Weight Room Title Bar

by OneSzFtzAl

Working evenings at a fast-food place can be very interesting. You got budget-date couples sharing an order of fries and a coke like it's a romantic thing instead of just plain cheap. Homeless people and alcoholics scrounging for change to buy a burger. Mentally unbalanced weirdoes grabbing the paying customers and freaking out. Yeah, it's a strange place to be after midnight, but it pays the bills and I don't have to strain my brain.

The only bright spots in my night are the fat ladies that come to the drive-thru window. Yeah, you heard me, FAT. What a beautiful word. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing that makes my heart run circles around my libido more than a really big woman. I can spot one from the second she orders without even looking back at her. There's something timid - almost apologetic - in the way she orders her food. The words come out sounding like she's asking permission to buy food from me. The fat guys who order don't seem to have that problem. I don't know why, but I don't care, either. The ladies always get extra fries or pie if I can slip it in without anyone noticing.

Let me tell you, I've seen my share of big babes, but I was not ready for this one. I heard her '78 Regal come chugging toward the Burger Barn, engine huffing and puffing while it tried to carry her to the drive-thru entrance at the top of the hill. The brakes squealed a complaint as she pulled to a stop in front of the menu board.

At the time, I was paying more attention to the noise her car was making than to who was in it. And the way she ordered didn't give me any clues, either. There was no shyness in her voice!

"I'll have three Bigger Burgers with extra cheese and sauce, three Super fries, two Cluckin' Nuggets, four cherry pies, and four shakes - two chocolate, one banana, and one vanilla."

My fingers tripped across the register keys. "That'll be $24.65. Pull up to the window to pay."

The crew sprang into action to put the order together. I waited by the window while the Regal whined to a stop. I was opening bags and putting napkins and straws in them, waiting for the order, when I heard a woman's voice from the car.

"Damn!" she said. "I dropped my change! It's down by my feet and I can't reach it. Could you come out and help me, please?"

Oh great, I thought. Another airhead. I went outside and walked to the driver's door.

"I'm pulled up so close to the window that I can't open it enough to get out," she said. Funny, there seemed to be plenty of room for me to get by with some to spare. I opened the driver's door. Looking down in the darkness, I couldn't find the floor, let alone her change.

"Here, let me turn on the overhead light," she said.

The light flipped on, and I understood why she was having trouble reaching. This was a huge woman. Everything about her was big and beautiful - her chubby face sporting three chins; her endless cleavage trying to break free from her strained sweater; her expansive tummy with its' apron that you could see from the outline through her pants. It hung down between her rippling, massive legs. And her incredible bottom covered most of the bench seat in that boat of a car. My mind tried to imagine how she'd gotten behind the wheel in the first place.

Trying not to drool all over her lap, I bent down and started fishing for the change. I had to push the flesh of her thighs and calves aside so I could rummage on the floor. Mumbling "excuse me", I pushed her left leg gently aside, its' softness giving way to my fingertips . Finally, all the coins and bills were located. I found myself secretly wishing she'd dropped her life savings in nickels in that car.

I excused myself, went back into the building, and rang up the sale on the register. Handing her the sales slip and her change, I looked into her sweet blue eyes and said "PLEASE come again." We stared at each other for what seemed like hours but was probably two seconds, then she pulled away.

I thought she was gone for the night, but when I went out to the parking lot to empty the trash cans, there was her Regal parked in the far corner. The engine was off but she'd left the inside light on. As I walked toward the trash can near her car, I could hear the Beach Boys on the radio. They were playing "Surfin' Safari". I slowly pulled the trash bag out of the can, taking my time while I stared at her as she ate.

I love to see a woman eat, especially a really fat woman. My mind runs in ten different directions that all lead to a base of operations just south of my belt buckle. I wonder how much food it took to get her to that size. I wonder where the meal she's eating will wind up on her body. I wonder how many Bigger Burgers with extra cheese and sauce it would take to put, say, fifty more pounds on her. And more stuff that I wouldn't even tell myself, if that was possible. I stood there, openly staring at her and twisting the trash bag so tightly it probably would have taken off by itself if I'd let go. That's when she looked up from her meal and caught me.

