by Wilson Barbers
Thursday nights at the Oaktown Buffet were usually slow (most of the small-town diners apparently preferring to stay home from some teevee sitcom viewing), but that was the way Jim liked it. As manager/part owner, he felt the need to be there every night of the week, so he appreciated a chance to kick back some. A slightly chunky mid-western bachelor, he had inherited his share of the restaurant from his father and generally enjoyed the business: he knew most of his customers by name as well as their favorite dishes. Thursday nights held few surprises, which was okay by him.
He was sitting behind the cash register, flirting with Amy, the perpetually dieting waitress, when the couple came in. He'd remember this moment the rest of his life because it'd change the way he viewed much of the world. The double doors swung open, and the husband entered first, holding the right door for his wife who would have to push the left one out. She was so wide there was no way she could go through one door easily. She smiled at him with full sausagey lips, and the duo waddled over to the cash register. They were readily the fattest couple Jim had ever seen.
The fat man leaned against the register counter, huge belly flattening as he put both huge hands on the edge. He was in his mid- to late-thirties, dressed in a wildly colorful Hawaiian shirt and white pants that accentuated his vastly overhanging belly. "Have you got a table for two?" he asked in a soft voice. One with a lot of room preferably and close to the buffet."
"Why, I think so," Jim answered, thinking quickly that he could take one of the foursome tables and pull two tables away - good thing this was a slow night - and then wondering how obvious he should be about what he was doing. He didn't want to insult the couple.
But it turned out they weren't about to be insulted by references to their unusual size. "If you have to give us a table for four, we don't mind," the broad-beamed femme was saying, a sweet smile in her jowly face. "We know we take up a lot of room." Her hubby turned and winked at her with that, and Jim took the woman fully in. She had reddish long hair and round eyes that weren't obscured by her fulsome face. She was wearing a lightweight summer dress with short sleeves that bit into her massive upper arms and hugged her fleshy form. There was no attempt to hide any of her burgeoning body - the massive breasts that obviously outweighed her bra and jiggled with every adjustment of her body, the thrusting belly that announced her presence at least a foot ahead of the rest of her, her mammoth hips and thighs. Most fat folk Jim knew carried themselves as if they wished they could disappear from sight that very instant: this twosome advertised their obesity!
"My name is Bob," the fat man was saying as Amy left to ready their table, his handshake swallowing Jim's own good sized paw, "and this is My Better Half, Ann." Better two-thirds was closer to the mark, Jim thought: the woman looked to outweigh her hubby by at least a hundred pounds.
"You new in town?" Jim asked.
"Just passing through," Ann answered. "We're on vacation and traveling in our RV." Just the thought of these two packed in a recreational vehicle was boggling. . .
Amy returned to lead them to their table, which was by the buffet's exit. Jim left the register to watch (momentarily unsure that the restaurant's chairs would hold either one.) Neither Bob nor Ann sat down, however; standing by their waitress, they requested their drinks and immediately ambled over to the line. The buffet was obscured by a separating half wall and some curtains, which kept Jim watching them make their salad selections; he knew they were going to cram their salad bowls, though.
He was wrong; they hadn't bothered with bowls but instead had gone ahead to where the dinner plates were and had filled two apiece. Ann seemed big on pasta and potato salad, with grated cheese spread atop both, while Bob seemed to go for the greens. They placed their plates on the table, then Bob went back to the line for some bread. Ann sank onto her chair, thighs overlapping both sides, her belly settling into a mountain of expanding folds, her legs spread widely apart to accommodate the avoirdupois. Her dress looked about to pop from the strain of her sitting, but the chair held her - what? - five-hundred-plus pounds. She daintily adjusted a napkin in the neck of her dress (for there was no way her body would allow her to lean over the table) and went at the first of her salad plates.
She ate slowly at first, savoring each forkful as it entered her mouth, her eyes half closed in concentration. Across the table, her hubby had joined her and was buttering some buns, watching his wife eat with a look that Jim have thought was lust in any other context. Then he started in on his own meal.
Amy joined her boss after depositing two large glasses of milk at the couple's table. "Amazing," she said to Jim. "I asked them if they wanted two-percent milk, and they laughed at me. 'None of that watered-down crap for us,' that Bob guy said. You'd think a couple as porky at that would want to take care of themselves!"
"It looks like they are," Jim said, as he watched Bob hand a roll over the table to his wife.
They went back for salads a second time and then advanced to the main courses. The night's buffet selection had included roast beef, barbecue chicken and stuffing, ravioli, fried catfish and a selection of vegetables. The couple had it all and then some, going two plates at a time and devouring more food than four families in a single night. The second time through, Ann had taken a plate of potatoes and gravy that was larger than most folks' full meals! The longer the night went on, the faster the two went at their plates, forks flashing and glinting in the dim restaurant light. Jim and Amy watched in amazement, and after a while, the rest of the night's scattered clientele began to take an interest, too. It wasn't just because nobody had ever seen two people eat so much before: the more the fat pair ate, the more erotic the atmosphere seemed to become.
