Buster's

Buster's

By Charles Wallace

"Since 1995?" Casey asked herself out loud, surprised.

The phrase, absent any punctuation, was painted on the side of the building, just under the establishment's name,

Buster's

It was the first stop on the freshly-minted

senior

food inspector's agenda. The building was old, sparse, and simple. Metal roof. A pair of grimy glass doors acted as the entrance. All the signage looked fresh. But there wasn't a place to mark that, nor did Casey particularly care.

This place should have been shut down years ago,

she'd already concluded. She read through the restaurant's incredibly thick history:

Five "minor" citations...

Three incidents of an employee contaminating the food...

An armadillo infestation?!

That wasn't all. It was like reading a food safety-themed horror novel. And Casey took safety

seriously

. It was an outgrowth of her personality — Casey took

everything

seriously.

She exercised daily, a solid, strict two hours of sculpting her body. She ate an almost perfect diet, just enough fat to feed her feminine features, just enough protein to keep herself strong, as little carbohydrates as she could and only the

good

ones. She didn't smoke. She meditated twice a day. She stood as much she could.

Every last bit of Casey's day was pre-planned, when it didn't happen or she ran over, she was not a pleasant person.

Today, she wore some flattering slacks, a pair of comfy leather flats, and a simple blue button up shirt, with a little scoop to the neck to hint at a little cleavage. She was happy to small busted, it was far less maintenance and pain, but she did wear a push-up to give her what she had. Little makeup, she didn't have the time or concern for that.

The most recent report should have shut the restaurant down, full stop. An employee, the cook of all people, had been caught...relieving himself in food.

Multiple times.

Known to management, apparently, with no action taken against him.

The previous inspector, Kristina Perez, had done the necessary leg work, only the shut down order was missing. Given the latest listed date, it appeared the investigation just ended. No penalty whatsoever. Nothing even indicated the employee in question had been fired.

***

Earlier that day, back at City Hall, that discovery was what put

Buster's

at the top of Casey's list.

It was technically her second day on the job. The first had been spent purely with introductions and moving into

her office

. The thrill of having her own space — the title "City Inspector" under her name on the door, straight out of a movie — broke her composure. Casey

smiled

. She even did a little dance when her door was closed.

Today, she had to work.

It had been several months since her predecessor had resigned...in a sense.

Terminated

was the official reason, but Kristina had intended to seduce when she showed up -- eyes hungry, lips smacking, tits nearly hanging out the front of her unbuttoned shirt, a skirt barely that barely reached below her ass -- it was all very deliberate. She pushed herself on Art, the deputy inspector and only other commission employee.

Not just literally pushed her tits in his face, Kristina bent herself over, skirt hiked up, no panties, and just offered her womanhood, her ass, whatever he wanted. In full view of the security cameras. And did the same to the officers who came to remove her from the premises.

Casey wasn't there, of course, but she'd seen some of the footage. The rest came from Art.

His details were firsthand, typically male in focus, but he also seemed reliable. Art seemed to Casey to be a decent man. Married for 15 years, 3 kids, collected fishing lures as a hobby. Just a stable, dull man who lucked into a political connection via his cousin, the much more gregarious Mayor Streeter Downs.

Art refused Kristina's advances, removed himself from the situation ASAP, and even sounded like he regretted having to file a harassment complaint against her.

"She was on something, it didn't feel right," he'd told Casey. "She was my superior for about 6 years. She's met my kids. Not going to say she was perfect, but she treated people alright."

After the firing, Art held things together and kept the city safe. He did his job. He was a good inspector, and probably should have just been promoted. But bureaucracy chose Casey. If there was any resentment, he was devious enough not to show it.

"I'm honestly just glad they finally got somebody else in here," he told her when she asked him about any hard feelings, giving her a warm handshake to punctuate it. "Kris and I didn't worry about who was in charge, just getting the job done. It's been kicking my ass since she...well..."

Still, Casey smelled trouble. She was young, but she'd been in bureaucracy long enough to know how dangerous politics could be. Circumstantial or not, Art was related to power,

politics was literally in his blood.

