by Wilson Barbers
When Dom Antonioni kicked away from this mortal coil, head wrapped in the dimply thighs of a zaftig redhead, two cuckold's bullets in his back, his death had repercussions throughout the restaurant community.
Ol' Dom, in addition to being the horniest septuagenarian in town, was the owner/overseer of three of the city's four-star restaurants along with a pair of popular pizza places. Lovers of good food throughout the area noted Dom's demise with an understandable concern. Equally worried was the staff at the late restaurateur's top-rated triad.
Dom had no immediate relations to will his restaurants, no sons or daughters to raise in the business, so the first question to arise in everyone's minds was whether they'd even have jobs once the estate was settled. When Dom's will named a distant relation as the new owner of his dining empire, the question turned to whether this unknown entity had the wherewithal to successfully run things right.
One look at this previously unknown quantity, and the staff began to worry big-time.
They quickly had her pegged. Muscularly slender with short and stylishly swept hair, a denim bottom and cotton top, zero makeup - Tammy Tantalus had bean-sprout eater written all over her. Sitting in the lawyer's office surrounded by well-fed folk, she radiated aerobic condescension. What would she do to Antonioni's legacy? The possibilities were too grim to contemplate.
To a one, the staff looked to Jake Meches, maitre d' of the late Dom's flagship eatery, Antonioni's. Meches had been the brains behind the throne for close to a decade, and indeed there were those who felt that he should've been the benefactor in Antonioni's will, family ties bedamned. The fortyish major domo had been mulling over the Tammy Matter ever since she popped up the old man's funeral wearing a dress so taut that you could count her ribs. When she came into Antonioni's ready to survey the place, he was prepared for her.
Hair wet, wearing jeans and a well-worn pair of British Knights, she strode into the restaurant two hours before opening. The cooking staff was prepping in the kitchen when Jake greeted her in the entryway, a carefully conciliatory smile on his face. Tall and thin (thanks to a constitution that burned off everything he ate,) he was the only staff person lean enough to escape her scornful appraisal. The young heiress smiled prettily, almost flirtatiously, as he lead her to the small office behind the register, a dozen kitchen eyes watching them both. Once inside, Ms. Tantalus laid her plans on the table.
"I'm not here to make any sudden changes," she said, commandeering the chair behind Jake's desk. "You folks've all worked hard to make Uncle Dom's restaurants the best in the city, and I see no reason to barge in tampering with things."
"That's nice," Jake said, waiting for the second shoe.
"I do have some ideas, of course," Tammy told him. "But they can wait. Give me a chance to know the staff, learn what they're capable of. I want to make my restaurants better than they've ever been."
Jake nodded, said nothing.
"I want people to think of Antonioni's and its sisters as progressive spots where they can still get tiptop fare and be surprised a little." She picked up a pen, absently chewing on its tip. Her lips seemed to be the only part of her body that had any fat on it. He wondered if she'd had them puffed up surgically.
"A commendable aspiration," Jake answered.
"I am concerned about the health aspect of our food," she continued. "I know Antonioni's specializes in Italian fare, which is not the most heart-smart cooking around. But that's something that I need to keep to myself - for now, at least. Like I said, I don't want to mess with success."
She paused, obviously waiting for Jake's reaction.
"If you ask me," he finally said, "I think you've set the proper course: start with the same routine Dom used to shepherd his restaurants, modify later. Your uncle was quite precise about the way he oversaw things. I suppose you'll want to start on his schedule today."
"Of course," she smiled.
"One thing that I'm sure you noticed is that each of Dom's - that is, your - restaurants has a different opening time. There's a reason for this: the schedule allowed him time to get to each place prior to opening and sample its service. You never knew what Dom would order, so you had to be prepared for anything on the menu. Some nights, he'd also come in during a place's most hectic serving hour and ask to be seated then, too. Wanted to see how we did under pressure."
"Makes sense."
"Dom was our harshest critic," Jake said, "quick to spot an off cheese sauce or a less-than-prime cut of meat. He loved good food."
