Chapter 2 - Meet the Chef

The party wasn’t as snooty as I had feared. I arrived before Sadie – -God damn it, girl, you better fucking come to this party- I texted immediately to her – and the hostess, a charming Gorgon with an ornate and stylish pair of sunglasses, complimented my dress. A few of the other occult ladies joined in, and I was able to send my seamstress friend some new business. Occults also often had trouble with well-fitting clothes, and I promised, with full confidence, that Kat would make all of them look their best.

My new friend Lila, a hilarious and witty ogress, was telling me about the best shops in her neighborhood when she suddenly went quiet and looked up behind me. Someone tapped on my shoulder, a bit heavily.

Sadie was who I was expecting, but who I saw was so much better. My mystery man. He was even taller than I’d realized, towering over me. I guessed that the top of my head was probably around his lowest ribs, wherever they were, buried under so much luscious fat. A wave of sheer lust swept over me, making me quite dizzy for a moment. Lila stepped away and I didn’t even notice. Was I that obvious? Did my eyes actually turn into cartoon hearts?

“Hello again,” he said with a small, quirky smile. His double chin deepened now, looking down at me, and creating a sweet little pillow for his face. He was dressed the same as he had been this morning, and held a craft beer in one hand. He offered me the other with a brief, nervous little bite of his plump lower lip. “I’m Basil.” He pronounced his name with a short a, like the old Sherlock Holmes actor.

“That means king, right?” I shook his hand and my geekery bubbled out of my mouth. I hadn’t even had a sip of wine. “Uh, I’m Millie. It’s a pleasure to actually meet you.” I did not add: *I’ve been thinking about you all day, and would you mind if I crawled under your belly and gave you a blow job?*

Instead of rolling his eyes or pulling away, he grinned. “Basileus, yes! And the pleasure is all mine.” He paused and tugged at his sweater vest. It may have been my imagination, but I thought it looked tighter on his vast middle than it had this morning. “How do you know Hestia?”

“Who?” Then I realized. “Oh, the hostess. I don’t actually. My friend Sadie invited me as her plus one, I think.”

“I’ll have to thank Sadie then,” he said jovially. He scanned the room with interest. “Would you mind introducing us?”

He was polite and friendly, two basic requirements I had for a man, and I couldn’t stop smiling. “She’s not here yet. I’m here solo.” I shrugged and opened my hands, palms up.

Basil looked quite pleased with that. “So, I could borrow you for a few minutes until she arrives?”

“You could and you can,” I said. I added a playful curtsy, “At your service.”

He raised an eyebrow and his grin quirked a little tighter at the corner of his mouth. No more chocolate smudge there, but his mouth still looked perfectly kissable. “Would you mind sitting?” He gestured with his beer toward a corner of the room, but lacking his height, I couldn’t see what he indicated.

“That sounds great,” I agreed, and the immense Tiefling led me to a couch in a quiet corner. It looked like it had been purchased specifically for larger occults – or perhaps just for him, if he was a frequent guest of the Gorgon who lived here.

He lowered himself onto the couch slowly, bracing himself on the back of the sofa yet still landed with a thump that jiggled his belly and chest and chins and oh every damn part of his perfect, soft body. The sofa became a loveseat as his bulk spilled over the cushions, or a chair-and-a-half on further consideration. There was little room for me to sit next to him, and I definitely wouldn’t be able to sit without brushing his rippling flesh. He breathed deeply with the effort of moving his weight around, and I wondered if the buttons under that vest were straining with each inhale. “Well,” he said, and paused, in that odd verbal tic that humans and Occults alike seemed to do when uncertain about how to begin a conversation.

“Well,” I replied with a teasing grin. “How was your day?”

“It was filled with pleasant leisure,” he said affably. He bit his lower lip again and then added, “And I met a very attractive woman this morning.”

“Really?” I said with mock surprise. I even placed my hand over my heart in shock, and was gratified to see his gaze flicker down to my cleavage before returning to my face.

He nodded solemnly. “Indeed. Then, I spent most of the day thinking about her.” Basil sipped his beer and his eyes twinkled. When he smiled his cheeks looked even rounder than ever, and his eyes were half hidden in the swells of his plump face.

