This chapter has illustrations!
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/45893034/ and https://www.furaffinity.net/view/45936309/

Summary: Chuck is faced with his biggest meal yet, but his plate is missing his favorite food. Both his budget and his fullness tell him he can't go back to the buffet for another helping. Kyle doesn't have the same inhibition.

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Chapter 3

The retriever’s tail wagged wildly behind him. His hand paws and face were slick with sauces and grease, an arrangement of the same smeared and dribbled over his thin white shirt. He carried a very large, clean plate. “Hello Chuck! Hello Kyle!”
“You are glowing today, Wilbur,” Kyle complimented. “Is that a new hat?”
Wilbur’s tail paused momentarily as he touched his backwards cap in thought. His chest stuck out far enough that when he raised his arm, his elbow still touched against his moob. The wagging resumed. “No, no, but thank you for asking.” The retriever put the plate down on the table and grinned down at Chuck, who was preoccupied by the large midsection inches from his beak. “I know you’re on your date so I won’t bother you. I promise I will stay of your feathers, cross my heart. I just wanted to leave this for you. Just in case.”
Chuck’s jaw hung. He raised his eyebrows. “Thank you,” he said. What he would have said in any other situation was ‘That plate is almost as big around as I am. You’re crazy if you think I can eat that much.’
Wilbur raised his paws and nodded to Kyle and to Chuck and started to withdraw. “Have a good night, lovebirds.”
Kyle stood and picked up the plate after Wilbur was back at his own table at a different section of the restaurant. The seating looked lower to the ground, sturdier and wider. The occupants met the same criteria, with some hungry souls even larger than Wilbur. Wilbur was the biggest fur Chuck knew personally, and the only fur proud to boast about his weight.
Chuck rose and pointed to the plate. “Don’t be silly, we’ll use the plates they have.”
Kyle hugged the plate. “No.”
“Fine.” Chuck started the walk to the buffet. “We’ll share off it then.”
“Sure.” The flamingo smiled knowingly.
As they reached the start of the self-serve line, Chuck immediately felt the familiar stir of desire within himself. His stomach rumbled again. Honey-soy delectables of any kind were his weakness, and the buffet included an entire dedicated section.
There were more types of food than he could have ever imagined. Food with silly names like Ratatouille, food more familiar like pizza and ravioli, food that was fatty, food that was slimming, food that was fried, and food that was sauteed.
There was no way he could try everything at once. And goodness, his budget would not allow it. He already worried what a plate of Wilbur’s size would cost.
Kyle was already stocking the dish with food.
Chuck rushed to catch up, biting his wingtips. “That’s a lot, Kyle.”
Kyle shrugged casually. “I’m hungry. And look at the seasoning on these green beans! Irresistible.”
By the time they reached the register, the plate was burdened to its limit. It was stacked high with food barely contained within the edges. Chuck longingly looked back at the honey-soy section, which Kyle had suspiciously avoided entirely, well aware of his partner’s predilection.
Is he trying to make sure I’ll go back? Chuck wondered. He was starving, but from the very beginning hadn’t planned on eating too much. But Kyle... He knows, he knows, he knows.
Chuck only had about fifteen dollars left to his name after paying for the plate. He wouldn’t go back—he couldn’t go back. They sat down and Kyle began to pick at his beans, and all that Chuck could think about was going back.
Everything tasted amazing. He took one bite of a mushroom dish and melted, and thought he would have to go back. He picked clean a rib and his heart skipped a beat and he thought he really must go back. He lost himself in each morsel, and with each bite was further and further compelled that skipping his favorite dish would be impossible. It would be… it would be a crime, with food this phenomenal!
But with what money?
As if rising out of a trance, Chuck felt heavy upon a sudden. His fingers left the plate empty-handed, with nothing left to grab. He sat back, astounded. His shirt had come partially untucked on its own, letting his stuffed gut slope over his lap.
He stifled a belch and nervously loosened his tie. His eyes betrayed him, wandering back to the buffet right under his partner’s nose.
“Still hungry?” Kyle asked.
“No,” Chuck answered. He shook his head quickly and looked at the plate between them. Easily four servings had filled it. Potentially five. “No, that was plenty.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Kyle stood up and grabbed the plate again. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Kyle,” Chuck whined, grasping at his beak. “No more for me.”