"And showed it," Tammy said, with a trace of a sneer.
"I suppose he did," the maitre d' shrugged, "but it never hurt him when it came to members of the opposite sex." Which was true: the only way Dom's size had been a handicap was in giving that jealous husband an unmissable target.
"You may be right," the new restaurateur said, an unreadable expression on her pinched face. She stood from behind the desk. "I'd like to see the kitchen before being served," Tammy said. She lithely moved ahead of Jake, her trim end straightforwardly aiming toward the kitchen doors. He silently followed.
When she finished her inspection of the cooking area (Lord knew what she was looking for,) she had Jake lead her to the dining room. He took her to Dom's personal booth, one of several modified past typical restaurant specs to suit the larger customer. Tammy chose from all over the menu - eggs tonnata, spaghetti frittata, pasta primavera - hesitantly pronouncing each item. At least she wasn't a vegetarian.
Per instructions, her helpings were small, just enough to give her a taste of each item without frightening her off. She finished each morsel eagerly. "Delicious," she pronounced when she'd finished. It'd better be, he thought, considering the additional care that had been lavished on her servings.
Jake escorted her to Dominique's on the other side of town, pulling out his best restaurant stories along the way. At Dominique's the fare was less upscale but still appetizing. Again the helpings were minuscule: the maitre d' wanted her to get used to finishing every item placed in front of her. From the zeal with which she devoured her ravioli, it looked like this wouldn't be a problem.
He took Tammy Tantalus through the rest of her new empire, letting her choose her own samplings. When he brought her back to Antonioni's the place was bustling. "Well, what do you think?" he said.
"Not bad," Tammy admitted, stifling a belch. "I can see why Uncle Dom made it a part of his life."
At Jake's signal, a tray was rolled to the table. "Haven't had dessert yet," he said. "You should probably sample one of ours."
The thin girl looked at the rows of Italian pastries. "I haven't eaten anything like this in ages," she said. "But it does look good." She selected a cannoli and, before the tray could be wheeled away, took another. Excellent, Jake thought.
And so Jake Meche's plan was set in motion. He continued to escort young Tammy through the late Dom's empire and encouraged her as she tasted her way through bigger and bigger servings. By the end of two weeks, she was eating children's portions at all three restaurants, finishing them off with barely a loss of breath. By the end of the month, the heiress was near full servings, going at them all with gusto and smacking appreciation. At the pizza parlors, she was making her way through two ten-inchers. Jake couldn't believe the ease with which she shucked off her former lifestyle and replaced it with such avid gormandizing.
It all started to show on her. From an athletic and somewhat prickly girl, Tammy transformed into a softer, more sensual woman. Her waist filled in. Her breasts, once so flat, rounded out. Her hips began to spread.
As he observed this metamorphosis, Jake found himself growing increasingly more intrigued. What started as a ploy to redirect Tammy's view of Dom's restaurants evolved into something more stimulating. He stayed up nights looking for new concoctions to tempt her palette, spent more time badgering the kitchen staff to be creative. The look of appreciation on her chubby face was something to see.
Tammy Tantalus' initiation into the world of good food became Jake's consuming passion.
Three months passed, and Tammy had gained more than fifty pounds, a more enjoyably softer version of herself. Her appetite grew with her body. Six months on, and she was chewing her way through meals that would daunt all but the heartiest eater - and doing it five times a day! When she finished her rounds, she'd return to Antonioni's and nibble her way through the dessert tray.
All the energy that she'd once devoted to keeping trim and athletic had now apparently gone the opposite direction.
By her half-year anniversary, Tammy Tantalus was in the mid-size range, knocking on three-hundred pounds. Her face had filled in wonderfully with a trio of chins. Her upper arms had grown textured and plump with a fold on her inner elbow. Her breasts were definitely noticeable now, pushing past her swollen belly. Pendulously hanging, they presented a marvelously deep cleavage.
