Corey couldn't stop staring at the woman in the booth across from him.
She was a magnificent spectacle of a woman.
She was tall, pretty, but those things weren't what made her impressive. No, what made her impressive was the size and shape of her. She was a very fat, very bloated, blond beauty, and she was clad in a near-splitting pink dress that clung tight to each and every extra inch of curvature on her corpulent, fleshy figure, letting everyone see just how out of shape she really was, or rather, how rounded her shape had become through eating and laying about. She would be a pear-shaped princess were she standing, that much was clear. Her thighs, spread out under the weight of her body, were nearly enough to fill the entirety of the two-person bench seat, and even seated, the massive volume of her pale white legs was evident, the dress being a tad too short to cover the bulk of her monstrously thick, thunderous thighs.
Resting on her lap was her round, bulging belly, swollen from a life of laziness, coupled with god knows how much indulging. It was there, big and heavy, jutting out in front of her, leaving only a small space between the softness of her body and the firmness of the table she was sitting at, and it was protruding out further still with each bite of food, testing the dress more and more with every passing minute.
Resting on the great, glutted globe of her stomach were the two, relatively small, globes of her breasts, not on display particularly, but looking to be unsupported, drooping ever-so-slightly off to the sides of her overfed midsection. This was the one place where the word 'massive' didn't apply to her body. They were large, compared to the average woman, but when attached to a figure of such magnitude, they seemed small. Shapely, yes, attractive, undeniably, but out of proportion with the overall fatness of her figure.
All told, she looked to be a veritable goddess of gluttony, a very chubby woman, swollen from untold amounts of eating. She was a monument to a modern life of indolence and overindulgence, barely able to fit her fat body between the booth and the table, a rosy, rounded, whale of a woman, looking stuffed to capacity and yet, continuing to force even more food down her face. She was a big woman, soft and flabby looking, like ten pounds of pudding poured into a two pound bag, and still, despite all of this, she continued to gorge herself, seeming to be entirely apathetic to the way her already round figure was slowly getting thicker, swelling at that moment with high-calorie Italian food, soon to be swelling more permanently with the consequences of her appetite, her broad, juicy body becoming burdened by even more layers of heavy, gelatinous fat. Beyond that, she seemed not to care. She was apathetic about the sheer size of her flabby, well-fed body, or that she was eating more food than a small family might.
God, she was a sight to see.
Corey had to say something to her.
This woman, he didn't know her name, had just dropped out of his wet dreams into his reality, how could he miss this opportunity?
But what would he say?
He sat back a little longer and watched, trying to find the words to approach her.
He noticed she looked upset. In the minutes between plates, she would sigh heavily, her soft, pretty face, framed by pink, chubby cheeks and a second chin, looking downcast, frowning. Yet, she kept ordering more, cleaning her plate, then calling a waiter, placing another order, and repeating the process. Plate after plate, pork milanese followed by chicken alfredo, followed by chicken parmagiano, three very large, very full entrées, each large enough to satiate an average college football player, were presented to the beautiful blimp and consumed by her, in gleeful spurts of greedy piggishness.
It was after the chicken parm that Corey saw his opening.
It was then that the stuffed, swollen stunner stopped her splurging and started massaging the tight, bloated mound that had become of her already soft, chubby stomach. There was that frown again.