“It would be the sweetest dessert for me to see you enjoy honey-soy nibbles,” Kyle said. “We saved the best for last.”
Chuck eyed the buffet again and felt starving all over. He looked at the pricing boards hanging above the standard plates. Fifteen dollars could get him a taste. “Small plate.”
“You’d regret it.” Kyle put down the giant plate and marched towards the buffet.
Chuck started abruptly to his feet, which quickly rendered him dizzy. “What are you up to?”
He had to pause to come to terms with the amount he’d already eaten. Perhaps he wasn’t so starving after all. A portion tried to come back up, but he swallowed it down and steadied himself with his chair. He grimaced and meekly lowered himself back to sitting, spreading his legs to make more room for the part of him that was in command.
Ensuring his paunch was well-hidden under tablecloth, he reached under to unzip his jeans and give his strangled waist more room to breathe. The relief was instant.
Then Kyle was back with more food—food that Chuck hadn’t paid for on a plate bigger than he needed. Chuck squeaked, speechless as a large plate (but not nearly as large as the last) was placed before him.
Unable to address Kyle directly for a moment, Chuck’s attention wandered to Wilbur, who was staring at him with astonishment. Chuck felt immediately embarrassed and sunk lower into his seat, hands on his belly.
“We can doggy-bag anything you don’t want,” Kyle prompted. He found Chuck’s eyes earnestly. “I know you wanted to treat me and I appreciate it and love you so much for it, but you’re not going to miss out on your favorite dish because of money. I have a good job. Just let me buy you this one dish, okay? Then we’ll go home.”
Chuck stared at the plate and was hypnotized before he could afford better judgement. What was one more plate of sweet food going to do, after all? As with every restaurant meal before, the plate was cleaned up without difficulty. Food seemed to put him under a spell, for he went in and was lost to it, then woke when it was all gone and he was all swollen and sore.
Chuck had to lean on Kyle on the way out to overcome the suffocating tension in his middle, resulting in a stiff and drunken-looking stagger out of the restaurant. The parrot was much heavier than Kyle, and made it worse by hunching over.
Kyle drove them home and helped his bird to the bedroom, where he lay Chuck gently over the covers of their king-sized bed. The flamingo kissed his cheek and untied his tie.
Chuck lay flat with his arms pressed against the mattress. His belly stuck out as if it had been inflated and appeared to grow slightly with each button that Kyle carefully plucked free from his over-stressed shirt.
Chuck tried to reach to take off his jeans, but the bulk of himself weighed him down and he fell back to lying perfectly still. Kyle wriggled the jeans off for him and gently massaged the taut belly, which stirred quiet gurgles of digestion.
The parrot moaned quietly and shook his head, eyes closed. Kyle stood back for a moment, and watched as his partner drifted easily into deep sleep.
As the flamingo moved to put away Chuck’s clothes and strip off his own, he found Chuck’s ruined suit pants discarded on the floor. Kyle crouched and sifted the fabric between his fingers until he came to the broken zipper and torn-away clasp.
The flamingo’s eyes widened. He looked from the pants, to the one who no longer fit them, and thought, ‘These were tailored less than a year ago.’
He worried that Chuck hadn’t told him. Chuck hadn’t mentioned anything about his size. Not once. He appeared to look over it most of the time. He never had been very self aware, so it was not a huge surprise to Kyle that the parrot didn’t notice his day-to-day meals having to be bigger to get the same energy, that his belly stuck out the bottom of his shirts when he didn’t tuck them, that his work shirt looked tighter and tighter on him every day, and they had keep twice the amount of snacking foods stocked in the cupboards as they used to.
Kyle hugged the pants to himself, then dropped them to crouch beside his sweetheart. ‘Was this the first time he noticed he was gaining weight? Should I have told him?‘
Kyle thought about Chuck’s size, his weight, the way it had made cuddles warmer and stronger and sex more exciting. Kyle had been nervous at first about the weight gain, but it really had made Chuck healthier, more energetic, and best of all for Kyle, more cuddly. ‘Of course I noticed.’
For a moment, Kyle hovered his handfeathers over Chuck’s belly, beyond tempted to feel it. But he looked so sweet when sleeping.
Kyle sighed and smiled and carefully lifted the covers on his side of the bed.
“Goodnight, luv.”