“That’s a funny story,” I said. “I met a really gorgeous guy this morning.” The space on the couch left by his huge rear and bulging belly was just big enough for me to sit. I wedged myself in, and found I practically had to lean on his belly. It swelled much wider than his thick thighs – no slouches either in the fat department – and slopped over to brush my lap. I had never had such a strong physical reaction to a man. My pussy actually ached.

“Oh, sorry,” he said and tried to adjust himself, to pull his belly away from me. Not only was the task impossible, it was unwanted as well. “I, er, take up a little more room than I mean to. My apologies.”

I put a hand on his side, resisting the urge to explore his many rolls, and said, “I think you take up the perfect amount of room.”

Basil’s expression lost its teasing look, and for a split second his eyes went wide, vulnerability, disbelief and hope all vying in his gaze. He mastered himself instantly, and returned to the urbane and cheerful mien he’d had before. That fraction of a glimpse into his heart only made me want to know more about him, and to worship every inch of him until he knew how beautiful he was. “Well, thank you for your unusual but quite welcome opinion.” He shifted again and tugged at his sweater vest that had begun to ride up. The peek of shirt clad belly made me warm, especially since there was a noticeable gap between the buttons. They were under a fair bit of strain – no wonder he wore the sweater vest!

“That’s me, unusual but welcome,” I said with a perky grin. “So, how do you know Hestia?”

He took a swig of beer before replying and set it down to talk with his hands. “She was an investor at my first restaurant.”

“Oh! You’re an entrepreneur?”

Basil’s mouth quirked into a tight, pleased smile. “Not quite. You’ve heard the expression: never trust a thin chef?” He patted his belly, a gesture that made my head spin. “Well, that makes me the most trustworthy chef you’ll ever meet.”

The idea of him navigating a narrow kitchen galley seemed surprising if not impossible, but I tried to hide my surprise. “A chef! Where are your restaurants?”

He looked confused with a slight tinge of disappointment. “You’ve never heard of Basil de Gras?”

My grin became weak and more than a little awkward. “I’m so sorry, I don’t. I, ah, don’t know much about fine dining and the sort.” An old nervous gesture, twirling my hair repetitively, resurfaced. Had I really offended him? “This whole scene here is pretty unfamiliar to me, to be quite honest. I didn’t exactly grow up knowing people who own penthouses.”

A silence descended on us, and I waited for him to make some excuse and walk away. He was a famous chef, I was a professional beggar for a nonprofit. There really wasn’t anything I could offer this paragon of a man. Basil cleared his throat, and with some hesitation, said, “Well, I could take you to one of them.” He licked his lips, then added, “No one is born with knowledge, we all learn along the way. I’d love to introduce you to fine dining and the sort.” His smile was soft and hopeful, mirroring my own heart.

“I would love that!” I replied, more eagerly than I’d meant. So much for playing it cool. I’d placed my hand back on his belly as I spoke, half unconsciously, but when I went to withdraw my hand he covered it with his, pressing my little palm to his huge gut. Butterflies swirled in me and bubbles clouded my thoughts. “Tell me about what kind of food your place serves.”

“Places,” he corrected me with a proud expression. “I, ah, retired from the kitchen and now write reviews, cookbooks, and essays, but when I left Pisces I had two restaurants. Since then I’ve opened another in this city and two more in Woods Hill.”

“So, what do they serve? Are they all different?”

He straightened into a more proper posture and raised a finger as if in a lecture. It was kind of cute on him. “They are all different. If I served the same that would glut the market. Pisces specializes in fresh seafood and traditional New England cuisine with my own refined twist, of course.” Basil winked at me and went on. “Then Le Beurre is French and Indian fusion – a chef from New Dehli and I own that together – and finally Pasture is an eclectic vegetarian restaurant.”

“Vegetarian, really?” That did surprise me. Most of the big men I’d known had eschewed rabbit food.

Basil gave me a pitying look. “If you think all vegetarian food is lettuce and dry tempeh you have truly been missing out. Maybe we’ll go to Pasture first.” He took another sip. “Well, I’ve told you about me. What do you do for work, or in your leisure time?”

“Nothing quite so impressive as being a world-class chef, I’m afraid,” I demurred. “I work in development at the Green Fields Foundation. I write pitches for campaigns and then do a whole lot of number crunching to see what works.”

