FAT FICTION | Chapter 13 - The Booth with a View (Patreon)

Paul sat alone in a booth of Rosie’s Diner with his forehead buried in his hands beneath the fluorescent lights.

The Friday night rush poured in around him and he wondered if he’d ever get back home. 

Silverware clinked and waitresses shouted orders. College kids laughed too loudly over milkshakes and burgers.

But Paul barely noticed any of it. He was too busy trying to figure out what had happened at the coffee stop. He wondered if his drink had been spiked. Had he gone for a trip that mixed his new business with his desperate need to appear more sexually confident with his girlfriend? That would explain it. 

Except of course, he hadn’t drank the coffee until he left the shop. Whatever fantasies he’d had, he’d had sober. And whatever unexplainable events had happened there, seemed to have followed him here. 

He couldn’t look up. He knew if he did, he’d make eyes with Fatama again. It was insane he had even given her a name. He’d only set eyes on her a few moments ago. Yet in that time she had not only appeared to treble in size, but he’d had a full on fantasy about her too. Some Lord of the Rings shit he’d never even been into before. 

He refocused his mind. Trying to think about Mia. 

His thin, sexy girlfriend.

Tiny waist.

Gym-bunny abs.

A body that looked cute and nimble.

His thoughts were interrupted by visions of Martha and Fatama. 

He hated himself for it sometimes.

The table suddenly jolted hard enough to rattle the salt shaker. Paul looked up sharply.

The vinyl seat across from him groaned loudly beneath a tremendous weight settling into it.

Jess smiled at him.

“Sorry,” she said casually. “Didn’t mean to shake the table.”

Paul forgot how breathing worked for a second.

She was enormous. Not merely plus-sized or “curvy”. Enormous in a way that made the booth look dangerously unstable all of a sudden. Like it could burst outwards in every direction at any minute. 

Her colossal thighs spread massively across the vinyl seat beneath skintight floral leggings while a cream-colored sweater stretched lovingly over monumental breasts and a vast, plush stomach resting heavily in her lap. The booth squealed softly as she shifted, thick hips forcing outward against both edges of the table.

Dark curls spilled over flushed cheeks. Her lips curled into a playful little smile as she caught him staring helplessly at the sheer abundance of her body.

“You looked lonely,” she said.

Paul blinked rapidly.

“I—uh—”

Jess tilted her head.

“You mind?”

Before he could answer, she slid farther into the booth.

The seat creaked dramatically beneath her.

Her belly pressed softly against the edge of the table. It folded in two; one half above and the other below. 

Paul’s pulse spiked.

Every movement she made carried visible weight. Her sweater rode up slightly as she adjusted herself, exposing a pale strip of lower stomach spilling gently over her waistband.

He looked away immediately.

Too late.

Jess noticed.

“Oh,” she murmured knowingly.

Paul stood abruptly. “I should probably…”

He turned… and walked directly into another body.

Soft. Immense. And by the way he bounced off it, completely unmovable.

It was Emily.

The blonde woman smiled at him while holding two milkshakes effortlessly.

Her breasts strained hugely against a burgundy sweater dress while her stomach pushed outward in a vast, luxurious curve that forced the fabric tight across her middle. Her hips looked almost absurdly wide beneath the dress, thick thighs visibly rubbing together under black leggings as she shifted her weight.

Paul bounced off her belly in stunned surprise.

Emily laughed softly. “Well hello there.”

Her voice was soft like honey.

Paul stumbled backward… and straight back into the booth. Only this time he landed on Jess’ side. 

Jess immediately slid closer. Then Emily settled in heavily beside him.

The entire booth compressed with a tortured squeal. The seat creaked loudly under their combined weight. 

And Paul was trapped.

His thighs wedged tightly between theirs beneath the table. Emily’s hip pressed into one side of him while Jess’s soft belly nudged warmly against his other arm.

The scent of them hit him all at once. It was an odd-concoction of perfume, french fries, and vanilla milkshake. Jess leaned into Paul, her soft, round body almost engulfing him, and took one of the milkshakes from Emily. 

“Thanks, babe.”

Paul swallowed hard.

Emily leaned close enough for her breast to brush heavily against his upper arm.

“You okay?”

No. Absolutely not. He could barely think.

A waitress arrived with food the girls had ordered. Jess slid a basket of fries toward herself and immediately started eating with urgent enthusiasm, lips parting softly around each bite. Emily unwrapped a burger beside him while the booth continued groaning faintly beneath their combined size.

And the whole time… they never stopped watching him.

But they weren’t mocking him. They weather him hungrily. And they could see straight through him.

“You’re tense,” Jess murmured.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re adorable,” Emily said.

Paul nearly stopped breathing when her hand settled casually atop his thigh beneath the table.

It was heavy, plump and warm. It felt oddly possessive. Like as of now, he belonged to them. 

His entire body reacted instantly. Jess noticed immediately.

A slow grin spread across her flushed face.

“Oh,” she purred softly. “He likes being squished.”

Paul’s face burned.

Emily leaned closer until her blonde hair brushed his cheek.

“Can you keep a secret?” she whispered. “Most men do,”

Her breath against his ear sent a violent shiver down his spine.

Jess laughed quietly. “God, he is sensitive.”

Paul tried shifting backward against the booth wall. There wasn’t enough room.

If anything, he only wedged himself deeper between them. Their enormous thighs pressed tighter against his legs while Emily’s breast continued resting against his arm like a heated pillow.

The waitress appeared beside the table without surprise.

“The usual seconds tonight?”

Jess smiled brightly. “With extra loaded fries.”

“And pie,” Emily added.

“Chocolate shake too?”

“Yes please.”

The waitress nodded and wandered off.

Paul stared. “You come here often?”

Jess snorted. “Sweetheart, this is basically our second home.”

Emily rubbed slow circles against his thigh beneath the table.

“We’re very dedicated diners.”

Jess shifted again. The booth squealed louder.

Paul’s eyes dropped helplessly downward.

The movement caused both women’s bodies to shift visibly. Their bellies spread softly against the table edge while thick thighs bulged wider across the seat. Emily’s chest strained dangerously against her dress as she leaned over for chilli sauce.

God. He couldn’t stop looking.

Jess caught him openly staring this time.

Instead of embarrassment, her expression softened.

“There it is.”

Paul blinked. “What?”

“That look.”

Emily smiled knowingly beside him.

“The one men get when they finally stop pretending.”

Paul opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Because Jess was right.

Whatever was happening, the attraction wasn’t just physical anymore.

It was primal.

The huge, fat bodies that surrounded him felt intoxicating.

The softness. 

The scent.

The sheer abundance of their obesity pressing him from both sides.

Emily’s fingers slid slightly higher along his thigh beneath the table.

His thoughts started to melt.

“You’ve been trying not to want this,” she whispered.

Paul shut his eyes briefly.

Jess popped another fry into her mouth with a content little moan.

“You know what the funny part is?”

Paul looked at her weakly.

“The second you stop fighting it…” Jess smiled lazily. “…everything will start feeling better.”

The food arrived in waves. Burgers dripping with cheese. mountains of fries, milkshakes crowned with whipped cream, fried chicken. Pies.

Paul watched in disbelief as the women immediately dug in.

It was sloppy. Messy. But confident too. 

Paul realised his cock was hard. It most likely had been for some time. But this primal action had switched a dial in his head.

Why was he fighting this?