The rest of Tammy's body was harder to scan, for she'd taken to wearing dresses that obscured her widening calves and thighs. That didn't stop Jake from trying to visualize her hidden limbs, of course. Her ankles had clearly filled in, losing definition except for a growing crease in front. In place of over-priced gym shoes, the mid-sized beauty had taken to wearing comfortable and stylish flats. She let her blond hair grow with the rest of her, wearing it in a deliberately tousled style.
He'd grown, Jake reflected, as addicted to the sight of Tammy's ongoing accumulation as she had to the food he placed before her. Her enthusiastic assaults on every one of her restaurants' offerings, her expanding goodwill and compliments toward both cooks and servers, her developing discrimination - these all added to his swelling infatuation. Where once his life had been devoted to Antonioni's, it all became secondary to the task of keeping Tammy Tantalus' stretching appetite satisfied.
This soon became a full-time job. The restaurant heiress took to coming into Antonioni's earlier and earlier, commandeering her booth and dining the day away. Impatient at the delay caused by driving cross town to her satellite restaurants, she started having her other meals brought to her. Jake obliged, recruiting his best drivers from the two pizza parlors, but it wasn't always smooth going. The only time he saw her lose her otherwise affable temper was the night a serving got delayed in traffic.
"You expect me to eat cold pork piccata?" she snarled, jowls quivering as she brandished her flabby forearm over the late meal. Snapping his finger, Jake pulled in a quick replacement, one of Tammy's favorites (roast pork stuffed with sausage,) and smiled as she consumed her fourth helping of the dish that night. Her righteous anger at an improperly served made the maitre d' both proud and excited. In that moment, she was the sexiest he'd ever seen her.
By year's end, they had to renovate Tammy's booth. Even at its expansive size, it was too tight for her.
The fat heiress was over the twice the size of her six-month mark, a phenomenal gain that had surpassed anything Jake had imagined. All trace of the earlier girl jock Tammy had vanished: at her present size, she was breathing heavily just waddling across the room. He loved to watch her enter the restaurant: dimpled hips bumping against booths and tables, tailored dress clinging to her gelatinous flesh, a slight sheen of perspiration on her sausagey upper lip, she was both massive and sultry. With her hair piled and framing her carefully made-up face, Tammy exuded femininity and voluptuous appreciation so strongly that Antonioni's picked up a whole new string of customers: men who came in just to watch her eat.
Occasionally, one of these would venture over to Tammy's booth and attempt to further make her acquaintance. She always politely rebuffed them.
On the anniversary of her night taking over Dom's restaurants, the fat woman invited Jake to her apartment. "I've got some things I need to talk about with you," she told him between bites of spinach lasagna, an excited look in her eyes. "I haven't forgotten my initial plans for this place." Tammy paused, took a long sip of wine. "We need to talk somewhere private, and, frankly, I don't think either chair in your office would fit me."
Jake said nothing, unsure if agreeing would be construed as an insult. He spent the rest of the evening rehashing old worries, doubting for the first time the effectiveness of his scheme.
They took a cab together. The fat woman lived in a large three-room on the fashionable side of town, not too far from the Italian neighborhood that Jake called home. Plush and softly lit, with furniture built to accommodate Tammy's six-hundred-plus-pound frame, the place was a temple of luxury. No matter where you lit, at least one glass bowl filled with something edible was within reach.
"Want a drink?" Tammy asked, steering her vast form toward the kitchen before he could even answer. As he watched her eightysomething hips undulating under her silk dress, he was reminded of the skinny girl strutting ahead of him that first night. The mental contrast started sending signals down his body.
She returned with a couple of wine glasses and a wrapped bottle of Chianti. As she stood before him pouring wine into his glass, her belly loomed in front of him, quivering with her panting breaths. Down boy, he told himself. Backing off, Tammy settled into a chair, took a quick gulp from her glass and sat silently watching him.
"You said," Jake finally opened, "that you had something to talk about."
"A story," she said. "I want to tell you a story." She finished off her drink and then began. "It's about a girl, a young fat girl who grew up in Southern Cal. I don't know if you've been there or not, but there isn't a part of the country less tolerant of young fat girls than the Southern California area. Looking back to that time, the girl doesn't recall much that made her happy.
