Compliments to the chef

by YellowJester   

A business meeting quickly gets derailed at just one taste of the chef’s special sauce. The line between food porn and other type of porn can blur especially when that food causes your dinner companions to change before your very eyes.

“Wow, looks delicious,” my boss Mr. Mayer said as the three plates of greens were set on the table. The middle-aged businessman was of course referring to the ornately presented food that had just arrived but I couldn’t help thinking about how delouses the hunky waiter was. His bulky forearm nearly brushed against my face as he set down the food in front of me, the dusting of brown hair on his arms not obstructing the network of veins that stood out against his tan skin.

“Here we have the Cumcumber salad with the chef’s special clear creamy sauce,” the attractive server said, his deep voice and hypnotic accent making the word cucumber sound like cumcumber, or maybe I was just really horny for him.

“Anyways where were we,” Mr. Brice said to Mr. Mayer as they jumped back into their business conversation. Mr. Brice had to be more than thirty years Mr. Mayer’s senior but to my 23-year-old brain, they both seemed equally old and well established. I knew nothing about business, my father was the reason I had gotten this job, which was basically as Mr. Mayors’ glorified secretary. He had brought me along on this work lunch mostly just to be a pretty face, and to show Mr. Brice that the company had a bright future. I just sat there and nodded trying to seem engaged as their business discussions flew over my head. To distract myself I took a bite of the salad, my eyes widening in shock. Maybe it was because I was used to shitty college food for the last four years but the salad was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. The perfect blend of the freshness of the cucumber mixed with a tangy saltiness that must be the chef’s special sauce. I ate the rest of the salad as fast as I could while still keeping some dignity. I noticed the two businessmen were also tearing into their dishes between discussions of prices and stocks.

“Wow, this has to be one of the best salads I have ever had,” said Mr. Brice finishing the last of the cucumbers. “How is it that I have never heard of this place?”

“It’s very exclusive,” answered Mr. Mayer. “I had to go on the waitlist for six months just to get this reservation.” That was not quite true, this restaurant was invite-only, six months ago I had got a call that we had been accepted to dine at the Stud Cafe and had suggested to Mr. Mayor that we take Mr. Brice, a very important potential new partner, there for this meeting. I was hoping that this decision would show I was capable of more responsibility or at least a raise.

“Time well spent,” Mr. Brice said absently patting his stomach. Mr. Brice was not a small man, while not fat the years had given him a bit of a gut that pushed out his expensive suit. Yet for some reason as he sat across the table I could swear I saw him deflate, his waist-trimming out, his shirt becoming baggy. Even stranger as he launched into another discussion with Mr. Mayer I swear I could see his double chin dissolve, his face becoming thinner, and were his wrinkles disappearing?

Mr. Mayer was also not without his share of strange changes, when the three men had entered the restaurant he had been almost completely bald, now as he listened to Mr. Brice he had a full head of thick dark brown hair, perfectly coiffed in a professional style that connected to a dark five o’clock shadow that had definitely not been there before. Internally I knew that something was wrong, that my dinner companions were changing before my eyes yet for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, I just kept thinking about that delicious zesty sauce and what dish they would bring out next.

Curiously I stubbly opened my phone and turned on the front camera to check out my own reflection. I was not immune to the changes it seemed, my previously dirty blond hair had lightened and somehow looked shorter, my messy mop of curls having sucked into my head giving me a business-friendly crew cut that matched the stubble now sported like Mr. Mayer. My future also looked different, recognizable yet something enhanced, my jaw a little sharper, my brows a little thicker and my smile a little whiter. I saw up straighter as my legs grew longer and my feet rested firmly on the floor. I felt different, refreshed my head clearer, and my attention more focused.

As I took in my new visage the hunky waiter came up beside me carrying three plates heaped with slices of meat and vegetable his, bulky arms flexed as he balanced the three heavy plates.

“We have here the cummed beef topped again with the chef’s special sauce,” he said, setting a plate in front of each of us “enjoy, handsome,” he said to me with a wink and walked back to the kitchen, his pants tight against his perky ass.

“Did we ever place an order?” Mr. Brice asked hesitantly looking down at the food before him.

