My toes curled in excitement as I gazed around the room, staring at the men who walked through the door.
"You don't look like you need to be at a weight loss meeting," a man with chubby cheeks said, looking me up and down before taking the seat next to me.
I smiled, trying to hide the blush that crept up my neck as he gazed at me earnestly.
"I actually reached my goal weight a year ago," I lied. "But the meetings help me to stay motivated."
Truthfully, I'd never been overweight but I'd always appreciated larger men.
There was something about their bodies I was insanely attracted to.
I loved how soft their flesh felt when I snuggled into their chests.
I basically just went to meetings to perve on bigger blokes.
Glancing around at the double chins, round bellies, flabby arms and thick thighs, it was all my fantasies come true.
The man next to me introduced himself as Hank and we whispered mischievously throughout the meeting.
"I weigh 132kg," he admitted. "Women as stunning as you never even look me in the eyes."
It broke my heart to see Hank feel ashamed of himself.
Little did he know, the thought of running my hands over his voluptuous chest and bulging belly set my heart racing.
"Your size just means there's more of you to love," I soothed.
He smiled at me bashfully.
"Do you want to grab a coffee after this?" I asked.
I'd never picked up someone at these meetings before but to me, Hank was irresistible.
He looked shocked but he nodded. "Love to," he beamed.
At a nearby café, Hank and I gabbed away like old friends.
He was incredibly sweet and I loved the way his tummy jiggled every time he laughed.
Our chemistry was undeniable so I invited him back to my apartment.
One thing led to another and soon Hank was in my bed, naked, in all his chubby glory.
We saw each other regularly after that but, after three months I realised that Hank had changed.
"Your cheeks aren't as round as they used to be," I lamented as I cupped his face.
He grinned at me. "I've lost 15kg," he explained, proudly.
I should have been happy for him but if Hank lost any more weight, would I lose interest?
While he was at work, I got busy in the kitchen, whipping up a treat I knew he couldn't resist.
I finished smoothing the icing over my devil's chocolate cake as Hank walked through the door.
"I really shouldn't," he argued weakly, licking his lips.
"Don't worry," I insisted. "One cake won't ruin you. Eat up, Buttercup!"
I cut him an extra large piece and even cracked open a tinny of beer. When Hank bit into the cake his eyes widened with pleasure.
"Mmmmm," he moaned. "God, I've missed this stuff."
After that, I cooked for Hank often. Instead of olive oil, I used big scoops of butter and I switched the skim milk in his tea for full fat.
At night, I made sure Hank had a beer in hand and something sweet to nibble on before and after our hearty meals.
Within no time, he was the big, beautiful man I'd fallen for.
The sex was better than ever, although I made sure I did most of the work to stop Hank from burning calories.
But after a few months, he confronted me.
He said I enabled his unhealthy habits and I could hardly disagree.
"I really like you but you're not good for me," he said. "I need someone who'll encourage me to get healthy."
I stared at him sadly, but I couldn't argue.
I didn't want a skinny stud, I wanted a chunky hunk.
Now I move from suburb to suburb, going to different weight loss meetings and picking men up.
Once they start to lose weight, I sneak them fatty foods so I can lust after them a little longer. Most of them cotton on eventually.
I know it's wrong to sabotage their plan to get healthy but I have a hunger of my own that I need to satisfy.