Pizza Delivery Part 3 teaser!

The sign on the door said Poppy Jon’s. It was early still, before the indicated noon opening, so no one was inside to see a mostly naked Chad hustle in to avoid being arrested. Paul lumbered up behind him, laughing at Chad’s embarrassment, his belly slipping out from his t-shirt to wobble with each chortle. 

Chad was less than amused. “C’mon man, you said there’d be clothes once we got inside.”

Wiping away a tear, Paul patted him on the gut with the back of his hand, causing a ripple to flow outward from the impact. “Calm down, buddy. We’ll get you suited up, but the boss is gonna wanna have a look at you first.”

To Chad It seemed like a standard layout for a pizzeria: bar counter with a register facing the street, a few bar stools for customers who decided to eat their slices inside, and a door leading to the kitchen/cooking area off to the side. He did note the scent of the place was somewhat off from the normal smells of baking pizza, but he couldn’t quite tell why.

Paul elbowed his way past him toward the door that lead to the cooking area, and Chad followed. The smell intensified as he made his way down the hall until he finally recognized the pungent aroma of weed. At the end of the short hall was a swinging door, which Paul pushed open revealing the kitchen and ovens.

It also revealed the denizens of the kitchen, two men at least as large as Paul, if not larger, each preparing ingredients and passive a joint between them. As Paul and Chad entered, they stopped and wiped their hands on already stained t-shirts.

Paul motioned to a still mostly nude Chad wearing nothing but a robe that didn’t close at the front. “Guys, this is Chad. Guys, Chad.” 

The first stepped forward and offered a chunky hand for Chad to shake. The sleeves to his t-shirt were cut off, revealing massive, ham-life arms covered in tattoos of dragons and skulls and other mystical creatures. The sides of his wide head were shaved with the middle done up in a faux-hawk, the rest of his face covered in a scraggly and bushy beard. The shorts he wore were tight enough to show every contour of thighs wider than most men’s waists, and legs covered in hair down to his sandaled feet. Like Paul, the bottom of his belly peaked well past the end of his shirt, folding over his waist almost far enough to conceal his groin. “Name’s Rick,” was all he said in a gruff tone.

Chad shook his hand, and then angled toward the second of the pair. He was even larger than Rick, although his broad smile seemed more genuine. “Hi, I’m Steve, or Steve-o as most people call me.”

As Chad shook he couldn’t help but stare as Steve-o’s body moved like a wave in time with each pump of his fist. Whereas Rick was heavy and bulky, Steve was wide and billowy. His chest was like 2 melons jostling beneath a baggy t-shirt that despite being large enough to be a tent, still didn’t cover the lowest extremity of his hanging gut. It spilled like a sack of flour adorning the sides of the kitchen, low enough to rest on his upper thighs. His face was widest of them all and also the cleanest shaved, with an actual triple chin just beneath the burning spliff in his mouth. 

Chad was immediately hard.