Atlas Chubbed: Chapter 1

Atlas’ stomach was growling so loudly on the plane to JFK that he wanted to die. It was already bad enough that he was over six feet tall and pushing three hundred pounds in the middle seat. The men on either side of him were not pleased, but there was very little he could do to keep from spilling over into their space. Hell, even when he was a hundred pounds lighter, his shoulders still made flights difficult. The stomach growling was just the icing on the cake.

“Now that we’ve landed you can feed that thing,” the passenger next to him said and pointed at the belly resting in Atlas’ lap.

“Thank god,” Atlas muttered truthfully.

When he finally dislodged his love handles from the arm rests a wave of relief washed over him. Retrieving his carry-on from the overhead bin was a struggle and by the time he exited the plane he was breathing heavily and wiping sweat from his brow. He headed straight for the bathroom.

Catching his reflection in the mirror, Atlas discovered that his tee had ridden up and an inch of belly had been hanging out for god knows how long. Such moments were once a source of profound excitement and eroticism, a gainer badge of honor, but now they were becoming a hassle. He took a piss and washed his hands. The image in the mirror was almost foreign to him. He still wasn’t used to looking at a fat guy.

From the bathroom he made a beeline for a convenience store and bought a 42g Core Power. He chugged it while waiting in line at McDonald’s. He was so hungry he could barely stand it and once the massive grease soaked bag was in his grasp he sat down at the nearest gate to chow down. The first Big Mac went down in under five minutes. Then the ten piece nugget, some fries, the second Big Mac, and a strawberry shake.

The airport and all its chaos had faded into the background while he feasted. Once he was done he looked up with greasy fingers to see quite a few people stealing glances his way. He looked down. Ranch and ketchup stained his T-shirt. He wiped some away from his mouth as well. He was a bit embarrassed, but what was a fat boy to do after a five hour flight?

He made his way to baggage claim, a long and arduous walk that left him sweatier than when he got off the plane. It was nice to take a seat and wait for the bags. They came faster than he would’ve liked. Thankfully, he still had the brute strength to lift his oversized bag with ease off the conveyer belt. Next, he had to find the rideshare pickup. Unfortunately, this meant taking a bus to the appropriate lot.

Once again he squeezed into a seat next to two other men who did not seem happy to share the space. What was he supposed to do? Stand with his gut in their face? The bus was crowded and sweaty and was causing sweat stains to spread under Atlas’ pits and atop the crest of his gut. He wiped his brow and worried that he was beginning to sweat through his deodorant. A few feet away, a young girl looked at Atlas and told her mom: “He smells like McDonald’s.”

When they finally arrived and he stepped off the bus Atlas chugged the rest of his water. He wished it was soda. He then called an Uber and began the waiting game. It took about twenty minutes for the car to arrive, during which he sat on the outskirts of the crowd and scrolled through images of fat guys on his X and Tumblr feeds. Despite the frustrations of navigating an airport as a newly hefty guy, the tribulations had been erotic as well. Atlas couldn’t help but fantasize about reaching three hundred. Fifteen more pounds. He was so close.

“Big guy going to the Lower East Side!” the driver exclaimed as Atlas hoisted himself into the SUV.

It was a long drive. The bumpy roads and aggressive New York drivers kept his body bouncing and jiggling all the while. Atlas felt an odd mixture of horniness with excitement and anxiety about starting his new life in New York. He hoped for the best.

Finally, after what seemed like a massive test of will, he arrived at his new apartment. It was a small one bedroom on the third floor with no working elevator. The latter point he had forgotten about. He heaved a big sigh as he stared up at the cramped stairwell. He was nearly as wide as the stairs themselves, plus he had a suitcase, a carry-on, and a backpack. He strapped the bags to his body and began his way up one stair at a time.

His strength was a savior in such scenarios, but it came alongside a girth that made everything cumbersome. When he made it to the first landing he was panting. When he made it to the second landing his shirt was soaked completely through with sweat. It was also riding up on his belly and love handles but he hardly had the ability to correct that. On the final flight someone started coming down, but when they saw him they said “oh my god” and went back up to wait. After what seemed like a lifetime, he reached his apartment door. Sweat fell from his body and splattered against the marble tile.

He opened the door to his new home and took a massive sigh.

“Thank god.”

Atlas, with no furniture besides some pieces that still had to be built, collapsed onto the cold hard wood floor. His belly rested atop him. He could feel its weight, a sack of freshly heavy fat. He pushed it back and forth a bit with his hands. His cock began to harden as he did so. He reached down, undoing his pants, and pumped at his foreskin. He liked the way he could feel his cock poking against his underbelly. With his free hand he grabbed his phone and opened up GrubHub. He scrolled through food options while stroking himself and settled on the most caloric looking Chinese place nearby. He placed his order; enough to last most men three days.

He replayed the day in his mind, squeezing into the airplane seat, the man next to him commenting on his size, his belly hanging out at the airport, his McDonald’s stuffing, sweating and struggling from start to finish. He could have come right then and there, but he saved his load. He knew better. Not until after dinner.