Chapter 1

This is a my true story...

I met Ann when I was a senior in high school. We both had Economics class together. She sat in the row of desks next to me—just one seat ahead. I remember spending most of the class time staring at her chubby thighs, hoping the hem of her skirt would ride up enough for me to see the top of her pantyhose. It was as if she could read my mind because every time her skirt rode up, she would turn her head to look at me, smile and then tug it back down.

Not only did Ann have sexy legs but the rest of her was hot also. She was petite, standing 5 foot 2 and weighing about 105 pounds.

She had a curvy hourglass figure—with full perky boobs, a thin waist, and a round firm butt. Ann's face was pretty, with delicate features, sparkling eyes, and a warm smile.

Every day after Economics, we would chat as we walked to our next class.

Eventually, I got up the courage to ask her out on a date.

I remember how high I felt when I kissed her for the first time on the doorstep of her house after our date was over. She must have felt the same way about me because after 2 years, we got married.

On our wedding day, I had no idea that had a fat fetish, even though I might have known from the clues. For example, when I was a young boy, alone at home, I used to stuff a pillow under my shirt, parade around in front of the mirror in my sister’s room, and imagine that I was fat. Doing this would arouse me sexually.

Then, when I was a teenager, I got a hold of a magazine that had pictures of girls with big boobs. The one photo that I always masturbated to was of an older woman that was overweight in addition to having big breasts.

After the wedding, Ann and I moved in together and we both started eating more than we had when we lived in our parents homes.

We had never lived on our own before, nor had we experienced the freedom to do whatever we wanted. So, we smoked a lot of weed, drank wine, and eating a lot just became part of our married life.

Each workday morning, I would get up and drive into downtown St. Paul, enjoying a joint along the way. Upon arrival, I met up with my two mates at a restaurant. We had all met in securities school and landed jobs as brokers at the same investment firm. Our mornings started with a hearty breakfast together.

After finishing our meal, we walked to the office, where I'd sit at my desk until it was time for lunch. Lunch often included two glasses of wine. Following lunch, we'd return to the office and spend the rest of the day on the phone.

After finishing my workday, I would drive home, frequently stopping at a fast-food place to pick up dinner for Ann and me.

Ann worked for a lumber broker in downtown Minneapolis. I think she usually ate her lunch at her desk. Occasionally, her elderly boss would take her out for lunch.

So Ann never ate that much at work, but once she got home, her decadence began.

After Ann changed out of her work clothes, we would always sit down, smoke a joint, and talk about our days. Once we were done, we would start eating the fast food I brought home. We would have a couple of glasses of wine as we ate. After dinner, we would smoke some more weed, snack for the rest of the evening, and then retire to our bedroom where we would make love.

As strange as it sounds now, because Ann and I had always been thin, it never occurred to us that our new lifestyle might cause us to gain weight.

It seemed to happen suddenly. I noticed that the pants that went along with my suits were becoming tighter. When I mentioned this to Ann, she suggested I have a tailor let out the hems of my pants, as we couldn’t afford to buy new suits. I followed her advice, and everything was fine again for awhile.

I remember when I noticed Ann was gaining weight. We were going out for the day and Ann had changed into a pair of denim shorts and a T-shirt. I was surprised to notice a bulge of fat pushing out over the waistband of her shorts, continuing around to her sides and forming love handles. Her T-shirt failed to completely cover the bulge of her belly.

We left our apartment without me mentioning it to her. As we walked around the zoo, Ann looked at the animals while I kept looking at the extra chub on my wife; my arousal evident by the constant bulge of my semi-erect penis pushing against the zipper on my blue jeans.

My reaction surprised me because, until that moment, I didn’t know that weight gain would turn me on so much. I could not wait to get Ann home so I could ***.

