The servants kept the food coming, but each dish seemed to get lighter and lighter. Eventually there was nothing to give. All of the chefs began to sweat. They knew this was the day was going to come sooner or later, but no one wanted to face it.
“You're slowing down, boys. Where's the beef?” Carter boomed. His gut was nowhere near full. Sure he had walked up a decent sweat and stink from walking to the kitchen and shoveling all the food down, but he wanted more. He loved being in the kitchen. He loved stinking out his new chefs. Being the boss no one could call him out for belching or farting, and he payed them too much for them to quit even after he would sit on them. He rubbed his gut greedily
“But sir,” One of the smaller chefs said. “You have eaten everything in the kitchen. If you could please just wait, perhaps we can get something ordered.”
“Oh boys, you're killing me here. You must hate your friend.” Cater said. He ground his ass onto the little chef beneath him. He could feel the smaller man moan in masked pleasure. Carter rubbed his sweaty gut with one hand and stroked his hairy face with the other, licking his fingers one by one. With the hand on his gut he gave himself a squeeze and let out a sloppy wet fart. “I'd get me something soon, or else your friend here is going to be smothered and gassed all at the same time!” Cater laughed.
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