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Old 25th January 2007, 07:21 PM
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Dave's New Regimen!

Before I say anything else concerning the following story, I must impress that Jake’s New Regimen is NOT my own original work; it is, as is stated below, by ExjockFeeder. Please do not judge me, but I have indeed altered various components of this tale, in an attempt to make it more suitable for some of my own tastes. It does however, in whole, remain ExjockFeeder’s work, just with my alterations throughout. As long as I got my point clearly across, without further ado, here is the story. It is very hot, as some would say.


JAKE’S NEW REGIMEN
~(Dave’s New Regimen)~

By ExjockFeeder


I. End of the Off Season

Dave stepped out of the shower, still a bit asleep despite the rejuvenating effect of the warm water. He had stayed up too late, absent mindedly surfing the net, half watching the movies he’d rented and steadily munching away on a prolonged dinner.

Water dripped from his beefy build as he reached to swipe steam from the mirror. The fogged glass slowly cleared while he vigorously rubbed the towel across his burly frame. Dave dried off, not yet consciously looking at his own reflection. A thickset, muscled body mimed his movements. Powerful arms held the towel around his head, tugging back and forth across his mop of sandy red hair. A thick neck spread from under the towel and poured into broad, rounded shoulders. His pronounced pecs, a bit meatier than a few months back, contracted visibly with his aggressive strokes.

Droplets trickled down the hair that trailed along his stomach. Dave held the towel over his belly to catch them. Waking a bit more, he paused to consciously study his reflection. A startlingly handsome young man stared back with electric blue eyes, a strong jaw and a classically handsome face, where a prickly red beard was beginning to show. He looked even manlier with the hints of growing fullness. He contracted his biceps and inspected the line of his shoulders, chest, and arms as he began his ritual shaving. He indulged brief moments between strokes of self-satisfaction. His continued workouts were keeping his muscle mass up, if not making him bigger than when he quit the team. His eyes skipped down to his legs. Spreading his stance slightly, he squatted his weight a few times. His trunk-like legs and beefy glutes made his 235-pound weight seem light. Well, maybe he weighed a bit more weight since last fall, but he was busy focusing on the muscle contractions in his legs, accustomed to this movement from standing at the plate preparing for pitches.

Dave, perhaps notably given how closely he had just inspected the rest of his hearty build, disengaged from the mirror as he dropped the towel to the floor, revealing the rest of his torso and a firm but somewhat rounded stomach. In comparison to the thickness of his overall body, it was not a huge gut, not quite. But it was becoming pronounced enough to hover slightly over the bathroom counter. Of course, he did eat off and on for nearly six hours last night before crashing, utterly stuffed, on the coach. No wonder he was dragging a little and his gut was jutting out. He was probably still digesting the pizzas, chips, beers and ice cream sandwiches he had devoured.

Shuffling to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, the brawny stud considered what to do with his day. He filled a huge mug and surveyed the wreckage in the kitchen. Had the empty package not been there to remind him, Dave would not have thought back to putting away six ice cream sandwiches. Two empty pizza boxes also confronted him as he lumbered into his living room to switch on the television. A two-pizza order had become his routine, the second pizza always intended for the fridge after the first was devoured. As his habit progressed, that second pizza ended up with a slice or two missing before being stored. Last night, starving and exhausted after the gym and too lazy to hoist up off the couch, he ended up polishing off the second pie after resting off the first. With a groan of undeniable remembrance, he surveyed the empty boxes, the five empty beer cans and the crumbs lingering in the bottom of the ravaged family-size chip bag. He rubbed his hand across his bowed out stomach, focusing more on its trail of hair than on the increasingly fat-coated abs and the noticeably growing arc of firm flesh. But he did think, “Man, I better not get into chowing like that every night or I’m gonna end up with a serious gut.”

He flipped through the channels, sipped his coffee and decided he would finally go to that construction office today. He had been procrastinating for weeks, still enjoying the break without any consistent demands on his time. He stopped on ESPN to catch the sports scores, but once it turned to baseball, he quickly switched to the main news channel with a grunt.

His departure from baseball was still a bit raw. Truth be told, he had a minor touch of the blues over it. It was nothing serious since he had considered the decision for a long time before retiring, but he still felt a void without the practices and games. After eight years of trying to break into the major leagues, he had decided it was time to quit at the end of last season. Despite all efforts, he knew he had peaked and given it his best shot. He could often pound balls into the stands, but his streak was erratic. Had he ironed out a way to be more consistent, his batting might have landed him a spot on a major league team, but he was always kind of sluggish on the field. Dave stubbornly disregarded the advice of two coaches, each of whom wanted him to trim down a bit to become more agile. But he remained convinced that the key was to pump up more at the gym so that he could blow into the majors as a slugger. Besides, a big part of him always viewed a restricted diet as unmanly. After college, he entered the league at a plenty muscled 210 pounds on a 6’ frame, so he was hardly scrawny to begin with. His heavy lifting and far from bashful eating brought his weight in at 235 pounds when he finally quit. In one or two of those years, his off-season weight probably slid to 250. Well, last he checked.

For the last six months, Dave had been primarily relaxing. It was the timeframe he had allowed himself to adjust to his new life before embarking on a new career. He had worked construction jobs in college, and he figured he could get into that soon enough, make good money, and then eventually start his own company. In the meantime, he didn’t push himself. He picked up a few odd jobs to cover his expenses when necessary. He kept up his lifting, still enjoying the hefty feel of his thickset build. But he certainly had not curbed his appetite, and without the regular running inflicted on him during practices, he was without a doubt getting the start of the average muscled guy’s belly. A man with smaller pecs would have noticed his gut’s growing curve long ago, but Dave just shook it off. A guy’s gotta eat, right?

After finishing off another cup of coffee and hastily jamming a few doughnuts in his mouth, Dave decided to head to the gym before visiting the construction company. A buddy of his had given him the name of the manager at a well-regarded outfit, and he figured it was time to get going. He threw his gym gear into a bag and rummaged through the laundry for clean clothes. His white boxers tugged snugly over his beefy butt and legs as he dug through the hamper, extracting the jeans he’d been wearing the most lately. Without realizing this was a new move, Dave tugged on his jeans to stretch them out a bit. He then wrestled into them, working a little harder than usual to yank them over his hips. He inhaled deeply and leaned back, straining a bit to get the top button fastened. “Damn, I gotta watch the heat in that drier,” he muttered, never minding that these were once his loosest pair. They now closely hugged his legs and buttocks. The waistband was snug and turned down below the base of his stomach. He pulled on an old fitted t-shirt, which formed tightly to his big arms and chest – and now also hinted at the depth of his navel as it gripped against the front of his bowed out belly. He headed for the gym, his clothes showing off his every muscle and new fat bulge.

His plan was to get out of the gym by ten and head right to the construction company’s main office. But he was still moving slowly, and by the time he finished his workout, it was closer to noon. “What’s the rush,” he thought. “Might as well go over and meet the guy after lunch.” Dave redressed in the locker room. He covered his snug t-shirt with a button-down plaid shirt. The front tails covered the sliver of firm belly exposed below the t-shirt, but the plaid pattern distorted over the front of his gut before grabbing tightly at the outermost button. Once again sucking it in, he worked at tugging on his jeans. He was really struggling this time, working hard to get them closed. When he relaxed, he felt stuffed into a sausage casing, and he had to remember his gorging session last night. “Man, I should go easy on lunch today or these things’ll bust on me.”

The gym scale dared him from opposite his locker. Tentatively, Dave edged toward the scale. After a brief stand-off with the inanimate object and a quick look to see that no one was nearby, he landed on the plate with a thud. Habitually, he slid the weights to the 230 tick plus five. No movement. He nudged the top weight up a few pounds, then a few more. His eyebrows rose a bit. He shifted his feet and sucked in his stomach. He nudged the lower weight up 10 pounds, then ten more, but got only a slight wobble from the armature. “Gee, I can’t be over 250, can I?” He tapped the weights again. They finally teetered to level at 268 pounds. “Shoot man, I’ve gained 33 pounds since I quit? No wonder these jeans are so darned tight!” But that realization was not exactly followed with a vow to start trimming down. From years of training, he was used to periodically forcing himself to think “time to ease up on the food.” As his one hand resting on the ever slight top arc of his stomach, though, a faint grin blended in with the rather forced expression of resolve.

Dave charged out of the gym, feeling powerful. While very aware of the grip of his jeans, he was kind of whistling. When he had to really contort to dig his hand into his pocket for his car keys, another fleeting thought of dieting raced in and out of his mind. Testosterone and hunger got the better of him however, and considerations quickly shifted toward where to have a hardy lunch.

After some aimless driving as he thought about the construction job, Dave pulled into the drive-through of his favorite burger chain. He ordered his usual – now usual. “Two jumbo sized double cheeseburger burger meals, one with a coke, and one with a shake. Yeah, I’ll take both fries. Thanks.” As he drove around and fished in his pocket for money, his pants felt tighter than ever. Despite extending his leg completely straight, the denim just couldn’t stretch enough to take his seated girth and his fist, so the growing baseball stud couldn’t get into his pocket. “Okay, that’s it. I gotta get some new pants today too,” he thought as he gave in and popped open the top two buttons of his jeans. With a sigh of relief, he pulled out his money and traded it for a big bag of food and two drinks. “Um, and looks like this must be yours too, dude, “ the 15 year old at the window mumbled as he handed Dave a second bag. “You sure man?” “Yeah dude, you had that big double order right? Must be yours.” Dave just shrugged and took the second bag.

He pulled away and opened up the first bag, tearing into both orders of fries as he drove. Soon he had polished off the first burger and was into the second, gulping it down in huge bites, trying to prevent it from dripping on his lap. He checked his directions, tossed the first emptied bag aside, and reached for the second. With his eyes on the road, he felt around in the bag. Perplexed, he looked down to see that the kid had given him someone else’s order. There were three more burgers in there next to his shake. He let out a slight laugh and thought, “Oh well. Looks like I’ll have to scale back next meal.” After powering through the third burger, he reached for the shake. It had melted a bit by now, so he gulped it down like water. Thinking what the heck, he pulled out the fourth burger. He was slowing by the time he was halfway through it, and without even realizing it, he was pushing his gut out to make room. With a determined grunt, he swallowed the rest of the burger in four huge mouthfuls. He drove along for a few minutes, feeling utterly stuffed and a little bloated. But the smell of the last burger wafted toward him. He looked over at the last wrapper, almost viewing it as a challenge. Again shrugging, he pressed it to his lips, breathing hard to polish it off, winning the imagined dare with a grunt. Without consciously admitting it, Dave wondered if this meal pushed him over the 270 mark. Even so slightly, he grinned.



