Chapter 1 - sounds perverse but isn't

You can call me a bodybuilder for lack of a better term. Bodybuilding is my obsession; I cannot stop it.

This is my confession.

My name is Amanda. To start with, let's clear one thing up about my bodybuilder calling. I am not one of those oily female bikini-wearing hard-bodies with veins popping out all over and hard bulging muscles. Not at all. I think I look pretty good anyway, your typical female 5'6" about 120 pounds or so, curvy in all the right places. You see, I am not working on my own body.

I am "building" a man's body -- or if you prefer, I am re-shaping it to my desires.

My boyfriend Arnold has the body I am currently building. I want to tell him all about it, but I am scared to do so. I have this little confession to make to him, but I just can't do it, so I am writing my story in hopes that others will see this and appreciate my strange hobby. Maybe a few might even see themselves in this story.

I am a bodybuilder, and I cannot help myself.

You see, I can't tell my lover Arnie all this yet. If I did, it would ruin the surprise, and I might scare him off before, uhm, well, before I am all done with him.

And his big beautiful body.

I am training Arnie's body to grow more beautiful just for me - just to meet my strange notions of beauty. I am a special kind of bodybuilder, and I am putting my boyfriend through some weight training of a most unusual sort. He has already noticed that his body is changing. He just hasn't put two and two together and figured out that I am the cause for such changes.

Of course, all this is not for Arnie's benefit. Not at all. In fact, if I do my job correctly and build the kind of body I envision, well, he may suffer some "small" consequences - maybe even a few health problems. I feel bad about that, but I cannot stop. I feel compelled to shape Arnie, to make him change.

Before you judge me, remember that many girls want to change their boyfriends. They want them to listen. They want them to act romantically. They want them to quit drinking so much. They want them to . . . well, you get the idea. How am I so different from any of them? I am certainly not alone in wanting to change a man.

If I could tell him, I would say to Arnie, "Keep things in perspective, please. I am the one building your body. You have little to do except fall prey to my whims. I will use my womanly charms, I will use my emotions and your need to please. You will do what I command of you."

I wish I could be so bold.

I have done this same thing many times with many men, and Arnie is simply my latest project. Once I finish shaping his body to perfection, I will set him free. If he wishes to stay with me, well, we can talk about this later and decide.

You see, a bodybuilder like me is a woman who treats her lover's body as a piece of living sculpture, an artistic medium, like plastic or fabric. Or like clay, yes, like soft clay, I am molding Arnie into the "perfect" man. I can help any slender man develop his bod to the fullest ideal of physical perfection - my ideal, that is. There really isn't a good word for the kind of bodybuilding I am into - maybe "feeder" or "fattener" or "encourager," but that's not all I'm about.

And for what I want of Arnie, there are no decent words either. "Feedee" seems kind of passive, which I like -- up to a certain point, that is. Arnie's passivity is already working against him, so deliciously. But of course, he must take an active role as well in his re-shaping, and he has so far done so to some extent. It's been easy to reprogram Arnie's body and its needs.

"Feedee" sounds kind of like "needy," and that's what I am aiming for - for Arnie to be needy, for him to need me. For him to need my loving and my feeding and my fattening of him.

If you know what a feedee is, then you know what I expect Arnie to do and what I am already making him do. My role: Forcing him to deliberately overeat, so his body can grow the plushest, softest and largest contours he can possibly acquire.

Making one's lover grow fat is anathema to most people in our society, but that is what I am all about. As I said, I have done this many times. I am experienced in the arts of cooking and, ahem, sensual persuasion if you catch my drift. In other words, I can work magic in both the kitchen and the bedroom.

All this, to the detriment of Arnie's formerly slim figure.

There is a common misconception that there are ruthless men who seek to take advantage of women feedees and fatten them to satisfy their own perverse desires. How crazy is that!

But there are women like me who do similar things with men like Arnie. But I don't take advantage of him. Not at all. I just help persuade him.

Making men fatter is one of the most intensely sensuous things I have ever experienced. I came to the realization that it was almost impossible to find one of those rare men who enjoys this kind of physical growth and is not already quite fat. Oh sure, there are plenty of fat men around, but to find a slender man like Arnie and fatten him up, well, it's not easy. When we met, he was so slim and muscular, so narrow-waisted, well, men like that are like a lump of coal to me. And I am turning Arnie into a beautiful diamond.

In my heart, I am a giver. I love to make nice meals for Arnie, cook and bake for him, and then serve him in the luxury and in the quantities a growing boy like him deserves. I love feeding Arnie beyond satiation almost as much as I love the subsequent expansion of his body. I love hearing him moan in pleasure as he eats my goodies and later groan, "Ugh, I'm so full."

The fatter Arnie grows, the more exquisitely attuned to his body I become. I touch him so sensuously, rubbing his belly and caressing his love handles. I get no small amount of satisfaction in watching him get bigger. Surely, he must see it in my eyes, how they widen in amazement at his growing bulk, how they sparkle as he finishes off another piece of cake or pie or one of my other home-baked goodies. Arnie is one of the few men on this entire planet who get to experience sharing such a simple pleasure.

What a gift I am giving him!

Making a man grow fatter, however, is first and foremost a matter of loving myself for who I am, and only secondarily a form of erotic expression to share with a lover like Arnie. And I do like who I am, especially while I am planning meals, cooking and feeding Arnie.

I first experienced this chubbilicious love about 10 years ago when my ex-boyfriend Jacob quit smoking. He quit for me, and I was so happy about it. I didn't want him to be so unhealthy. Haha, considering what happened to him next, that seems kind of ironic.

In less than three months, he had put on about 30 pounds. Now, most girlfriends would find this horribly repulsive. They would beg, plead and throw fits. The average girl would make her boyfriend get back to the gym, or threaten to dump him if he didn't lose his potbelly.

Far from being dismayed, however, I found myself in a state of heightened emotional and sexual excitement. I couldn't keep my hands off Jake's soft round belly.

And I couldn't keep my mind from thinking about ways to make it bigger, rounder and softer. I felt badly about these thoughts at first, and I tried desperately to avoid thinking about all this.

What a horrible pervert I thought I was! But if this was really a perversion, I was pursuing it with passion.

I learned then that I was a female fat appreciator, a chubby chaser, if you will. And I soon accepted that I was a bodybuilder with unique talents.

I enjoyed the added fullness of Jake's breasts and thighs and loved how much more he jiggled when he moved - especially in bed. I even started to enjoy how much he seemed to slow down when we made love, how he seemed to tire more easily, get out of breath when lovemaking or even when climbing stairs. He grew lazy as he packed on the pounds, and this really turned me on.

That may sound perverse, but really, it's not. I came to realize that I was not a pervert. I was merely someone who was helping Jake fulfill his destiny.

He was born to be a fatty. Jake was just becoming more himself, and I was simply enjoying the changes.

(continued)