Chapter 1: Beginning
There I was, a fat girl sitting at her kitchen table, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through post after post in a feed for big beautiful women. My heart raced a little as I looked at the countless pictures of voluptuous women, their cheeks fat and round, their stomachs full and round, their bodies overflowing with a luscious softness that I yearned for.
I took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from my upper lip with the back of my hand, and swiped left.
My finger hesitated as it hovered over the next profile, my heart beating faster and faster. This was it. This was the man that I had been looking for. Charles.
His profile picture showed a tall, slim man with dark hair and a serious look on his face. But the real draw was the pile of food in front of him. A large, greasy cheeseburger, an overflowing basket of fries, and a tall glass of milkshake. It was the perfect meal.
I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and swiped right.
There was a moment of silence as the app connected us, and then a message popped up on my screen:
"Hey, it's Charles. What's up?"
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. How should I answer? What should I say? In the end, I went with the truth.
"Hi, I'm Lila. I saw your profile and thought we might have something in common. Want to come over for dinner?"
Charles responded quickly, a smile in his response: "I'd love to.
What's for dinner?"
I looked at the pile of food on my table, the takeout containers and fast food bags scattered around me. My stomach rumbled, and I felt a surge of excitement. This was the moment I had been waiting for.
"I'm thinking of making a big, greasy cheeseburger with extra cheese and bacon, a huge basket of fries, and a tall glass of milkshake," I wrote, my heart beating faster with each word.
Charles responded with a simple "Sounds good".
I couldn't believe it was really happening. I was going to cook for him, and we were going to eat and enjoy our shared love for food together.
I jumped up from my chair, my heart racing, and started clearing off the table. The cluttered mess of fast food containers and empty soda cans was a testament to my unhealthy lifestyle, but I didn't want Charles to see it. I wanted him to see me at my best, even if that best was still surrounded by unhealthy food choices.
I cleaned the table as quickly as I could, pushing the clutter to the side and making room for our meal. I set the table with nice plates, just in case, and waited for him to arrive.
As I waited, I couldn't help but think about Charles. Who was he? What did he want from me? I had never met anyone like him before, someone who seemed to understand and accept me for who I was, someone who took pleasure in feeding me. It was strange and exhilarating, and I couldn't wait to find out more.
The doorbell rang, and I jumped. I rushed to the door, my heart pounding, and swung it open.
There he was, Charles, looking even more handsome in person than in his profile picture. He was tall and slim, with dark hair and a confident smile. And in his hands, he was holding a large paper bag.
"Hi, Lila. I brought some extras," he said, holding up the bag.
My eyes widened, and I felt a surge of excitement. This was what I had been waiting for.
I took the bag from him, my hands shaking with excitement and anticipation. Inside, I could see the glistening golden-brown glory of fried chicken, the crispy edges of onion rings, and the deep red of barbecue sauce.
"Wow, thank you so much!" I exclaimed, as I led him towards the kitchen.
Charles followed me, his eyes taking in the pictures of food on the walls, the small and cramped furniture.
I felt a pang of embarrassment, knowing that my house was a reflection of my unhealthy habits. But he didn't seem to notice or mind. Instead, he focused on the spread of food in front of us.
"This looks incredible," he said, his eyes lighting up as he looked at the cheeseburger on the plate. "I can't wait to dig in."
I smiled, feeling a surge of happiness. This was it, this was what I had been looking for. A man who understood my love of food, my desire to indulge and enjoy.
Charles and I sat down at the table, our plates piled high with food. I could smell the salt and grease, the tangy sweetness of the barbecue sauce and the creamy richness of the milkshake. I could feel my mouth start to water, my stomach growling with anticipation.
We started to eat, our hands reaching for the same fries, our bites of cheeseburger echoing through the room. I looked over at Charles, and he was smiling, his cheeks full and his eyes bright.
He had barely touched his own plate, but mine was almost empty. He reached for my plate and picked up a piece of fried chicken, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Here, have another," he said, his voice low and husky.
I hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange mixture of guilt and pleasure. But the pleasure won out, and I took the chicken from him, savoring the crispy skin and the juicy meat inside.
Charles continued to feed me, one piece of food after another, until I was completely full. My stomach stretched and bloated, and I felt a strange sense of satisfaction, of being completely content.
"You really do know how to feed a girl," I said, my voice thick with happiness.
Charles laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent shivers down my spine.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said.
I leaned back in my chair, my belly full and my body heavy. I looked over at Charles, his eyes dark and hooded. I could feel the tension between us, the simmering desire that had been building all night.
"Would you like some more to eat?" I asked, my voice low and sultry.
Charles shook his head, his eyes locked on mine. "No," he said, his voice raw with need. "I want something else."
I raised an eyebrow, feeling a surge of excitement.
"What do you want?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Charles leaned forward, his eyes never leaving mine. "I want to see you," he said, his voice low and intense.
I felt my heart start to race, the blood rushing to my cheeks. I felt a flush spread across my face, and I licked my lips nervously.
"See me?" I asked, surprised.
Charles nodded, his eyes shining with desire.
"Yes, see you. I want to see your body, all of you, in all its glory. I want to see the curves and the rolls, the softness and the fullness. I want to see the evidence of your feasting and indulging, of all the pleasure you've taken from food."
I blushed even harder, feeling a mix of shame and arousal. No one had ever spoken to me like that before, no one had ever looked at me like Charles did now. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but also desirable, wanted.
I couldn't remember the last time I had felt this way. I took a deep breath and stood up from my chair, my body heavy and full. I looked at Charles, his eyes hooded and dark, his lips parted just slightly. I could see the desire in his gaze, and it sent a shiver down my spine.