II. The Interview

After driving an extra thirty minutes, hoping to let his huge lunch digest, Dave finally pulled into the construction office’s lot. When he leaned forward to grab the keys from the ignition, his stuffed belly grazed the steering wheel. With a hand on the hard, food filled curve beneath his pecs, he hoisted his girth out of the truck. His shirt button was more strained than ever. The denim of his jeans grabbed his buttocks tightly with each pumping step.

He simply squared his shoulders and headed for the reception desk. No one was to be seen, but the adjacent office door stood open. He tentatively voiced a hello. No response. As he leaned into the counter to look behind the desk, his over-full gut pressed firmly into the ledge. He seemed not to notice. “Hellooo?”

Suddenly a big hand clapped him on the shoulder. Dave jumped a bit and whirled around, his lunch stuffed paunch bumping into the company’s lean but sturdy middle-aged manager, almost toppling the box of sandwiches he was carrying. They stood gut to stomach for a few seconds before the man stepped back, chuckling slightly.

“Easy there big guy. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Dave took a step back, hit the counter with his butt, and tried to suck in his after-lunch gut. As he composed himself, explaining that his friend had referred him to a Paul Gerber, the manager noticed Dave’s eyes flitted to the box of food he had brought back to the office.

“Whelp, looks like you found him. Dave, you say? I’m Paul. Come on in.”

The pair headed into the office. Paul plopped the box of take-out on the front of his desk and settled himself back in his chair. Dave shuffled a bit, waiting for the manager to take the lead. He thought better of trying to put his hands in his pockets.

“Want some lunch there big fella? I got enough for the whole office staff, but forgot they all were all leaving for a site meeting this afternoon.” Paul nudged the box in Dave’s direction.

“Oh, I, uh . . . well – I already ate, but thanks man.”

“Yeah, looks like you might have filled up plenty, buddy. Either that or you were trying to make more room.”

Paul tapped his own belt buckle and nodded towards Dave’s waist. The still full stud looked down, but nearly saw only belly. His hand went to the underside of his stomach, and his face went red. His jeans were still popped open from the eating session in the car.

“Well heck, that’s a fine way to impress the new boss, huh?” Dave turned sideways to try to button his jeans discretely, a nearly impossible task given the tightness.

While Dave’s blush faded, he tried to recover his usual laid back demeanor. He and Paul discussed the company, and before long, Dave was given a trial project assignment. “It’s a special project, kind of a small one. You’ll orient for a week of so with the main team, and then we’ll work on that project together to test you out,” Paul explained. “Sounds like you’ll work out fine, but I pay very close attention to hiring my crew, and I like to break in new guys personally. I’m actually managing this one myself, so we can get it done easy and see how things – fit.”

There was an unusual pause before his last word, but it did not register with Dave, who liked the chemistry with Paul. He reminded him of his college baseball coach – firm and directive, but not a dick. He found himself looking forward to having a project and some structure for a while. Unbelievably, he also found himself eyeing the box of food intended for the missing office crew. Unable to forget the strained feel of his pants and fearing that his jeans button might literally blow if he ate another bite, he tried hard to ignore the aromas. He looked up and saw a slightly sarcastic smirk on Paul’s face. “It’s all gonna go to waste if someone doesn’t eat a score.” Dave blushed again at having his thoughts exposed.

“I – I think I’m still pretty full. The burger joint accidentally gave me someone else’s order too, so –“

“Oh, so you just had to eat it all. Gotcha.” Dave felt a prick of shame at his lack of discipline. Paul gestured to the food. “Here. Take at least a couple of sandwiches so my assistant doesn’t yell at me completely, and let’s give you a quick tour of the place. You can eat these as we walk.” He scooped up a couple of sandwiches and handed a laden paper plate to Dave. “I’m always on the crew to watch budgets, so my assistant will give me endless talk if I bought a big lunch that no one ate. Consider it your first of many.” Paul half-smirked again. Dave stared at the plate piled with meat and bread and could not believe he was tempted.

Paul took in the stud’s beefy physique as he toured him through the office and covered the company’s policies. Dave nodded and listened attentively, taking big bites as they walked. Paul watched the ex-jock’s impressive musculature easily move his hefty body. He wondered if Dave even realized his size compared to a lot of guys. A gut that thick would look twice as big on a guy with smaller pecs and shoulders. And a guy with less powerful legs might tire just hoisting that belly out of a chair. A guy like Dave might need to have twice the gut to feel what another guy would at this weight. Paul mused on the image of the overfed stud’s gut growing out to twice its girth. Dave now wondered what was making his new boss smirk once again.

It was a hot afternoon. The heat combined with the effort to put away a second lunch had the jock feeling warm. He had managed to eat everything Paul had given him, so his shirt not only felt hot it felt tight. As they headed back to the front office, Dave undid the front of his shirt while his new boss was not looking.

But Paul certainly noticed Dave’s belly as he told him what time to report in the morning. How could he not? His white tank-top was now snug enough to show the hair trail on the ex-jock’s stomach, which was also fully exposed where the shirt crept away from his waistband.

“Two things I can’t stand here, Dave. One is wasted chow. The other is a weak, underfed crew that look like they’ll snap with all this heavy work to do. I think you’re still being bashful for some reason, so you better take these. You’ll need your strength for the job I have for you bud. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

Dave peeked in the bag to find a dozen large cookies and puzzled at how Paul could think he had been bashful about eating when he could barely move in these jeans. He drove off, thinking back on their conversation. “I’m gonna like this place.”

---------------------------------
To be continued...
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Old 25th January 2007, 07:23 PM
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Iggy Iggy is offline
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III. The Fitting

As he made his way home, the cookies became too tempting. Looking down, he eyed the size of his overfull belly. “Damn, I really shouldn’t. I’ve made a total pig of myself today.” Shifting his bulk, he dared not unbutton his jeans again. “These babies might not close up again after a few of these cookies.” Dave threw his shoulders back, trying to give his belly more room despite the pressure on his low-slung waistband, and tore off half of the first cookie.

As he pushed down the eighth one, his straining pants reminded him of his other errand. Pulling into the mall, the fatted stud dropped from the truck with a thud. He reached for the bag and took the last four cookies with him. His pants were tight as ever and the bloat was not subsiding. “Man, I can’t wait to get these damn things off.” Dave shoved another cookie in his mouth and took in the sight of his belly again. The top arc of it was pushed out bigger than he’d ever seen it, even bloated. Almost impressed at the accomplishment, he took in a deep breath and pushed his belly out just a bit more. With a groan, he had to relax. His pants dug in to near busting with the pressure. At seeing his bulging belly, he remembered that he ought to button up his shirt before heading inside. It took an amount of inhaling to close not the last one, but two buttons.

With fabric tugging at every beefy bulge, the jock strode into the mall and headed right for the jeans store, gulping down the last cookie as he walked through the door. Excellent, he thought. The place was empty except for a young lady refolding jeans. Dave ambled to the wall and stood wondering what size to get. It had been so long since he bought jeans, he was not even sure of the size of the faded ones straining on his butt now. He pondered over the selection spanning the entire wall.

“Know what size you need?” The voice startled Dave. Shoot, he thought. He had really wanted to do this errand in peace. He turned to see the pretty salesgirl standing there. “Umm, yeah, I think so. I’m sure these are right down here.” He dropped to a squat at the lowest shelf. His muscled legs flexed and his overfed belly bulged to maximum size. The quick movement even pushed a new involuntary grunt from Dave’s lips. With a sudden soft pop, the top button loosed itself off his jeans. Dave was afraid to move. Another strain might bust a seam or send yet another button sailing. He nervously cleared his throat, but had no idea what to say.

“Looks like you got here just in time,” the salesgirl laughed. The red-faced jock cautiously eased back to a standing position. His gut bumped the shelf on his way up. The clerk’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “Here, come with me to a fitting room, and let’s find you something you can wear out of here.”

Dave was relieved that the girl did not make a scene of his popped pants, and more relieved to move somewhere private, where he could at last shed his jeans. Once safely in the fitting room, he had no choice but to strip to his underwear. He had to really tug to get his jeans down past his beefed-up butt, and then his belly felt too bloated to bend all the way down. He worked his feet to get the busted pants free of his ankles. With a sigh of relief, he relaxed his gut to full size again. He slowly turned to see himself in the mirror.

“O my gooosh,” he moaned quietly as he moved his hands to the sides of his belly. Big sections of his white t shirt were exposed between the strained buttons. Dave knew how tight his clothes felt, but he had no idea how much it was showing. His eyes were locked on the sight of his belly, as if noticing how much of a gut he was getting for the first time. He firmly gripped the meaty sides where it began on his waist, startled at how round and protruding it looked in the mirror. Strangely, he felt his boxers start to tighten as he thought about his bigger belly. He pushed his gut out as far as he could and got even more aroused. A rap at the door jarred him from his thoughts.

“Here are some pants for you to try out.”

Dave opened the door a crack to take the stack of pants, shifting his hard on, trying to ease it and hide it. “I know you said you wanted to try 38’s, but I think I may have the next size up in back, so I’m going to go check for you. Just in case.”

“Um, yeah thanks. The 38’s should be good though. I think maybe the ones I was wearing were 36’s.”

“Mmhm. Well, see what works for you, and I’ll check back.”

Dave took the most faded looking 501’s first and stepped into them, leg by leg. He had to wriggle more than he expected to get them over his hips, which he dismissed to their newness. The denim hugged his beefy butt as he tugged the fly closed. The first two buttons closed okay, but he had to yank to get them totally closed. “Rats, these are tight too. Must be the wrong cut.” Dave’s weirdly growing hard on did not help the snugness. And the more he watched his gut bulge in the mirror as he wrestled with the pants, the worse that got.

Another rap at the door. “Are those working, or do you want to try the other ones I found?”

“Uuuh, yeah. Why not? Let’s give those a go. I kinda prefer ‘em loose.”

The girl handed the jeans over the door to Dave. “I’ll wait right here to see if those are working.”

Just great, Dave thought. He shed the first pair and worked into the others. Better, he thought. At least it felt like he could breathe.

“Let’s see how those are fitting, big guy.”

Dave squared his shoulders and came out of the fitting room. The clerk steered him to the three-way mirror, standing the jock so he could see his gut from all angles. Dave did not know where to look. Every mirror gave him an undeniable view of just how big his belly was getting. “Shoot,” he muttered.

“What’s the matter? Those too tight too? They are the relaxed fit ones.” The sales-girl tugged at the snug waistband. “How are they feeling? You don’t have tons of room, do you? I’m not sure I have the next size up, but I could check. You keep up with those cookies and you might be glad you did.” The girl laughed.

Dave almost jumped when his hard on spiked a bit more at the comment. Man, he thought, what’s the deal with that? She pressed on.

“How are the legs feeling? This cut is usually a little looser in the leg and seat, but they’re a closer fit on your build. Does this feel good?” She was now tugging at both the waist and the thigh of Dave’s jeans. His gut bulged out in response, shown in full view three times over. Dave’s face was getting hot, as was his groin as the girl felt at how tight his pants were. He put one hand on his belly to steady the bounce of his tightly stuffed belly. He awkwardly cleared his thought, about to reply when a voice on the intercom announced that the store was about to close.

