George Knopf
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The Restaurant: Chapter 4
🕑 Added 2024-01-28 16:00:03 +0000 UTCWe sat on the back patio of the Eagle. I leaned against Dave who had his arm around me, my neck in his armpit. My T-shirt was deliberately small. It clung to my belly like a second skin exposing the indentation of my belly button. The IPA I was sipping on was bloating me up with each sip and challenging the elasticity of the cheap cotton shirt.
Dave was wearing a tattered old muscle tee that displayed his expansive physique to the fresh air. From the side you could see everything: meaty pecs sagging with muscle and fat into his arm pits, a belly that crested outward into his lap, strong arms with a few traditional tattoos, and a whole lot of body hair. He was really in his element at a bear bar and together we were attracting a lot of attention.
The other men scattered about were eyeing us, motioning toward us, and chattering. I wondered what they were saying, presuming it was something to the effect of “why would that big ol’ bear be into that awkward younger guy?” Finally, one of the men approached us. He looked to be in his 40s, handlebar mustache, extremely buff and fatter than Dave with a massive beach ball gut that intentionally fell naked from the bottom of his shirt.
“Looks like you’re really fattening up your twink, huh?” he said directly to Dave.
It was both arousing and annoying to be so ignored. I felt like a little piglet they might pass around after a few more drinks. A sex object. A hole. I started getting horny thinking about it. I was constantly horny lately.
“Au contraire,” Dave replied. “It’s the twink who is fattening both of us up.”
Dave was correct. In fact, just a few hours ago I had Dave step on a scale for the second time since we first hooked up a month ago. He weighed 275 pounds, which was up from 270 the month prior. Mind you, this is the man who said with complete sincerity that he weighed 230 pounds ever since he left the military. Clearly, he didn’t need much encouragement but I was giving it anyway and keeping myself well-fed along the way.
I gained 7 pounds in the same amount of time, an all time record for me. At 217 I was now noticeably pudgy. Apparently enough so that random bears at the bar were commenting on the fact. It certainly felt great. My thighs were really beginning to fill out and my face was looking fuller as well. There really was no hiding it. Sucking in was a thing of the past.
The man with the handlebar mustache looked down at me and nodded approvingly.
“Good boy,” he said in a gruff tone that instantly had me erect.
He leaned forward awkwardly, struggling to support the heft of his gut, and patted me on the stomach. My belly jiggled wildly beneath the firm pat. I was a lot softer than this guy, it was obvious.
“Keep up the good work,” he said.
I was fully hard and pumping out precum after that exchange. See, after Dave stepped off the scale this morning, I couldn’t quite control myself. I was down on my knees almost instantly. His cock was girthy and surrounded by a dense bush, half erect and waiting. I sucked on his balls a bit before taking his shaft in my mouth, rubbing the heavy underside of his gut all the while. It didn’t take long before I had him pumping a load down my throat as I stroked myself. He offered, but I didn’t want to come yet. I liked holding my load all day. It encouraged me to eat more as my brain became plagued with horny thoughts.
“What’s this?” the mustache man said and pulled at the hem of my shirt exposing a cum stain. “You’re a real pig aren’t you?”
I nodded submissively.
“Look how that made you hard. Isn’t that cute?” He turned back to Dave, “You’ve got a real keeper with this one. Don’t let him out of your sight,” he said forebodingly and walked away.
I could’ve started jacking off then and there. I hoped that Dave realized I was a keeper. We were moving fast after months of build up and anticipation. Dave switched our schedules around so we had the same days off. I was sure that our coworkers were suspicious but I tried to ignore that. The past month we spent nearly every day together and it was fantastic. Basically all we did was eat, drink, smoke weed, and fuck. What more could you ask for?
We both had a love for IPAs and kept our fridges well stocked. Besides daily leftovers from the restaurant, we were getting a lot of fast food and takeaway, usually punctuated by smoking sessions. Dave loved to smoke and I didn’t mind indulging his habit. It made sex better anyway. And boy was the sex good. I couldn’t get enough of Dave’s heft and continual expansion. His hairy sweaty body completely encumbered mine. He enjoyed my thickness as well, especially when I was bottoming. He would slap my ass and belly like I was his prized pig.
Needless to say, I had gotten Dave accept his size and open up to the idea of gaining more. He was genuinely in denial about the weight he had put on and I think my admiration made it an easier pill to swallow. I mean, he barely even batted an eye when I finally confessed I liked the idea of both us getting fatter. He was a keeper in my book.
The men at the bar continued to keep an eye on us as we ordered another round and got cuddly on the bench. I played along with the spectacle, rubbing Dave’s belly a bit and even licking his armpit. The latter move had every person in the bar staring and shifting the boners around in their pants. About ten minutes later our pizzas from the joint next door arrived. Two large pepperonis.
We dug in with gusto, paying no mind to the grease staining our shirts or dripping down our faces. We ate quickly, as was our norm, folding each slice up and inhaling it in a few bites. I was pretty consumed with eating but I did catch one guy across the room whose jaw dropped when he saw us pigging out. This is only the beginning I thought to myself.