“That’s the great thing about this restaurant, I just told the chef a little about the three of us and he put together a menu for us.” I knew that to be true of course because I had been the one to speak to the chef or the person I assumed to be the chef. The voice on the other end had been so deep that it might have been computer-generated. It had seemed quite excited when I told him the dinner was a business meeting and said it had the perfect menu for the occasion. When we had walked into the restaurant and saw only one table I was worried I had made a mistake but the last course had proved that I had indeed made a good choice.

Now we all stared down at the steaming beef in front of us, I had never wanted to eat anything more and yet the effects of that last course had not been lost on any of us. Nevertheless, the smell wafting from the dish eventually won out and all three of the men at the table including myself began to devour the food in front of us. The conversation was notably lighter this time as we focused mostly on eating only pausing occasionally to discuss how amazing the food was. Despite my concentration on the task, I did notice the changes once again racking my dinner companions. Bigger, that was the easiest way to describe the effects of the cummed beef. While the first course had emptied out the two man’s suits, causing their blazers and dress shirts to hang loosely around their thinner frames the second course quickly remedied that. Strong arms now filled sleeves to the bursting point, with every bite swelling a little more. Shoulders widened and pecs pushed out giving the two businessmen before me a silhouette that befitted their power. Midway through the dish Mr. Mayor removed his jacket straining to peel it off his bulky figure. Mr. Brice on the other hand elected to keep the extra layer on, allowing the power of his growing figure to bust the seams apart. I had taken my jacket off at the start of the meal but that did not save me from the discomfort of my now two sizes too small clothing. At first, I just loosed my tie to allow my expanding neck air, but after a few more bites I completely removed it and unbuttoned the top few buttons of my Oxford exposing a deep crevice between pecs that had not been there before.

The sound of forks scraping against plates shaken me out of my food-induced trance. A moment ago there had been a heaping plate of food in front of my scrawny 130-pound self. Now the plate sat empty and I was 100 pounds heavier, 230 pounds of pure beef. Mr. Brice and Mr. Mayor had also finished their entree and been similarly transformed, the meat that went into their mouths somehow magnified and packed onto their bones. While all three of us were massive by any standards Mr, Brice seemed to come out the biggest, his suit now tatters on his muscular frame exposing impressively deep abs for a man of his age. Mr. Mayor was no slouch either his thick round pecs had popped open every button on his shirt leaving his marvelous masculine torso bare, his nipples round and perky. His sleeves too had given up exposing round biceps and well-developed matching triceps. Under the table, all three of our legs had swelled to match the rest of our bodies and support our added weight, and judging by the bulges the meat had made everything bigger, including, well our meat. What had started as a business meeting now looked like a bodybuilding convention or honesty with all the ripped clothing a strip show.

This was wrong, this was all wrong. Yet it didn’t feel wrong, it felt great. Despite my body’s added weight, I felt lighter than ever. We had all just watched each other morph before our eyes yet rather than shock or horror there were only smiles on the faces of the men at the table. Mr. Mayor and Mr. Brice continued their business talk like they both hadn’t just flexed out of their clothing, the only indication of the change was the deeper voice that emanated from their thick necks. My attention was more focused on the studly waiter walking over to our table with three more dishes of food. How was I only now noticing how sexy this guy was? Judging from the muscles that strained his sleeves and pushes out the front of his apron I would guess he had also sampled the Cummed Beef and possibly even the Cumcumer salad judging by how handsome he was. A short well maintained beard perfectly complemented thick eyebrows and pillowy lips.

“For our third and final course we have a housemate Cum Brûlée served once again with the chef’s special sauce,” the bearded waiter said setting down a bowl in front of each of us. “And please feel free to make yourself at home,” he said massaging one of my pecs as he spoke and removing my 18” arm from its sleeve. At his words, Mr. Brice tore the shreds of this suit off revealing his massive body while my boss put his hands under the table unbuttoning his pants and forcing them over his round butt and thick thighs. After only a few moments of pulling and ripping all three of us sat naked. Of all the things that I had thought the night would bring nudity was certainly not one of them. Yet I tucked it into my desserts like it was the most natural thing in the world, like my 10” dick wasn’t hidden from view by the only thin table cloth.

