Chapter 1

Abby had always been big, born a cubby baby and always above average height, she carried her weight well and had been beautiful but didn’t know it. Self-conscious about her weight, bullied by friends and family and a chronic yo-yo dieter. She’d tried most diets, restricting what she ate and exercising, never managing to get below 90kg. These thin periods always made her incredibly unhappy, soon forgetting that she couldn’t just eat whatever she wanted, Abby quickly forgot she was supposed to be on a diet and the weight quickly returned. Now in her 30s and hovering around 130kg, Abby was in a job that she could tolerate, living alone and trying to make peace with herself and be body positive. Body positivity: a thin, transparent veil over the fact that she couldn’t face the unhappiness of another diet and the fear of how much bigger she would be next time the weight (plus extra) all inevitably returned.

Abby looked in the mirror and tried not to hate herself too much. All her clothes fit, especially as she’d recently taken all the ones that didn’t to the charity shop, and on a good day she could be described as lush. An hour-glass figure with round, large breasts, leading to a tight waist with a flat stomach. She’d never understood why she didn’t have a big belly like some other fat girls, was it all those years in school where she’d stand there sucking her tummy in trying to look thinner? Shame you can’t suck an arse in! When she breathed in now, looking at herself from the side she could almost imagine a six-pack. Until the front facing resumed, the mid-section gave way to the Rubenesque hips, bum, and thighs. Dimpled with cellulite and an unmoving constant in her life, they defined Abby as a wide woman, filling up any seat, anywhere. Pale and plump, her strong thighs carried her everywhere she needed to go, her voluptuous bottom provided a comfortable seat at her destination and her soft hips almost got her stuck in a theatre seat.

Abby was a secretary; she had a love-hate relationship with her office chair. Sitting down was her natural habitat and she loved the wheely mobility it gave her and the comfortable arm rests. She hated the pop it made as her hips fitted snuggly between those arm rests every time she sat down. She certainly hated the fact that all the other women in the office seemed to have room to spare in their office chairs, visible seat either side of their thighs when they sat down, some of the younger ones even sitting cross-legged while they typed. It was obscene, they always seemed to be eating, Abby just could never understand it. She had always loved food, never a picky eater and a preference for the finer things in life when she could afford it. She would be just as happy having a five-course dinner as she would a pizza with sides and cookies. Cakes, puddings, and treats were her must-have, Abby couldn’t really see the point in having a drink if it didn’t come a little snack. No-one really liked tea and coffee, they’re just accompaniments to biscuits and cake.

Abby didn’t exercise, there had been fads in the past and she had all the kit, but she didn’t need to experience the discomfort of trying to fit into the Lycra now. If she would scrape in 1000 steps a day around the office and to and from the bus-stop, it was a good day and deserved a pudding as treat. Abby was pretty and a good laugh, had a desire to be social but couldn’t get her head around why ‘going out for drinks’ over dinner time never included actually having dinner. Always being the one to buy crisps for the table at the pub and then making early excuses to go home and have her dinner. Subsequently the love life was a struggle, never finding the right person. Like her food tastes, Abby liked a bit of everything, men, women – it didn’t matter. Abby liked a hard man or a soft woman but most of all, she preferred not speaking to other people, staying at home, lighting a candle, and getting to know herself. Someone else just couldn’t touch her like she wanted, she’d found no-one yet that could touch her nipples in just the right way that she needed when she touched her clit. Abby liked control; control over the speed and strength of the vibrator as it made her more and more wet. She’d found no-one who would grab her bum in just the right way as she came and gripped the vibrator between her thighs as she got ready to go again. That was the kind of work-out that Abby liked.