"I'm not who I was..."
Why do I keep telling myself that?
"...but I still feel everything."
Then I still am who I was. Somewhere in the mess of myself, at least.
It all started several years ago. I don’t think I was ever truly stable, but I at least a firm sense of self and knew what I wanted out of life. With that being said, what I wanted out of life was extremely fucked up. At least extremely fucked up by my current standards.
It’s probably easier to explain all of this by delving deep into my psyche. A place I don’t allow anyone to venture under normal circumstances. I suppose it’s what most people would call a deepest, darkest secret. Mine takes the form of a certain fetish that renders me all but incompatible with the typical female.
You see, girls are always concerned about their weight. I can’t even go back through my random memories and account for all the times I’ve heard something akin to “I need to go on a diet,” come out of a perfectly fine looking girl’s mouth. Of course, it has also been said by women who do carry some excess weight. My problem with this? It looks good to me.
Actually, it not only looks good, but it also feels good. Still not that fucked up, I know. It’s perfectly fine for a guy to be enticed by chubby girls. They have bigger breasts, asses, and feel soft to the touch. In fact most men actually do prefer their women with a little bit of weight on them. My taste spans from a little extra to full-figured and beyond. Still, not the most fucked up part of all this.
What tends to set me apart, and continually destroys my chain of would-be rational thought, is a concept that’s come to called feederism. Before I even knew the term, I was haunted by it. I find immense pleasure in my partner gaining weight. I like to see her clothes get tighter, her body get larger, and watch her stuff herself full of food.
Alright, but how does this really tie into me going off the deep end losing my mind here? I mean sure it’s pretty much taboo in modern society. I would feel extremely awkward just coming out and admitting this to anyone. But I would carry no shame in being seen with a large woman. Where does it break it me?
It breaks me when my heart gets in the way of all else. I don’t want to see someone suffer, much less someone I care deeply about. From this, the most complicated whiplash duality had been formed inside my head.
“It was her, she broke me...”
No, it was myself. In fact I broke her. I’ll admit it. None of it was inherently my fault or hers. It was all due to a complex chain of action and reaction. We fell in love with each other legitimately for the people we were. Being naive I opened up to her and let her in on everything.
“That’s where I lost it.”
Her initial negative reaction subsided pretty quickly. It was me, from the very beginning. I wanted more, and consequently she gained a good deal of weight due to some complications in her life.
“It was going pretty well...”
She hated her body, but appreciated that I loved it anyway. Deep inside, though, I could not stop the monster. I wanted more, and I let her know that. Put too much undue pressure onto her to gain more weight.
“She should have left me...”
But she didn’t. Instead she decided it was time to lose weight and testified that if I loved her I would support her.
“I think this is where it happened...”
I promised her I would.
“I broke on the inside. Right here. Nothing was the same.”
I left her almost immediately. Felt guilty, went back. Left again, felt guilty, went back. I loved her, but I wanted that. Or did I want that? Didn’t I want her more?
“I did want her more, otherwise I would have stood away...”
But I couldn’t suck it up. I couldn’t suppress myself. This destroyed us. My biggest regret in life.
Everything that happened afterwards seems like a crazy torrential fallout. I’ve never been open with another person the same way again.
“I did grow up, though...”
It took a few years to get my head straight. The beast is still there, in the back of my mind. Someone willing to feed it may come along, but then the question is am I willing to give back into it? My heart’s still with her, the one I betrayed.
“The one I royally fucked over time and time again...”
It’s little wonder she can’t see me as someone whom she can love. In fact I think it’s a miracle in of itself that we can even be considered friends at this point. Believe me, most of this story has been told very vaguely for good reason.
The persistent problem born out of this whole situation is that lingering duality that will not go away despite my best efforts. I force myself to be a normal person, but I’m not. I’m afraid of it destroying relationships, but it just continues to destroy me. Do I find someone who actually likes it?
“Heh, I tried that...”
Literally the only thing we had in common. It was terrible to the point that we didn’t go much further than few dates and some making out. A total shitastic time.
“And the other?”
She was larger. Never told her about feederism. Asserted I was attracted to her body. She was sweet. We got further than the previous one, however, we still had little in common.
“And my heart still yearned for the original girl, despite everything.”
So, what have I learned in the end?
Exactly, I really don’t know. I’m fucked one way or the other I suppose. I’m still young, I have plenty of time to figure this shit out in my life. It’s something left for time to handle. I’ve been successful in all other facets of my life. It’s only natural that this very thing at my core would eat away at my psyche.
“Well now that it’s put that way...”
I do feel a lot better. Life’s about coming to peace with the past. I know my mistakes, ones that I will do everything within my power to prevent myself from repeating again. I am stronger, more level-headed, and my tastes have grown to be more adaptable. The duality is still there, but it’s not as strong as it once was.
“And as for her...?”
She’s with someone else now. Well not completely with. It’s hard to explain. But it goes back to accepting the past and moving on. The future isn’t written stone. Maybe one day she’ll see that I’ve grown, that I’m different, that I was what she had wanted me to be. Maybe I’ll move on and actually find someone else who fits me just as well if not better. Maybe the Earth will explode and everyone will die in a monstrous inferno!
“Scratch that last part.”
Yeah that last part sucks. Need to end on a good note here.
“By the way why are we going back and forth?”
I don’t fucking know, we’re each other which makes this whole thing fucked.
Yet able to move forward. Able to accomplish more in life than the average person.
“So everything will work out well to some extent in the end.”
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Short Story / True Confessions
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