"Except for two things: food and her uncle. I need to tell you about the fat girl's relative. He didn't show up often, but when he did, it always lifted her spirits. 'Why you lookin' so miserable?' he'd ask, half teasing because he already knew the reason. The fat girl would answer: 'I'm fat and ugly, and nobody wants to be around me.'"
Tammy rose from her chair, took a swig from her wine bottle, then began to lift the dress up her legs. For the first time he saw her magnificently fleshy calves, segmented into two building bulges, blue veins scattered on her tautly stretched flesh. A smile creased her puffy lips as she continued with her story.
"'Fat,' he'd say, 'but never ugly. Don't worry, girl. There'll be plenty of men out there ready to fling themselves at you. Young boys want the skinny half-girls. Men want a woman they can hold onto.'
"The fat girl didn't believe him, of course. Perhaps if he'd been around enough to show off the hefty types he chose as lovers, she might've thought differently. But he lived in a different part of the country entirely. The girl grew fatter and more miserable about herself until finally, in her second year of college, she decided to really do something about it."
She was peeling her dress up over her head now, showing off her thighs and cumbrous belly. Her upper legs were more softly hefty, dimpled and textured with their backs sagging inches below her indiscernible knees. Her seventyish size paunch had a navel deep enough to suck up his index finger; it hung in split bulges like the cheeks of another woman's buttocks.
"The fat girl went on a fast, a Spartan diet that lasted her entire sophomore year. She got into health foods, turned into an exercise junkie, spent more time in the gym than she did in her classes. She barely graduated, but by that time she didn't care. In two years, she'd managed to lose every pound of offending weight on her body.
"One problem, though: being thin wasn't all it was cracked up to be. In fact, it continued to be a full-time task. Nights the formerly fat girl would wake up craving some McDonald's, Taco Bell, Pizza Hug. The formerly fat girl had not been one of those who were big because of any reason other than the obvious: for years, the act of gluttony had been the only ongoing pleasure she'd known. She thought she'd replace her love of eating with a different kind of regimen, but her body wasn't having any of it."
Tammy's dress was on the floor. She stood before Jake unclothed and utterly on display. Her breasts were in the multiple letter size, definitely past the typical tape measure's capacity. They hung in pendulous splendor above the top of her paunch, pressed toward him by the mass her unbelievably full upper arms. Her skin was pale and inviting.
"The formerly fat girl finished school and spent the next year drifting through a series of unsatisfactory jobs. Then she received this letter from a lawyer in the mid-west.. Her uncle'd left her an inheritance. She left for the city unsure of the nature of this inheritance but determined to make something of it.
"Once she discovered what it was - a string of restaurants - the former fat girl nearly left town. Here she'd spent the last five years fighting her appetite, and now she was in a position to have it constantly tempted. To compound matters, there was a man in the picture, an attractive man nearly ten years her senior, pushing all this luscious stuff on her.
"She stayed, though, and I'll tell you why. It quickly became clear to her - if not to him - that his feeding her was a source of erotic tension. Her uncle'd been right: here was a man who was attracted by the thought of a fatter her, and it was incredibly exciting for both of them. The more she ate under his direction, the more aroused she became - like nothing she'd ever felt before. The formerly fat girl jumped off her diet, and her body rejoiced. And naturally, she quickly gained her old weight back and then some. She decreased her exercise regimen, focusing on keeping herself limber and strong enough to carry her growing weight. By the end of the year, she was two-and-half times bigger than she'd ever been.
"The end."
Tammy reached down and grasped the wine bottle, took a long slug and demonstratively licked its neck. Her upper arm sagged around the join of her elbow, hanging past her mams. She eyed Jake questioningly.
"Some story," he gasped.
"It has a sequel," she answered, and she turned to slowly walk to her bedroom.
Jake followed, eyes on her jiggling form all the way. She sat on the edge of her bed, hips spreading and smoothing with the redistribution of weight. He pointed toward her pendant paunch; her pudgy fingers stretched to unzip him.