“Oops. We better get you something to wear out of here, buddy.”

Dave stood there, composing himself, trying not to look at his own belly. “Uuuh, yeah. Those are pretty much toast. I, uh, think these will work okay.”

“Alright. Come back in here and let’s get the tags off them so you can keep them on.”

The clerk led Dave back into the fitting room. “Turn around and I’ll get the tags off.” Dave was again faced with the sight of his gut. He felt her raise his shirt and reach inside the waistband to work on the tags. “One sec. Almost got it.” With a pop, the tags came loose and the clerk stood up behind Dave, who could not take his eyes off his belly.

“By the way, I’m Laurelin.” Dave turned and for the second time in a day hit someone with his gut. Laurelin let out a little laugh and gently patted Dave’s belly on the side. “Come back and see me if all those cookies keep having their effect, big guy. I’m going to be working here today, Wednesdays, and Thursdays for the next month or so. Call ahead though so I can make sure I have the sizes you need here. You’re hitting the top of our range.”

Dave’s hard on was more urgent than ever as he muttered thanks and bolted out of the store. He hoisted himself into the truck, raced home, tore off his jeans and beat off wildly, shooting all over his rounding stomach before falling asleep.

Hours later, he slowly roused. His muscled body pulled his weight off the bed and he headed to the bathroom like he had done earlier that day. This time, he looked square at his belly. He grabbed a wash cloth and cleaned it off, slowly rubbing his rounded abs. His other hand went to where his gut began to curve out from under his beefy chest. Dave took in a huge breath and as he puffed out his gut as far as he could make it swell, he rubbed his belly all over. His private jumped again, and, feeling manlier than ever, he was soon beating off at the mirror, moving his belly to see every new bulge.

After the stimulating release and the rest, Dave was ready for more food. He called his favorite Italian place and ordered much more than his usual, stuffing himself in front of the television for the rest of the night, not heading to bed until his gut was almost too tight for him to bend forward. The overblown swell of his new belly got him going yet again, so not being able to control his incredible urge, he beat off once more before falling asleep. As he drifted off, he thought, “Shoot man, what a crazy day. Tomorrow I gotta cut back and get this gut looking flatter again.” Then he drifted off with both hands caressing his fat.



IV. Initiation

Dave lumbered into the construction office right on time, despite some effort. He had not had to get up at a specified time in a while. It took some coffee to get him going – and a few egg muffin sandwiches. But he made it, and he strode into the office, sporting his new but faded jeans and the biggest shirt he could find – an old baseball tee that he used to wear to practices – that used to be loose; but not anymore. It highlighted his huge shoulders and masculine chest, and now the fabric hugged him all over.

Paul came out to meet him. “Welcome, welcome, Dave. Good to see you. Here, grab a few doughnuts and we’ll get you introduced.” This time Dave did not argue and he dug into the loaded box of sweets, piling four doughnuts onto a napkin. Paul walked him around to meet the small crew there this morning – about twelve guys. All were the typical beefy construction guys – muscled ex-jock types, several growing a scruffy beard and showing a bit of a beer-gut too. Though, Dave was already on the bigger end of the entire crew.

Dave was seated by the table with the food while Manager Paul held his morning project meeting. The new guy finished off his doughnuts as he listened and turned to check out how many were left in the box. Paul broke his update for a brief second. He spoke to the biggest guy in the room, whose soft, round gut pushed into the table on the other side of Dave. “Bob, don’t keep all those doughnuts to yourself.” He chuckled. “Share a few with Dave there, would ya?” Dave looked up shocked and then turned to look at the guy Bob. He had half a doughnut in his mouth, but he was not embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry buddy. Here, you better keep up.” He pushed the box toward Dave. “There. The rest are for you, man.” There were eight doughnuts left. Before Dave could protest, Paul was continuing the meeting. Dave sheepishly took another doughnut. Paul kept talking but lightheartedly signaled for Dave to take some more. Dave kept eating, and on the last doughnut, he found himself thinking he liked this place.

The rest of the day progressed smoothly. Dave was told he would shadow the guys who tracked the project logs and schedules for the first week, and then, as Paul promised, he would head out to his first site. There was always plenty of nourishment at the morning meetings, later following by outings for huge man-sized, gut busting lunches. Despite eating like a moose with the crew all day, Dave went home at night and helped himself to ‘second courses’ like never before, against his subconscious warnings. Impossible, he thought, but his new jeans already felt less loose.

On Friday, the whole crew had a late lunch together at a hearty buffet place. All week, Paul kept mixing up who Dave spent time with so that he could meet the crew. At this lunch, he seated Dave next to Bob, the ‘doughnut guy’ from day one. He was about Dave’s height, a bit less muscled though still beefy, but he definitely had the biggest belly in the place. He looked like a big Santa without the beard.

“Hey, I’m Big Bob.” The guy shook Dave’s hand brusquely.

“Good to meet ya, Big Bob. Everyone calls you that, huh?”

“Oh yeah, for obvious reasons.” Bob smacked the sides of his belly, which was showing proudly in his tight shirt. It jiggled at the smack and seemed to shake whenever he moved. “From the looks of you though, buddy, I might have a contender for the title. Let’s eat huh?”

Lunch lasted almost two hours. It turns this was a Friday routine. Dave unwittingly kept pace with Bob while they talked, going back to the buffet line for another heaping plate of food each time his eating pal did. After the fifth plate, Dave leaned back in his chair with a heavy exhale. Bob elbowed him. “Come on man, we’ve still got time. You can’t cash it in already!”

“Gee, Bob, I feel like I could bust already. I gotta let up.”

“I took you for a better contender, Dave. I bet you could take in some more. Eat like a real man, bud.”

Paul piped in. “Better do it Dave. Bob doesn’t take on accomplices lightly. You don’t want to let him down.”

Dave found the conversation a little curious, a little scintillating. He caved. “All right, guys. One more round.”

Paul stood before Dave could lift himself up. “You stay there. I’ll get it for you.”

Too full to protest, the stud leaned back and rested for a minute. When they returned, Paul plopped down a plate piled with twice as much food as even Bob had.

“Shoot, you gotta be kidding! There’s no way I’m getting all that in on the – what helping is this anyway?”

“Sixth, big guy, but who’s counting? Dig in.”

Bob chimed in. “Better catch up man. I’m already into this round ahead of you.”

Dave grunted and leaned forward (which was becoming slightly difficult) to dig in. Halfway through the mound of food, he reached down to shift his waistband, giving his swelling gut more room. It was a reach to get his hand under his food laden stomach. He was panting as Bob taunted him to keep up. Dave pushed hard, feeling his belly grow tighter than ever, finally clearing the plate. With a huge groan, he looked up, ready to pronounce he did it, only to see Paul standing there with another loaded plate. “You’re not done yet, big guy. Prove what you’re worth, Dave.”

“Huh?” Dave said, a bit more than perplexed, and annoyance mounting. “There ain’t no . . .”

“Did that sound like you had an option?”

Bob leaned in, the side of his belly pressing into Dave’s own food swollen bulge. “No one’s ever taken me in the first week, Dave. I think the boss man Paul wants to see what you can do. Better listen up and impress the new boss, eh?”

Dave looked up at Paul. “That’s right, big guy. Let’s see if you can out-eat our eating contest champ here.” He shoved the seventh plate closer to Dave. “In fact, we’re not leaving here ‘til you do.” Dave felt his face blush a little, his temper subside, and his private start to grow again all at the same time. He dug into the seventh plate of chow as if it were the first. Bob was eating along side him, chiding him to keep up. Paul was ready with another plate the minute Dave had managed to finish. Soon the entire crew was cheering him on, as if it were a real competition. “Go, go, go!” Bob was grunting, starting to slow. The competitive jock in Dave kicked in. Now he was out to win. He locked into a groove and shoveled in everything set in front of him. He did not dare count the plates. He just focused on pushing in one huge mouthful after another. He barely looked up except to check for another plateful and to bask in the cheers when he cleared each plate. He had no idea that Bob had stopped a few helpings ago until he fell back against the chair, his belly blown out tight as a drum, ready to bust with so much as one more bite. Dave sat there, eyes half open, hands gingerly massaging the sides of his bloat, unable to move. In his innermost thoughts, he determined not to get himself in such a situation again.

“I . . . can’t . . . eat . . . . . . no . . . . . . damned . . . . . . more.” He sighed as if out of breath.

Paul made the pronouncement. “Gentleman. With some more training, I think we have found out the new eating contest hero!”

The crew went nuts and came by one by one to shake Dave’s hand or pat his bloated gut before heading to their cars. Soon it was just Dave, Paul and Bob.

Bob laughed a bit. “Dude, I’m impressed. I never thought I’d see a guy out-eat me so early on. You’re gonna represent us well. He’s a natural Paul.”

“Yep, Dave. You are officially our office’s new rep in the annual eating contest between the construction firms. You’ll do us proud once we whip you into shape.”

Dave was in a food daze, all the blood rushing to his ready to bust belly. He was not sure what they could be referring to, and he was too overfull to do much more than grunt for the moment. Paul’s mouth curled into another half smirk. He moved in closer to Dave’s bulging paunch. “Tell you what. It’s been a damn good first week for you. Head on home early and rest that thing. See you bright and early Monday.”

And with that, Dave was left alone in the buffet place, still rubbing his gut, waiting to feel the pressure in both his belly and private to ease before he stood. The waiter checked in after a while. “Anything else for you?”

Dave managed a laugh, which made him groan slightly again. “Does it look like anything else would fit in this thing?”

The waiter did not reply. “So all set then. Oh - did you want me to load the rest of this into a bag for you?”

“Rest of this??” Dave looked up to where the waiter pointed.

“Yeah – that last guy – your boss I think, said all this went with you.” There were stacks of to-go boxes a foot and a half high at the end of the table.

Dave just groaned and nodded, not altogether pleased.

---------------------------------
To be continued...
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Old 25th January 2007, 07:27 PM
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Iggy Iggy is offline
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V. Weekend Revelations

After getting the waiter’s help to load the food into his truck, Dave struggled to focus on the road to drive home. His belly had never felt so full—or swollen. It pressed out hard in every direction like a heavy medicine ball on his lap and the sensation was not diminishing. It pushed firmly into the steering wheel when he reached to release the brake and reached nearly down to his special part. He drove along, head back on the headrest, one hand on the wheel, the other on the top ledge of his gut. When he got home, he let out a sigh of relief, but sat behind the wheel for a few more minutes, eyes shut, resting for the effort of hauling his bulk back out of the truck. He finally hoisted himself out of the truck, with two conflicting responses as his mass hit the ground with a thud. “Okay, that’s it. I gotta let up on the chowin’. I’m eatin’ light this weekend.” he silently vowed – as he reached down under his hovering belly to shift his throbbing erection.

