Tim pushed the table slightly forward to free himself from the booth, his massive belly straining against the limits of his shirt. The 450-pound man had been at the buffet for hours, and the sight of so much food had sent him into a frenzy. He was a regular here but tonight the food just seemed to hit right.
As he waddled up to the three rows of endless amounts of food, his eyes scanned the myriad of dishes as if he had just walked in. Each time he managed to make it to the bar was like coming home over and over again.
A small family who sat only a few feet away looked at him in disgust. He had gotten six plates of food just in the hour they had been there. The man of the family shook his head as he placed a tip on the table and guided his family towards the front door.
Tim stood at the buffet table, his hefty frame looming over the endless trays of food, his plate already stacked high yet far from full in his mind. At 5'9", his pale skin seemed to glisten slightly under the overhead lights, his thick arms working with mechanical precision as he shoveled portion after portion onto his plate before grabbing another. His black curly hair was a tangled mop, and a dusting of dark stubble framed his round, flushed face. He was in his element.
Sitting a full plate at the edge of the buffet he grabbed a second dish. As he scooped an obscene mound of mashed potatoes onto one side of his plate, letting the thick, buttery dollop ooze over the edges. Next, he heaped on slices of roast beef, barely bothering to stack them neatly, their juices seeping into the potato mountain. A nearby serving spoon digs deep into a tray of macaroni and cheese, and he doesn't hesitate to pile on a portion so large it nearly topples. Cornbread follows, then fried chicken--two, no, three pieces, golden brown and glistening with oil.
As he made his way back through the tables he moaned against the pressure against his body and joints. He could hear the murmurs around him grow louder, whispers weaving through the hum of the buffet. A woman in a floral blouse nudged her friend, her nose wrinkling as she watched gravy spill over the edge of Tim's plates.
"That's just... obscene," she muttered, shaking her head.
A man in a business suit, holding a modest plate with a single chicken breast and a small scoop of greens, sneered in Tim's direction. "No wonder they have to refill the trays so often."
Tim was used to the attention. As he squeezed himself into the small booth where he had been sat his fat adjusted and mounded over the edge of the table almost colliding with his two new plates of food. Only a few inches away sat the two plates he had finished only moments prior.
As Tim settled into his booth, his overloaded plate barely fitting on the table, he took a deep breath before digging in. The first bite of buttery mashed potatoes melts on his tongue, the rich gravy soaking into the soft, fluffy texture. He sighed in satisfaction, ignoring the lingering glances from the other patrons.
A moment later, Philip, the owner of the buffet, strolled over with an easy smile. A thin man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a well-worn apron, he balances a fresh soda in one hand while expertly clearing Tim's empty plates with the other.
"Looks like you're enjoying yourself, Tim," Philip chuckled, placing the new drink down with a friendly nod. "Good to see someone appreciating the food. But of course, you always do."
Tim wiped his mouth with a napkin and grinned, reaching for his soda. "Best damn buffet in town," he said with a cheeky grin.
Philip patted the table with a satisfied nod. "That's what I like to hear."
Philip lingered for a moment, eyes subtly roaming over Tim's massive frame. The soft swell of Tim's belly pressed over the table, his thick arms moving with practiced ease as he ate. His black curls were slightly damp from the heat of the buffet. Philip watched the way Tim's broad shoulders shifted, the way his heavy chest rose and fell with each deep breath. Something about the sheer size, and his unapologetic presence, was captivating. Philip swallowed, forcing a casual smile. "Need anything else?"
"Not just yet..." He replied.
~~~
As the evening drew on, the buffet began to empty, patrons trickled out one by one as the night settled in. Tim, still contentedly eating, didn't seem to notice the dwindling crowd. He focused on his plate, working through the remnants of mashed potatoes and fried chicken, when Philip returned a few moments later, clearing the last of the dishes.
