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Economy Part 1
| David had been one of the first onto the plane and was pleased to see that his row of three seats was currently unoccupied. It was going to be a long, long flight. Just the London to Los Angeles leg was a killer, and then he was continuing on to Sydney. With any luck, he’d have the three seats to himself and would be able to spread out and maybe even stretch out and sleep. He’d requested an aisle seat so that, in the worst case scenario, he’d still be able to stretch his legs out into the aisle and lean out that way if he was crammed in. David was reasonably tall – about five foot eleven – but it was his width that caused the problem. He’d always been hefty, and in the nine months he’d been away at university he’d got quite a bit bigger, so the airline seat was a tight fit for his big arse. The seatbelts were always excruciatingly tight and his broad shoulders and big arms, pushed out sideways by the rolls of fat on the side of his tits and his big belly, edged into the adjacent seat and the aisle. He left the belt undone until the last minute, drearily accepting that he’d have to stand up for the people who would inevitably be seated next to him – a mother with a screaming kid, no doubt – and not wishing to subject himself to the discomfort of wearing it until absolutely necessary. As the rows around him steadily filled, his hope that his row would remain empty dwindled. He leant forward to fiddle with the book and magazine he’d stuck in the seat pocket. "I think I’m in there,” a voice boomed out above his head. David jerked his head up and nearly bumped it on the plaid sphere nosing into his row. This guy was really big. A massive soft and slightly saggy ball belly encased in a plaid business shirt – well-filled, but not skintight, the top two buttons open to accommodate the fat neck roll and exposing a flash of fleshy, hairy chest – and big thick legs encased in fat-hugging blue jeans, the belt buckle just obscured by the partial overhang of the overstuffed gut. There was never any chance of another passenger scraping past David while he was seated, so he unwedged his butt from the grasping chair arms and awkwardly pushed out into the aisle to let the big guy through. He looked to be in his late forties, tall and weathered, intelligently bespectacled, with a half-gray ponytail. The fat man grunted as he scraped his big gut sideways along the back of the seats, heading for the window, muttering apologies to the people in front whose seats he was bending back with his grip. He flailed behind and underneath his bulk as he fell back to flip the seatbelt out the sides of the seat. Then he sank his mighty haunches heavily into the narrow gap between the armrests and hung suspended there for a moment, a morbidly obese round peg in a square hole, far too wide for the prissily allocated space. Then he slowly slipped down between the armrests, his fat flowing slothfully around the obstacle then spreading out again extravagantly once it was underneath. Once this process was complete, the armrest nearest David was pressed deep into the man’s fat side, big bellyroll bulging out over it and big fat thigh underneath, seriously encroaching into the middle seat. David sat back down, and noticed that his more modest blubber was doing sort of the same thing. The fat stranger looked at David’s similar predicament and smiled. "They don’t build these things for us big guys, do they?” "No,” David laughed. "I tell you, I pity anybody they seat between us.” "Well they shouldn’t,” the big man answered, frowning slightly. "I warned them about it, and they told me it wasn’t a full flight. Nearly, but not full, and they told me they’d put a hold on this seat except for emergencies.” "Oh,” said David. "I didn’t know that they did that.” "They hate doing it, but you show up at the counter and show them what the problem is – and with me I don’t need to draw them a diagram! – and they generally do their best. Flying economy, though, there’s always that risk.” "Oh yeah. If I could afford to fly business I would. These seats are so uncomfortable.” "Hey, imagine how I feel. I can’t wait to get up in the air so I can take this thing out of my side.” At that, the crew started their final checks and the passengers were asked to ensure that their tray tables were stowed, seat backs upright and seatbelts fastened low and tight across their laps. Low and tight, thought David, don’t have much choice there. He grabbed each end of the belt, pulled the adjustable end out as far as it could go and started the old familiar struggle of making ends meet while he sucked in his gut. This time, however, it was different. He’d spent most of the past year deep in