I’m tired of all the other chefs picking on me cause I don’t have the body of a true chef idk what that even means I get paid to cook not to eat. So I wish that they would stop making fun of me for being a skinny chef
You were at work, fighting hard to ignore the snickering of the other chefs in the background. They'd always been dogging you for being stick thin, claiming there must've been a correlation between your weight and the quality of your food. That wasn't the case whatsoever: you just had an abnormally fast metabolism. However, that didn't numb the irritation you felt whenever the others teased you.
"Slim over there can't even stomach his own food," Jorge, a fellow chef who had a sizable yet manageable gut, jostled you.
"Meh," you grunted, refusing to look up from the soup that you were finishing up. It was meant to be the first course at the high-scale, fancy restaurant you worked at, so you were quick at work to finish it up so it could be served. After taste testing it, you thought that it could use some more flavor, so you blindly reached up for a spice and sprinkled some into the pot.
Only after you added some of what you thought was oregano, you cocked your eyebrow at the blank shaker in your hand. Worrying that you might've ruined the soup, you quickly took another taste test of it, relieved that it was impeccable.
Your relief was short-lived when your stomach began to gurgle and you felt a tightness starting to form. You thought that were about to hurl when something else started to happen.
Looking down at your stomach, your eyes widened at the sight of your flat stomach pushing out to form the beginnings of a gut. All of your clothes felt tighter as your entire body began to inflate and pack on a thick layer of fat.
"What's going on?" you gasped, dropping what you were doing to rush to the restroom. As you moved, you blushed at the new feeling of your growing gut jiggling with every step you took. The buttons on your chef uniform started to burst off, unable to contain the growing mass.
Once you burst inside the bathroom, you rushed over to the mirror in time to see a double chin starting to form. Everything on your body was packing on weight, just with most of it centered around your gut. Your eyes widened when you saw your previously stick-like arms fill out, soon followed by your legs. Thighs pressed together, shredding your pants to shreds, especially when your butt bubbled out and burst through. Flat pecs filled out into sizable moobs, stretching your nipples out to the size of silver dollars.
By the time the growth was over, you were left in your briefs, staring at your enlarged form in disbelief.
"This isn't possible," you breathed as you did a three-sixty in the mirror, feeling your jiggling mass rubbing up against itself with every movement, sending little darts of pleasure straight to your cock. Looking down, your view of your hard member was blocked by your overhanging gut.
A wide smile broke out on your fuller face, eager to show off your new form to the other chefs. You now rivaled all of their sizes, even Jorge's. It didn't take a genius to suspect that the unknown ingredient in the soup was the culprit, and you were desperate to taste some more so that you could be the largest, fattest chef in the entire restaurant.
With your head held up, you exited the bathroom and walked back into the kitchen, having difficulty maneuvering with your protruding gut constantly bumping into shelves and knocking over bowls of food.
Once you made it back to your station, you were confused to see that the soup was gone, and that the server was nowhere to be seen.
Paling, you hurried as quickly as you could with your inflated legs to the front of house, peeking out the kitchen door at the restaurant that was packed with customers who were starting their first course: the soup.
"Oops," you mumbled sheepishly as you witnessed every other man in the restaurant grab at their stomachs as they steadily began to inflate into large guts...
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[Photo Source: https://www.deviantart.com/kirbyfan5000/art/Image-587571159]
