chapter 4

She balled up his button-down shirt and put it on her seat. He sat there looking like a tubby, doughboy. His white t-shirt clung to his round frame. Below the table, his lower belly was totally exposed without the cover of his outer shirt. Although she was eager to get him home, she wanted to take advantage of him being so helpless.

"I'll be right back!" she told him with a wicked grin.

"W-where are you going?" he asked, confused and with some sense of urgency.

Without answering, she bent down and lightly dragged her nails over his lower belly. His undershirt had crept up even further than before, and now only made it to just above his belly button.

He chuckled a bit as she stroked his fat.

"Oh, am I tickling my big boy's swelled up belly?" she said tauntingly, giving him a sharp poke.

She kneaded the soft, doughy flesh. All of the calories he'd been filling himself with were really rounding him out nicely. She grabbed a generous handful of his fat, slightly digging her fingernails into the softness, and shook it, making his entire lower belly wobble.

She gave a very slow, deep poke to the area right next to his belly button to see how thick the fat had become. It was no wonder he was stuck, he was the biggest he'd ever been. She could never have imagined less than a year ago that he would've fattened up to this extent so quickly. Such a gluttonous boy.

"Can you please help me out, people are looking at us funny." He whispered as loud as he needed to for her to hear him.

"Oh calm down, no one is paying attention. And if they are, they certainly aren't looking at me, porky." She teased, with another poke. "Pull up your undershirt a little more."

She stood up and dipped two of her fingers into the oil. She bent back down and pushed her oiled fingers in between his densely packed blubber and the table. She loved the feeling of her fingers being squished into his belly like this. She distributed the oil as best she could, pressing her fingertips across his soft fat as much as the table would allow.

"Ok, let's try this." She said, placing her hands on his belly. She pressed and he tried to move himself out of the seat. He made it a couple of inches, but the little bit of lubrication she was able to get onto him proved insufficient.

"Ok, I think we'll need to lift your undershirt up over your belly."

"Like right here? Right now?" he said, worried.

"Yes, we need to get you out, and to do that I need to put some oil up here," she said, tapping the fat roll that jutted out onto the table.

"I don't want to do that, everyone will see how fat I am." He protested.

"Oh, honey, everyone here has seen how fat you are. And besides," she very lightly dragged her fingertip across his nipple "how can we measure you if you can't leave the restaurant?"

He lifted his undershirt as best as he could. She helped him peel it up to just below his chest.

With one hand she pushed in the fat that was pressed out on to the table. With her other hand, she rubbed the oil just along the edge of the table.

She started to massage the fat that she was pushing in, waiting for the oil to drip down into the tight space between his belly and the table.

"Ok, let's try this again."

She put the hand with the oiled up fingertips against his exposed, fat lower belly and gave it a few squeezes. His tummy felt extra soft with the oil on it.

She pressed her palms into his fat, and he wriggled a few inches closer to freedom.

"Come on big boy, you can do it," she whispered, "think of all the dessert you can eat once we get to my apartment."

She pressed just a little harder, and in just a few moments he was able to free himself.

She looked at him, white undershirt bunched up over his big stomach. His large, perfectly round belly exposed for the world to see, with a red stripe through the middle where the table had been compressing him throughout the meal.

He quickly yanked the t-shirt over his belly as far as it would go. She handed him his button-down shirt. As he was dressing himself she prodded the exposed underside of his belly, and smirked.

"Ready to get out of here?" she asked.

"Yes." he said, red in the face.

"Here, carry your dessert." She handed him the bag that Jessica had left on the table.

It was just a short walk to the subway station. It had grown chillier since she had arrived, and she shivered. He put his thick arm around her and pulled her close to his warm, soft body. She placed her hand on his belly and rubbed light circles in the front, where the mark from the table was. He had no idea what he was in for tonight.

They reached the subway station in just a few minutes, as they descended the stairs to board the train, she kept her hand on his belly so she could feel it jiggle as he took each step. She lightly pressed it in, pleased with his plump, growing form.

She kept her hands on his round stomach as they waited for the train, mostly rubbing light circles on it, occasionally grabbing a pinch of fat from his sides or his lower belly, just because she couldn't help herself. He was so plump and juicy. She resisted doing more than that: he really had stuffed himself and she wanted to give him a little rest before they got back to her place.

The train was nearly empty. She sat to his right, with her left hand on his thigh and her right arm stretched across her body so she could keep it on his plump tummy. She could feel his belly fat jiggling as the train moved. She pressed her palm in, enjoying the feeling of his soft, jiggly fat surrounding her hand.

They got to her stop in just under 10 minutes. She was a little disappointed there was no old woman on the train to tell him he was fat enough to eat. She would make sure he knew, though.

When they got to her apartment he immediately wrapped his arms around her lower back, pulling her close and enveloping her substantially smaller body in his warm softness. She pushed him away.

"Oh no you don't, you haven't had dessert yet!" she poked his lower belly. "Why don't you get a little more comfortable, and I'll get you a fork, my chubby little doughboy." Another poke.

She disappeared into the kitchen. When she got back, he was on the couch in just his under shirt and boxers. Several inches of his soft, plump belly stuck out from under his shirt, just begging to be poked and pinched with her calipers. All in good time, she thought to herself.

She reached into the bag and took out each of the five desserts, laying them on the coffee table in front of him. Apple pie, blueberry pie, cheesecake, a brownie sundae and creme brulee.

She started to hand him the fork but instead pressed the sharp tines into his exposed belly fat.

"I hope you're ready for all this." She said, feigning concern.

"I am." He responded.

"Ok then," she said, kissing his neck and pushing the fork into his belly fat a little further.

"Eat." She whispered.