study, not socialising much, and eating way more than he should. He knew he’d put on some weight. All of his clothes were much tighter and some didn’t fit at all, and he knew his folks would hassle him about it, as they always did, but he didn’t realise that he’d got quite this fat. The metal ends wouldn’t meet around his expanded stomach, relaxed or sucked in. He lifted it up, but the ends still wouldn’t reach underneath it, let alone click in place. Oh fuck, what do I do now? David hadn’t noticed that the big guy at the window had summoned an attendant. A slim, neat man sidled up and the stranger leaned forward and said quietly to him, "I think my buddy needs one of these” while dangling a strap like the ones the attendants use for the safety demonstrations. The attendant scuttled away. "Looks like you’ve graduated to an extension, boy,” the fat man commented, while methodically clicking one end of his strap into the loose end of his seatbelt and rooting around underneath his thick thigh for the other part. Wedged into his seat, his belly spread out before him almost far enough to touch the seat in front of him, but he could still wrap the drastically lengthened belt around his big round gut and click it comfortably into place. "Your first time, I guess. Probably not the last.” "Yeah, I haven’t been in a plane since last year and I must have put on a bit of weight.” "Maybe more than a bit, eh?” the stranger smirked. "Definitely more than a bit,” David agreed. "I graduated to one of these ten, fifteen years ago, as you can probably tell. They have to give you one if you ask, but I just carry my own around now to save the hassle. Here you go.” The attendant was back, proffering the extension furtively. David said thanks in a similar low tone. The stranger thanked him louder, seeing no reason why the young lad or the hired help should be ashamed of the transaction. David hooked up the seatbelt extension with ease and was surprised to find himself, for the first time in many years, actually tightening the seatbelt in the manner mimed on every flight. "Big difference, huh?” the stranger grinned. He had a pleasant American twang. Going home to LA, David guessed. "What a relief!” David gushed. "You got any other secrets you want to share?” "It’s a long flight, buddy, I’ve got to keep something up my sleeve. I’m Austin, by the way.” He wrestled his left arm around a little and leaned over to offer his big fleshy paw for a handshake. David squished his left shoulder back into the seat and twisted his own left arm around to meet it. "David. Should’ve introduced ourselves before we got all strapped in, I guess,” said David. "Yeah, it’s a bit cramped. Now when that seatbelt sign goes off, I warn you, this armrest is going up and I’m spreading out. I assume you’ll be doing the same?” "Absolutely.” "As long as we don’t meet in the middle, am I right?” "No, I don’t think we’re there yet,” David chuckled. He had never spoken so frankly with anybody about his weight problem. His parents and sisters disapproved, he’d never had many friends and certainly no fat ones, so it was a subject he associated with shame and humiliation and avoided as much as possible. Alone overseas at university, he’d had the luxury of becoming thoroughly antisocial and for the first time in his life his fatness became a non-issue socially. At the same time, it became a hugely defining part of his personality. Alone with his fatness, and with no parental or peer controls on his eating, he’d indulged himself shamelessly, and that absence of shame had been wonderful and liberating. For the first time, he stopped worrying about being so fat. In a fairy tale world, this breakthrough would have resulted in the problem vanishing entirely: the curse would be broken, the excess weight would fall away and David would emerge a happy, well-adjusted, normal boy. Instead, uninhibited, David just got fatter and fatter, and his newfound happiness started to get seriously curtailed a couple of weeks out from his scheduled return home, when it hit him that the old problems were all about to return with a vengeance, as soon as his mum and dad saw their obese son waddle off the plane. This chance encounter with somebody much fatter than him, somebody who was, apparently and inexplicably, happy and open about his freakish size, was like a last refreshing gulp of the freedom David had enjoyed that past year. "What line are you in?” Austin prompted. "I’m just a student at the moment. Going home for the holidays. German literature.” "Oh,” said Austin, raising one eyebrow, " a literateur, eh? You’re not American.” "No, I’m going through to Sydney. Are you from L.A.?” "Wash your mouth out, boy. I’m a Texan. But I’m going through to Sydney too. Got a