But now I had a decision to make: Do I tell Ann about how I wanted her to gain more weight, or do I keep it a secret and hope that she continued to gain without her knowing my feelings? Even though I was dying to tell her, I decided to keep it a secret because I didn’t want to risk her becoming upset and deciding to lose the added weight. Instead, I figured it would be a good idea to subtly encourage her to eat more.

I set a bad example for the two of us. I insisted that we go out to eat more on the weekends. At the end of each of these meals, I would order dessert for the two of us without asking her. I would bring home a larger quantity of take out food for supper each evening. And I would always have plenty of junk food for us to snack on at night when we were high from smoking dope.

I didn’t really care about the effect this overeating was having on my body, all I cared about was getting Ann fatter.

I remember a trip I made to my chiropractor. I hadn’t seen her in over six months, but when I walked into the examination room with my work clothes straining at the seams, she was shocked. “Oh my god, Michael, you have gotten so fat! Climb up on the scale and let us see how much you weigh.” Embarrassed and speechless, I just did as she said.

When I moved in with Ann, I weighed around 165 pounds. The scale at the chiropractor’s office showed that I had reached just over 204 pounds. For my height of 5'9", this meant I was medically classified as obese.

This information had little effect on my behavior; I kept overeating, drinking, and smoking just as I had before.
Even though Ann did not seem to mind the changes in my body, she did not like that she was getting heavier also. So she went on a diet.

Since I never agreed to go on a diet with her, she tried to cut back on her eating all by herself. I acted like I was supporting her, but whenever she was weak—like when she was drunk or stoned—I encouraged her to indulge. Not surprisingly, her attempts to lose weight failed, and soon she was back to her usual habits and enjoying food without much hesitation.

Because Ann started to constantly complain about her weight, I thought it was best if now I tell her how I felt about her weight gain; in hindsight, this may have been a mistake (more about that later).

I never went as far as telling her that I had been trying to contribute to fatten her up, but I think that she had already figured this out.

At this point, Ann weighed about 155 pounds and I thought that she looked incredibly sexy. When I first met Ann, she must have worn a C cup bra, but now she was wearing a 36 DD. The chubby thighs I admired in high school had filled out even more. Her waist remained relatively slim (though not quite as thin as it used to be), and her hips and butt were rounder and fuller. This gave her a plump hourglass figure that aroused me every time I saw her.

I became increasingly obsessed with Ann’s weight gain. During sex, I would always talk about how much weight she was gaining as part of foreplay. Whenever she was eating, I constantly encouraged her to eat a little more. I made a point of telling her how chubby she looked whenever she wore an outfit that seemed tight on her.

Ann became increasingly angry about her weight gain and resentful towards me for contributing to it. As a result, she began to push back. She started declining to have sex with me, stopped eating entirely when I encouraged her to eat more, and began wearing looser-fitting clothing.

By this time, I had ballooned up to 240 pounds and was starting to realize that my own fat body was a source of erotic stimulation for me. Much as I did when I was a young boy, I would stand in front of a mirror looking at how my shirt was stretched over my round belly and mentally told myself that I was fat and getting fatter. The only difference being that now the fat was real and not just a pillow I had stuffed under my shirt. And like I did when I was a kid, I would have an orgasm using my own body as the catalyst for my arousal.

Eventually, Ann’s weight leveled off at about 175 pounds. And the frustrating thing is that even though I find her incredibly sexy at her current weight, I am lucky if I get sex once a month now, and even when I do get sex, Ann won’t ever let me talk about her fat body.

The reason I may not be getting much sex anymore is because Ann no longer finds me attractive at my current weight of 290 pounds. However, I don't think that's the reason. I believe Ann is bitter about being overweight and blames me for it.

Lately, I have been fantasizing about intentionally gaining another 100 pounds just to get back at her and also because it would be an incredible turn-on for me to do so. If I do gain the weight, Ann may cut me off completely...but so what. It’s not like I would be giving up much.

To help me make up my mind, I have recently become active on the Fantasy Feeder website. Maybe I can get some feedback from the good people there.