Sexual Confusion: Pushing the Rest of the Closet Door Open

Now, this is something that I've not really talked about on this blog. I know I did a blog on coming out as transgender and maybe in passing mentioned my sexuality, but what I never really dove into was the complexity of it and the confusion that surrounds me.
What does sexuality have to do with anything? Sexuality and gender identity are two different things and they don't always match up. Growing up, I didn't really label myself because it wasn't anything of importance to me. I didn't really experience crushes until later in my life, in my pre-teen years. I liked a boy from class, but I was told that's "normal" due to the fact I was a girl. It didn't feel right being a girl. At this stage, I didn't know that there were transgender people or transexual people. I didn't know the terms even existed. I wish that I did because I would have felt less alone, less isolated. I wouldn't have hated myself as I did and maybe I wouldn't have struggled so hard trying to figure out where I belonged. I didn't think that I had any choice in my gender, that I could change it. I thought I was stuck. I liked a chubby boy in my class and wanted nothing more than for him to hold my hand. It never happened, needless to say. I didn't think that it felt wrong or right. I just knew that I liked him.

A year or two later I liked a girl who was a few years ahead of me in school. She was short, chubby and adorable. At the time I just had left Catholic school where I was told gay or homosexual people will burn in hell for their sin of loving someone of the same gender. I was terrified when I found myself liking her. I liked her in the same way that I had liked the boy before. It felt right to me, though I felt immense guilt brought on by how I was brought up. I knew my parents wouldn't approve; mum especially. 

Fast forward a few years later when I had come to terms with liking both males and females. It just felt right to be, but I still struggled. I felt like a male inside so what did that make me? Straight to like women? And gay to like men? Was a sexually confused man because I thought I had to like men being a biological female? Or was I just some sort of freak? Was I supposed to like men because of that? Or was I really a lesbian who was trying not to be further humiliated in school? Was I a gay woman not wanting to accept that fact? Was it wrong that I felt like a male inside? My head was spinning. It made me feel even worse about myself. I felt dirty and wrong. I started to become ashamed of myself and my feelings. It was around this time that I started to have my sexual awakening. Not only was I drawn to both men and women, was generally confused about my gender and where I fit there (I still hadn't really heard that much about trans people.) but I liked fat girls and guys. 

The shame I felt for that only deepened the hatred that I felt for myself. I thought I was alone in liking fat people and that if anyone ever knew that I'd be shamed and laughed at. Society frames on overweight people and I liked the standard overweight to 600 pounds. Even now as I write this I feel the overwhelming rush thinking about fat girls, their overinflated titties bouncing with them as they breathe heavily. I started to search out to see if there were others like me. There were, however, they were all men. I felt like a man inside (and by this point, I'd discovered transgender people and knew I was one of them.) and I liked fat girls. I was an FA. I was a fat admirer. It bothered me that they said my preference was a sexual fetish. A fetish, really? It's just a preference within a preference.

I liked thinner people as the years passed, but I could never get off with them. I'd have to think about larger men and huge women to be able to gain any sort of satisfaction. When I fell for Paula, she was an underweight girl, bordering on anorexic, preferring diet coke to candy. It must have been a deep love because I wanted to marry her despite her small size. When I thought about a future with her, I thought about fattening her up. Turning her from a small woman to an oversized woman who got her ass stuck in an armchair. I couldn't get off any other way. I wanted her to want that too. I wasn't going to forcefully turn her into a blimp, that wouldn't be fair to her, but I thought about her gaining weight and how great she'd look at 350 pounds. Her face would be round and swollen with two chins budding on a third. Her upper arms would be the size of Christmas hams overflowing her thick forearms. Her hips and thighs would be enormous, looking as if I blew them up with a bike pump. Her stomach would swell out in front of her and hang down covering her crotch, while up top, her massive boobs would overflow one of the largest bras around. She'd huff and puff, lugging her massive frame around. The bed would sink down as she'd throw herself down on it, wanting to take the weight off her feet.

I was attracted to the thinner people for intellectual reasons or because I could see some of my own interests in them. It took me a while to sort all that out. When I tried to get off with them or think about them while getting off, it didn't work. I felt ashamed. Dirty. The word fetish washed over me. "You have a fat fetish." I wanted to scratch the words out of my throat. It felt like it was something to be ashamed of. And I really was. I thought there was something wrong with me. That I was a sexual deviant who was never to be loved. This continued on with the next girl that I fell for. Anja.

 She was chunkier before, having lost weight due to depression, but I liked her fuller. She was so much better looking. I wanted her to gain those 20 pounds back and then some. I wanted her to swell up. Inflate and become an enormous woman that I would look forward to spooning every night. I wanted her thick double chin to merge into a chubby neck. I wanted her to have massive breasts that would bounce out of control from her heavy breathing. I wanted sweatpants to struggle to contain her bloated hips and thighs, her love handles swelling over the sides of the stretched out the waistband. I wanted her giant thighs to be the size of tree trunks and she'd have to stretch her legs all the way out so I could wear her thighs as earmuffs. I wanted her to get winded while she let me mount her from behind. I wanted to slap her gut and make her jiggle like no tomorrow while I road the waves. I never said anything to her about this. Most women don't like the idea of their partner fattening them up to the size of a small horse, but it's something that I've always wanted to do. 