"Okay," I whispered, my voice trembling.
Charles stood up as well, his tall frame blocking the light from the table. He took my hand and led me to the living room, where we had a large couch.
I sat down, feeling self-conscious and nervous. But Charles didn't let me dwell on it. He sat next to me, his hand gently tracing the outline of my body through my dress.
"You are beautiful, Lila," he said, his voice steady and deep. "You are a feast for the senses, a woman who knows how to enjoy the pleasures in life."
I felt a surge of emotion, a mix of embarrassment, shame, and excitement. But I also felt a deep sense of acceptance, of belonging. Charles was different from everyone else.
He didn't judge me or criticize me for my weight. Instead, he seemed to celebrate it, to revel in the fact that I was a woman of size. And as we sat on the couch together, I found myself feeling more and more open, more willing to share the deeper parts of myself with him.
"You don't seem like a man who often indulges in food as much as I do," I said, my voice hesitant.
Charles shrugged, his hand still resting on my thigh. "I don't," he said.
"But I love to watch others indulge and enjoy, especially those who take pleasure in the simple things in life. Like food."
His hand moved a little higher up my thigh, and I felt a jolt of excitement shoot through me. I had never met anyone like Charles before, someone who appreciated my love for food in such a way. It was intoxicating, exhilarating even.
"Do you want to know why I like this so much?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Charles seemed to sense my nervousness and leaned closer to me. "Sure, I'll tell you," he said in a low tone. I felt a shudder run down my spine as he continued. "Seeing you enjoy food, indulge in it, and watching your body grow and bloom gives me a sense of satisfaction, a feeling of accomplishment. It's like I'm providing sustenance and pleasure to a woman who truly appreciates it.
It's a feeling I can't describe, but it's one that I crave. And the more I see you enjoy yourself, the more I want to be a part of it."
I blushed at his words, feeling a warmth spread throughout my body. The way he talked about my love of food, of indulgence, was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. It made me feel desirable, seen, and appreciated in a way that went beyond physical appearance. I felt a deep connection with him, a bond that went beyond food and appetite.
Charles saw me, really saw me, for who I was as a person. He appreciated my love of food, my desire to indulge, and my body, without judgment or criticism. I felt a surge of gratitude towards him, and a deep longing to be close to him.
Charles leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel his breath on my face, and my heart started racing. I closed my eyes, waiting for the kiss that was inevitable, but instead, I felt his hand move up my dress and cup my knee.
I sucked in a breath at the contact, my body tingling with pleasure. Charles' hand moved higher, tracing the curve of my thigh, and then stopped just inches away from the apex of my legs.
"Can I?" he asked, his voice low and rough.
My breath hitched in my throat, and I nodded my head, not trusting myself to speak. I wanted this, wanted him. This man who saw me for who I was, who appreciated my body in its fullness, who celebrated the pleasures in life.
He was the first man who didn't make me feel ashamed of myself. He had made me feel seen, desired, appreciated.
Our interaction on the couch escalated quickly, Charles' hand slowly reaching for the hem of my dress. I lifted my hips, allowing him to slide it up my legs and off of me, exposing my green lace underwear.
His breathing changed, becoming more ragged, and his eyes became even darker. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against mine in a gentle, soft kiss. It was electric, a spark that sent shivers down my spine.
Charles' hand was still on my thigh, now resting just below the edge of my underwear. I felt a surge of desire, of want, and found myself moving closer to him, wanting to feel his body against mine.
But Charles had other plans.
He pulled back, still looking at me with that intense gaze, and smiled. "Lila," he said, his voice low and gravely. "You are a feast, one that I want to savor and enjoy." His words made me blush and squirm, feeling both embarrassed and flattered. I couldn't help but feel self-conscious as he took in my body, my rolls and curves bathed in the soft glow of the living room lamp. But instead of disgust or judgement, all I saw in his eyes was desire and appreciation.
He leaned in and kissed me again, deeply and passionately. I could feel his stubble scrape against my chin as he shifted his weight on top of me, his hands exploring my body.
I gasped as he found a sensitive spot on my stomach, slowly tracing circles with his index finger.
"You're so beautiful, Lila," Charles murmured between kisses. "I want to see all of you."
His words made my heart race with excitement and anticipation. I had never felt this desired before, this seen. I knew that my body wasn't perfect, that I was overweight and unhealthy. But with Charles, it didn't matter. He saw me for who I was, embraced me for all my flaws and imperfections.
I felt a surge of warmth and affection for him, and for the first time in a long time, I wanted to be seen and known.
Charles' fingers moved higher, tracing the curve of my waist and up to my chest. He broke our kiss only to pull down the straps of my bra, letting them fall to my upper arms.
"So beautiful," he whispered again, his eyes drinking me in.
The air in the room was thick with tension and anticipation, but also with a sense of safety and trust.
Charles had seen me at my worst, with my stomach bloated with food and my body overheated, but he had still looked at me with desire and appreciation. And now, here I was, letting him take off my clothes and bare all of my flaws to him.
Charles' hands were gentle as he slid my dress up over my hips and off of me, taking care not to hurt me or push me too far. He helped me into a more comfortable position, propped up on pillows so that he could see me fully.
The room was dimly lit, but the soft glow of the lamp illuminated every inch of my body. I felt exposed and vulnerable, but also seen and appreciated.
Charles traced his fingers along my curves, exploring every inch of me with a sort of reverence and awe. I shivered beneath his touch, feeling a warmth spread throughout my body. His gaze never left mine as he removed the rest of my clothing, his eyes never wavering in their desire for me.
It was a heady feeling, knowing that someone could look at me with such hunger and desire.