Chapter 1 - Chemistry

I was lucky, I admit it. Things really worked out better than I could have hoped, but back then I didn't even know what I wanted.

It all started when I happened to get Dr. Lampard for my sophmore organic chemistry course. The course was known for winnowing out students, and Dr. Lampard had a reputation for being pretty ruthless. I was ready to bust my butt to land good marks, but come the first lecture I could barely make myself pay attention to what he was saying.

I'd never been so distracted by the appearance of a teacher or professor before. He was, to be blunt, fat--really, really, fat. Not hard fat either, rather all soft and flabby. He sat down to lecture, and even then he seemed to be on the verge of losing his breath. When he did move, he seemed to flow or ooze, like he was made of some liquid rather than being anchored on bones. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, and my thoughts were scattered by the sight.

I was embarrassed after the fact. What was wrong with me? I resolved to ignore his appearance, and focus on his teaching.

Come the second class I did a better job of listening, maybe because I kept my eyes off of the professor. Determined to seem keen, after class I went to ask him a question about single versus dual bonds, even though I mostly understood the concept already. Well, I wanted to look like a keen student, but part of me was excited to get closer to his mesmerizing body.

A girl in the class also stuck around to ask a question, and her's was almost as trivial as mine. The prof answered us both curtly, then waddled away. I couldn't help but stare after him, and it was only after he left the room that I realized the girl would think I was weird for staring at him like that. However, when I glanced her way, she was just pulling her eyes away from his departure too.

I laughed a bit and said "He's something, isn't he?"

She quirked her eyebrows and shot back "A whole lot of something. I love his boldness in being who he is so strongly, with no apologies."

"Uh, yah, I guess. I mean, I don't know, I just..." I was babbling, and knew it, but I wasn't quite sure what to say.

She looked me up and down. I knew she'd be looking at a kind of typical, nerdy, guy. Average height, high school sports a few years in the past and too much studying and playing video games catching up to me, hair a bit longer than was fashionable because I liked the feeling of it that way. All clad in jeans and a plain blue t-shirt.

She inquired "So, you don't look gay, but you could be hiding it well. Do you have a crush on him? Or do you just wish you could be more like him?"

I was taken back by her bluntness. In my surprise I answered honestly "I don't know. I've never really felt anything like this before."

"Well, are you often attracted to fat guys?"

"No! Well, at least not, like, football player types. I guess I've always kind of noticed more soft-fat guys. I don't know why, I guess there is just something about the idea of being fat that, I don't know, haunts me or something."

"Anyway," I continued, giving her the look over now, "Whatever your name is, what business of yours is it?"

She clearly saw my eyes roving over her, taking in her chunky curves, strawberry blonde hair, and most noticeably, scaring over one side of her face, and she waited until I met her eyes again. Then in one quick monologue she announced "My name is Sam, yes those are burn scars I got as a baby when my parents car got caught in a truck pile up and a propane truck went up--I was the only survivor thanks the the shielding the baby seat gave me from the blast. I'm sure you are very sorry for my loss, but really I was only a few months old and only recall being brought up by my truly fantastic Aunt and Uncle so its all OK, ready to get back to topic now?"

"Uh, sure." What could you say to an announcement like that?

"So, what business is it of mine? None, really, just that I think he's cute, and I thought it would be cool if you did too."

"Cute? Uh, maybe? I don't know, I really haven't figured out what I feel about this."

"Oh, I know what I feel: I like fat. Thinking of being embraced by all that flab makes me melt. But thinking of being that fat gives me panty puddles too. I don't just look like a freak, I am one on the inside too."

"Are you serious? I mean, about liking fat--not being a freak, I don't think you are a freak."

"Oh, I'm a freak all right, but let's not argue it. Yah, I like fat. Some people are attracted to fat people, some people like being fat. I'm both, just too chicken to have really gone for it yet. I figured, the way you were gazing all moon-struck at our prof, that you had to be one or the other."

"I, uh" this was hard, but I swallowed and admitted "Maybe. I don't really let myself think about it I guess."

