Adam pt. 1

Adam didn't know why, but he found the scene oddly transfixing. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help it. He had been cleaning the same square foot of counter for the last ten minutes, all so that he might watch the scene unfold, unnoticed by any of the patrons. Normally he made a point to ignore the customers as much as he could, but these were regulars and he had taken a strange interest in them.



Under normal circumstances he tried avoid interacting with the customers as much as was possible. True, he would run a hand self-consciously through his wavy blonde hair or smile shyly whenever an especially cute guy came in, but for the most part, he busied himself only with his job, thinking desperately about the end of his shift.

But these customers were different. They fascinated him. Whenever they came (which was at least once a week) they would settle themselves down around the biggest table in the center of the restaurant, and order a simply impossible amount of food. Then they would sit and they would eat. Sometimes they were there for several hours, calling for more and more food. French fries, burgers, cheesesticks; if a waitress brought it, they would it eat it, and with great gusto.



It was group of men, all about the same age as Adam. He thought he recognized a few of them from his economics class. There were usually three or four of them, and though the faces changed with most every meal, there were several he recognized. There was the lanky red head. There was the guy with the dreadlocks. There was the shorter guy with all the piercings. But the one that interested Adam most seemed to be the ringleader of the little group. He was there every week without fail, and Adam had gathered from the rest of the staff, that often times he was appeared even more often than that.



Adam could not help but notice that he was exceptionally handsome, but in a careless, masculine sort of way. He had a strong square jawline, adorned with with stubble that was only a little shy of becoming a beard. He wore his thick black hair very short, which only served to accentuate his strong jaw and handsome face. He always seemed to be smiling, a warm and endearing kind of smile that seemed to infect whoever happened to be with him. He was quite tall, and built like a football player. A running back, maybe, not that Adam knew anything about football. He had strong broad shoulders and muscular arms, but gave off the distinct impression of an athlete who was beginning to let himself go. Though his arms and upper body appeared as firm and muscular as one could ask for, there was simply no getting around the fact that he had a gut. Somehow, Adam didnÕt quite think of him of being fat. The rest of his body was really very slim and muscular, but his midsection was soft and round from what might have been a few too many trips to the diner. His belly protruded out in front of him, a definite contrast from the rest of his athletic build and judging by the slight jiggle it made with each step he took, it was the only part of his body that was truly flabby.



But it was his gut that Adam found truly fascinating. Every week he sauntered in, accompanied by two or three of his friends all of whom seemed to be quite athletic and rather slimmer than their potbellied companion.  Every week, he wore jeans that seemed to be slightly too small for him. They rode low on his hips, probably because they were unable to reach all the way around his fleshy middle. His gut protruded proudly past the waistband, as did a set of truly impressive love handles. He always wore a tight t-shirt, usually white, that accentuated not only his muscular upper body, but the round, outward curve of his stomach. What struck Adam as unusual was that he never seemed to make any attempts to conceal his girth under baggier clothes.



At first, he had thought that the extra pounds the young man carried around his middle must be a recent acquisition. Perhaps he hadn't yet realized just how chubby he was getting, or perhaps he hadn't gotten around to buying bigger clothes. But Adam had been working at the diner for a few months now, and the man's clothes hadn't gotten any baggier. If anything, he was quite sure they had gotten tighter. He would swear that the man's stomach seemed to be growing rounder and softer from one week to the next, and by now, his clothes were clearly struggling to compensate.



After a few weeks covert observation, Adam came to the sudden and rather astonishing conclusion that the man was proud of his gut. It seemed to explain why that man ate more than any of his gluttonous friends combined. It explained the tight clothes and the slightly self-deprecating manner in which he would pat his stomach after every meal. Adam was intrigued by the idea. So intrigued, in fact, that he found himself thinking about it, even when the chunky customer wasn't around.



Adam was a thin man, but he hadn't always been that way. He remembered the cherubic cheeks and round belly of his grade school days, and the taunts of the other kids. It wasn't until puberty that the baby fat had seemed to melt away, and since then, Adam had been quite determined to maintain his slender physique. He was never much of an athlete, but he worked out regularly. He avoided sweets (a particular weakness for him) and rarely ate as much as he would have liked to. He had always thought it a worthwhile price to pay for his slender hips, thighs and stomach. Then, along came this man, handsome, popular, cheerful who allowed his fat stomach to spill over the waistband of his jeans without a second thought. He ate to his heart's content, and never seemed afraid to reach for a second slice of pie.



Adam was enamored with the idea. There was something enormously attractive about the man's confidence, and though Adam could not bring himself to admit it, he was beginning to think there was something attractive about the man's belly. He had never been with a fat guy before. He had always gone for the athletic types, with their washboard abs and chiseled everything. He had begun to wonder what it would be like to instead cuddle up alongside a soft, fat belly. To feel the flesh tremble underneath his touch. He confessed himself curious, if not a little aroused by the idea.



