Chapter 1

The first time I remember triggering this fetish is when my Grade Two teacher read Charlotte's Web aloud to the class. When she got to the part where Templeton the Rat gorges himself on fair foods and gets fat. I felt hot and tingly in a way that I did not yet understand. No one else seem to react the way I did.

It happened again, a few times: whenever a male character on TV gained weight for an episode, I felt strange. Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs brought a strange fantasy of huge foods falling from the sky, and everyone stuffing themselves with pancakes and spaghetti and ice cream.

As I entered the tween and early teen years, I began to think about hugging chubby boys. How would it feel to press into their soft squishiness? I was extremely shy, so even as I got older and my fantasies moved beyond just hugging, I could barely talk to boys. Especially if I had a crush on him.

I remember one ocurrance vividly. I had a crush on a guy who was chubby, by high school standards, probably about 200 pounds. He had brown eyes and hair and he was really cute and nice. Then one day I happened to meet his older brother, who looked very like my crush, only about 80 pounds heavier. I experienced lust at first sight in a way I never had before.

Eventually I went off to college and started dating. My first boyfriend was not fat at all. He was actually underweight. Slowly over the years he went from skinny to average. I used to fantasize about him getting chubby, growing a belly that would bulge over his jeans. But he never went over 170. I would run these fantasies about him plumping up in my mind while we had sex.

At the same time I had gone from an average kid to a size 14 woman. I had big, soft breasts and wide hips. I fluctuated between 180 to 190 pounds. I knew I should lose weight, but I secretly liked my soft curves.

Things ended with my long-term boyfriend. I was single for a while after that, figuring things out. Then I hooked with a guy who weighed about 250 pounds. Sex was different: suddenly I didn't have to fantasize during it. He had the rolls and curves I craved. I loved the feel of his belly pressing into mine.

The guys I dated after that were always fat. 250. 280. 260. 340. 400. An upward trend, as you can see. There was no such thing as "too fat." But for one reason or another, the relationship always ended.

Somewhere in there, I moved out of the city, bought a car and stopped walking everywhere. Well, you know what happened. One day I decided to dust off the scale. I stepped on. The display ticked up to 222 pounds. I was instantly wet.