Philip glanced at the nearly empty plate and smiled, an excited gleam in his eyes. "I've restocked some of your favorites," he said, his voice light, almost teasing. "The roast beef, the mac and cheese--had to make sure they were fresh for you."
Tim's eyes brighten, his fork pausing mid-air. "Still hungry," he admits eagerly, leaning forward in his seat as best he could but the fat made him almost immobile. "You really do know how to keep a guy fed!"
Philip chuckled softly, glancing toward the buffet. "I know it's a hassle for you to keep getting up and walking back there. How about I pull a chair right up to the side of the buffet? You can sit back, and relax. No more walking."
Tim's eyes widened, "What about the other guests." The larger man looked over the buffet. A few stragglers were finishing off their evening meals.
"It's almost closing time." Philip shook his hand through the air, "But don't worry, you don't need to be in any hurry."
The owner gently guided Tim toward the buffet, his steps slow and deliberate, the sounds of his heavy footsteps reverberated in the quiet hall. Tim waddled slightly behind, his massive frame shifting with each movement. Philip watched him, a knowing smile crept onto his lips as Tim reached the buffet, slightly out of breath. Even in his exhaustion, Tim's eyes already scanned the fresh trays of food.
Philip stepped aside and pulled a sturdy chair right up to the edge of the buffet, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as Tim sunk into it with a relieved grunt. The weight of his body caused the chair to creak ominously, but it held steady. Tim leaned back, making himself comfortable as he glanced around, still hungry. He had never been given such service before.
"All set?" Philip asked, grinning as he watched Tim adjust himself.
Tim looked around briefly, then suddenly froze. "Oh--uh, I forgot my silverware back at the table."
Philip chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned in closer. "Well, don't worry about that. You can eat directly from the buffet bowls using the serving spoons." His voice was playful, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You're a man who knows what he likes. No need to make things complicated."
Tim's eyes widen in mock disbelief, but he grins. "You're serious?"
"Of course I am," Philip replied, "Why bother with utensils when you've got all this food to enjoy?"
Tim laughed. Cautiously he reached out, his pudgy fingers gripping one of the large silver spoons. He was waiting for the owner to call his bluff, but he waited silently. Taking a heaping portion of potatoes Tim guided it back to his face and waited a moment more. Finally, he opened his mouth.
Philip watched as the larger man's jaw practically unhinged, and he heaved the portion of potatoes in. As the silky mush disappeared, the owner felt his dick jump in his pants at the sight of it.
The few remaining patrons glanced over, their expressions contorted in discomfort. They eyed the scene with a mixture of disbelief and disgust--Tim, comfortably settled by the buffet, using serving spoons to feed himself was more than they could handle. A few of the patrons shouted in audible disgust and made their way quickly to the door. One by one they disappeared into the night.
Philip didn't seem to notice or care. His focus was entirely on Tim, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched Tim devour the food with such eagerness. Not saying a word the owner made his way to the front of the room and locked the door for the night
When he returned he saw Tim struggling to reach the spoon on the other side of the bar from his seated position.
"Would you like some help with that?" Philip asked, noticing Tim's struggle.
Tim looked up, his cheeks flushing. "If you don't mind, that would be great."
Philip nodded and grabbed the serving spoon, loading it with macaroni and cheese and handing it to Tim. Tim took it gratefully, his eyes never leaving the food.
Tim continued to shovel food into his mouth, his appetite seemingly insatiable as he dug into the various trays. The sound of serving spoons clinking against the metal bowls echoed in the empty space. Philip remained focused on Tim, passing spoon after spoon every time he couldn't reach.
The owner's breath deepened as the display turned him on. He had never seen such an insatiable appetite.
Minutes passed and another hour came and went. As one bowl emptied, Philip shifted more forward. As Tim indulged in an endless parade of food, his shirt seemed to curl up over his expanding stomach. This only furthered Philip's desire for the man. The owner had restocked the last of the food supply as close to Tim as he could get it.
