock, then driven back down with a wet thud. In that position they continued to fuck for a few minutes, Lara feeling herself becoming closer to an orgasm against her will. The chain connected to her ankle jingled with every thrust.

Having to support both his and Lara’s weight tired the man however, and he decided that it was more enjoyable to watch Lara to all the work. Making sure her legs were clear and there was enough slack to the chain, he sat both of them down on the armless chair, and told Lara to ride him.

The only solace Lara had in her doing all the work was she no longer had to press her breasts against the sweaty grease-bag, but because her legs couldn’t touch the ground, it took considerable effort to pull herself up and down onto Fatass, who wasn’t helping her at all, instead inclined to use his free hand to massage one breast while his mouth explore the other. In this state, Lara’s arousal buildup was slowed as the physical exertion of riding the man took up more of her attention. Also because the man didn’t more at all, Lara was completely unprepared for him to cum inside her.

With a relished groan, Fatass reached up and pulled Lara down onto him, keeping her there as he let loose with the best orgasm he’s ever had, shooting ropes of sticky goo up into her pussy. Lara’s eyes widened as she felt the warmth flood her, and started to struggle to extricate herself, but the man drew her close, pressing their sweaty bodies together, and held her down firmly until he was completely finished.

“Let it sit, bitch, won’t do you no harm, I got morning-after pills that you can take after this to prevent getting pregnant, so take it all in. anything leeks out I’ll make you clean it with your mouth. The deal was you do as you’re told” The man threatened, which made Lara to cease struggling.

To be continued….


There, after a period of no writing, I sat down and wrote all of this in one sitting. Do review and offer suggestions.


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