"Looks yummy," she purred, as a droplet appeared on the edge of his freed manhood. Lying back with her feet on the floor, her belly rose and quivered in front of him - a life all its own, demanding its own attentions. He quickly stripped and prepared to give it all the nurturing that it needed.
Straddling her head with his knees pressed against her soft shoulders, erection within reach of those divine fat lips, Jake worked his way around her paunch. His tongue slid across her stretch-marks; his fingertips pressed against each dimple and node of cellulite. He tasted the salty traces of her belly folds. The further he went, the more he sunk into her mountainous form.
It took some prying to reach his final destination, though. Tammy's thigh folds and belly hang both conspired to keep him from her. But with her help, he persevered. As he reached her sexual center, with his lips, he felt his shaft nudge its way down the fat woman's mouth. Tammy shuddered as he parted her labial lips, and for an instant, he feared her belly would push free from her hands and shove him out of reach. Her palms kept her paunch in line, though.
He began to probe her with his tongue. Tammy's voice was muffled by the press of flesh against both sides of his head, but her bucking torso told him he was doing fine. His shaft found a place between both mams. She stiffened beneath him and let out a yowl that was loud enough to reach his swaddled ears.
He rose for air and let loose all he had, hot juices streaming up her mounding belly. Behind Jake, Tammy worked to catch her breath.
Jake turned to face her, long legs straddling her paunch. She smiled up at him, jowls creasing emphatically, and said, "I've been wanting to do this for months!"
"Why didn't you?" Jake asked.
"Wasn't sure how to approach you," she gasped. "You were obviously turned on by your scheme, and I was afraid to let you know I was in on it." She sighed wistfully, reached for a chocolate kiss on the bed-stand. "Some men get off on the image of Great Psychological Manipulator," she continued. "I wasn't sure what I should tell you." She balled the chocolate wrapping between thumb and forefinger, put the kiss between her teeth. Jake felt himself awakening.
"At first I was only doing it for the restaurant," he said. "But I never knew a woman like you could be so damn attractive."
"That makes two of us," Tammy chuckled, as she bit into her candy. "Guess this has been a learning experience for both of us." Jake massaged her belly, felt it flow around his hands. She reached for a handful of unwrapped candy and quickly did it in. She was insatiable, he thought, and his mind visualized the fat woman growing even larger as the years progressed. As she reached for another helping, Jake stiffened all the way.
Tammy paused in her snacking long enough to notice the weight of his erection. "You do love to watch me eat," she grinned, wonder and gratitude flitting across her fleshy face. "And to think I once considered changing the fare at my restaurants."
"And now?"
"I wanted to talk to you about the sauce on tonight's tortellini: it was a little light on garlic."
Jake fell against the fat restaurateur, laughing and kissing her blubbery cheeks. After a year of planning and growing lust, the maitre d' was unequivocally in love. . .
They married six months and another hundred pounds later. Six months after, Jake's wife took a leave of absence from the restaurant business to have their first and only child. It was a surprisingly easy pregnancy, and though the young mother-to-be was no longer holding court in her booth, she never wanted for plenty of her restaurants' fare. With a fleet of deliverymen at her beck and call plus her own personal waitress, Tammy fed like she was eating for two - two Tammys, that is.
When she finally gave birth to the future recipient of Uncle Dom's legacy, Tammy Meches was more than four times her young fat girl self. She'd outgrown her revamped booth, but vetoed any plans to rebuild it yet again. To do so, Tammy correctly noted, would be to take away space for a paying customer booth.
Her days were spent reading recipes out loud to her infant daughter, doing her limited exercises and carefully reviewing every dish that was brought to her. Nights she spent with Jake, making a course of all five eateries' dinner specials. She didn't miss her daily treks to Antonioni's . Tammy had complete confidence in her husband's ability to manage their restaurants.
Her confidence wasn't misplaced. Under Jake's loving devotions, the late Dom Antonioni's empire continued to flourish and grow.
As did Tammy.
Revised version copyright © 1998 - Oakhaus Designs