job there.” "What do you do?” "Architect. Big industrial stuff, mostly, and I’m building a factory out there.” David couldn’t help but grin. "What’s so funny about that, Dave? I might not be able to spout Goethe at ya, but a little respect here, okay?” "No, it’s just that I should have known you were an architect. The ponytail.” "Yeah,” Austin sighed, "I’m just a walking fucking cliché.” Then his eyes brightened. "But you are dressed all in black.” "It’s a fair cop.” "Though I thought you intense existentialists were supposed to be skinny?” "I sure as hell got over that,” David answered, poking his belly. He felt privately thrilled that he could so casually insert a reference to the formerly unspeakable into a conversation with a stranger. If only he could be this relaxed all the time. "Whoops, here we go.” The pair had chatted all through the safety demonstration and the plane was accelerating down the runway. David felt his extra weight being pressed into the seat and wondered what it must have felt like for somebody Austin’s size. Once they were airborne, Austin quietly unhitched his seatbelt and squeezed the armrest up past his belly fat, which bounced and shuddered down with relief afterwards. David did the same and it felt great spreading out into the vacant seat. "You can lift up the other one as well, if you like.” David knew this was incorrect, but pulled at the armrest on the aisle side anyway to illustrate. "No, it’s fixed.” "No, there’s a trick. There’s a catch underneath.” David felt underneath the armrest but couldn’t find anything. "I’ll show you,” Austin said, and swung his bulk into the middle seat. "Another trick of the trade.” Austin leaned over David, pressing one big soft tit into David’s left shoulder. Austin’s beard brushed David’s face and he could smell his breath, with its traces of a fried breakfast, bacon, maple syrup, and feel that huge weight suspended just above him. As Austin’s heavy arm reached around him, part of the enormous belly rested in his lap. A second of fiddling and the aisle armrest miraculously lifted. Austin gently took David’s right hand in his powerful, calloused mitt and placed it underneath the armrest, pushing his index finger into a small knobbed niche. "Push and lift. They hate you knowing about this, so be discreet when you do it. Just about every airline seat has some variation on it.” "You’re a wealth of information, Austin. This is going to be an interesting flight.” "You betcha, slim.” "Are you in the same seat to Sydney?” asked Austin, between bites of a chocolate bar he’d extracted from his cabin bag.
"Yes. Here’s hoping the middle seat stays free.” "Yeah. Like I said, they have been warned.” After some more pleasantries, the conversation dried up and Austin dug out the bent-backed science fiction novel he’d brought along, shuffling his bulk into the bulkhead and pushing one burly knee up against the seat in front, peering down his nose through his glasses at the paperback and unconsciously arching his greying eyebrows. Soon after, the first meal service came around and David lowered his tray table in anticipation. His bigger belly presented a slight obstacle and the edge of the tray dug into his soft flab, so much so that the upper bulge was partly resting on the tray. He looked discreetly askance to see how his much bigger fellow traveller dealt with the problem. Austin was slowly packing away his book, clinging to the end of a paragraph with his eyes as he unfolded his leg, straightened his body and blindly felt in the seat pocket for something to serve as a bookmark. His fingers found the discarded cardboard pack from his luxurious Lindt chocolate bar and deftly inserted it between the pages as he flapped the novel shut. Then he reached over and flipped the tray table of the middle seat open. "You mind if I eat from here, Dave?” "No, sure, go ahead.” "My one’s worse that useless with this bloody gut,” Austin added, opening his own table to demonstrate. It rested at a comical 45 degree angle atop his lap-filling stomach. "Does not compute!” David pointed out his own wedged position. "You’ve got me beat, but I’ve still got to rest my gut on the tray! These seats must be designed for midgets.” "Hate to break it to you, son, but I’ve seen some pretty big midgets handle these seats without a problem. It’s only the real fat midgets like us that have to struggle.” The meals arrived. Austin poked at his unenthusiastically. "Gahk! Airline food. I’d never have gotten this big on airline food.” David was already chowing down avidly. He wasn’t that fussy an eater and said so. "Hey, I’m not exactly discerning myself,” Austin replied, "but you gotta draw the line somewhere. On a long haul like this there’s not much to do but eat, so you’d