"Can I help you?" she said, a couple of fries poised to meet their maker in her pudgy hand. I couldn't speak, I was so flustered. Again she asked, "Is there something you want?"

"Yes. Uh, I mean, no! Uh, I mean... well... it's just that I was wondering if you're new in the neighborhood. I don't remember seeing you here before, and I know most of the late-night regulars."

She swallowed the food in her mouth. "I'm not usually out this late at night, but I had dinner at my parents' house tonight and I was starving." She laughed. "Let me explain that! You see, I'd rather eat like a bird at my parents' house than listen to them lecture me on weight loss for the entire evening. By the time I leave their place, I NEED a decent meal. If you can call drive-thru food decent. No offense."

"None taken. Listen, if I wasn't working here, I wouldn't eat this stuff. But hey, it's nearby and cheap." I started to put a new trash bag in the can. "So why do you eat this stuff? Aren't there some nice restaurants you like around here?"

"Sure, there are plenty of them. I'd love some good quality food. But going into a restaurant for me is like facing a firing squad. Going to a drive-thru window takes 90% of the judgment out of a meal." She handed me the now-empty bags. "Here's some more trash to add to your collection."

I took the bags from her, praying that she wouldn't see how much my hand was shaking. "Maybe you need an escort. Or a gopher." I tried to look at her face, but I had to settle for concentrating on her long blonde hair. "I'd love to help you out. You shouldn't have to settle for less than what you want." I paused, this time looking in her eyes. "My name is Brian."

"I'm Cheryl. Nice to meet you." She held out her hand and I shook it, thanking God for the breeze in the air that was keeping my hands from feeling clammy.

"I don't think having an escort would help," she said. "It doesn't make me any more acceptable. I still have a problem with that. But if you'd like to do dinner some time, I'd love it if you'd pick up something really good."

"No time like the present," I said, seizing the moment. "Any chance you're still hungry?"

"I never turn down a good meal," she said. "Especially when I have good company to go with it." Cheryl smiled at me, winking slightly. That did it. The Burger Barn was gonna be minus one employee tonight.

I made some quick half-assed excuse to my manager and headed out to the Regal. I opened the passenger door and realized to my delight that it would be a tight squeeze with both of us in the front seat. The only roomy area was the floor, which was good news for my long legs. Her seats were as far back as they could go to make room for her belly to fit behind the wheel.

She was quite a sight from the passenger door. Her blonde hair led your eyes naturally down her cherubic face and over the expanse of her body, tumbling down her ample shoulders to her sweater-clad breasts. The sweater ended abruptly at her waistline, threatening to roll up her tummy. Her pants were stretchy and defined everything from her enormous hips and sloping apron stomach to the cascading rolls of flesh on her thighs. She wore simple ballet slippers on her feet, and even they were bulging. All of this in one woman - and I was going to wedge myself into that car next to her! I took a deep breath and worked my way into the passenger seat.

Cheryl turned to me and smiled. "Okay, sir! Where to?"

"That all depends," I said. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Food. Lots of it. And I like variety. That's why I like going to drive-thrus. I can go on my own fast-food safari." She patted her belly and giggled.

"You got it," I replied. "Just so happens I know all the good restaurants that are open late." I pointed her in the direction of Restaurant Row.

Our first stop was to the best rib joint in town. You could smell the smoky sauce in the air. I ordered two slabs of spareribs with all the fixins, and put it in the back seat. Stop number two was the local Italian place, where I emerged loaded down with a bag full of fettucine Alfredo, garlic bread, a huge antipasto, and enough breadsticks to feed a dozen people - or my lovely date. In my other hand I balanced one of their special 28" Party Pizzas with everything on it but anchovies.