Adam supposed there was no real point in denying it. He had a crush on that thickset black haired young man. He thought he'd heard another man call him Trent, but he wasn't sure. Several times now Adam had contemplated various excuses to strike up a conversation with him, but every time he worked up the nerve, the group would seem to decide they were finished with their meal. The man who might or might not have been named Trent would get to his feet, rubbing his belly happily and Adam would loose his cool completely. All he would be able to do from that point on would be to blush and keep his eyes fixed on the register as they paid for their meal.



So, Adam occupied himself instead by trying not to stare whenever the man and his friends came into the restaurant. Invariably, he would devise some excuse to stay close to them and watch as they ate from the corner of one shifty blue eye. Today, it was scrubbing the counter. Really, he knew he couldn't continue the charade much longer. He could very nearly see his reflection in the counter. He was just about to give up on it and return to the register when he heard someone speak above the general din of the restaurant. It was the man.

He had a deep, masculine voice befitting of a man his size, but there was a gentle quality to it Adam would not have expected to hear there. "God, I'm stuffed." He said, to no one in particular. Even as he said it, he shoveled another large handful of fries into his mouth.



"Dude, me too." Said the lanky red head to his left. "And I didn't even eat half of what you did."

The man laughed and helped himself to the last cheese stick on the plate in the center of the table. "I could've eaten more." He said a little ruefully. "But I stopped for ice cream on the way over."



Several of his companions laughed and the red head gave him an exasperated look. "You're unbelievable." He said.

"I was hungry." The man said with a shrug. "Can't expect a guy to starve."



The red head grinned wryly and then leaned over towards the man. His hand disappeared underneath the table and for a moment Adam was confused, until he said. "I'm not worried about you wasting away, Trent." A slight thrill coursed through AdamÕs body. The red head had probably put an admonishing hand on his friendÕs belly, for a slight flush and a sheepish grin spread across Trent's face and the other men laughed.



"Yeah, well, I can't help it that I-" He stopped suddenly as he looked up and his eyes fell on Adam, who was staring, quite unabashedly. Adam felt his face go red as Trent stared back at him for a moment that felt like eternity. He had a bemused sort of expression on his face, and Adam could not tell whether he was angry embarrassed or just creeped out. Then, Trent's face broke into a smile, and to Adam's mingled horror and disbelief he winked. Adam turned away quickly and pretended to busy himself cleaning something else, but he stood with his back to the men, still listening.



"Hey man, we gotta get going." Said a new voice. "Josh and I have practice at five."



"Yeah, that's right." Came the redhead's voice. "You wouldn't believe how much our coach has been drilling us lately." There was a scraping of chairs as they got to their feet.



"Aren't you coming, Trent?" One of them said.



"Nah." Trent replied lazily. "I think I might get dessert. You guys go ahead, this one's on me."



"Thanks, man."



"Yeah thanks, Trent."

Adam thought he could hear their footsteps receding, and a moment later heard the tinkle of the bell over the front door. He lingered for a moment, trying to plan how best to slip away without Trent seeing him again when suddenly he heard a deep voice behind him.



"Excuse me."



Adam jumped and dropped the cloth he had been pretending to clean with. He turned around, rooted to the spot with fear and embarrassment, and saw that Trent had made his way over to the counter. He was a lot taller than Adam, who stood at a slight 5'8", and he smiled down at him kindly.
"Uh . . .yeah?" Adam said stupidly.



Trent leaned against the counter, bearing his muscular forearms to Adam. "It's nothing really." He said, with a self-deprecating kind of a smile. "But, IÕve lost my waitress, and I'm thinking about dessert. I was just wondering what you'd recommend."



Adam was dumbfounded. "I-" He stammered as he moved to stand a little close to the counter. "Well, um, what sounds good to you?"



A contemplative expression crossed TrentÕs face. He reached for a pile of menus that lay abandoned on the counter and pulled one towards him. He flicked it open and then leaned a little closer still, so that his stomach squished against the counter, the upper part of it becoming a small roll of fat that spilled onto the counter and the menu. "Cheesecake." He said mildly. "Oh, and the chocolate pie. They both sound amazing."



"Why not get both?" Adam blurted before he could stop himself.



Trent looked up, his dark eyebrows raised. After a moment he said, "I like the way you think . . . Adam." He glanced at Adam's name tag and grinned.



Adam smiled back shyly and ran a hand self-consciously for his hair. "I'll get that for you right away sir." He said. "A slice of cheesecake and a slice of chocolate pie."