She looked puzzled "Any guy I've talked to spends most of his time thinking about sex in some way, but you've never thought about this?"

My turn for some history. "My family is crazy religious, like throw-back to the middle-ages, pray five times a day, three fasting periods a year, purge your head of unclean thoughts and make weekly confession of those that you couldn't. Since I didn't want to confess those thoughts, I got good at blocking them. But I'm not like my family, to their despair. But I'm still getting over the conditioning."

Sam looked around and said "It looks like nobody is using this class right away. You got time to talk....what is your name, anyway?"

"Sorry, I'm Dan. Yah, i could talk." In truth I had an english class right then, but Sam had me captivated.

"OK, so time to think about it. It is an experiment in knowing yourself, and knowing yourself is what college is all about, right? So feel no guilt, block nothing, let it all flow......and let me know if you are getting hard."

Again, I didn't know what to do about her bluntness, so I went along with her instructions and shut my eyes.

"OK, imagine a fat girl, big round soft tits, soft belly that maybe hangs down a bit, bit cellulite covered thighs that make her waddle, double chin and soft face. Now imagine grabbing her and hugging her, your hands digging into her soft hips, her belly pushing against your crotch."

"Uh, that might be kind of hot."

"Hmmm, OK, now try this. A fat guy, flabby tits lying on his jiggly belly, round face. You grab his love handles to pull him against you, and you have to lean over his belly to kiss his soft face. Hot or not?"
"Uh, maybe, I sort of react, but not exactly hot."

"OK, then try this: you are the fat guy. You jiggle as you walk along, fat belly bumping against your thighs with each heavy step. You see your lover and try to run forward, but you are too fat to run and after a couple of steps you have to stop to catch your breath."

All I managed to say was "Uuuuhhhh" but I could tell I was blushing a bright red.

Sam zeroed in "Your lover laughs at how fat and out of shape you are, but then offers you the cheesecake they just bought for you. In fact they feed it to you, bite by bite, rubbing your soft belly as they tell you how fat you are going to get."

My cheeks felt on fire with how hard I was blushing. I babbled "I forgot, I have class, I should really go...." and I ran away, not ready to deal with the chaos of feelings her description had awoken in me. It wasn't just what she'd said, but where my imagination had been trying to go next. My well practiced blocks prevented that thought from really forming, but the ghost of chased me out of the lecture hall and for the rest of the day.

In our next Organic Chemistry class, a couple of days later, I noticed Sam shooting looks my way. Between the emotions that re-awoke at the memory of our conversation, and how the prof looked, I barely absorbed a word of the lecture. That afternoon I went to admissions, and managed to transfer to the other organic chemistry class, where I was thankfully able to concentrate.

I was worried Sam would track me down, or maybe hoping that she would track me down, but despite my fretting the rest of the term passed without me seeing her. I was actually a bit surprised that our paths didn't cross, but it was a large college so I didn't think too much of it. I thought that maybe in winter term I'd see her in one of my classes but again no sign.

I even, sort of, managed to put her out of my mind. Except, every time I was close to eating too much, when I was telling myself to stop and not eat the everything in front of me, that I'd already eatenenough, I'd remember Sam's last scenario. And remembering, I'd keep eating, imagining being fed and overfed. I'd been fighting my huge appetite since I was a teen, but it seemed that in a few sentences Sam had disarmed me, leaving me powerless to resist my desires. I outgrew my pants, then I outgrew my larger pants, I had to replace my t-shirts as they began to ride up and expose my growing gut.

I knew I should stop eating so much, I knew I should start getting more excercise. However the more that I told myself that, the more I felt ravenous, the more I hated to get off my growing ass. I alternated between being disgusted with how fat I was getting, and being thrilled by it. It was super confusing, leaving me in a state of mixed confusion, frustration, and lust.

I started my Junior year nearly fifty pounds heavier than I'd been at the start of my sophmore year. I started looking for Sam, to tell her that now that I WAS fat, I knew I liked it, but I just didn't know what to do about that feeling. I hoped she could help me make sense of this craziness. But she was nowhere to be found.