Chapter 1 - first and only chapter

I deleted my story.

I tried to tell him. The story was about how beautiful I found him. How I could go on and on, describing every marvel of his completely perfect, godlike 480 pounds.

I had started the writing for reasons that were, probably, atypical. My boyfriend and I had a very rocky relationship around his weight. To put it simply, I loved it and wanted more. He hated it, and hated that I loved it.

This, as you could imagine, caused many problems. I will share a few of them. They are quite obvious.

First, the only thing that brings me to orgasm - whether I'm with him, or by myself, is to think of him gaining past 500. To a nice comfortable weight of, say anywhere between 510 and 600. I'm not talking about any of the topics that are common topics on this site. I'm not talking about funnels. I'm not talking about stuffing. I'm not talking about gluttony. I'm talking about the gentle, consistent enjoyment of lovely quantities of pleasureable foods. I'm talking about the easy, unremarkable gains that come with letting go of self-abnegation and self-censure. I'm talking about small, happy gains that flow easily and comfortably over time in an unhurried fashion. Where eventually you need new sweatpants and roomier shirts. Nothing mean or forced or sudden. This is how I cum.

Why is this the first problem, you may ask? It is the first problem because. Because when your boyfriend decides he wants to diet, and very quickly shrinks, and you fret and can no longer cum, your boyfriend feels objectified, angry, and not loved. And then maybe he assaults you from the anger. The blocked goals. And the conditional desire.

This is problematic enough, you may say. How can there be a second problem?

There is, though, a second problem. In almost all of the stories I read on this site, the male feedee takes pleasure in his obesity and in his growth. Yes, i am quite aware that the name of this site has the word "fantasy" in it. Nevertheless, i yearn for my boyfriend to be this kind of man. A man who finds his own incredible beauty beautiful and sensual. A man who is proud of gaining weight. A man who openly shares his weight with me. I wish wish wish that my boyfriend would say, "honey I had such a succulent meal yesterday. I wanted seconds and I took seconds because I felt like it, and because I know how sexy I am. So this morning I weighed 486 and it looks so good on me. I feel my second belly whispering against my thighs. And I know you are a captive slave to my expanding beauty." But this never happens. First of all, he eats like a fucking bird because he's had bariatric surgery and has a teeny tiny stomach. This man never ever overeats. When we eat together, I eat twice as much as he does, and I weigh 115lbs. Second of all, he hardly ever talks about consumption. It's totally uninteresting to him. Thirdly, he never tells me what he weighs. Finally, on the rare - very rare - occasion that he tells me what he weighs, it's either (1) triumphant that he lost weight or (2) depressed and shameful that he gained a pound or two. All of this is in direct opposition to my strong and sexual feeder needs.

How could there even be a third problem? The third problem is me. I question myself incessantly. How can this love that I feel for this gorgeous man really be love if I want something for him that is in direct opposition to what he wants? How can this love be pure if I want something that puts him in harm's way? It's not a good feeling. Sometimes I console myself that when I met him, he weighed 440 pounds. It's not like these stories I read where the guy starts off slim and then succumbs to his girlfriend's or wife's scheme to have him become obese. All I did was lift the self-censure, and encourage. And we built 40-50 beautiful pounds together. And I swear to god he looks incredibly more beautiful at 480 than he did at 440. I mean, his color is beautiful in his face and his body looks so powerful and dominant. I dare you to find anyone in the whole wide world who is anywhere near as handsome and sexy as my boyfriend. There just isn't a man on earth who comes even close. He's ridiculously gorgeous.

Those are the three problems. I have seen a therapist who kindly told me what, of course, I know. If you love this man, you cannot block his path. And you need to feel desire at any weight. If he goes down to 250. If he gains to 650. You must love him and desire him without contingencies.

This is what I am endeavoring to do. He has lost weight. He has cut calories. I decide to love him every day. I make the conscious choice to desire him every new fresh day. I look at these changes in his face. The hollowing out of the cheeks. The flattening of the belly. The thinning of those perfect arms. And I make the choice to want him every minute, continuously, without interruption.

4,000 of you read my earlier story. I received many encouraging emails. I encouraged the heavy men to continue to look for the women who found them beautiful. And, mistake of all mistakes, I told my boyfriend that I had written about him, about us. Even though I used no identifying information he was enraged and said he felt objectified and hurled invectives at me. I deleted every word.


So now I visit this site, to aspirationally read the stories of how it could be. And I keep the two worlds apart.