The Restaurant: Chapter 5

Four months later

“I think I’m still stoned,” I muttered as Dave tried to rouse me from slumber.

“You’re gonna be late bub,” he said and wobbled my belly.

“I’m just gonna stay in bed and jerk off if you keep that up,” I teased.

I lurched out of bed with a sigh. Our lifestyle was beginning to catch up with me. I felt constantly bloated, heavy, and fatigued. I spent the workday fantasizing about laying down and stuffing my face. I somehow was always full and always starving. My belly was getting in the way of certain tasks. I can’t tell you how many shirts I ruined from bleaching the counters and then my belly pressing against the edge while I reached for a corner. As much as it was an annoyance it equally turned me on.

I took a piss and rubbed the sleep from my eyes before stepping on the scale in the nude. I weighed 225 still. Annoying. I’d been at this plateau for a couple weeks now and I wanted nothing more than to hit 230. The bathroom was oppressively foggy from Dave’s shower so I decided to just brush my teeth and throw on some clothes. I could wash up when I got home. I headed to the kitchen where Dave looked crisp and ready to greet the day. He had prepared two massive breakfast burritos for us alongside his signature coffee protein shake. I dug in. Dave was actually a great cook, which I didn’t know until fairly recently when we decided to cut back on eating out.

“I’m still at 225,” I complained. “I guess I’m not eating enough.”

“You and your numbers, just relax! Enjoy yourself.”

“I know, I know. I’m just envious is all… you hit 300 so easily.”

“I had a head start and a slower metabolism. Besides, there's no competition. Let’s just enjoy what we have.”

We took Dave’s truck to the restaurant and he dropped me off a block away. This was our routine. We didn’t want anyone to know about us. It wasn’t a huge deal but neither of us wanted to deal with the inevitable gossip and drama that would ensue. I picked at a wedgie as I plodded over. My underwear was too small and I regretted choosing this pair. My thighs were rubbing together when I walked and altogether my lower half felt uncomfortable. I wished I was spread legged on the couch crouching over some Chinese food.

I walked inside and was pleased to see Favreau and Price were working today. I recently surpassed the former in terms of weight so I was no longer the smallest guy at the restaurant. The latter was a newbie with stick legs and a pot belly that was rapidly growing but still smaller than mself. I remembered when I first started and was enamored by all the big boys surrounding me in the morning meeting. Now I was one of the big boys.

Dave extolled our duties and we got to work. Favreau and I were in front of the house and began setting up the tables and chairs. We made small talk about the weather. I struggled to make conversation and then remembered I was still stoned. I chuckled to myself recalling the dab I did before bed. Dave was such a stoner that concentrated THC was the only thing that could put him down.

“Hey,” Favreau interrupted my internal monologue, “are you wearing Dave’s shirt?”

I was taken aback. I looked down at the faded Polo hugging my curves. Indeed, on the chest was Dave’s name embroidered in yellow. The restaurant no longer handed out embroidered shirts but Dave had kept this one out of sentimentality since it no longer fit. Last night I had persuaded him to try it on so we could see how he had outgrown it. I didn’t even think twice when I grabbed it off the floor this morning and threw it on. My heart sank and I surely turned red. I had no idea what to say.

“I uh… um, yeah I guess so.”

“Come on, Griffin, just fess up.”

“Fess up?”

“We all know you two are fucking. You have the same schedule, he gives you the best shifts, he always stays late when you’re closing. It’s obvious.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I chuckled awkwardly.

“I mean, it’s fine,” Favreau continued. “Dave is much more chill now so I can’t really complain. It’s better for everyone I suppose… But watch out for that relationship weight. You two are really packing it on I’m not gonna lie.”

If I wasn’t blushing before I definitely was now.

“Is that so? I didn’t notice.” I said and scratched the back of my head anxiously.

“Bro, your gut is hanging out right now. I can see your belly button it has fuckin’ stretch marks. Not to be a dick but, you really haven’t noticed?”

I immediately dropped my arm and pulled down my shirt. I didn’t realize I was already outgrowing Dave’s old clothes. Favreau’s stretch mark comment had really gotten me and I didn’t know how to respond. I swallowed hard. I was feeling embarrassed which also made me horny which made me more embarrassed and more horny.

“I mean yeah… like for sure we’ve gained some weight you know. It, uh, it happens…”

“Some weight? Look I’m not much smaller but you’ve each put on 50 pounds minimum let’s be real.”

My jaw dropped. Both at Favreau’s audacity and also the fact that he wasn’t far off. I had gained 45 pounds since I started at the restaurant and if anything I’d take the compliment that it was 50. Dave had only put on about 40 but it was in a shorter period of time, I think. Regardless, I didn’t know how to continue this conversation other than running to the bathroom and jerking off.

“Sorry man, didn’t mean to call you out. I’m a big guy too, it’s chill. Just letting you know we’re not dumb. We see what’s going on and we’re cool with it. Happy for you bro, no big deal.”

About ten minutes later I excused myself to the bathroom so I could jerk off.

Later that day I told Dave what had happened. He wasn’t too happy, being closeted to most of his friends and family, including his employees. I think ultimately though, he was relieved. I know I was. Sneaking around was fun but it wasn’t sustainable. Now we could love each other and our growing bodies out in the open. And besides, now we had an excuse for the gains. It’s just relationship weight after all…