Chapter 5 - taste test (part 1)

Mark, it turned out, had grown up to be something of a ***. I quickly got the impression that he had taken his ‘boot camp’ persona and decided that it was going to be his entire identity. He was obnoxious, spiky and competitive. He couldn’t wait to tell us how much money he earned with his fitness company. He wanted to show us some uncomfortably risqué photos of his Brazilian wife, who looked like a swimwear model; he also dropped frequent and unsubtle hints that he was regularly cheating on her with some of the younger and more nubile members of his classes.

“Yeah, there are some serious hotties among all the heifers,” he bragged as he swilled his beer. “But seriously, a lot of these chubby chicks. How can they let themselves get that way in the first place? I don’t know how they can face going out in public. Man, if that was my wife, she’d be out on her ass in no time. Fat bitches.”

The look on his face as he spat the words out was something to behold. Clearly there was a lot of bitterness and resentment there, and I thought of Mark’s own early years being teased about his weight.

Jerry caught my eye with a look that said he was thinking the same, and I changed the subject. “Listen, guys, it’s getting late. But the factory is just around the corner, and I’ve got a bottle of something nice in my office. Mark, what do you say we drop by and Jerry and I can show you where we work?”

“Sure, why not. It’ll be nice to get a feel for blue-collar life before I head back to the big smoke.”

***

It was past 2am and the evening shift had long since ended, so the factory was dark when we arrived. The quick way to my office would have been around the outside of the main production building, but we decided to go straight through and give Mark a quick tour. As we rounded a corner, I noticed that the lights of the QC station were on.

“That’s weird,” said Jerry, “I left a couple of the team finishing up some work, but they should have gone home hours ago.”

We crept quietly towards the QC station, passing another oddity – a pallet of finished product bound for the warehouse, from which a couple of boxes appeared to be missing. Reaching the QC station, the three of us silently peeked in through the window like kids in a 1980s adventure movie.

Inside was Cream Puff. She was sitting on a wheelie-chair in the middle of the room, with trays and open boxes of pastries ranged around her on the stainless steel table-tops. The first thing I noticed was the sheer size of her stomach. It bulged out, plump and pale and doughy, between the blue curtains of her shirt, which was unbuttoned at the bottom and fastened only by two buttons above her belly. The top buttons were undone as well, and I could see her black bra struggling to contain her breasts. Next I noticed the cream stains across her face and cleavage – and then the hand inside her panties. The flesh of her huge gut spilled over her wrist as she pleasured herself. One plump leg was raised, her foot resting on the lower rung of a stool, and her hand was moving in slow, sensuous circling motions. Her other hand held a raspberry Danish in front of her lips; her eyes were closed, and her cheeks were already bulging with the previous fattening treat.

I looked at the other two guys. Mark had a look of utter disgust on his face; Jerry already had his hand on the door-knob, gesturing to us to follow him. We tiptoed into the room, and Cream Puff was still totally oblivious to our presence. As she swallowed she let out a low moan and her stomach convulsed slightly, sending a jiggle through the soft heavy fat.

“Tasty?” asked Jerry loudly.

I’ll never forget the comical look of terror and guilt on the fat girl’s face as she opened her eyes. She was dumbstruck. Her eyes darted towards each of us and then to the door, as if she was thinking about making a run for it.

“Not a good idea, Cream Puff,” I laughed. “I’m pretty sure you’re not going to outrun us, are you fatty?”

Mark was still gazing at her, mouth open, face twisted into a mask of contempt and derision.

Jerry spoke again. “Well, Cream Puff, this is a difficult one. Let’s lay it out there. You’ve been caught by your boss and the Production Manager, after hours, stealing goods for sale – not to mention masturbating in what’s supposed to be a clean food-production environment.”

Cream Puff still hadn’t found her tongue. She sat there frozen, the Danish pastry still poised in front of her face, and looked up at us in a total panic.

“He’s right,” I continued, “This is a serious matter. It’s obviously a disciplinary issue – in fact, a sackable offence. It qualifies as gross misconduct.”

“Well, ‘gross’ is certainly the right word for this hippo,” chipped in Mark, finally getting over his shock.

Cream Puff also managed to speak. “I… I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing. I was just finishing the test batches, and I… I got carried away,” she finished lamely, realising how pathetic she sounded.

“You’ve been getting carried away for months, tubs,” replied Jerry, poking a finger into her quivering stomach. “Or didn’t you think anyone had noticed? You look completely ridiculous, do you realise that? You’re just a fat, gluttonous pig. What are you?”

She hesitated for a moment, gazing down at her doughy gut. “I’m a… a fat, gluttonous pig,” she repeated sadly, then looked up. “Please, is there anything I can do to put this right? I do really need this job…”

Jerry looked at me. “What do you think? Is there any way this little blubber-ball can make up for what she’s done?”

“Well,” I pondered, “Maybe we can find a way. I think she needs to demonstrate her commitment by putting in some extra overtime, right now.” I moved close to her. “We’re going to work you hard, fat girl.”

She looked helplessly up at me, chewing nervously on her lower lip.

“First, you’re going to do a blind taste test for us. You’ve got no use for this any more – you outgrew it two sizes ago.” As I spoke, I ripped open the last two buttons of her shirt, yanked it off her and tore one of the arms off. I bound it around her eyes as a blindfold, then told her, “Get up and take your trousers off too, you greedy porker. It’s not like they can contain you, anyway.”

Cream Puff wobbled to her feet and stripped off her trousers, peeling them over her fat thighs with difficulty. Her breasts looked set to bounce out of her straining bra, and I could clearly see pink areolas peeking out.

“On your knees, pig.”

She obeyed and knelt there, blindfolded on the floor, creamy flesh spilling out of her underwear.

“Now,” said Jerry, “Because you’re so keen on sampling the factory’s produce, you’re going to taste and name every damn thing we put in your mouth.”

She opened her mouth to speak but Jerry crammed a chocolate croissant straight in, so all that she managed to say was “Mmmmpphhhgghh”.

“Eat it, fat girl. And don’t even think about spitting anything out. You’re going to swallow everything you’re given. What is it?”

Cream Puff managed to swallow it and whispered, “Chocolate croissant.”

I bent down behind the helpless girl, and grabbed and lifted her huge, soft stomach. “Look at the size of this gut – I think she’s still got plenty of room in there to taste all of these products.” I held and squeezed her fat as I reached for another pastry and pushed it between those plump pink lips. Chew, chew, swallow. “What was it, pig?”

“Apple turnover.”

“Correct again, you fat blimp. My turn,” Mark laughed harshly, clearly getting on board with the humiliation of an overweight victim. He grabbed her by the hair and fed her a Danish, cramming the whole thing into her mouth in one go. “That’s right, you f***ing hog, gulp it all down.”