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Those past days, things seemed... Off? Different? I can't say for sure, my mind is not the same anymore. And I'm not comparing with those years on the past, but with the last couple of months. I'm catching myself more and more thinking and doing things I would never do when I was... The old me. More precisely, the old THIN me. |
I watch the green sign turn to red. My foot unconsciously pushes the brake to reduce the speed of the bus. As my hand return from the gear shift, it stumbles against my belly, my mind still not used with the weight I gained fast. The fat jiggles, the white shirt (company's standard uniform) have been very snug the last couple of weeks, the buttons strained, complaining silently that they will not be able to hold the blubber mass I call belly very soon. The passenger that leaves the bus catches me eating two bonbons at once, his frowning face getting only worse as I am unable (or maybe unwilling) to hold the belch that rise loudly from my bloated belly. Before I can even do anything else, I see myself eating more and slapping the crumbles of my shirt before checking the rear view mirror. I see my double chin forming a third one as the necktie tights what used to be a neck. My shaved face and head not only makes my cheeks look rounder but also accentuate the rolls of my nape. Rolls that appear as love handles on my back sides as well, that stretches to become a round, firm belly that covers my lap completely. The traffic is intense, I adjust my ass over the seat, that embrace my gained weight with a soundly effort. The seat was already sunk with the former driver's ass in my first day of driving, and I try to imagine the disgust of my older self seeing I would grow to pass its shape. But I'm just able to feel relief that my overhang completely hides my excitement of thinking about that during work.
I have grown fond with my extra weight in the end, but I remember some years ago how very terrified I was just because I passed 200 lb. And that's what makes me think something is wrong. I used to worry so very much with my shape, always trying to maintain my abs ready to be admired by others during summer. Nowadays I do the same, no longer with abs but with all the flab my shirtless body shows as I pork myself on the beach shores. Varaverde is how everybody call me, because when I entered the company my boss stated I was thin and immature as a green stick. I stare how my belly bulges over my log sized thighs, and I smile thinking how some nicknames stick even more when you are the opposite. Almost touching the driving wheel, my spare ties are an evident consequence of passing the 450lb. The previous owner of my bus said when he passed the job that “the bus would grow inside me as I would grow inside the bus”, exactly like what happened to him. His laugh a pig's snorting (as mine is now) while he explained he gained over 150 pounds working as a bus driver, and that I should be careful since the jocks like me were the first to plump out in the first month. How incredulous I was to think one day I would become as fat as him, and heck, how very right he was. It was during the last lunch meeting, he stomped directly to me, just to point loudly that I was now the fatter one. And as we grabbed everyone's intentions, his hands grabbed my belly, jiggling for everyone to see, just to state the obvious fact I was now way more out of shape them they all. I remember the stare of everyone, and knowing my body keep enlarging with all the extra food and long, extra work shifts, I smile.
The first thing I noticed at the company was that working with transport made fitness something quite difficult to achieve, it was you or the bus that moved, never both. There was not a single person who could not be called fat there, even my few acquaintances seemed to be, to say the least, a lot puffier then I remembered them. There was this one guy that was struggling to joint the last button of his shirt, the older ones teasing that even them at his age didn't have this kind of trouble, so it would be no surprise seeing him in the future weighting half a ton. And that could be sad for anyone there, the struggle to fit inside their uniforms a common routine that made me wonder if the company would give them smaller sized clothes so their bellies could peek out from the shirts on purpose. The uniforms were continually replaced by bigger sized ones, but it was a matter of a few weeks for those to be outgrown again, everyone sure packing the pounds in a pace almost unbelievable for my eyes. The older ones, on the other hand, patted each others bellies, proud of their immense bodies and round guts. They mocked the younger ones, that tried to deny their increasing weight as they slowly got used with the extra pounds. Without noticing, I got caught in this twist as well, my body at first getting soft in the edges, for then to one day I realize I had a small pot belly in the same place my abs were. It mattered little, I thought it was just some extra gym to recover from the first months of work. But the days passed, and soon came my new, medium sized uniform. And the extended lunches with everyone, the long night shifts, the lack of exercise... Somehow, I was mesmerized with my new routine, the bus and the company more and more my new home, the colleagues my new family. And a whole year passed without noticing.
Then... I woke up during my vacations, a mind snap triggering that something was wrong. I stood, my feet loudly landing on the floor, my drowsy eyes trying to understand what made me stomp so heavily as I stood from my sleep. I realized something was different, since I could not see my toes. I rushed to the bathroom, my heart pumping high as I clumsily bumped my way to the mirror. And then I stared myself, my face perplexed seeing what an entire year of bus driving made with my body. People commented, of course, and I was not blind, I could see that I was getting... Rounder. First it was the odd feeling of my body jiggling every time I stepped down the stairs (eventually I started to use lift only), soon followed by the need of my very first large shirt of my life. The senior drivers started to tease more often me than my other colleagues, and the passangers delayed their greetings to stare down at my shirt. And standing over the mirror in my bedroom I connected the dots... My gut, my enormous round gut, that was what everyone was staring. I pressed my moobs, took me seconds to believe that was me in the reflection, my belly filled with stretchmarks, jiggling with the smallest movements. My fat fingers pressed my cheeks, my face now framed with an extra chin. I weighed myself, the scale hidden by the mass of lard that spilled over my briefs. Stepping back, I saw the number and stepped over the scale one more time. It could not be, but as I double checked, I went to stare my reflection once again, now knowing I was reaching 320 pounds. For a moment, grabbing my lard in a single roll, I felt like crying, not believing what I have done to myself. It was way too much weight for less than 6 inches of height. More than just fat, I was obese. Huge. Immense. I kept looking at myself, and surprised I saw I was very much excited with the sight. The cock rising in a hard boner, no longer hidden as I lifted my overhang from my underwear. And that was the first day of many I would fap excited with my weight gain, imagining how very bigger I would get if I kept gaining at the same pace. If I only knew what was going to happen...
..to be continued
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