The Restaurant: Chapter 3

Four months later

I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a glass door in the kitchen and was caught off guard. I was getting chubby. My Polo shirt wouldn’t stay tucked in and I made a mental note that I needed to upgrade. I looked a bit sloppy which turned me on but probably wasn’t a good look for the restaurant. I gave my tummy a squeeze while looking at myself. My fingers melted into the soft fat and I muttered “210” to myself. That was how much I weighed now. I couldn’t believe it, I had surpassed 200 pounds. As my cock began to stiffen Dave walked through the glass door in which I was admiring myself, startling me immensely. I let go of my paunch and felt it wobble back into place.

He chuckled a bit as his eyes moved from my belly to my face, “Hey I’m gonna hang behind to help you close out.”

That’s weird, I thought. He never does that. Perhaps it was because this was only my second time closing out alone. Hopefully he didn’t think I was inept. I was fully trained up now and advancing quickly in my role. I was good at my job and a bit of a pet to all the managers, least of all Dave who still held the power to make me extremely nervous. So this seemed a bit odd.

“Oh, nice,” I said just as I noticed that his Polo shirt wasn’t staying tucked in as well.

Not only was that definitive proof he was gaining weight, but it was cute that we were encountering the same growing pains. Naturally, I kept a keen eye on Dave’s waistline over the past few months and I was confident he was expanding. His belly seemed to be pushing forward more these days and his pecs were becoming exceptionally plush. It was validating to see that his clothing betrayed this fact.

“Everyone else has left,” Dave said and took a step closer to me. “Just you and I…” he said in a low and seductive tone.

He took another step closer so that our bellies barely grazed one another. This seemed to be his signature move. It sent a shiver through my loins. My heart was pounding as he stared at me authoritatively, my breath growing short. Was I in trouble or was I about to get fucked? I honestly couldn’t tell. I hedged my bets and moved in closer so that our fat navels were fully pressing against one another, warm and firm. He grinned when I did this, as though he appreciated the chutzpah. I raised one eyebrow provokingly. I don’t know where my confidence was coming from, but it worked.

He leaned in for a kiss. I could’ve melted into a puddle. His mouth was warm and buttery, his beard scratchy against my skin. Our bodies moved in closer for an embrace. Heat emanated from him like a radiator and I could faintly whiff the musk of his armpits. His hands gripped at my ass before moving to my lower back and love handles. He had a strong grip that moved with intention. I could’ve fainted by the time he pulled back and looked me in the eyes.

“Why don’t we go out back and smoke a joint?” He patted the side of my belly and motioned towards the back patio.

I followed behind him admiring the way his love handles rolled with each step and the manner in which his faded jeans cupped his ass. I hoped to one day be so beefy. Outside we leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant in an area that was out of sight of the security camera. Dave lit the joint and took the first puff before handing it to me.

“You’re gettin’ thick,” he said to me. “Looks good on you, but you gotta size up your work clothes.”

I must’ve looked surprised by his ribald comment.

“I called it, didn’t I?” he chuckled. “Back at the bar a few months ago.”

“You’re not wrong,” I replied. “But you’re one to talk, aren't you?”

“Hey, I’m no gymnast, but I’ve been 230 since I left the military. Most of this is solid muscle, besides the gut of course.”

“Oh is that so,” I laughed incredulously. Did this guy really not realize how fat he was getting? “I hate to break it to you, but I think you’re having the same problem with your work clothes as me…”

I reached over and tugged at the hem of his shirt, the backs of my fingertips brushing against the dense fur of his navel. He felt hairier than I had imagined. He looked at me with a sexual hunger in his eyes as I did this, spurring me to go further.

“And this looks pretty fresh to me,” I continued and audaciously grabbed a handful of underbelly. “I think 260 is probably a more accurate number.”

His belly fat was warm and firm in the palm of my hand, the skin supple yet hirsute. I let my hand linger for a minute as we made sultry eye contact. Then he grabbed my jaw in a rough grip and pulled me in for a kiss. We made out while the joint burned down. He thrust his hip into mine and I could feel his erection. I knew where this was heading.

“Hey,” he said between heavy breaths. “Why don’t we finish up here and head back to my place?”

I nodded affirmatively and took a long drag of the joint.