So she looked into the time in between her hiring and Kristina's firing. Most of what gained came via gossip. Casey could position herself just close enough to the lunchtime pool of administrative assistants to worm her way into a juicy tale, but not close enough to get drawn in. They may have been the same age as Casey, but she was a department head, not a glorified clerk.

But information was power, and if Casey wanted to protect herself from politics, she needed some dirty dirt. The "girls" could provide.

Following Kristina's...

resignation

...it sounded like a fight broke out between Mayor Downs and the City Council. The Mayor wanted Art. The Council wanted to fill the role with a qualified applicant who was also a woman, Casey.

Someone not related to the mayor.

The Council won, of course, or Casey would've never learned about the fight, nor heard even worse stories about what Kristina had done, nor that the Mayor hosted a secret poker game with a few of her fellow (all male) department heads and had quite a debt.

To his credit, no one really mentioned Art much. Casey picked up no indication he'd ever

wanted

to get the senior inspector role, at least. But with his seniority, the promotion would have put another kid through college, or made his retirement that much nicer. And cousin had gone to bat for him, surely that indicated some ambition?

Casey decided to keep Art at arm's length, but saw no reason not to work with him. So she took the

Buster's

file to him as soon as she noticed the oversight.

"You never requested the closure," Casey said, looking down at him over her reading glasses. They made her feel older. He returned her stare with a nervous glance. Casey didn't mean to intimidate, but she didn't smile either. People told her she just had a face though.

Art then looked into the file and the name on the restaurant, and seemed to lose color for a moment. He said, shakily, "Oh wow, that is bad...I...well, I guess that was the day she came in. I didn't want to touch anything she'd touched." He wiped his face. "She got some fluids on a few things. I sanitized the place, but I must've slipped it in the wrong drawer."

He gave Casey a long look, then read the report again, and frowned. "There's no just ignoring that, I guess." He sighed and looked at her again. It surprised Casey, made her feel uncomfortable, but he didn't

do

anything exactly. Just looked at her, the nervous still there, but...

It was like he was evaluating her. As a woman.

"I intend to correct this oversight today," Casey said, putting on her sternest voice and giving her hair bun a squeeze. It made her feel better, but she also felt like the movement drew attention up and to her face, rather than whatever had his interest. "Unfortunately, Kristina did not include her supporting documentation in this file. I cannot find it. I looked already.

Twice.

So I am going to do my best to corroborate it."

Art looked like he was going to speak. Casey decided to be nice.

"It's okay," she said. "I can let this slide. You've had to handle a lot lately. Just an oversight."

He looked confused, weak. He knew she could end him with it, but she was willing to be merciful.

"No," he said, the word almost catching in his throat. He cleared it and wiped his face again. "I can handle it. Just leave the file with me..."

Casey shook her head.

Not gonna fall for that.

"Okay, I understand," he said, looking defeated. "But just...I don't know. Thanks for taking it so well, I guess." He went silent, head down.

Casey took the file, and returned to her office. She spent a few minutes gathering the much lighter records representing the other establishments on her agenda. Then, she planned a route, grabbed her purse, and made the drive to

Buster's

.

***

Inside, Casey was immediately hit by a thick, almost tangible scent of burnt oil, grease, warm meat, and...something else, less recognizable. She felt the oil gathering in her pores, and immediately wanted to flee outside.

The state of the restaurant's interior didn't help. It appeared like the restaurant had been converted from an older corporate fast food chain, as there were two tables with a purely hard plastic aesthetic to the table and the seating. Everything else was wood. The walls were yellow, from years of use prior to the smoking ban, punctuated by smears of grime and dark who-knew-what. The tables appeared to be regularly cleaned, but the seats, just padded benches and stools permanently attached to a table, were largely in disrepair -- she couldn't see a seat without at least one patch of padding poking out.

Few customers filled the seats, and they barely paid Casey any attention. Instead, they conversed quietly amongst themselves, an occasional giggle or squeal leaping out of nowhere. The patrons appeared to be all female too, all with a very similar sense of fashion: spaghetti straps or just plain tank tops, a pair of sweatpants, and flip flops or sandals. Their hair was a mix of healthy dos and lazy tie-ups.