While I had tried to keep some dignity with the first two courses I had no such reserves when it came to dessert. I ate with reckless abandon hardly tasting the sweetness of the Cum Brûlée in my hurry. I licked my bowl clean trying to get every drop I could of the chef’s special sauce I could. It was only when I looked up that I worried about what changes this dish would bring. Mr. Mayor and Mr. Brice had already finished their desserts judging by the empty bowls in front of them. It seemed in his rush Mr. Brice had been messy dropping a dollop of the sticky sweet cream on his bare chest. Luckily, Mr. Mayor, had him covered and was currently licking the sugary substance off his thick square pecs and segmented abs.

Besides the obvious lack of inhibitions and business decorum both the men looked changed. Not in the same obvious ways as the first two courses but noticeable, nonetheless. Mr. Brice was no longer the bloated tern 70-something businessman he had once been. His body was somehow bigger, his arms had swelled even larger and now stroked his thick 9” cock that no 70-year-old possessed. Most likely because Mr. Brice wasn’t 70 years old anymore, or at least he didn’t look it; his hair once entirely white was now a sexy salt and pepper with most of the salt focused on the temples. The wrinkles that once creased his face were now relegated to his eyes and mouth making him look more like a silver fox than a senior citizen. His jaw was now wider, his chin cleft, and his eyes a clear shade of blue. Mr. Brice would never enter a board room again without turning every head and raising every penis.

When Mr. Mayor removed his tongue from Mr. Brice’s god-like torso I saw that he had been similarly transformed. If Mr. Brice was a silver fox then Mr. Mayor was the quintessential sexy executive. His face contorted into a constant sexy smolder, his eyes dark and his smile twisted in a knowing grin. His sharp jaw was complemented by the perfect amount of stubble that perfectly matched his dark hair that looked just the right amount disheveled. While Mr. Brice was all raw power and mass Mr. Mayor was definition. He had an 8-pack framed by deep cum gutters that led the eye naturally to the long dick that he too was now stroking. While not small by any regular standards Mr. Mayor was not the hulking giants that Mr. Brice and the server were.

Neither was I although I was no larger than my boss. I had the look of an up-in-coming businessman although with my giant dick and plump muscles I looked more like a porn star pretending to be one for an adult film. My face was fresh and young but still unmistakably sexy. High sharp cheekbones and a strong square jaw created a handsome visage that was aided by the 5-day beard my stubble had morphed into sometime during the meal.

“How did you big guys enjoy your meal,” the server asked his approach not noticed during my introspection.

“The food was amazing!” Mr. Mayor responded.

“And the service was even better,” I added grabbing the waiter by his collar and pulling him into a deep kiss. His beard tickled my own; he tasted like the chef’s special sauce. Glancing over I see Mr. Bruce leaning back in his chair hands behind his head pits exposed. Mr. Mayor was nowhere to be seen but judging by the sucking sounds and moans Mr. Brock was letting out I guessed he was having a fourth course.

“My compliments to the chef,” Mr. Brock said to my make-out partner between verbal releases of sexual pleasures.

“Much appreciated,” an impossibly deep voice that I recognized from the phone replied. From a side door, a man entered the dining area. How can I describe this man? He is the height of masculinity, a god among men. Instantly the four of us stopped our sexual exploits at his entry, deriving more pleasure from just looking at him. He must have been 7 feet tall or at least close, his height only furthered by the white chef’s hat he wore.

You know that GigaChad meme, with the guy so masculine he looks photoshopped? That was him, lantern jaw so wide it looked like something from a comic book. His torso was covered by a white apron but I had no doubt that it matched the face, muscular to the extreme. His arms and legs certainly were, looking more like tree stumps than limbs. The real stump was his dick though, it peaked past the end of his apron, nearly to his knee.

“Now who’s hungry,” he asked hoisting the thing up with a massive hand, the head already dripping his special sauce. Suddenly I was starving.

After a full night of fucking and a day to recover I got a call from the chef. Mr. Mayor and Mr. Brock he told me were very useful to him running their respective agriculture empires, supplying him with all the fresh ingredients he would ever need. I on the other hand could help him in other ways. He was looking to expand the restaurant and asked if I might want to become a server there. Immediately I accepted, business had never really suited me.

I love my job. Love serving the customers, watching them change with every bite. The customers give good tips too, sometimes not just the tip if you know what I mean. My favorite part without a doubt is the end of the night when the chef has some sauce spare and I get to sample the merchandise.

All I can say is my compliments to the chef and that penis especially.

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