Dave shed his strained outer clothes and dropped down onto the couch. He looked down at the increasing mound of his belly, running his hands over its ever growing arc as he drifted off into to a long nap.

Hours later, he came too. He was still slouched on the couch, legs spread, and hand on his belly, which was still pushing out to full size despite the rest. Dave starting rubbing his stomach a bit before opening his eyes, which was now almost a habit. A gentle contented moan came at the feel of the arcing bulge. It was dark out, but one lamp lit the room. “Must be the middle of the night,” he thought. “How long have I slept?”

Reluctantly, he took his hands off his belly. His powerful arms pushed his bulk up from the couch, but he stood there for a second, getting his balance, focusing on the room to find the clock. 2:30 in the morning. “Figures, I guess I needed to sleep that lunch off,” he thought. One hand went to his belly again, checking how big it felt. His eating session at lunch was still obvious, but at least he felt like he could breathe now. He caught his reflection in the television. Dave spread his legs into the habitual batter’s stance, but facing the screen. He bent his legs and rocked his shoulders back, bouncing his belly a little for his own enjoyment. Before he knew it, his penis was smacking up against the base of his gut and he was heading for the kitchen. Without bothering to sit down, he stood at the counter almost in a trance, tearing into the boxes of leftovers, shoving food in his mouth with one hand while stroking his stiff erection with the other. Soft moans and full-mouthed grunts were all that could be heard. Dave stuffed himself without letting up, only wildly looking down to check out how much his belly was jutting out. He would rest for a second, breathing deeply to make more room as he thumped his belly, then dig into the next box. Like focusing on the next rep, he pushed through until he had packed in every box of food. His abdominal and lower muscles suddenly tightened as his body tingled excitedly. With the last mouthful, he shot all over his boxors and lumbered off to bed, checking out his even bigger belly in the mirror on the way. He had never felt so powerful.

When he woke again, the sun was blazing into the bedroom. His meaty shoulders and pecs showed above the white sheet, which tented up to follow the increasing mound of his new belly. Dave rolled on his side to check the clock. He felt his belly press against the bed. This was the first time he admitted it did that when he rolled. It made him grin. Another contented moan, but his rational brain tried to override that. To stiffen his resolve, he gave himself audible instructions. “Gotta hit the gym today before this gets outta control.” He rolled out of bed and went to take a whiz. All he could see was his gut when he looked down, even though the swelling had subsided some. Not only did this make it slightly harder to relieve himself, but his now erecting private did as well. When he was finally done, he was again transfixed at the sight of his manly fat swell in the mirror. He never thought he would look so big. He studied every curve as his tight round belly hovered in front of him. “Okay my friend,” he said patting his paunch, “we’ve had our fun but we gotta be good for a while now.”

He rustled around for some gym clothes that would fit. His shorts hugged his buttocks and thighs but at least covered them - barely. A shirt was a different matter. He found the longest tank top he had and tugged it over his extended belly. Even this one barely made it to his waist and grabbed him like a tight sausage casing. His navel showed dark through his shirt like a hole in the surrounding fat. He shrugged his shoulders. “Best I can do with this thing today.” And with that, he shuffled off to the car.

But on the way to the gym, Dave pitifully caved and stopped at a drive through for a big bag of breakfast sandwiches. He rationalized that he needed energy to lift and ordered six fattening biscuits, eating as he drove and lingering in the gym parking lot to finish them off. He rested for a second, then finally got out of the car and trudged through the locker room into the weight area.

It was still quiet in the gym, so Dave pumped his chest and arms in peace for about 40 minutes. After each rep, he had to reach down to yank his tank back over the bottom of his gut. He had to fight his erection as he felt his big muscles contract with each movement as his shirt edged up his big belly. He tried some squats but had to stop right away. The feel of his belly hitting his thighs was too much to take. He went back to work his big biceps more. He fought to only look at the muscle he was working in the mirror. Any indulgence to check out his entire body made him want to leave and eat. “Gotta be good. Gotta be good.” He struggled to hold to that resolve. Lifting was always easy for him to push hard on. Not eating whatever he wanted, no way, and now he wanted to do nothing but chow – the reward for the workout. As his belly stared back at him, he found it even more tempting. He was working so hard to focus, he did not see anyone else – until he stood up from the weight bench and nearly knocked over a friend of his with his gut.

“Watch it man!” the guy’s eyebrows raised high at the sight of the beefed up jock. “Gosh – Dave, is that you? What the fritz have you been eating, fatboy? Look at the size of you man!”

Dave jarred out of his own world and recognized his friend. “Oh, um, hey, Mark. How goes?”

“Well I’m good, despite about being plowed over. Where the have you been, beside apparently eating like a prize hog? I haven’t seen you in months and barely recognized you with this gut. Guess you haven’t been at the gym, buddy.” Mark was smacking Dave’s belly with the back of his hand as his talked. Dave fought his uncomfortable and unusual arousal and tried to be cool.

“No man, I’ve been lifting like usual. Just kinda on a different schedule lately.”

“Yeah, a flipping kinda ‘eating more’ schedule from the looks of you.”

“Um – yea – maybe some. Nothing I can’t control.”

“Shoot, well the size of this gut says otherwise. You’re getting FAT dude!”

Dave’s shorts tightened.

“I know you like to eat buddy, but you better get this in control. You look like someone is pumping this thing up like a basketball.” Mark grabbed the sides of Dave’s belly hard. “Shoot – feels even bigger, if that’s possible.” A sensation told Dave to lean into Mark’s grip, but he defied it and pulled back.

“Naw, man. Just been letting myself enjoy a little less muscle busting practice for a change. I guess I’ve gained a few. Nothing I can’t take care of when I want. Gimme a break, man.”

“Well, Dave, all I’m saying is you are looking seriously porked. This gut looks like way more than a few pounds. Maybe a few dozen! I’d say you better hit more cardio fast before this thing gets any more of out control. Before you know it, you’ll be one of those former jocks that everyone knows for his giant beer gut, not his batting record.”

Getting Fat, Porked. Fatboy. Giant Gut. The words were making Dave more and more aroused. Good thing the shadow of his sagging belly hid it from Mark. He did not know why this drove him crazy to hear. All he knew was that he had definitely been more aroused and more full of testosterone this week than he had been in years. He awkwardly cleared his throat and stepped fully away from Mark’s belly pats.

“Don’t worry man. I, uh, should get moving, I s’pose. We should grab beers sometime.”

“Heh. Beer is about that LAST thing this gut needs, but okay buddy. Give me a ring Fatboy, and watch this thing, huh? Shoot.” Mark whistled at the size of Dave’s belly. Again, a clapping gut smack, and he was gone.

Dave cut his workout short, heading back through the locker room. He backtracked to the scale, too curious not to check. This time, he landed on the plate without any hesitation. He really wanted to know. There was no sucking his gut in as he shoved the weight plates right out to 275. No reading yet. His private part jumped. He nudged the plates up a touch. They teetered. Dave held his breath waiting for them to level. They balanced at 281. “Whoooooa.” Dave did the math. “Flippin’ A. Thirteen pounds in week? That can’t be, can it?” He looked down at the size of his growing ball gut. It most certainly can.

With that, he took off for an early lunch, a lunch as big as ever. After lunch, he hit the grocery store and loaded up his cart to the top. His gut was bumping the cart handle as he trolled the aisles throwing anything that looked good to him in the basket. He would barely let himself admit what he was doing; he was making plans to eat the rest of the weekend. He made a revised deal to cut back come Monday, when he headed to work, but in the meantime, forget it. Enjoy the weekend. He would not have time to eat like this when he’s working. One last hurray and THEN I’ll be good.

-------------------------------------------
To be continued...
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Old 25th January 2007, 07:28 PM
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VI. Training Begins

The alarm went off at 6:00 AM, Monday. Dave had his coffee and munched on the last of the pastries from the weekend before getting ready. He took a long shower, fighting the urge to beat off under the warm water after soaping up his big bulging stomach. The weekend of eating had taken its toll. Dave’s gut, even after a good night’s sleep, looked like an overblown ball. He had done nothing but eat nearly nonstop from Saturday afternoon until last night. He even woke up in the middle of the night to polish off more pizza, stuff in a few slices of pie, cram in a stack of cookies. He looked like a muscled, utterly overfed power-lifter. 281 before the eating binge. He wondered what he weighed now.

He had worn nothing but boxers during his eating fest. He did not dare wash his new jeans, unsure how much the denim would shrink in the dryer. Even with that, they hardly slid on like loose fit jeans. At least they went on, if not for long. What he failed to consider was his shirt needs. He was too busy stuffing himself all weekend. He encased his gut in an old taught t-shirt, stretched so far that his skin tone showed through the white. A huge moon of his belly now bulged below the hem. Then he dug for something to cover it. He pulled out a stretchy baseball jersey and tugged it around his rounded girth. He fastened the buttons over his pecs, but there was no way he could yank the thing to cover his midsection. So he opened it up again and started from the bottom, closing the buttons as far up his gut as they could manage – which was only three progressively strained buttons. After the last one, which looked ready to fly, he hit the limits of the fabric. He was seriously getting big. He shrugged. At least it covered the part of his belly that his tee shirt could not reach. “Time for the mall again after work,” he thought as he tramped to the bathroom to shave.

The office was a lot quieter when he arrived today. Only Paul, who explained that the whole crew was out on various jobs again this week. He told Dave to load into his truck. “Grab some of those and let’s get going. It’s you and me today on the project I mentioned.” Paul was pointing to a stack of doughnut boxes. Careful of his buttons, Dave picked up a box.

“Take another,” Paul ordered heartily.

“It’s just you and me though right?”

“Was ‘take another unclear’? I’m sure you’ll eat it.”

Dave silently obeyed, though he suddenly felt a twinge of annoyance.

As they drove, Paul asked about Dave’s weekend. Dave was trying to suck in his growing ball belly, fearing for the buttons. The question made him think of his gorging fest. He smiled without realizing it. “Yeah, it was great. Didn’t do too much--just relaxed.”

“Well good. You’ll have plenty of energy for this week then. Don’t wait for us to arrive to hit up those doughnuts, big guy.” Dave thought again of his strained shirt, but the tempting smell of the fattening dough balls was already getting too much to resist. By the time they arrived, he had eaten a half dozen of them. “See, I told you you’d want that second box Dave.”

Paul took Dave into the project site. It was a fairly small building located in a remote warehouse district, already nearly finished on the outside, but only party framed on the inside. Paul took the boxes from Dave, stacked another six doughnuts on a napkin and handed them to his well-fed employee. He then explained the job as Dave listened and ate. It sounded like a simple job. Complete some basic wiring and finish the last bit of framing. Put up drywall, install some equipment, and paint the space. “Just a good range of trades to get you exposed.” All easy, Dave thought. He had done almost all of that type of work before.