He nodded and, strangely, seemed interested. “You work in advertising?”

“In a way, I suppose. It’s not my calling or anything, I like the end result though, healthier and more welcoming cities for everyone.”

His plump finger ran over the back of my hand. “That sounds like a wonderful goal. I hope us larger Occults are kept in mind when designing the spaces.”

“I’m not on the design side, but I believe they do. Green Fields aren’t just for humans, right?”

He grinned and nodded. His palm, so soft and burning hot, never left mine. My little hand was pressed in between the plump warmth of his palm and his soft and gently jiggling belly. A stupid little giggle bubbled up from me, but Basil didn’t sneer at my silliness or pull away. He stroked my hand and then licked his lips, eyes shifting from the crowd and back to me. “Look, I, ah, I have to say hello to a few people. But… I know this is abrupt, but would you like to go somewhere quiet for a drink?” His expression was casual, but that hint of vulnerability in his eyes tugged at my heart.

“That sounds like fun. My friend hasn’t even texted me back, so who knows if she’s still planning to come.” I shrugged, a motion that jostled his fat in incredibly alluring ways. I wondered what his thighs looked like and shifted to relieve the heat and wetness building in my sex.

“Well, this evening just went from pleasant to delightful,” he said and patted my hand. “Pardon me a few minutes. I won’t be long.” He squeezed my hand, then paused as if there was something else he wanted to do before deciding against it and standing. He used the back of the couch again to push himself up, his big, round body looming over me beautifully as he rose.

“I’ll be right back,” he added as if he was afraid I was going to run away the moment he left. Maybe that had happened to him before, but not this time. I watched him walk away, his big ass, chubby tail, and wide waist adorably wobbling with every step.

The longer view gave me a chance to evaluate his size. It was hard to judge a species that was already larger than mine, but he really was quite fat even for his height, though not as relatively fat as of thought wedged in next to him. His gut would almost obscure his dick, but didn’t hang much lower than his hips. In profile, he was a balloon resting on thick, long marshmallow legs and hips that tested the tensile strength of his trousers. I was surprised by his choice to wear his pants under his belly, most men his size opted for what I thought of as the equatorial style with their enormous bellies’ circumference banded by the waist of their pants, often held up by suspenders.

Instead, he served his gut up for my view, resting almost lewdly on his crotch and hips. Not for the first time, I imagined that belly resting on me. What if I were wedged under his bloated belly, laying on his lap, pinned and trapped by his heavy fat and utterly at his mercy?

*Ugh. This is getting sad, girl.* My fetish was running wild, yet I didn’t want to date or be with anyone who checked off the fat requirement but had a shitty or incompatible personality. I’d played that game before – though never with someone this big and tempting – and wasn’t about to do it again. He’s a person first and an object of my lust second, I reminded myself. Though it was a pretty close second.

My introspection had eaten up more time than I realized, because he was back in what felt like a second. “I’ve fulfilled my social obligations,” Basil said with a small and eager grin. “Would you still like to go somewhere quieter and get to know each other better?”

Something in me quivered, and it wasn’t just my libido. His eyes were bright, his brows raised, and his posture reserved and polite. I got the impression that he really meant it about acquainting ourselves with the other. Maybe he wanted more than a hook-up or fuck buddy as well. Maybe not, but there was only one way to find out whether we really clicked.

As I stood from the couch my phone buzzed with a text – from Sadie, of course. -Hey, Merrick is in town just for tonight. I’m so sorry, I have to cancel!- I grinned at my phone. “I am quite ready to go. Where to? I can order us a ride.”

“No need, my driver is coming around.” *A driver… shit, he outclasses me by several tax brackets.* He offered me his arm which I accepted gladly. My hand slipped in between the plump bulges of what would have been his bicep if it had been muscle, and his soft forearm. He was far too fat to put his hand over mine, there was no way he could reach across and around that gorgeous blimp jiggling before him, but he looked down at me with a warm, excited expression. “Shall we? I think I can get us a table at a good place.”

He winked at me and pulled my arm even closer, letting me sink into his delicious softness. Whatever happened next, I would be remembering this small moment for a long, long time.