The World of FMM

The other week I went to a big event, it was called #FMM16 – the Fat Masturbating Men conference 2016. The Birmingham NEC was packed with hundreds of fat men masturbating, I gave up counting at 756, although that was barely half. Not to mention the legions of officianados and collectors of fat masturbating men.

I spoke to a few of the fat masturbating men. Some of them had always wanted to be a fat masturbating man, others just kind of fell into it.

e3475a4a-ac2f-49ff-98b6-d453b296a005-217-00000005e859e7a9_tmpOne guy, called Gary, said he’d known all his life that he wanted to be an FMM, which is the term they use. “I was a skinny kid” he panted at me over coffee “but hard work and competitive eating saw me through”.

Another chap, Terry from Hartlepool, had a very different story. “I never saw myself as a fat masturbating man” he told me in the queue for the keynote speech. His voice was shaky, breathy, because we struck up conversation just before he hit the vinegar strokes. “I’m an architect by trade. This is just something I’m doing for a while. For the money mainly. I hope to go back to architecure in a year or so”.

The Fat Masturbating Men expo started at around 10am. By midday the Birmingham NEC was almost unnavigable. The exhibition space was becoming unhygienic and beginning to turn stomachs. Hardly anyone touched the buffet. Except the fat masturbating men. They all grabbed handfuls of it. Whilst masturbating.

The auction was a great success though. One fat masturbating man from Rochdale went for £17,500. I was outbid on a giant, red haired Welsh wanker. To be honest I only really bid on him because I liked his hat.

After the conference had ended I shared a taxi back to the station
with one of the fat masturbating men. He wasn’t masturbating anymore. We chatted awkwardly about the expo, although he seemed reluctant to discuss the fat masturbating man world. “I’m not as into it as some of the other blokes” he said. “Perhaps that’s why you didn’t sell at the auction!” I tried to joke, but it fell flat. He glowered at me like I’d just farted into his biscuit jar.

I don’t reckon I’ll go next year. I mean, it looked really interesting on the advert, but if anything I found it all a bit disgusting.

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