“What’s the space gonna be?” Dave asked, around mouthfuls of custard.

“Ironically, it’s for a . . . food service, shall we say. The adjacent building is the storehouse – already pretty much done. This is the last part of it.”

“Cool,” Dave said, wondering what type of food.

As they started talking about the wiring, Paul kept casually pushing doughnuts on Dave. Now even the jersey was also stretched out to show the base of Dave’s belly, but it was way too far under his fat mound for him to know. Paul certainly knew, pushing the last few on Dave and refusing to accept no for an answer. Dave simply loved the taste and acquiesced.

About noon, there was a knock at the door. Paul looked up “Oh, that’ll be lunch. I figured we’d send it. Tough to find good places in this area. Not very populated.” Paul opened the door, and the delivery guy dropped off three large bags.

“Anyone else coming this afternoon?” Dave asked, taking in a whiff of the food. It smelled like fried chicken.

“No, why?”

“Well, seems like a lot of chow.”

“Does it?” Paul went from looking into Dave’s eyes to staring at his sizeable belly with an inner smirk. “Good.”

They broke for lunch, and Dave habitually ate as much as ever, forgetting about his shirt’s snugness completely. The heaps of southern food tasted too good for anything else to distract him. He barely flinched when Paul loaded up a plate and handed it to Dave when he started to slow – which was after quite some eating. Dave was now in good practice from his weekend. He finished the first plate Paul gave him, and helped himself to an even more loaded plate. It sagged and Dave had to hold it with both hands. He looked around for somewhere to set it; but nothing. He looked up at Paul sort of embarrassed. Paul just walked up to Dave and indicated the top of his gut, right where it now launched out from under his pecs. “This looks like a good place to rest it while you eat, big fella.” Dave’s face got a little red, but he took the suggestion. Paul kept him distracted by talking about the work for the afternoon, but watched amused as Dave ate and ate off the top of his stomach, only having to nod at his plate periodically to keep him eating. Dave took another overflowing plate without resistance.

“This is going to be easier than I thought,” Paul thought to himself.

Dave’s jersey again looked ready to rip after lunch. The button holes were completely distorted. The stretch fabric had yanked to its very limits. His belly pulled it down, making it outline every muscled bulge of his shoulders and arms while tracing the giant lower moon of his ever growing stomach. When he stood, Paul himself was nonchalantly amazed. Dave’s gut was tight as a drum as a result of its already large size and the bloating, pushing straight out in front of him, a perfect hard sphere, except where the jersey pinched slightly into his fat flesh. They worked for another hour. Paul could not believe that Dave could move after that meal – and he could not believe that his jersey had not yet blown.

“Time to make that thing give out,” he thought.

“Dave, about ready for some dessert? I bet you’ve digested enough for these now.” Paul pulled out a bag of big cookies he had stashed under the blueprint table and began eating one. Dave let out a sigh. “I dunno. This belly’s still feeling pretty full. Maybe I oughta rest a bit, mommfffph ”

Dave was shocked, but blind to any ulterior motive. Paul still took a rather large cookie out and handed it to him. Instinctively, and thinking ‘what the heck’, he received it and began to chew, too surprised to say a word. “Like I said, I like a guy who knows how to eat. You’ll finish those off,” Paul said insistently. Dave began to throb as he chewed. He eventually took the bag and grabbed another cookie.

It was strangely silent as Dave munched. Paul just occasionally glanced at him as he ate, raising a directive eyebrow when it was time to take the next cookie. Dave followed the silent order and pushed one bite after the other into his mouth. His private was pressing hard against his jeans as Paul kept him eating. After a dozen cookies were gone, Paul broke the silence as Dave kept eating.

“I am impressed with your abilities Dave.” The stuffed jock thanked him with a full mouth, saying he hoped his other projects had gotten him ready for this.

“No, I don’t only mean construction. I am also impressed with how you can eat. You’ll do great representing us at this year’s eating contest.”

Dave suddenly stopped chewing for a brief second, remembering the reference during Friday’s lunch. “The what?” His shirt looked ready to give in to his manly-toned yet growing gut.

“We have a few contests between local contracting companies. The usual softball games, bowling, etc. We usually win them all. But last year, we lost the eating contest. Big Bob did his best and put it away, but this one joint had some new guy on their force. Used to play pro football. Eats like a confounded moose. We need someone to take him this year. You walked in the door just in time. The contest is still a few months away.” There was an ominous pause. “I am very competitive on this stuff Dave. It should be just a game, but the crew – I - have gotten used to taking all these things in a clean sweep. No one took the loss well, especially me. You will be our man this year. Yes, no doubt in my mind. So now a part of your job is getting that belly in shape to take this guy for us. I’m going to make sure you are in good practice.” Dave was slowing as he listened.

“Cookie!” Dave started at the stern order and shoved another bite into his mouth.

“Shoot, Paul, sir, I don’ think I want to get involved in any eating contest, ya’ know, I—“

Paul moved closer and peered into the bag, apparently disregarding Dave’s comment . His shirt barely grazed Dave’s stomach. He leaned in a touch more, quiet and mock intense. “How many are left in there, Dave?”

“Dunno. Crud, I musta eaten twenty already.”

Paul leaned in harder, slightly rocking his torso into Dave’s tight fat ball. “Did I ask how many you ate - or how many are left?”

“Uh – left.” Dave again fought his hard on.

“And?” Paul moved away but looked mock hard at Dave.

Dave looked down then back at Paul. He could feel his own breath on his belly. “Seems like eight.”

“And I want it to be none, good sir.” Paul stared at Dave. Dave stayed locked in the gaze and started eating the cookies again at a faster pace, pushing to finish them off. They both felt his gut edge forward with the effort. Dave felt ready to bust. He could barely gulp down the last cookie, but he did it with a proud flourish. Paul patted Dave’s huge gut and stepped back, grinning. Dave’s aching belly bulged to maximum swell as Paul eased back. Pop. Pop. Two of the buttons flitted off of his jersey, leaving just the last one barely connected, way down under the curve of the cookie loaded belly.

“Now THAT’S more like it.” Paul broke into another grin.

Dave had no idea what to say. He rubbed his exposed stomach and let out a stuffed sigh. Paul moved back in and reached under Dave’s huge gut. The jock held his breath against his common sense, suddenly afraid that Paul was about to grab his raging hard on. He felt Paul’s fingers along the base of his hard, round hovering ball belly. It drove him nuts and he fought letting out a wildly turned on groan. With a quieter pop, Paul released the last stubborn button. Dave’s gut bulged a touch more, now totally unrestrained. He was relieved and more comfortable and he let out a huge sigh, which pushed his fat closer to the manager. Dave had a terrible feeling that he wanted to tear his pants off next, release his throbbing urge, but, no, not now. Paul looked Dave up and down approvingly and then turned to grab some tools, leaving the stud to try to pull his tee shirt down to no avail. Dave was too turned on and too much into relishing his masculinity to talk.

They silently went back to work for a few hours, not mentioning the fact that half of his belly was exposed. Paul sometimes watched Dave’s belly bulging with each action, though, and Dave found himself feeling a little proud of letting his gut pump like a huge round muscle. He felt himself getting into being stared at.

By the time five o’clock hit, Dave could not believe he was even musing on dinner. He barely dared to wonder if the manager had a dinner order on the way. He found himself hoping so. But when the time came, Paul told him it was time to wrap up, handed him his button-less shirt and told him to load into the truck.

Dave rolled into the passenger seat. As Paul drove him back to the office, he said he was very pleased with the first day. “See you for more tomorrow. You will want to wear something bigger.” Paul leaned on the word ‘more’ as he smacked the side of Dave’s still tight belly.



VII. Getting Serious

Dave got in the car to head home and thought about hitting the mall for a new shirt. One look at how little of his flesh was covered, though, and the nice girl working there told him he could not walk in there like this. He headed straight home, wondering what he had left over after his weekend eating spree.

When he got to the door, there was a delivery guy waiting. “Hi, are you Dave?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“Okay, this is for you.” The guy handed him two bags. Dave smelled the distinct aromas of pasta and sauce. The bags weighed a ton.

“But I didn’t order any of this.” Dave was taking in the smells.

“Don’t worry. The guy who ordered it paid for it all and said to just drop it off. If you’re Dave and you live at this address, looks like it’s for you.”

Dave chuckled. “Okay then. Thanks.” He unlocked the door and dropped the bags in the kitchen. The doorbell rang a few seconds later. It was the delivery guy, holding two more bags.

“What the . . ?”

“Yeah, that was just part of it – all I could get in the first run. This is the rest of it. Have a good night and enjoy the party.” Dave laughed at the guy’s presumption and felt his belly quiver at the movement. “Oooh, I will,” he thought.

The last bag had a note from Paul, with instructions to keep up the training for the contest. Dave felt his spirits sink at this but he spent the rest of the night stuffing himself like there was no tomorrow.

The next day greeted Manager Paul with Dave’s pasta grown belly and Dave with even more food. He had found one sweatshirt that he could barely zip over his belly, and he shed it the minute he got to the job site with Paul. His tee shirts would be riding up more as the week progressed, but the sweatshirt at least got him to and from work. Paul kept him eating like a trained sumo all day, all week, demanding he hit another helping when Dave was certain he would bust. He kept surpassing his own limits. He was the competitive jock out to impress his coach. At the same time, however, he knew that he just had to tell Paul that the contest was off; he just did not know how to break it to him. The construction was progressing slowly between his constant helpings; but his gut seemed to be progressing the most.

Some weeks later, Dave could not come close to tugging his sweatshirt over his belly, and there was not a shirt in his stock pile that would reach his belly button. They would only reach to the upper curve of his gut and cling right above his deepening navel. Even though he had eventually successfully informed Paul of his reluctance to enter the contest, Paul won out in the long run and convinced Dave that it would be worth it for him and the company. Dave still halfheartedly agreed, not wanting to completely disappoint his boss, but his reluctance in no way kept him from wholeheartedly eating.

Dave’s gut amazingly felt rounder by the day. He would lumber into the job site good and fed, where Paul made sure Dave ate progressively more during the course of each day, sending his stud home looking ready to blow. Dave would diligently race home to second helpings the rest of the night and occasionally release the pressure of his urges. He avoided hitting the gym the bigger he grew. He indeed felt guilty and broke out his free weights at home, however. He would get as far as pumping his pecs, arms and shoulders, and then he would be back in the kitchen eating until he was groaning. Each course ended with him beating off furiously while rubbing his tightly packed belly.

