Caitlyn had been called many things; slut, fucktoy, cum whore, fat slag. She knew it was true. She couldn’t help it.

She described herself on her Tinder profile as “a curvy, if a little chubby and wobbly, busty, big-bottomed English bunny, with a thing for older men.”

She’d struggled with her weight for years before realising that men didn’t particularly care for stick-thin model types in real life. “I like to have something to hold on to,” one man had told her as he gripped the bits of flab around her waist and slammed his cock into her from behind.

She knew she made bad decisions. She only had to look back over the list of ex-boyfriends to see that. As she ran the contour brush over her cheek, she thought about Darryl.

Darryl had been in his mid-forties when she’d met him. She had just turned eighteen when he approached her, and was dressed in a very revealing dress that was a size too small. He had the confidence that older men bring. He knew what he wanted and didn’t bother sugar-coating it or trying to win her attention by flirting or romantic gestures. He just came up and pressed himself against her. One of his meaty hands squeezed her arse as he looked her in the eyes. When she didn’t flinch or pull away, he took her hand and walked her down the corridor and into the car park.

She had giggled and asked where were they going but he just led her into an alleyway where they stored the empty beer kegs and pushed her down onto her knees. She looked up and waited while he unfastened his belt and pushed his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free.

He’d told her she was a dirty little slut as she sucked his cock. She’d just sucked him in deeper. Then he pulled her up and turned her to face the wall. Her dress was up around her waist in seconds and her knickers were scrunched up in a ball and put in his jacket pocket. He fucked her from behind, his hips slapping against her fat arse as he took her, calling her a fat slag as he fucked her. Her tits wobbled with every thrust. It didn’t take long. Afterwards, she’d gone back into the club with his cum dribbling down her thighs.

She sighed as she applied her lipstick. She knew she was the plump friend to her hotter, prettier girlfriends. She’d accepted she was ‘the Duff’ or designated ugly fat friend as one of the wedding party had pointed out to her shortly after unloading his load of cum onto her face. Her only thought at the time had been not getting cum stains on her bridesmaid's dress so she hadn’t even thought to disagree with him. At least Jenna had asked her to be a bridesmaid. Cathy had straight up told her she was too fat in the run-up to her wedding as she wanted all the bridesmaids to be a size ten.

She couldn’t help her weight and she couldn’t help making bad decisions when she was out. She knew she was weak and insecure and just seemed to attract the wrong men.

She enjoyed going out and she loved the attention. She felt it validated her, even if sometimes it was slim pickings and she attracted the wrong kind of men. But as she told Jenna, “We all have our insecurities, don't we?”

When Jenna asked her what she wanted, her reply was instant. “I just want to be treated like a princess, don’t I?”

And she had been, to begin with. She thought of Darryl again. He’d call her Princess when he stroked her hair and gazed into her eyes. He’d buy her champagne and porn star martinis. But then he’d take her outside to the alleyway at the end of the night and slam into her, her arse cheeks slapping against his thighs. Once he’d unloaded inside her, he’d zip up and head home to his wife and kids.

“Well, not tonight,” she told herself, adjusting the bodice of her pink dress. She checked herself in the mirror. “New Year, new me,” she declared. Following the obligatory Insta selfie, she headed out to meet the girls.

New Year’s Eve was always bedlam and this year was no different. Everybody was buoyed by the thought of a new year and all the opportunities it brought. People hoped things would be better with memories of the pandemic still fresh in their minds.

Caitlyn drank too much, too quickly. With every porn star martini, her inhibitions lowered and the men standing at the bar watching her and her friends began to look less intimidating and more and more desirable.

When they all crowded onto the small dancefloor, the men ground against her every time they bumped into her. She felt a hand paw at her arse and while before, she would have settled back against him and let him grope her, this time Caitlyn told herself, “No! New Year. New me.”

She spun around, intending to tell him to fuck off when she gazed into the deep brown eyes of a silver fox. Her insides turned to jelly.

“I… I.. I..” she stammered while he stood there, grinning, reading her thoughts as if they were tattooed on her face.

“Ten!… NIne!… Eight!”

She turned to look for her friends.

“Seven!... Six!... Five!... Four!”

She spun back around, searching but all she could see was the silver fox.

“Three!... Two!... One!”

Everything seemed to go in slow motion

“Happy New Year!”

As the cheers rang out and balloons fell from the ceiling, the man took Caitlyn in his arms and kissed her hard.

She was kneeling on the bathroom floor unzipping his trousers less than five minutes into the New Year. Maybe, Caitlyn reasoned, some resolutions were meant to be broken.