A week later, I was back at PolyBurger; Amber and I had been there every day, and I felt permanently stuffed. I'd weighed myself that morning and I had already gained eight pounds; but if I wanted to reach the 210 lb target – the threshold of customer-friendly obesity – I'd need to put on another 45 by the end of the month. I sat in the back room and munched resolutely away at my quadruple burger with extra extra fries, calculating in my head how many made up one valuable pound.
Just then, Julie came in to start her shift, her tight PolyBurger uniform clinging to her full figure. "Hey there," she smiled, "getting an early start, are we?" She grabbed for one of my fries with a pudgy hand and eyed my slight belly as she ate it, saying, "Mmph, you're going to be so cute when you get chubby."
I blushed. "Uh – you think so?"
"Oh, yeah," said Julie, turning to go. "By the way, I'm having some people over tonight for pizza – if you want to come, I'd love to see you there."
I watched Julie's big, swaying behind as she left, and looked down at the food in front of me. I didn't know if I was still going to be able to move after work – but that sounded pretty tempting.
Amber was about half an hour late that day, but made up for it by diving straight into her meal with gusto. She'd put on more weight than I had, I was sure, her belly now beginning to fold into small rolls when she sat down across the table from me. We got into a rhythm, grazing all day on meal after meal until our stomachs were tight and swollen. Amber didn't make much small talk; she held a novel aloft in one hand while blindly stuffing her face with the other, yet somehow she managed to look good on it. I tried not to stare but when about midmorning a blob of ketchup fell from her burger onto her left breast I couldn't take my eyes off it until she noticed. She lifted her boob with one hand, craned her neck down and with her long tongue licked the ketchup off. I pretty much had to open a window when I'd seen that.
At the end of a long day of eating, Amber and I were heaving ourselves gingerly out of our chairs; I had just spent eight hours eating and my stomach was tight and tender. So the last thing I was expecting was for Amber to turn to me and say, "I could use something sweet. Do you want to go and get ice cream?"
I looked at her and felt a gurgle of digestive complaint from my over-full stomach. "Um –"
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