All he did was work a little, lift some, and eat and eat for weeks. He had never been so transfixed on anything in his life. He could not get enough of that feeling of being a stuffed man. The reinforcement he got from Paul made him feel like a total stud – like he felt when he was first seriously packing on muscle in college and his buddies would grab his chest or squeeze his growing biceps. He loved being admired for the transformation. He once again felt like the biggest stud on the team and ate up the attention. He saw hardly anyone but the manager during those weeks though and he wanted to impress him. He almost became addicted to hearing he looked better each day. To him, it was like having someone rub his muscles when Paul patted his ball belly each morning and pointed him to some food. He found himself pushing his gut out for Paul to admire; and for good reason--his belly was ballooning fast.

Eventually, he just stopped bothering to completely cover his gut. He strode out of the house with his belly in full, barely-clothed view, knowing he would see no one but Paul or the delivery guy who brought the endless stream of fattening dinners. Gut mounded in front of him, Dave would leave each morning and head straight to the drive through for his first meal of the day, making sure to show up to work good and full. The denim on his jeans distorted and stretched to accommodate his heft, but they also reached their utter limit. While most of his gain was landing on his rotund gut, he was definitely getting a beefier butt, thighs, and chest. The side seams were tugged to the exposed threads across his meatier muscled legs. The denim grabbed his rounded butt and hoisted it high to admire and his chest began to show some sag beneath his shirts. Dave again had to resort to opening the top buttons of his jeans in order to sit down in his truck. He would go nuts at the feel of his heavy fat as he reached under to pop them to sit or wrestle them shut when he stood. He could just barely tug his shirt over the top half of his gut when he got to the drive through, but that only highlighted his size more.

The jeans finally were toast. Dave swore he heard a tear during his last helping and could not get them closed for his ride home, no way no how. His giant dinner delivery came that night with a bigger pair of faded jeans. Dave was glad for the room, but Paul had him on such a mental track, his first thought was how long it would take to tighten them up as much as the pair he had nearly busted. While wearing his new pants and constantly checking their fit, he ate until he nearly collapsed that night.

--------------------------------
To be continued...
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  #5  
Old 25th January 2007, 07:31 PM
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Iggy Iggy is offline
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VIII. Final Preparations

On the final Friday, just three days before the eating contest, Paul revealed that he was extremely impressed. He had maintained a stern but encouraging stance, the coach pushing his jock hard to stick to the regimen, making him live up to the expectations, but the sight of Dave’s mass was making him proud. The jock’s transformation was stunning.

“Well, Dave. You have outstretched my hopes. The contest is Monday, and I think you might be in fighting shape at last. Let’s see just how good that belly is looking.”

Dave beamed and threw his shoulders back. His gut now launched out in from of him in a complete ball. It felt so full and heavy, yet it hovered high and round as if filled with helium. Eighty percent of his gain was going right to his ballooning ball gut, the remaining weight rounding out his bubble butt and meaty pecs. He honestly had no idea what he was weighing, but he knew his belly was damn huge for a muscled guy.

Paul’s jaw dropped, despite himself, despite having seen the daily growth. Dave caught his reaction, took a deep breath and pushed his gut out some more to really impress his boss. Paul had to come closer. Dave was totally into it. He stood proudly to be admired. He grabbed the sides of his belly (which he could easily do now) and bounced it gruffly for Paul. It rocked with a heavy thud.

“Sir, you’ve really gotten me into this eating thing.” Paul was walking around Dave slowly, brushing against the beefy stud’s body as he studied his blown out gut from all angles. Dave was rubbing his fat bulging sides vigorously. “I mean, heh - I’ll have to work pretty dang hard to shrink this huge thing some after that contest, but man, I’ve been getting SO into eating so much good food. I’m gonna miss it, but I gotta let up a little. Man, I’ve gained so much weight since I got here, a lot unintentionally, but…” Dave paused, emphasizing the gut he had gained by roughly rubbing it. “Shooot, this feels goo-oood!” It was hard to say who was more into the jock’s belly.

Paul took in Dave’s muscled and fattened bulge. Everything on him looked thicker. His beefy butt pushed out like two miny melons. His broad shoulders were back and his tree trunk legs spread to counterbalance the ponderous bulk of his new, full gut. Amazing how the jock took to this. “You shouldn’t lose a pound, big boy,” he thought. “Quite the opposite!”

“You are going to be incredible once I really get you going.” That last line was said out loud, despite Paul’s usual control.

Dave looked up from his own belly and chuckled. “What, this hasn’t been really goin’? Cause I want to lose some o’ this or at least maintain the gut for a little. Honestly, it has never really been easy for me to lose weight, ya’know.” He had no idea what Paul meant about ‘going’, but he quickly became aroused by what he himself just said. All he knew was that Paul loved the view, and he was standing there proudly, letting his gut show in full glory. It was like hitting a home run.

Paul came around to the front of Dave’s body and stopped, leaning into the fat sphere between them. He had to fully feel it. Dave did not flinch. If anything, it felt like he was pushing his belly out a bit more.

“I have an idea here, Dave.” Both men were semi-leaning into his gut by now. “I think you’ve had a great first few weeks, and it’s time to give you a rest – at least from construction work - this Friday.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Yes. And I think it’s time for a trial run for the contest next week. No work for you today – except eating some good stuff.”

“Heh – pretty much how all these work days have been going, boss.”

“You think? Better loosen your belt Dave.”

“No belt. None of them fit under it any more. This gut’s gotten too big for that. Heck, these new jeans barely fit loosely any more. Not like I need to hold ‘em up.”

Paul grabbed the fat swell being pushed into him and started pushing Dave across the room by his belly. Dave took his lead, keeping in step without losing contact between his belly and Paul’s strong torso. Paul guided him onto the only stool in the nearly finished room. Dave landed on it hard, his beefy muscled thighs nearly crushing it between them. His gut rounded upward as his big legs hit its underside and it settled into his lap, hovering over his active private.

“Sit right there. The goods are coming to you today. Remember. This is your dry run for the eating contest. Show me what you can do. Impress me Dave. I want to see a new level from you, for this.”

Dave readied himself like it was the start of the big game, forgetting for the moment his immense recent gains. Paul went into the adjacent storeroom – a room that Dave had yet to be in. He came back wheeling a cart loaded with breakfast foods. Stacks of pancakes, pastries, bacon and sausage; biscuits; lots of cheese and eggs. Dave was privately salivating at the sight of the food like Pavlov’s Dog. Paul pushed the table-like trolley up to press into the jock’s belly and had him eat right off the cart. No plates. Just a fork, his hands, and the platters of delicacies. Dave ate and ate. Paul walked around him, surveying his progress, issuing stern commands to keep at it. Dave might slow for a second, but the manager kept spiking his pace, urging him on, not unlike a driving coach. Dave responded every time. The combination of orders and encouragement brought out the show-off jock in spades. The fat stud was inhaling the food so to speak, only able to groan and chew as his belly pushed out further onto his beefy legs. His face reddened from the effort, but he pushed on. His orders were to clear the plates. He was not going to stop until each one was empty. Paul insisted. Dave obeyed. His belly ballooned. He finally fell back from breakfast victorious. The cart was ravished. Dave looked like its entire volume had simply transferred into his gut. His eyes were half shut. All he did was moan and rub his belly, head drooping a bit as he checked out the results.

“Ooooo. Maaaan. Boss . . . shoot! SO stuffed . . . I . . feel . . . . so . . . . . full . . . .” Dave looked ready to pass out, even for a guy his size.

Paul let him rest it off, but not for too long.

A new cart appeared within an hour. “Ready for the next round,?” Dave had not stopped rubbing his belly since breakfast. He surveyed the groups of food now facing him. “Damn, dunno . . . if I’m . . . mmmmm . . . ready . . . ooooofff . . . yet.” Dave tried to sit upright. His belly bulged to show how tight from the bloating it still was. He shook his head and made an effort to revive. His tight gut pushed him back. “Feel - this - thing - Paul.” Dave was smacking his belly hard. The thump resonated across the empty room. “I think - those pancakes . . . shoot, I feel FAT . . . swelled up in here . . . or somethin’!”

Paul saw not only the jock’s large belly, but the bulge in his jeans as he leaned back against the wall. “I don’t think I can do it yet coach. Give me a few.”

“Totally unacceptable,” Paul said, but lightly. “You think that guy Monday is going to ask for a rest? Hell, no. You have to eat this food now, big boy!” Paul stood over Dave with a burger in his hand. Dave opened his mouth to protest, and Paul made him take a bite instead. Dave was trying to talk through the food pressed nearly to his lips, but each attempt only let in more of the burger. Dave’s eyes went wide. Paul let out a fatherly laugh. “That’s it big guy. Eat, eat, eat!” Dave started chewing and swallowing, faster, more hungrily - his only choice. Food was ready for him in a fury. He sounded like a rutting pig as he gulped it down and tried to inhale between mouthfuls. Paul kept him going at it. At least the jock could lean back, give his belly room to swell, not have to lean forward and do the work. He submitted totally, throbbing as Paul helped him, eating hardily and relishing Paul’s impressed expression despite the growing ache in his dangerously bulging belly. His gut blew out tight in every direction as a result of the constant eating. The skin stretched over his belly like a taught balloon. The tighter his belly swelled, the harder his private part got, despite his stomach-ache. Pre-cum spots began leaking into his tight boxers. Unknown to Dave, Paul saw every bulge. With one hand he helped the jock eat up, with his other, he reached for the jeans. They were so tight. He could barely get his fingers in them to pop the buttons.

Dave was aching to free his thickly swollen private. Paul’s hand on his waistband made it worse. Mouth stuffed and chewing, he reached under his bloated belly to help Paul bust open his pants. He furiously fumbled with the buttons, now so tough to reach. Once the first one was popped, the others blew open from the pressure and his tight gut filled the space, arousing him even more. Dave let out a grunt of relief.

Paul gave a fork and an entire pie to Dave and further loosened the jock’s pants.

“There, feed yourself now!”

Dave’s engorged private leapt in his pants. He took the pie with one hand and began eating it with the fork while Paul stroked the front of his belly. Dave’s belly looked ready to explode, but he was in utter ecstasy. He gobbled down manly mouthfuls of pie. “That’s it Dave. Eat like the man you are! Make that belly stay bloated for me, big guy!” Dave finished off the pie and, as he did so, he could no longer restrain his powerful urge and his special part ejaculated all over his boxers and leaked onto the utmost base of his belly. Dave fell back and the stool flew out from under him. He was still shooting as he toppled back against the wall, feeling pinned under his gut. He moaned and slid down the wall until he sprawled flat on his back. His belly rose into the air. Paul saw nothing but the jock’s spread legs and the large sphere of a cum spotted belly. Dave barely lifted his head at the feel of the warm cum in his boxers and indulged a dazed grin before dropping his head and passing out asleep, grasping his belly as if to keep it from busting.



A little later, he woke to the feel of a warm cloth washing his belly. He opened his eyes and looked down, seeing nothing but belly, the round horizon. It was much less swollen now than it had been earlier, but it still felt full and ball-sized. He could not even see what he felt, but it felt darn good. His unrestrained groan of pleasure let Paul know his prize-winning man was awake again.