But universally they were all built to the same design. Enormous breasts, which either sat atop the table or squished around it, like their tits had taken a bite of the table. All sporting pudgy tummies underneath that. Thick thighs. Little makeup, except for a scattered few who looked like they may have had a little...class in them. Casey noticed those women give her a look, and their near permanent bliss faltering for just a moment upon noticing her.

One even bit a thick, pouty lip, put a hand out toward Casey, and looked like she had something to say. But then her tablemate said something to her, the focus was lost, and the woman let out a dumb laugh in response to her friend.

But the important thing was the food, so that was what Casey focused on the most. It looked...safe. Healthy, no. All the women had veritable feasts in front of them. Big plates of fried chicken, and bowls of fluffy mashed potatoes, yellow butter pooling in the middle. Chicken fried steaks the size of a dinner tray.

It actually looked...good. Casey's mouth watered. She didn't intend to eat here, but she was definitely getting hungry.

The hostess was built about the same. She was plump, large chested, wide-hipped. Not fat, but definitely not slender. She'd squeezed it into a uniform, a dapper button up and knee-length skirt. Hair done, clean, makeup on. She smiled, attended to Casey and took her to a not so rundown booth after the inspector had shown her credentials. The woman didn't seem to care what that meant, but Casey assumed she'd gotten the best seat out of it anyway. There was a disinterest in the woman's eyes, like she was thinking of something elsewhere.

Casey took a water to drink, which was delivered by another woman in a similar uniform. She was smaller, though it was only by comparison. More slender, taller, with dark hair like Casey's, and while she had the same look of distraction, this woman seemed more interested in the job of waitressing. In Casey too.

"Heya," the waitress introduced herself. "My name is Tina. Here's your water. Do you know what you want yet?" She paused. "Oh. And I hope you're doing okay today! Sorry, I'm newish."

"I'm doing okay, Tina," Casey said. She paused. Something about the waitress seemed familiar. "I'm with the City Health Commission. In fact, I'm the new senior inspector. I'd like to introduce myself to a manager, or an owner if they're here. We have some matters to discuss."

Casey slipped on her reading glasses and scanned through the file. "Looks like there's a Mark previously listed as a manager?"

"Oh yeah, Mark's the general manager," Tina explained. She tilted her head. "Only manager, I s'pose...Hugo's the owner's son. We just listen to him cause...you know..." Tina sighed.

"And...an Eric..." Casey continued. She paused on the last name, however, immediately recognizing it. "Downs."

Her mouth went dry. It was the only clear mention of the owner's name in any of the documentation, the rest had been unclear, squiqqly lines of signatures, but Casey felt stupid for not noticing that all the same. No doubt Mayor Downs was a relation. Art had once mentioned having cousin

s

.

Casey took a long sip of water. It was fresh and cool, with a subtle zest, and she found herself taking several full gulps before stopping for air. She set the glass down, and tried to compose herself. Tina was watching, waiting for the inspector to continue.

"That's it. I..." Casey's tummy rumbled. She could only think of the food on the way in. She didn't want that, but she did. She felt hot, and took another drink. She finished the water, intending to fill herself with that until she left. She'd deal with a full bladder when she got there. But she did not intend to have a single bite in

Buster's

, not knowing what she knew. She held the ice-filled glasses out to Tina. "I will take another water, if you want to get it while you notify the manager on duty."

Tina took the glass, almost admiring it. Casey's eyes widened as the waitress kicked the glass up and slurped the last little bit of water from the bottom.

"I'll go get another glass for you," Tina said, licking her lips. She paused, frowning. "And..." Blinking. "And Mark. Oh gosh, I'm just out of it today."

Tina left, leaving Casey to consider how to address

that

-- the girl was new, and maybe not all the way there upstairs, but someone needed to tell her not to drink after the customers.

Casey rubbed her forehead, and gave her hair bun another squeeze. The mayor came back to mind. Then, Tina taking the drink. The cook cumming in Casey's mouth. How thirsty she was.

Wait...

Casey paused, feeling like something she'd just thought wasn't quite right but not being able to put her finger on it and

she was so hot but nothing to drink and she pawed at her shirt letting the breeze go but...

"Here ya go!" Tina chirped, reappearing and sitting another glass in front of Casey, who immediately grabbed the drink and chugged.

