Food Court

Chapter 1

She didn’t seem like my type until she turned a corner and I was able to get a good look at how curvy she really was. I could tell she had been blessed with a set of genes that were just now getting to work filling out her lower half in preparation for childbirth––probably a few years early, but bodies do that sometimes. Her face, despite being hidden underneath her COVID mask, was thin and sculpted, high cheekbones and thin, piercing eyes. Her shirt sleeves pinched tight against her slim arms, making them appear to bulge out; it rode up against her midriff, exposing her tan complexion. Her legs looked like they were stuffed into her leggings, her wide hips flaring out to the sides, her tight buns filling out the seat of her pants. If I had to guess, or rather since I’ve gotten pretty good at guessing, I’d say she was around 150-155, not bad for someone who looked to stand around 5’6”. She slowly paced around the displays, lifting up shirts and discreetly checking the tags. It was obvious, at least to me, that she was needing to size up. After having worked here for a few months, I’d gotten a knack for knowing when they’re merely shopping around and when they’re in need of a wardrobe change. What was surprising about her was that she didn’t seem to be looking for a new pair of pants, despite looking like she might split a seam any minute. I could just barely make out the outline of her panties when she extended her leg forward to take a step, stretching the fabric tight against her backside. She had, in other words, a phat ass, and there was the possibility that it might be getting even phatter.

She rang up with another cashier, but it just so happened to coincide with my lunch break, so that right as I stepped off the floor, about to head to the food court, I saw her about 20 paces in front of me, store-branded bag in hand, booty cheeks bobbing up and down as she waded through the throng. My lunch break was an hour long, meaning I usually had some extra time at the end––why not spend those extra few minutes taking in the view? I stayed about 20 paces back, watching her hips sway and her thighs rub right at the top, thinking to myself that whether she knows it or not, she’ll be chafing herself into a new pair of leggings in the near future. Her long, black hair, shiny and perfectly straight, fell down nearly to the skin between her shirt and her pants. I could feel myself getting hard, so I slowed down a little, just enough to keep track of where she was going, and to my luck, realized that she was headed to the food court too. Immediately after buying a new shirt to replace the one she had outgrown…

She got in line at the burger place, my favorite place to stop for lunch, and I pulled in right behind her. I know it’s not kosher, but I couldn’t help myself––I didn’t recognize her from school and I’d never seen her before, so who knows if I’d ever see her again? I pulled my phone out and pretended to play a game, but instead I turned the brightness down low, opened the camera app and started recording her glorious butt. The wait in line was only so long, but a minute-long video was probably enough time for me, considering those hips. She sashayed up to the register and ordered… was it just me, or did she order for kind of a long time? Whatever, more screen time for her luscious legs, her bulging cheeks––

“Next!”

I snapped out of it as the cashier waved me over. I nearly fainted when mystery girl turned her head slightly to see who was holding up the line. I hurried over and ordered a hamburger with fries, no drink––it’s just a dumb minimum wage job at the mall anyhow––paid, and turned to see if she had sat down yet. I searched the food court tables and couldn’t find her. Where could she have gone? I turned back to the register and realized she was still ordering. Maybe she was having trouble paying? I wanted a show to accompany my lunch (especially if her order was as big as it seemed), so I had to find a way to wait until she had taken her seat before I took mine, in order to get the best possible view. I headed to the bathroom, where I checked to see if the video was any good. Not my best, but good for a few probably. When I came back to the food court, I found a seat that had a near perfect view of today’s vixen, slouched over, eyes glazed as she browsed on her phone. Realizing that I was waiting for my food too, I joined her on my phone.

Minutes later, I heard them call the number before mine and glanced up to see her lifting herself out of the seat. I didn’t want to be caught lurking, so I restrained myself and continued scrolling through Reddit. When I looked up again, she had returned to her seat with a pile of food in front of her. It was hard to tell, since there was so much of it, but I counted at least 4 cheeseburgers, two orders of fries (one regular, one with cheese), an order of tater tots, and two hot dogs, along with a chocolate shake and a medium soda. Immediately after buying a new shirt to replace the one she had outgrown??? I was instantly rock hard, cradling my sweatshirt in my lap to hide my aching bulge. Perhaps she was meeting a friend? Or a boyfriend? I gulped––hope not. She finished typing on her phone and immediately got to work, picking up a burger––and revealing that it was not just a cheeseburger, but a deluxe cheeseburger with two patties and added bacon and onion rings––and taking an enormous bite, oil dripping out of her mouth and onto her shirt. I nearly came right there in the food court.

This had to be a dream––or a nightmare, as I heard my order number announced over the speaker. How could I possibly get my order with a raging erection? I looked around to see if anyone was looking, wrapped my sweatshirt around my waist backwards, and dashed over to the counter, grabbing the tray and nearly dropping my lunch in the process as I sprinted back to my seat. Whatever––rather people think I’m autistic or something than a pervert. Looking up from my meal, I saw that she had already finished the first burger and was moving on to the second, stuffing tater tots into her mouth as she undid the wrapper. Oil stains and ketchup had already dripped onto her shirt, leaving stains as she unceremoniously wiped them away. People were beginning to shoot looks at this unhinged girl who was feasting in the middle of the mall, oblivious to the show she was putting on for the rest of us. Before I had even taken the first bite of mine, she had plowed through her second deluxe burger. Her shirt began to ride up even higher over her bloated stomach, as she dipped her fries in ketchup and shoved them into her maw.

This was all too much to handle for me––I whipped my phone out again, my hands trembling, about to burst, and pressed record, setting up my phone against my water bottle and putting my headphones in as if I was watching a video. She took a break from the burgers to start into the hot dogs. As the oil stains set in, her shirt began to appear more and more transparent, revealing her sizable cleavage underneath. Her chest heaved as she took deep breaths in between bites.

Finally, after two burgers and a hot dog, her flesh bulging out over the top of her leggings, she reached down and slid the elastic lower, releasing her overfilled belly into her lap. It was relatively small in comparison to her lower half, but bloated with the food she had consumed so far. It was certainly larger than before, and I hoped that she had bought a shirt big enough to cover it (though I secretly hoped that she hadn’t). This went on for minutes––long gulps out of her shake, tater tots dipped in ketchup and fries smothered in melted cheese, her second hot dog finished in just three huge bites, the third deluxe burger, and finally, nearing the end of my lunch break, with her stretch-marked stomach red and rounded, pressing up into her boobs, nearly pressing into the table, she scarfed down the last bite of her lunch, rubbed her enormous tummy, and let out a loud belch that had the cashiers at the burger joint snickering behind the registers. Her distended stomach could not possibly be contained by the soiled shirt that barely peaked out from under her breasts. It may have been a crop top when she started, but now it appeared more like a bandeau bra––how did she intend to leave the mall?

I never got an answer that day: for the final few minutes of my break, I watched incredulously as she rubbed her belly with a dazed look on her face. With a minute to go until I had to punch in, I stopped recording, gathered my half-eaten hamburger and tossed it in the trash as I hurried through the mall to finish my shift, hoping that my sweatshirt was doing enough to cover my stiff dick. Thankfully, after I clocked in, I would only be working in the stockroom for the rest of the day, which usually meant that I would be left alone. I was usually pretty good at getting all the stocking done, but today I could do nothing but think about the girl who had stuffed herself silly in the food court, cursing myself for not saying hello to her. But who am I kidding––she’d probably think I was a freak if I had introduced myself to her after she had made such a mess of herself. Maybe I was a freak for being so turned on by her gluttonous display… but if I was a freak, maybe so was she? After all, who does that?