“Like the feel of this fat belly, Dave?” Another moan in reply. “Good thing. I’ve decided you’re not leaving this room for the weekend.” Dave tried to lift his head. The weight of his gut surprised even him. He was still pretty stuffed tight. His overfull belly weighed a ton. Paul was now massaging Dave’s fat bulge in big slow arcs. The jock just laid back and pushed his gut into Paul’s hands. “That’s it, relax. The excess bloating will subside soon, big guy. Now I know just what an eating boy you are. You’re doing nothing but eat for me – until the contest.” Dave felt Paul’s massage pressing near his deep navel as he tapped the top of his belly. He would submit to almost anything he was told the way he felt right now, except to eat. He groaned again at the feel of Paul’s massage on his belly. He let the words out softly, despite how much he wanted to impress Paul.

“Enough, I – can’t--won’t-- eat anymore right now.”

“Pardon? What did you say, Dave?”

“No more food for now.”

“Yes, alright. You sure, bud?”

“Yeah. Oh god, yeah.” He smacked his belly, setting it to quiver before it sagged back into place again. Does this friend look like it can hold more?”

Paul was still issuing the massage for Dave’s belly and thumping its sides. “I dunno, this guy’s gotten pretty big since you started.”

“Oh god, you’re telling one who knows all too well.”

Dave was ready to cum all over again at his own words, in spite of the action his private just experienced. The mound of belly between them rocked with his new movements. Dave shot into his boxers again with a loud inner yelp. Paul just kept easing Dave’s belly, looking down into the handsome stud’s post coital gaze.

“Just remember you are in control, Dave. Keep up the good work.”

Dave was kept in the ‘training’ room for the rest of the weekend. Paul helped him to eat, but to a lesser degree. Dave barely had any sense of time. His weekend was nothing but eating, stretching, sexual explosions and rests. He was almost dazed when Paul told him it was time for him to go home, merely a day and a half later.

“Tomorrow’s your big day, big boy. You should go get a rest. I think we stretched this gut enough, and I want you to let it recover so we can beat them all tomorrow.”

It took both their strength to get the groggy jock up on his feet, he was pretty tired. He almost fell forward from the weight in front of him, even for his muscled body. Paul walked with him to his truck, said farewell and good luck and left. Dave worked to climb up into the cab. He planted his beefy rear on the driver’s seat, sighed heavily, and then swung to hoist his gut into place. With a thud, his belly smacked into the wheel. Dave rocked to his left and threw his weight again. Bam. No luck. Its hard mass just struck the wheel, jiggled, but did not budge. His belly had grown too big to even fit behind the wheel. Dave fell from the cab and landed on the ground hard, almost falling forward again. He steadied himself, which was like trying to stop a speeding semi. He rested, thinking what to do. “Shoot, I may have to wait ‘till some of this bloating goes down, or- ” He reached under his gut where it started to push over his pants and un-buttoned the tight jeans, then sucked in his belly as best he could. Even when he did so, there was still a bulge coming out from under his chest. As he stood there, full realization came suddenly just how much he had changed and the amount of weight he had gained in the passed weeks. He moved for the truck.

“Okay, let’s try this again…” Dave lifted himself up and swung into the truck, planting himself behind the wheel. He sighed but did not let his gut out fully. He started the truck up and drove home, practically sucking in his belly the whole ride. When he finally got home, he let his gut out to its full capacity with a breath of relief and sat resting for a few. It pushed into the wheel and sagged between his legs into his un-buttoned jeans, but this time he fought his intense arousal.

Dave got up and took a few seconds struggling with his button and fat before lumbering inside. He was literally exhausted and was more than glad to be alone and in his space. But he needed to sleep and did not care where. He went to his bedroom, dropped to his pillowed bed, and then rolled over his big ball gut down onto his back. He just slept there, out like a light for the rest of the day.

------------------------------
To be continued...
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  #6  
Old 25th January 2007, 07:34 PM
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Iggy Iggy is offline
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IX. The Showdown

It was dark in the shuttered room when Dave roused. It was 11:30. He had slept hard, barely moving. His gut rose and fell with his breathing as he came to. He just laid there for a while, looking at the belly bulging off of his body. Despite not cramming in food for the hours he had slept, he still felt a massive pressure from his gut, although it was much less bloated. He rubbed its curves as he lay there, wondering if he was in a dream. He did not even hear the phone begin to ring from across the room. It finally caught his attention and he heaved himself straight up, almost falling back because of the grown ball that now occupied the space of his waist and pushed into his lap. He tried again and fully lifted himself up at a sideways angle, reaching the phone just in time. “Hullo?” he said, yawning and sitting in his deep nearby arm-chair.

“Sleep well, Dave?” It was his boss.

“Mhmm hmmm,” Dave moaned, not fully letting go of his ball belly.

“Today’s the big day. You better get ready and dressed for the contest.”

“Yeah.” Dave still did not move except to caress the sides of his stomach. It was like he was checking to see if it was still there, pleased that it felt less bloated but still so big.

Paul spoke again. “Come on, buddy. Time to get up. You’ve slept late--lunch is in an hour. Better get that appetite of yours ready.”

Dave tucked his elbows back and raised his shoulders. His gut barely moved except to mound a little higher. He raised his knees and sluggishly shifted his bulk. His fat bulged in response to every push.

“Okay, I’ll get ready.” Dave tried to get up, but it was less easy than it used to be, despite his undiminishing strength. There was no way he was getting straight up and he knew it. Dave eased to the side. His belly was now big enough that he needed momentum to get over the first bulge of his meaty love handles. With some groggy effort, the sleepy jock rolled up to a more erect sitting position, his grown belly pressing firmly onto his legs. He tried to shove himself upright with his arms, but as strong as he was, there was no room in the sagging chair to thrust with his belly filling every inch between his back and his front. Dave kind of bounced, popping his gut out a couple of times until he could throw himself out of the cushion onto his strong legs. He could not resist as he got up. He reached around and grabbed the meaty sides of his gut. Dave was happily groaning all over again.

“You’re going to do me proud today, big boy, aren’t you?” Paul continued, hearing Dave’s groans.

“Oh yeah, coach. I’m gonna eat but good for you. This time--for the contest.”

Paul then wished him luck and told him where to meet him before hanging up. Dave took out the new clothes Paul had given him the day before-- track pants with a big stripe up the leg and a white ribbed tank top.

“Bigger clothes.” He thought. “Should give enough to cover me for now. I’ll definitely be needing the room from here.” Dave rubbed the top arc of his belly, almost dreading the inevitable bloating that was to come. “Let’s get this thing over with.” With that, he went to the bathroom to shower.

Later, Dave stepped out of the shower, still a bit asleep despite the rejuvenating effect of the warm water. Water dripped from his now heavily bellied body as he reached to swipe steam from the mirror. The fogged glass slowly cleared while he vigorously rubbed the towel across his burly frame. He dried off, not yet consciously looking at his own reflection. A thickset, muscled body mimed his movements. Powerful arms held the towel around his head, tugging back and forth across his mop of sandy red hair. A thick neck spread from under the towel and poured into broad, rounded shoulders. His pronounced and masculine pecs, now meatier than a few months back, still contracted visibly with his aggressive strokes.

Droplets trickled down the hair that trailed along his gut. Dave held the towel over his big belly to catch them. Waking a bit more, he paused to consciously study his reflection. He felt an incredible feeling of déjà vu as he did so, thinking back to the time (now weeks ago) before he got his current job. Except now, a startlingly handsome man stared back with electric blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a big full gut rounding out from beneath his chest. So different from that time, now seeming like ages ago. He again felt his private activate at the thought and the sight of his gut’s unbelievable sphere. Dave’s attention was again diverted to his face, where a prickly red beard had established itself. He stroked it and ran the lengthened hair through his fingers.

“Man, I must’ve been too caught up in this gut to notice ‘little Dave’ here. Come to think of it, last time I had time to shave was the week after my weekend eating craze…" He had to admit that he looked even more virile with the hints of growing fullness. “Ah, what the heck? Might as well keep ya’, pal.” With that, he put his shaver aside and focused on the reflection again.

Balancing his mass with his powerful legs, Dave stood on each foot to slip into the track pants. Bending to pull them up had become an effort. His gut was too large to easily reach past. But he wriggled into the pants, fat belly bouncing ponderously. They hugged him closely. The stripe up the leg bulged and curved along his calves and muscle thick thighs. The fabric was at its tightest as it pulled over his round butt cheeks, highlighting their full shape before dipping. Thin white threads were already showing along some of the seams. The ribbed tank distorted to encase the jock’s belly girth. It looked nearly painted on in some spots, each rib of the shirt pulling wide as it tugged around his broadest circumference; his navel showed through the front. He yanked at the hem. Dave was so bellied now that he thought it covered him, yet there was a good section of belly hovering horizontally below him that even the new shirt just was not going to fully reach all the time. His pecs bulged with muscle and fat, the shirt just tight enough that it traced his nipples for everyone to see through the tank. Dave’s huge arms and forearms looked bigger than ever in the outfit, despite the size of his belly. He thought he still looked a bit overfull from the previous day, though he felt like he could move now. He threw on a light (and a bit small) jacket before leaving, feeling stronger and full of virility. He drove to the building where he had his weekend training and saw Paul standing there. He pulled up and parked, lifting himself out of the truck.

“Looks like you’re ready, big guy. Hope you’re damn hungry. You know how bad I want you to beat this guy.”

Dave pulled at the hem of his tank again. “Coach, I’m gonna kick his butt and eat him under the table. Let’s get it over!”

With that Paul loaded him into the passenger seat of his truck. Even without a steering wheel in the way, Dave’s thick fat ball seemed to nearly fill his front in the cab, threatening to graze the dashboard. Off they went to the bar for the contest.

Paul pulled into a spot behind the bar and shut off the truck. “Wait here until I come for you. I want to check things out first.”

“You got it, coach. Bring me a snack when you come back.”

“Sorry, no chow for you ‘til you’re going head to head with that other guy. I want this huge tank empty and ready to fill.”

Dave frowned slightly. He was no longer accustomed to having such a late lunch.

Paul entered the bar and his crew started to cheer, ready for the eating contest rematch. The guys were looking behind him for their hopeful hero.

“Come on, Paul, where is he?”

“Yeah, you’ve been keeping the guy from us. He better be up to this!

“That other guy looks big. This is gonna be tough.”

“Yeah, how much can our guy eat?”