A bowl slid in front of Casey, filled with a yellow-white gritty mixture. The smell of butter filled her nostrils. But also that other scent...

"Mark is coming out to meet you," Tina explained. "He sent some grits to tide ya over in the meantime. He said give it to ya."

"Oh! I want some of their grits!" Casey heard a woman squeal. "

Soooooooo goooooooodd!

"

"Coming right up!" Casey heard. Maybe Tina's voice. Or the hostess again. Or another customer. Casey couldn't quite focus enough to discern nor to care.

The grits had her undivided attention. She was literally fighting to hold drool in her mouth. Her stomach gurgled. She felt anxious. Angry. Hungry. She slid the bowl closer and started shoveling the contents into her mouth. The grits were more delicious than she expected. The sensation of

something

moving down her throat was soothing, but so was holding it in her mouth, letting the buttery flavor and rough texture roll over her tongue before swallowing it in one squishy gulp.

The bowl wasn't big, but it should have been enough to fill Casey. It wasn't. She took a sip of water, holding it in her mouth too before swallowing. It tasted good and cool and she was so hot she undid the top button and squeezed her bun and squeezed a boob and tugged at her collar and put her face in her hands and tried to

get it together, Casey.

Then, there was another bowl of grits. Even bigger. And a steak with gravy. Casey gulped, tried to keep herself organized, but she'd squeezed her hair bun until hair was starting to fall on her shoulders and in her face and without her bun...

***

Casey lifted her head slowly, feeling foggy and hazy and only knowing her name was Casey and she did a job and ate...there was a half-empty bowl of potatoes in front of her, inches from her face. She felt some of it clinging to her lips, and licked it up. The lip she licked tasted wrong. Sweeter, plumper.

She wiggled her legs and realized she'd unbuttoned her slacks. More striking was just how wet she was. Like she'd pissed herself. She didn't think she had, her bladder felt horribly full. Even more surprising than that were Casey's boobs.

The design of her push up had sent the pair up but not quite out. They very much wanted out. Her shirt was already undone a button or two down. Reflexively, Casey wriggled her shoulders, letting the girth of her chest and the movement pull the entire bra downward and off her shoulders.

It was a relief. Her tits almost reached the table, thick and heavy as they were. She took a couple breaths of new freedom, and kept wriggling, eventually freeing herself from the straps and the arms of her shirt. She pushed the whole thing down, then leaned forward to let her tits spread out below her. The finished wood felt nice on them, they were so hot and heavy right then. Casey forewent a spoon and pushed the bowl up towards her face to lick the potatoes straight out.

"As hot as that is, we might want to take this meeting to the back," said a male voice.

Casey dropped the bowl and looked for the source. There was a man in front of her. Professionally dressed, handsome, with a cute grin that went straight to Casey's squishy pussy. She cooed. Giggled. Tried to compose herself so he'd think she was...smart?

"I'm Mark, by the way," he said. To Casey's delight, his hand was soon on her upper arm, pulling up. She followed willingly, and let him guide her. They moved through a small register station, into the even hotter kitchen area.

So hot...

Casey immediately struggled against her clothes to let them fall away and off, letting her sweaty body get some air. There was so much of it now, and it all needed to breathe. She was mostly nude by the time they reached their destination. Just a last kick got rid of her clinging pants leg.

She moved on instinct, Mark's firm hand, and too short moments of hazy clarity. Which meant she rolled and tried to stand but couldn't and just

had to touch her pussy but also her tits but they were so fat and she felt so fat and there was so much and it was soft and hot and...and...and...

They reached what Casey assumed was the hottest part of the kitchen. The air was thicker and heavier than anywhere else, and

filled

with the smell she loved. THAT smell. All over the place. Any time Casey collected her thoughts enough to

think clearly she was being turned into something something was happen and she needed to get up. She needed to leave.

But that smell!

"Meet Hugo, the boss's son, and our resident cook," Mark explained. Next to him stood a lanky, sweaty young man, no older than his early twenties. He looked nervous, well more than Mark, but he seemed just as interested in Casey's present activities. Maybe moreso. And he

reeked

of Casey's favorite new scent.