As Ashley hauled her bulk off the bus, she struggled to squeeze her oversized ass through the doorframe, having to turn sidewise to make it. By the time she got off the bus, she was red in the face, out of breath and cursing about "Cheap crummy Jap Engineering" while she tugged at the hemline of her shirt, where a bit of olive flab was sticking out. On the inside though, she knew she had only herself to blame.
After suffering a leg injury her first year there, Ashley Knight had blown up into a massive fatass. She'd put on nearly 100 pounds every year, and worse yet, she did it while serving as the gym coach. By the time she was fired/let off, she couldn't even demonstrate a single push up or sit up for her class. The very students she had derided as heifers and layabouts when she arrived soon were in far better shape than her, through no efforts of their own. Her shame at her size compounded and blended into her shame at her failure. She dreaded every single person who would recognize her.
Starting with her parents.
Fortunately for her, the Bus dropped her off within walking distance for Ashley (which wasn't very far). The place was located in a busy commercial part of town.
"Nitolli's Pizzeria" it said in cursive letters. Her grandfather had changed the family name to Knight to avoid discrimination against Sicilians, hoping to get a leg up in the world. Her father decided to use the original when he decided to go into the pizza business.
Things looked like they hadn't changed one bit since she left 8 years ago. In fact, she had expected that. Her father had the idea that if he never changed anything, it might become a city landmark. Ashley had the growing concern he might be right.
She lumbered in, and spied him there just where she left him, at the counter. Grey haired, and mustached, just a little too flabby to look dashing despite his handsome features. He looked bored, disinterested, even as she approached. He looked at her and just said "What can I get you today?"
Ashley's eyes quickly flared with surprise, which caused him to realize something was wrong.
"Papa?" She asked.
"Ashley? Ashley! I didn't recognized you!" He blurt out, before realizing how awkward that was. Ashley stood with her knees and arms locked, clenching her fists at the situation. "It's…it's been to long" He said in an honest, sad tone.
"It…it has." She admitted, awkwardly reaching to hug him, but realizing the counter was in the way.
"Let me get you a slice. What'll you have?"
Ashley had refused that offer since she was 13 years old. Today though, she caved in. "Sicilian." She grunted.
He quickly set to work placing a slice in the oven, while Ashley set about the more laborious task of finding seating arrangements for her fat ass. Eventually, she decided on pulling one of the tables out of the booth. This required her to bend over and pull. She was deeply self-conscious of any time she had to bend over these days, for good reason. Every time she did, anyone behind her, or to the side of her, or even in front of her would see a gelatinous mountain towering in the air above her. She could feel how it wobbled in her oversized track pants. She wished she could find a good pair of jeans in her size, so the motions back there would be restricted.
As she heaved the desk with a grunt, she felt each ass cheek slap into her back and then wobble back down the other way. She collapsed into the bench with a room-shaking thump that rattled wine glasses and made some of the customers turned and stare at her. She gave them her best glower back.
Her father though, was all smiles. He was hurrying as he brought out a the now hot slice of pizza and a bottle of wine to celebrate. "It's good that you're back home, Ashley."
Ashley had no answer to that, so she just focused on her pizza until the words came. Or at least the sound. A groan of orgasmic pleasure escaped from Ashley's lips."You know, no one makes a pizza like you, dad."
Since settling in Buttercombe, Ashley had gotten reacquainted with Pizza. The finest Pizza that rural Virginia had to offer. Which meant Pizza Hut or Eri Flatterly's uninspired little discs. Nitolli's pizza was in an entirely different class. Years ago, Alexandro had a crazy idea. He realized no one outside of New York had good pizza. But there was nothing about New York itself that was necessary for good pizza. People in most of America didn't know how to make it properly, or didn't care, because there was no quality competition. So he, despite young Ashley's protests, dragged his family from Brooklyn to North Carolina to open his first Pizzaria. And in all the years since, 'Papa Nitoli' never wavered from his dedication to the craft, or his loyalty to authentic Italian ingredients. The result was a local institution.
"No Ashley," he answered. "No one make a pizza like our family."
"Daddy-" Ashley started to whine.
"No, I don't want to have the argument again." He cut her off. "I'm not going to pressure you. But I know you're out of work, and I'm happy to take you on full time. And…either way, I'm going to be retiring soon."
"You? Retiring? Ha!" Ashley scoffed. She always imagined he'd be at the counter until the day he died.
There was an akward silence, and he sighed, and poured the wine for both of them. "I'm having trouble keeping up with everything. I've tried hiring people, but it's all kids, and they don't want to learn anything. They're here for the summer, and then they're gone. Just…just think about it, OK?"
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