think they’d put a bit more effort into it. Another price of flying economy, I guess.” Despite his grumbling, Austin made short work of the tray of food and was soon augmenting it with more goodies from his cabin bag. He offered David one of his many bars of chocolate. "I’m fucking addicted to this stuff. This is the real thing, not like that sugary brownie we just had. I gotta stock up for a flight like this just to get through it.” David had eaten everything he’d been given but was still hungry, so he was glad for the offer of chocolate. He also needed to go to the toilet, but the post-meal rush meant that he had to wait a good half hour. He knew he’d be some time, and didn’t want to be holding up a queue of people. When the queue evaporated, David got up and unsteadily advanced up the aisle and entered one of the cubicles. Tight fit. David hated aeroplane loos. He could barely turn around in them and started sweating just getting his pants off. David was still a virgin and sexually was quite cloistered. Although he’d been anxious about losing his virginity since his mid-teens, he’d never felt a great deal of erotic attraction to anybody else and was anyway far too shy and hyper-sensitive about his appearance to make the necessary advances. He’d experimented with porn, mainly straight but even gay on occasion, but neither variety especially aroused him. Nevertheless, he’d developed into a compulsive masturbator, jerking himself off two or three times a day minimum. Right now, after a big feed, he felt the urge. He knew what he needed to see to get himself going, so he pulled up his t-shirt and gazed at the pasty blubber that flopped down. Then he loosened his jeans and carefully removed them, hanging his clothes up on the hook behind the door. Next came the underpants, which he stuffed partway into the jeans pocket. He looked at his big fat body and immediately got hard. He jiggled his manboobs and belly, then grabbed his balls in one chubby hand and started to massage his thick, throbbing shaft. By manoeuvring his big body into a corner of the tiny room, he could see his obesity reflected multiple times in multiple mirrors. "I’m so fucking fat,” he whispered urgently to himself as he pounded away at his cock. "I’m just getting fatter and fatter and fatter. Too fat for the seat, too fat for this room.” All of a sudden, for the first time, an image other than himself flashed across his furiously aroused mind. He saw Austin’s big ball belly as it had loomed over him a few hours earlier, and he imagined that much more massive gut superimposed on his own fat form. He imagined himself as immense as the Texan, and his arousal shot up into a new realm. He continued to play around with those images as he played with himself, wanting to forestall the inevitable blast of ecstasy as long as possible, barely noticing them morph from him-as-Austin to him-and-Austin. He made the necessary mental correction, but was frustrated to find that the image of Austin kept separating off and becoming its own entity. He couldn’t think about that magnificently bloated form without dragging the guy himself along for the ride. David’s carefully preserved erotic solipsism was breaking down. He smelt bacon. He remembered the moment when Austin had reached over him and brushed his face and he could smell his high-calorie breath and he could feel a small fraction of that distended paunch resting on his lap and the warm embrace of that big soft chest against his arm. There was a sudden shuffling of point-of-view in his mind’s eye, a flurry of mysterious activity and he could see the moment as an observer, his fat, strapped-in body being swamped by an even fatter, unleashed one. But the image was unstable and inaccurate. There was some big detail naggingly wrong. David’s cock seemed to be bigger than ever before, aching in his pitiless grip, and his fat gut was bouncing up and down in the mirror in time with his frantic wanking. The Austin he was imagining, seen from an oblique angle, was butt naked, a tanned mound of fat hairy back, and huge, hairier hanging gut crouched over tubby David (still fully dressed in the internal image) and gently rubbing his Falstaffian belly and tits against the younger man. That did it. A rope of cum spattered the mirror and trickled down to the bench. David’s way out-of-shape body was dripping with sweat and he slunk down to crouch on the toilet, waiting for the sweat to dry so he could wipe himself down. In the meantime, he cleared up the mess he’d left and began to attend to the more traditional toilet activities. Source: http://www.bellybuilders.com/messageboard/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=17882 | |
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