My next love, he was extremely thin and, like me, wouldn't want to eat for days at a time. I truly loved him, maybe it was more obsession and a bit of jealousy at this thinness, maybe it was a mixture of both things. Bill was basically a stick figure. And what did I resort to? Fat women. Being with him did nothing for me sexually, but I did love, care and protect him. I could think about him in a sexual way, it just didn't turn me on. I didn't feel that familiar throb and need for release. In the few times that I managed to feel that way for him, it didn't last long enough for me to do anything about it. I was frustrated.

Thinking that I was trapped in a female body, I figured that I was maybe just a lesbian. No man had ever gotten me off. I'd always wanted fat women. Now that I'm transitioning to male, I feel a lot better about my attraction to them, but I know some people in society will see me as a lesbian or a bisexual who is more inclined toward women. I feel more comfortable in myself being able to transition. My transition isn't brought on by my sexuality, but to finally be me. Is my sexuality that important? Not really, I just wanted something to define it. I'd been in love with both men and women, but only fat women had managed to do the trick.
Despite knowing this, I was a biological female. I didn't think I really fit in the FA (fat admirer) community. I wasn't still really up on being able to change my gender. I know that on a biological level that I can, as much as my brain may be male, the outside is female. Some of my genetic material is too. The whole thing just made me more confused and worse. I wasn't a gay woman. I wasn't a gay man. I was bisexual, but my attraction to men and women wasn't equal. That's what I thought bisexuality was. You liked them 50/50. Then I realised it was just an attraction to men and women. My gender didn't matter. I could be a man who liked both. I could be a woman that liked both. That made me feel a little bit better. But then I met Puffin.

When I met him, he was chubby. I could feel the softness of his hips and stomach press into me when he hugged me. He had a slight double chin and full cheeks. His thighs were thick and his pelvis was wide and curvy. Build like a curvy woman. It wasn't just that. His personality shined through all of that. This man is the total package. I didn't tell him my preference right away, I didn't want to lose him. He continued to gain weight on his own. His stomach stretched out, overlapping more and more of his once fitting skinny jeans. His love handles oozed out of his t-shirts that he used to wear daily. He switched them out for bigger t-shirts and oversized jumpers and hoodies. His cheeks got even fluffier and his double chin made a permanent appearance. His thighs stretched out even his bigger jeans, opting for plus-size woman's bottoms to accommodate his fuller and wider figure. He was worried that I was going to leave him. Then it hit me. I loved him bigger yes, but what I loved more was his happiness. He loved snacks, he could still get around and do things with me. Perfect. I'd love him if he lost weight or if he got even bigger. He still had his slender wrists and ankles that drove me wild. Everything about him made me want to come. Fat or thin, I knew this was a love like one I never experienced.

Once again, my sexuality was morphing. I was finding heavier men more attractive. Not the same size as the fat women. I liked thick to fat men, but not huge men like I loved huge women. Even within that size preference, not everything was black and white. I struggled with that, wondering what it meant. Now I know what it means. I like to feed people. I like to see them gain weight. I'm attracted to their size, their weight and them wanting to gain weight. They don't have to actively gain weight for me if they're large. I guess you could say that within the community I'm a feeder. I'm not attracted to the fat itself, but a fat person. I gain pleasure in watching fat people go about their daily lives, their struggles do to their weight and more importantly their job about getting even bigger than they are. I wouldn't force someone to gain weight for me, just in the same way I'd never force someone to lose weight for me. People need to be who they are.

Now I'm open about loving fat girls, and fat guys. I'm not ashamed of it anymore. It's my sexual preference. Fat girls and guys. I feel such a relief has been lifted off my shoulders being able to be out. Most of my close friends already knew. A few of them were shocked, one thinks its an unhealthy attraction, but overall, it wasn't that bad when I told everyone. Thicc to huge is what I really like. If I connect with someone, the weight matters less to me in terms of love. Love and sexual attraction, I've found, are two separate things. You can love someone romantically and not have sexual desire for them, just like you can have sexual desire for someone and not have romantic feelings for them. 

I identify as a queer man because my sexuality isn't straight nor is it in terms of black and white. Bisexual doesn't seem to fit. Pansexual doesn't seem to fit. Fat admirer doesn't seem to fit. So I'm a queer chubby chaser. My transition has begun and I feel so much better about myself. Revealing these things about myself, being honest with myself and those around me about what I want and what I need to live my best life (without being selfish) has improved my mental health.