emily 4

Chapter 4: A Weighty Journey
By early July, Emily had reached her target of 400 pounds. The milestone had been celebrated with an elaborate feast prepared by Claudia and a special photoshoot directed by Marcus, featuring Emily in a bikini adorned with gold sequins that sparkled against her pale, stretched skin. Her followers had gone wild with appreciation, and donations poured in at record levels.
But the most significant recognition came from Maximizer himself. After years of anonymous patronage, he had finally proposed a face-to-face meeting.
"Miami," he had said during their video call. "I have a beachfront property there. Perfect for a summer celebration of your achievement."
Emily had agreed immediately, curiosity about her mysterious benefactor overriding any hesitation about traveling at her size.
The morning of the flight arrived with chaotic energy. Emily, unused to leaving her apartment for more than brief outings, found herself overwhelmed by the logistics of travel. Thankfully, Tomas handled everything—packing her specialized clothing, organizing transportation, checking flight details, and ensuring her meal schedule would remain uninterrupted.
"The car will be here in twenty minutes," Tomas informed her as she finished her substantial breakfast of cream cheese-stuffed French toast, bacon, sausage links, and a protein-enhanced chocolate smoothie. "We should leave soon to allow extra time at the airport."
Emily nodded, wiping syrup from her chin. "I need to finish getting ready."
"Ready" involved squeezing into her largest stretchy pants and a flowing tunic that still couldn't completely cover her protruding stomach. Walking had become increasingly laborious; each step involved shifting her substantial weight from one foot to the other, her thighs rubbing together painfully despite the specialized anti-chafing cream Marcus had provided.
The trip to the airport was the first challenge. Emily required assistance getting into the specially ordered van with expanded seating. Even then, her breathing became labored from the simple exertion of climbing in. Tomas sat beside her, monitoring her comfort and offering water when she seemed flushed.
Arriving at the airport, Emily was immediately aware of the stares. In her apartment, surrounded by people who either admired her size or were paid to accommodate it, she existed in a bubble of acceptance. Here, in public, the reality of how dramatically her body differed from societal norms became starkly apparent.
"Ignore them," Tomas murmured as they made their way to the check-in counter. "Focus on getting through each step."
The airline staff maintained professional composure as they processed her ticket, though Emily noticed how the woman's eyes widened briefly at her size before quickly fixing her gaze on the computer screen. A discussion ensued about seating arrangements—Emily would need an additional seat beside her own for comfort and safety.
"We've already purchased two adjacent seats," Tomas assured the agent, handling the paperwork while Emily leaned heavily against a support column, already tired from standing.
Security presented the next ordeal. Emily shuffled through the line, acutely aware of the impatient sighs behind her as she moved at her necessarily slow pace. When she reached the scanner, a new problem emerged.
"Ma'am, I'll need you to step through," the TSA agent instructed, gesturing to the metal detector.
Emily hesitated, eyeing the narrow passage. "I'm not sure if I'll fit."
After a moment of awkward assessment, the agent directed her to a separate area. "We'll need to do a manual screening."
What followed was a process both physically uncomfortable and socially mortifying for most people in her position. The female TSA agent who conducted the pat-down had to reach into the folds of Emily's stomach and underneath her breasts, areas where perspiration had already accumulated despite the early hour and air conditioning.
Rather than displaying embarrassment, however, Emily adopted a jovial attitude.
"Careful there," she said with a wink as the agent checked around her waistband. "Ticklish zone."
The agent maintained her professional demeanor but visibly tensed.
When the woman had to check beneath Emily's stomach apron, Emily quipped, "Usually dinner and a movie comes first," followed by a laugh that made her whole body jiggle.
The agent's face flushed red. "Just doing my job, ma'am."
"Oh, I know," Emily replied. "But if you find any snacks under there, they're mine."
By the end of the screening, the agent seemed eager to conclude the interaction, while Emily appeared unfazed by what most would consider a humiliating experience. In her mind, these were simply the logistical challenges that came with her chosen physique—badges of honor rather than sources of shame.
Once through security, Emily lowered herself heavily onto a bench, her breathing labored from the walk.
"I need to rest a minute," she told Tomas. "Can you check which gate we're at?"
Tomas nodded and went to consult the departures screen. When he returned, his expression was concerned.
"Gate F38," he said. "It's... at the far end of the terminal."
Emily's face fell as she looked down the seemingly endless corridor. "How far?"
"About half a mile."
She squared her shoulders, determination setting in. "I can make it. Just give me a minute to catch my breath."
Despite Tomas's suggestion that they request assistance, Emily insisted on walking. Her pride in her size extended to a stubborn refusal to acknowledge its limitations.
They set off at a glacial pace, Emily's gait a laborious waddle. Within fifty yards, sweat had soaked through her tunic, leaving dark patches under her arms and across her back and chest. Her breathing became increasingly strained, each exhale audible and effortful.
After covering perhaps a quarter of the distance, Emily came to a halt. Her face had turned an alarming shade of red, and perspiration streamed down her temples and neck. Each breath came as a wheeze, and her knees trembled with the effort of supporting her mass.
"I... need... to sit," she managed between gasps.
Tomas guided her to the nearest bench, which creaked ominously under her weight. As she collapsed onto it, a child walking by with his mother pointed and exclaimed, "Mom, look how big that lady is!"
The mother hushed him quickly, pulling him along with embarrassed glances over her shoulder.
Emily was too exhausted to notice or care. As her breathing gradually slowed, she faced the reality of her situation.
"Maybe we should get some help," she conceded.