As they devoured their meals, the eye contact between Ann and Bob grew in intensity; the physical contact as they passed down the buffet line increased. Chins quivering with every chew, fat jiggling with every adjustment they made in their seats, the couple were soon locked in each others' eyes as they lovingly fed their mountainous bodies. Jim had never seen anything like it in his life. The two were getting him aroused the longer he watched them. At one point he looked over at an enraptured Amy, who was also watching them after her umpteenth milk refill. The plump waitress had the tip of her tongue in the right corner of her lips and seemed to be breathing deeper. When the fat man stopped to loosen his belt, Jim swore he heard a tiny moan from the waitress.
Three hours after they'd begun, the duo went for dessert. They'd made an uncharacteristic deep dent in the Thursday buffet line, Jim noticed, and he wasn't surprised to see them demolish the dessert line (cheesecake, two plates of chocolate cake apiece, tapioca with whipped cream, and soft ice cream out of a machine). They asked for coffee with full cream ("None of this watered-down Half-and-Half crap!") then asked for their check.
They gave Amy a great tip ("We know you have to do a lot more plate pick-up with us than usual," Bob said nonchalantly) and made their way to the register arm-in-arm. The effects of their massive dining binge were palpable. Bob's shirt gapped between the buttons and had come untucked; his zipper was exposed by the belly pressure against the front of his pants. Ann's dress was straining at the seams and indeed had come undone for about an inch at her widest roll, white flesh peaking out enticingly. Between two of her chins was a small streak of cherry cheesecake sauce.
"This bill," Bob said, as soon as he got to the register. "I think you made a mistake and undercharged us."
"This is a buffet," Jim answered, amazed at the statement. "There's just one price, no matter how much you eat."
"We realize that," Ann interjected, "but it hardly seems fair considering how much more than the average customer we ate."
"That's alright," Jim said. "I don't think I'd be in business long with too many customers like you all the time, but it was a pleasure to watch you appreciate my food."
"We do like good food," the fat man said as he pulled his wallet out of his shirt pocket (there was no way it could have fit in his pants, as tight as they were!) "We're part of a restaurant partnership back home ourselves." He dropped two twenties on the register, three times the buffet price. "But this is our vacation, and we refuse to cheat anybody."
"I'd be a fool to argue," Jim said, as he plunked the bills into his register.
Bob turned to his wife, licked a fat forefinger and used it to wipe the cherry sauce off her face. "Do you have a breakfast buffet?" he asked, thoughtfully licking the sauce off his fingertip. Jim nodded. "Then be ready for us!" With that, they turned, Bob left hand on the nearest of his wife's jiggling cheeks, and went for the door, bumping each other's elephantine hips sexily.
"Phew!" Jim said to Amy as the last of the regulars straggled out (they'd finished their meals two hours before but had stayed to watch). "Quite a couple!"
"I'll say," the round-faced waitress answered. "They got me hot just watching them!"
"You hungry?" the manager asked, looking lasciviously at her Rubenesque form, wondering what it would look like with even more poundage added to it.
"I'm starved," Amy stated, and the two locked the doors, Jim ready to dive into his second dinner of the night and Amy about to throw away her diet books forever.
Bob and Ann parked their RV by a field outside of town, then prepared to bed down. Because of their size, they'd rebuilt the interior, taking the old bed out and putting in a super king-size mattress along the floor. It made walking inside the recreational vehicle awkward, but they were used to making accommodations for their size. Bob punched on the CD player as he kicked off his shoes, and Diane Schuur began warbling from a pair of hanging speakers. They undressed one at a time, watching each other lustfully as their fat escape the confines of clothing. When the two of them had gotten married, they'd been average-size, but years of eating together had built them up wonderfully to the point where they pushed a half ton as a couple and had passed their similarly rotund partners in the restaurant business two years ago.
Lying on his back, weight spread across the mattress, Bob admired his wife as she pulled her underwear down her overflowing thighs, catching in the hang of fat at the back of her knees and straining over each great round calf. Her breasts and belly swayed before him as she kicked the lingerie behind her; her multiply chinned face grinned down at him. She kneeled down atop him, their full bellies pushing against each other. "Too heavy," Bob said with a gasp, and she let her weight up a bit. "I'm still pretty full."
"I know a way you can fill me with some of what you've got," his heavyweight spouse said, as she rolled off onto her right side. Her body shifted and settled against the mattress, and Bob turned to face her. Soon he was pushing his fat fingers under the dual hangs of her belly, probing into the thatch of hair that announced her vagina. He kissed and nipped at her sixty-inch breasts, as she lightly traced the folds of his torso. They were ready to come together quickly, for dinner had been much of their foreplay. Ann rolled onto her back, and Bob got to his knees. She spread her huge legs to receive him, lifting them before him to make it easier to get past her full thighs. Holding his belly up with his hands, he pushed his rod into her, and they thus put a cap on the evening.
"This has been some vacation," she said to him when they finally separated and were able to get close enough to each other's faces to once more kiss on the lips. "Traveling from town to town, buffet to buffet. How far do you think we've gotten?"
"About forty miles," Bob said with a grin. "Every small-town seems to have its all-you-can-eat restaurant. But, hey, we've got another two days. Who knows - maybe we'll be able to make a full fifty!"
Ann smiled and stood, edging her way around her reclining mountain of a husband (giving Bob a momentary glimpse of her wet underbelly) toward the RV fridge. For a post-coital snack.
