Atlas Chubbed: Chapter 4

Atlas wiped the sweat from his underbelly with the gym towel and tossed it in the bin. Even the least bit of exercise left him drenched in sweat and heaving. The sun was setting as he exited the gym. He walked proudly down the sidewalk, feeling swole and hulking, his belly bouncing with each authoritative step. He felt like such a beast after an upper body workout. Once home, he blended up a massive shake with mass gainer powder, coconut milk, and gobs of peanut butter. It went down smoothly.

He rinsed off in the shower, lovingly lathering every roll and bulge. He especially appreciated how his fat pad was swelling lately. The supple roll was bigger than ever and eating up inches from his cock. The stretch marks on his thighs were also getting red and itchy again. The last fifteen pounds were really announcing themselves.

Exiting the shower, he dried himself and admired his face in the mirror. He had avoided face gains for so long and now he had finally succumbed. His jawline was less sharp and his cheekbones less pronounced. His neck looked stubbier too despite the freshly grown scruff decorating it. He looked good though. Fat and attractive.

He fished out his outfit for this evening’s soiree from his closet. This was going to be the real test. He was nervous, as he bought these clothes a month ago and didn’t have any other option for the boat party his company was throwing this evening. He started with underwear and an undershirt, the latter of which he already knew let some belly show. That didn’t matter though as long as the collared shirt fit. He shimmied into the shirt and did the buttons up. It was tight in the belly and the arms. He sighed, both aroused and frustrated. He was going to have to be careful in this one.

Thankfully the pants closed comfortably. His thighs and ass appeared thick as ever in them and would surely strain the fabric when he sat, but he enjoyed that fact. All that mattered was that he could breathe in them. Next he threw on the oversized coat he picked out which draped across his beefy shoulders stylishly. The only problem would be the shirt.

Atlas called an Uber and scarfed down some leftover pasta as he waited. When he sat down in the car he felt his belly fat pushing at the confines of his shirt. He looked down and the bottom buttons were straining. He fingered the surplus chub lovingly and nervously. Pulling up at the venue he took a deep breath and exited the car.

He stepped across the ramp to the boat, the metal creaking beneath his weight. Once inside he was delighted by the smell of the buffet, but unfortunately had to make the obligatory social rounds first. With a glass of champagne in hand he said hello to dozens of colleagues, made small talk with a bit less, and rolled eyes with a trusted few. After a grueling hour of this and two glasses of champagne, he finally made it to the food.

Shrimp cocktails, finger sandwiches, gourmet meatballs, charcuterie, the list went on. Atlas bucked decorum and sampled one of everything straight from the table. That was his privilege as a fat guy. He then grabbed a plate and filled it with his favorites. With his goods in tow, he headed to the deck where he found a spot alone to stare at the sea and gobble the food. He reflected on his newfound life in New York City and what he left behind in his hometown. He thought about the sexy doctor he hooked up with before leaving, wondering what he’d think of him now that he was fatter than ever. He also remembered he had a date with Ricky tonight after the event. His cock stirred at the thought. Ricky liked him fat and would encourage him to eat even more if he were around.

Atlas returned to the buffet, reloaded his plate, and drank a couple more drinks. He was feeling tipsy as one of the servers brought him yet another glass of champagne. Soon enough he was drunk and losing inhibition. Atlas began shameless stuffing his face. He was eating more than appropriate, but who cared? He was one of the biggest guys there. What did everyone expect? The more he ate the more his buttons strained. At one point the armpit of his shirt ripped as he reached for a dessert. Luckily, his jacket concealed the tear.

Once people began exiting, Atlas looked down and realized that not only were his buttons on the brink of busting, but he also had sweat stains soaking through under his tits and a small stain on the crest of his belly. He knew he looked like a pig. He pulled out his phone and texted Ricky: “I really overdid it with the food and drink tonight. You still free?”

Ricky responded immediately. He was posted in his apartment blowing through some wings and Atlas was invited. Atlas called a car and drunkenly wobbled to the curb. His legs ached as he stood there for several minutes adjusting his weight from left to right. He yearned to get out of these snug clothes. When he finally sat down in the Uber the car rocked beneath his weight. He let out a sigh of relief now that he was sitting.

The drive went quickly, and he arrived at Ricky’s apartment ready to fuck. He stepped out of the car, his phone falling to the ground. “Fuck me,” Atlas mumbled to himself as he spread his legs wide and carefully bent down to grab his phone. Such maneuvers were no easy feat with so much mass in the way, particularly when it was stuffed into undersized clothing. As his hands wrapped around the phone, one of the buttons near his navel jettisoned off the shirt and bounced down the sidewalk. He stood up triumphantly, his belly partially exposed.

Ricky buzzed him in and then Atlas began his ascent to Ricky’s apartment. He hated this part. The staircase was so narrow that he brushed up against each side of the wall, and the steps were so short he could not see them beneath the curve of his belly. Nevermind the stamina required to climb the two flights. When he finally knocked on Ricky’s door he was a sweaty disheveled hulking mess gasping for air.

“Hey big papa,” Ricky grinned. “I got some leftover wings.”