Next stop was to Fong's, the unsung hero of Chinese cuisine. Two orders each of Kung-Pao Chicken and Sweet and Sour Pork and sixteen egg rolls later, we were on our way to our final destination. I could tell the back seat was calling Cheryl. The delicious smells were driving her insane, which in turn was driving me insane. But we'd both have to wait just a little while longer.

Our last purchase was made at the Baskin-Robbins around the corner from Cheryl's house. She told me how many times she wanted to go in and get something, but didn't dare for fear of being ridiculed. Well, I was going to solve that problem. I brought out a list of flavors to the car, and she ordered two of her favorites. Her mouth dropped when I came out with one gallon of each flavor and an ice-cream cake. I had just enough money left to cover the ice cream, but I didn't care. For an evening like this, I'd crawl home on my hands and knees. We took our munchies back to her place.

It took three trips to the car, but eventually I got everything into her apartment. By that time, she'd already finished half a slab of ribs and was damn near done with the quart of coleslaw. I sat down on the couch next to her, smiling like a drunk idiot. Maybe I was drunk - with lust. My eyes were fixed on her lips as bite after bite disappeared down that deceptively dainty mouth.

"C'mon," she said. "Dig in. There's plenty here."

"I'm not hungry right now," I said. "Do you mind if I just watch you enjoy yourself?" I held my breath while I waited for her reaction.

"That's okay with me," she said, licking barbecue sauce off her fingers. "But I don't promise there'll be anything left over by the time you're ready to eat."

Could she have said anything hotter to me at that moment? I don't think so. I smiled and said, "That's okay. I'd rather be a spectator anyway." I looked down and felt my face turning red after that last statement.

"Well, I hope you aren't a spectator all the time." And with that, she slid one of her sauce-covered fingers into my mouth.

I stared at her as I slowly drew her finger out of my mouth. I knew we both had the same look in our eyes. I knew we both wanted the same thing. I began to lick the rest of her fingers. She leaned toward me, still holding a rib bone in her other hand, and brushed her lips against mine.

Our lips felt saucy and slippery and I wanted her very badly. My hands skimmed along the side of her incredible shape, marveling at its' varied areas of firm fat and soft flesh. I wanted to see more, do more. As I said, I love to see a fat woman eat. And if I could help her, that was even better.

Taking a juicy rib between my fingers, I held it up to her lips. She looked at me and, with a devilish glint in her eyes, slowly slid the entire length of the rib (save what I was holding) past her lips, When she drew it out, the meat was completely gone. One bite, that was all! I was hypnotized.

I kept offering her more, and she never once said "enough" or "I'm full". I couldn't believe one person could eat this much, but I wasn't going to argue. Here and there, I would kiss her as she ate, my tongue tasting the heat of the Kung-Pao chicken or the sweetness of the Peanut Butter Fudge ice cream My hands would explore her tummy, feeling its' expanding proportions with each biteful. And it seemed Cheryl was finally getting everything her heart desired - freedom to enjoy her food, and someone to enjoy her.

Three hours later, the feast was over. Boxes, bags and ice cream containers littered the livingroom. Cheryl laid back on the couch, rubbing her tummy to help digest her food. She looked around the room at the remnants of the repast and laughed.

"This has got to be a new record," she giggled. "Did I really eat all of this stuff?"

"Oh yes, you did," I said. "You have a witness."

"Oh yeah, that's right," she said. "You're the spectator, huh?"

"I've changed. I'm an active participant now." I leaned toward her for one more kiss. She pulled me on top of her and I found myself surfing the big wave of her belly as out tongues met.

I'd like to tell you what happened next that night, but I'm a gentleman. Let's just say it was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Of course, I had to find a better-paying job to foot the bill for my baby's goodies, but it's worth it. Now I do the food safari and she stays home and gets bigger and more beautiful every day. We're pretty close to having doubled her weight in the last year. And I still love to see her eat.