Tomas promptly arranged for an airport cart, typically reserved for elderly or disabled passengers. The driver did a double-take when he saw Emily but helped her board with professional courtesy. The small vehicle strained under her weight, its motor whining as it carried her the remaining distance to the gate.
Boarding the plane presented the next challenge. The jetway seemed to narrow as Emily approached the aircraft door. When she reached the entrance to the cabin, she found herself confronted with a passage clearly not designed for someone of her dimensions.
Turning sideways, Emily attempted to navigate the narrow aisle. Despite her efforts, her protruding stomach and expansive backside bumped against seats on both sides. Halfway down the aisle, her hip knocked squarely into the face of a businessman who had been leaning slightly into the passageway.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Emily exclaimed, trying to twist around to apologize properly but only succeeding in bumping three more passengers with various parts of her anatomy.
"It's fine," the man muttered, rubbing his cheek.
By the time Emily reached her row, several more inadvertent collisions had occurred, leaving a wake of disgruntled passengers. The flight attendant maintained a fixed smile but looked visibly relieved when Emily finally began the process of lowering herself into her seat.
The two adjacent seats she and Tomas had purchased quickly proved insufficient. Despite the armrest between them being raised, Emily's body spilled well over into Tomas's space, pushing him against the window. Her right side, meanwhile, bulged into the aisle, prompting concerned looks from the flight attendants considering the logistics of beverage service.
"Are you comfortable?" Tomas asked, though he himself was clearly compressed into a fraction of his allotted space.
"As much as I can be," Emily replied, struggling to find the seatbelt extender the flight attendant had discreetly provided.
Once the belt was secured—barely—Emily reached into her carry-on bag for her pre-prepared snacks: three large muffins, a family-size bag of chips, two protein bars, and a thermos of chocolate smoothie.
"I need something to take the edge off," she murmured to Tomas, slipping a cannabis edible into her mouth before starting on the muffins.
By the time the plane was taxiing, the combination of exhaustion from the airport ordeal and the beginning effects of the edible had Emily's eyelids drooping. Midway through the safety demonstration, her head lolled back, and she began to snore—a rumbling sound that earned irritated glances from nearby passengers.
For the duration of the three-hour flight, Emily remained unconscious, her body occasionally shifting and further compressing Tomas against the window. Her snoring continued unabated, occasionally punctuated by smacking lips or mumbled words about food.
As the plane began its descent into Miami, the change in cabin pressure roused Emily from her slumber. She blinked, disoriented, and then announced loudly, "I'm starving."
Tomas, who had been silently enduring his cramped position, nodded with his usual patience. "We'll get food as soon as we land."
Deplaning proved nearly as challenging as boarding. Emily's body, stiff from being confined, moved even more awkwardly through the narrow aisle. Again, she bumped several passengers, leaving them rubbing shoulders or knees where her mass had collided with them.
In the terminal, Emily lowered herself onto a bench near the baggage claim. "I can't take another step without eating," she declared.
Tomas nodded. "I'll get the luggage and find you something substantial. Wait here."
While Tomas efficiently collected their bags and located the nearest food court, Emily sat catching her breath, oblivious to the curious glances from passersby. By the time he returned, carrying bags from three different fast food establishments, Emily's face had lit up with anticipation.
"I got you the double cheeseburger meal with extra-large fries, a spicy chicken sandwich combo, and a twelve-piece nugget box," Tomas explained, setting the feast before her. "Plus two large sodas and a chocolate shake."
Emily didn't respond verbally, already unwrapping the first burger and taking an enormous bite. Her eyes closed in pleasure as she chewed, the stress of travel temporarily forgotten in the familiar comfort of consumption.
With food in hand—or rather, consistently cycling from hand to mouth—Emily allowed Tomas to guide her toward the airport exit. He had wisely arranged for another cart to transport them to the pickup area, sparing Emily the long walk.
Outside in the humid Miami air, Emily continued eating, barely looking up from her food as Tomas scanned the line of waiting vehicles.
"There," he said, pointing to a sleek black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows.
The vehicle pulled smoothly to the curb, and the driver's door opened. Out stepped a tall, well-dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair and an athletic build that suggested regular gym attendance despite being in his early fifties.
"Emily," he said, his voice immediately recognizable from countless video calls. "Welcome to Miami."
Emily looked up from her nearly empty food containers, suddenly aware that she was meeting her mysterious benefactor while sweaty, disheveled, and with ketchup at the corner of her mouth.
"Maximizer?" she asked, though she knew the answer.
He smiled, a warm expression that reached his eyes. "Please, call me Max." He turned to help Tomas with the luggage, then opened the passenger door with a flourish. "Your chariot awaits."
The Escalade's interior was spacious and luxurious—custom leather seats, ample legroom, and climate control already set to a comfortable temperature. After the confinement of the airplane, it felt like a palace on wheels.
Emily heaved herself in with some assistance from Tomas, settling into the seat with a sigh of relief. "I am never flying economy again," she declared, wiping her forehead with a napkin. "A woman of my size deserves first class, at minimum."
Max slid into the driver's seat and glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. "You deserve the best of everything, Emily. That's why I'm here." He started the engine. "Now, let's get you somewhere comfortable. I imagine today has been... challenging."
As they pulled away from the curb, Emily finished the last of her nuggets, crumpling the empty containers and letting them fall to the floor of the expensive vehicle. In the front seat, Max's eyes flickered briefly to the discarded wrappers, but his expression remained pleasant, revealing nothing of his thoughts about the woman who had become his most significant investment.