Chapter 1 - i can feel the fat...

It's weird the first time you feel overweight. The new jiggling when you move, the difficulty putting on clothes, the feeling of your fat folds touching each other.

I didn't want to be a fatty. I used to work really hard to ensure I was always the thinnest one in the room. Ruining my metabolism, starving myself down to 87 pounds. On my 5'4 frame, i probably looked a little crazy, but i felt so in control.

All control is gone now. I let myself get "normal" then "thick" and now "chubby"... or seriously, just FAT. I have fat everywhere, clinging to my old, lithe body like some kind of costume. My ass is now fat and bounces with every small movement, swaying and wiggling on top of my chunky, meaty thighs. Those thighs used to have such a nice gap between them, now they get raw with the friction of rubbing each other. They feel like thick chunks of blubber, always bumping into each other. The tummy paunch that rides above all this.. it was small at first. It was the last part of me to give into fatness. But now it's a thick roll of pudge. Spilling over any pants, poking out of all my tops. My boobs feel inflated and bloated. Any bra I put on just creates extra rolls in the blubbery mess that is my torso. And they hurt. Well, all clothes hurt.

I didn't want to be a fatty, but this is my life now. I try to act like it's normal, like any girl who accidentally plumps up. But then I come home.

I take off my large work clothes and cram my flabby body into size XS lingerie. My fat oozes out of it, putting all my flabby excess on display. I take out my handcuffs and chain myself to our bed. I will keep laying here, my new 40 extra pounds on display for you, until you come out to feed me.

Of course I hate it. It's so humiliating being fat. But I can't stop letting you feed me. You do it so tactfully in public, with all the second helpings and extra desert. But in private, you just force the food into my mouth. Pizza after pizza, pasta, ice cream, cake.. whatever you are in the mood to watch me eat. You love to pinch and poke at my fattened body to make sure I feel like a guilty piggy. With one hand you are shoving cake into my mouth, with the other you are squeezing a handful of my chunky thigh. You remind me that I'm a powerless, fat slut. And you are right. I let you completely ruin my body, and I'm still letting you.

Somehow I get off on it, which I will never admit to you. Something about letting you own me and destroy me, piling pounds and pounds of fat on me and stuffing my face with calorie-laden food every night. Something about the way my entire body bounces now, and I know you love it.