Paul was scanning the room for last year’s winner. He had not seen him since their defeat. In his mind, this guy had grown into this huge monster. The image he held is what drove him to stuff Dave to within a millimeter of busting day after day, wondering if he was able to make his big man ready in time. Finally his eyes landed on the competition. A big, burly guy, lineman type for sure. Pretty much Dave’s build but a couple of inches taller, and a faint bit more muscular if that was even possible. Paul saw his head poking above the group. His co-workers parted and the guy seemed to be peering smugly at Paul’s team. Paul’s crew briefly went silent. Paul broke into an inner satisfied grin. All year he had thought this guy was untouchably big. Now he let out a confident laugh. Given what he had coaxed Dave to accomplish, this was going to be more than possible. The guy was the typical getting-a-beer-belly ex-lineman, but Dave changed his perspective. Dave was most certainly the larger and stronger guy. He had helped make his jock the ‘monster in the room’ now. Just wait!

The other crew started casually taunting Paul’s, and his team was looking doubtful. The company’s owner, a brusque guy named Bill, known to be a needlessly contemptible dork, walked up to Paul with his eating machine in tow.

“Ready to have your ass kicked again, Paul? Big Bob’s not looking so ready after his whomping last year. Think he even stands a chance against old bruiser here?” Bill’s team was mock chanting. “Bruiser! Bruiser! Bruiser!” Bill waved them quiet. Paul’s confidence had anything but faded.

“Well, Bill. We have a new contender. We’ll just see who’s the ‘bruiser’ this year.”

“Well where the heck is he then? Bring your apprentice on, Paul. I hope he’s ready to be fetching Bruiser’s last few helpings once he caves. Let’s see what you got.”

Paul silently turned to get Dave, leaving everyone wondering. Dave got down from the truck and tugged his shirt tight over his belly, tucking it in as much as possible to further highlight his new girth. “First impressions are everything, Dave. This is your day to impress me like never before.”

Dave set his legs wide and planted one hand on the sloping top of his belly and one under its round base. He was thumping it like a show off. “Shoot, Paul, I am so ready! In fact, I’m pretty genuinely hungry here. Let’s take this guy.” He was walking toward the bar door like a gladiator ready to take the lion. Paul had to catch up to him, marveling at how fast Dave could jog-walk with his bulk.

Paul pushed open the door of the bar. “Gentlemen, I give you this year’s eating contest winner.” Dave lumbered in, his fattened belly rocking hard from side to side with his confident stride. His tank was already slightly creeping up his belly. He powered into the middle of the room and stopped, standing like superman with his hands on his hips, filling everyone’s view. The two crowds hushed for a second. Someone let out a low whistle and then the guys erupted. Comments started to fly from both crews, Bill’s in apprehension, Paul’s in proud amazement.

“Holy cow. Look at that guy’s gut!”

“Shoot Bill, he’s even bigger than Bruiser.”

“Whoa! How many rounds do you think that guy can eat?!”

“Damn, one helping and it looks like he’ll bust!”

“Dave man, that can’t be you.” One guy came up and was bold enough to touch Dave’s belly. “Shoot bud, have you been doing any work, or just eating on the payroll?” He smacked Dave’s belly, which barely moved it was so tight and round. “Guy’s, you won’t BELIEVE this thing. It feels like a solid ball. Paul, how much have you ‘helped’ him?”

“Yeah, Paul, did you blow him up with something or what?” A guy joked. “Where’s the pump hole?” The guy poked into the fat around Dave’s belly button, which seemed inside out from the pressure behind. “This it big guy?” Dave just held his gut firm and leaned in.

“Man Dave, how much have you packed on since starting here?”

Bill’s team muttered anxiously amongst themselves. Bruiser was trying to look cocky, but everyone could see him beginning to wonder.

Another guy stepped in to feel Dave up. He looked over Dave’s belly to his buddy on the other side, stunned. “Jesus, Dave, this thing can’t be for real. Even for a guy, this is some weight you’ve gained since starting this work.”

Both guys were rubbing the sides of Dave’s belly. He was beaming with pride, pushing his gut out, eating up the admiration and intimidation. The two guys playfully bounced Dave’s belly.

“Gosh, look at it! It even bounces like a big ball!” Dave reached around his gut to help them show off how his solid fat gut moved. The team was going wild.

“Just look at him compared to me!” One bearded guy stood sideways, shoulder to shoulder with Dave. His belly was definitely rounding and the tip began to hang over his belt. “My beer-gut goes to here, but look how far out his goes!” Dave turned sideways so everyone could admire his fat depth. More raucous cheers.

Big Bob came out of the crowd. “Well, yeah, he’d be wide compared to you, Jimbo, but what about compared to my gut?” He pushed in and stood next to Dave for everyone to compare. Bob’s belly was still impressive. But Dave’s still bulged out a good few inches thicker. There were more cheers. Bob grabbed Dave’s hand and raised it like Rocky’s. His tank pulled up more, his belly peering out now on full display. On instinct, Dave was rubbing his fat with his other hand. “Gentlemen, I give you this year’s winner!!” Roaring cheers.

Bill was shouting to quiet the crowd.

“Hold up! Hold up! Hold up! He hasn’t even proven what that gut can do. Size doesn’t always mean everything. Don’t get all cocky just yet, Paul. Bruiser here is ready. Your boy may have gained a bit by the sound of it, but this is a contest for men. Let’s stop with the bull and see what he’s made of.”

With that Bill gave his man a chair. Dave grabbed his own chair and planted it right across from Bruiser, smacking himself down with a thud. He settled in, rubbing his belly, inching the chair right up to the competition, until they were nearly belly to belly.

“Bring it on, Big Guy. Hope you’re hungry.” Dave was now in full competitive jock mode, determined to win.

The kitchen rolled out carts lined with plates of food for the competition. Paul took Dave’s side, and Bill stared back at him. The rules – the guys go head to head, helping for helping, until one of the large studs can not wedge in another bite, plain and simple.

Paul handed Dave the first plate, heavy with a burgers. On the word go, Dave seemed to inhale the food like it was air, and reached for the next plate before his last bite. In a matter of minutes, he had put away the next three. Bruiser was keeping up without issue, but it was quickly apparent that he was not the one setting the pace. Dave spread his legs to give his ball gut more room and dug into the next helping, pushing to stay a mouthful ahead of his rival. He stared right into the other guy’s eyes, filling his mouth with abandon, as if issuing a dare. Soon the cart was half cleared, and it was apparent that Dave was going to take them into another round. One of the guys yelled for more food. The chef came out of the kitchen in disbelief, wanting to see for himself that all that food was about gone. Dave had barely broken a sweat, well-used to eating until his gut was utterly (and sometimes uncomfortably) overstuffed. Bruiser, trying to look calm, was getting red. He was starting to look uncomfortable. Dave beamed as he licked the last plate clean. He threw it back on the cart and dramatically bellowed like Henry VIII. “Bring me the next round. This gut ain’t close to full yet!” Dave puffed out his already bloating belly and pushed it right into Bruiser’s. Paul’s team went crazy. Bruiser took a deep breath and struggled to down his final mouthful, trying to edge away from Dave’s gut.

The men had a moment to rest as the carts were replaced. Bill’s team was trying to shout out words of encouragement to their guy, but the cheers of Paul’s team were drowning them out.

“Man, Dave, you’re appetite isn’t to be rivaled!”

“Look at his gut! It’s grown just since he’s been here.”

“Damn Dave, how big can that thing stretch? What, is it made of rubber?”

Dave proudly smacked his belly and shifted himself to ready for more food. He looked at ease, eager for more. Bruiser was stifling a belch and looked unable to find a comfortable position. The new carts arrived, piled higher than the first. Bruiser moaned out loud at the sight of them and clutched the fat on his stomach. He was in trouble and Dave could see it. Paul leaned in to urge his champ on, whispering in his ear. “I want you to not only beat him, but flatten him.”

With a huge inhale, Dave puffed out his gut cockily. Their bellies brushed and Bruiser flinched. Dave pushed out his belly more. “Ready man? Or do you wanna surrender now?”

Bruiser opened his mouth, but Bill snapped back first. “Of course he’s ready. That fat gut of yours may be large, but my boy can eat. Let’s keep this going.” Bruiser blinked hard and rubbed his stomach with none of Dave’s pleasure.

Dave whispered back to Paul, “I’m gonna make that guy think he’s about to explode.”

Dave wiped his beard, grabbed his next plate and starting eating like he was empty. Bruiser was not living up to his name. He was quickly lagging, and Dave was not letting up one bit at the signs of his struggle. If anything, he ate harder, showing off as he tossed plates aside. He didn’t take his eyes off his target and just reached out for the plates that Paul had on the ready. He was in an eating trance, but not deaf to acknowledge the building pressure in his own belly. His time was almost up.

Bill was getting nervous. His boy was visibly failing and the whole room knew it. Bruiser looked ready to fall over. Dave’s belly looked ready to launch, dangerously stuffed, inching out with each helping as his shirt rode up the hard, inflated expanse. His fat ball threatened to push into his faltering challenger enough to knock him over. Bill tried to shuffle Bruiser back while yelling at him to eat. The more Bruiser groaned in pain, Dave lessened his eating. Bill knew it was about to end but was nowhere near ready to accept that. Suddenly, he yelled to another guy on his crew. “Give me another plate. I’m gonna help him put some away myself!” He was behind Bruiser’s head, holding the plate under his chin and pushing bits of food in the poor guy’s mouth. Bruiser looked ready to pass out.

-----------------------
To be continued...
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Old 25th January 2007, 07:35 PM
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Dave signaled to Paul, who took the cue right away. “Fairs fair, Bill.” He whirled behind Dave and did not have to ask for another plate. His team was ready with several. Dave held the sides of his belly with both hands and tipped his head back to be fed. He practically opened his throat and took in bites of food as if chugging from a beer bong. He belly ballooned bigger as time passed. He shut his eyes and focused hard; it was almost over. He was breathing deeply through his nose to keep taking it in. Paul was packing his gut, nearly equally entranced. The cheers grew deafening - so deafening neither man heard the thud as Bruiser toppled out of his chair to get away from Bill. He fell on his knees, grasping his belly in sheer agony. Dave continued to eat, not yet aware. It took a few minutes for the crew to break through to tell them to stop. Dave finally opened his eyes and saw his fallen challenger. He grunted manfully and smacked his belly hard. Then he saw Bruiser’s cart, a few plates uneaten. With some work, he gulped the last of it down and fell back in his chair. He let out a deep, long groan, at the same time loving the attention.

Everyone stood back, almost doubting Dave’s belly’s stability. His belly looked tight as a drum, stretched hard and round, pushing out in every direction, the biggest sphere of fat on the biggest guy that anyone there had seen. Dave did not dare talk yet. He was so full he could not sit upright. He tried to hoist himself up. He landed back on the chair with a massive thud, splintering the thing under him. He crashed to the floor, flat on his back, belly towering. Everyone rushed to see if he was okay.

“Dave! David! You okay, man?”

“Ooooooh. Mannnn.”

Can you move?”

Dave was panting hard, the full force of his showing off finally conscious, its full weight pinning him to the floor.

“Damn . . . . no . . . . uuuuuuggggh.”

“Anything broken man?”

“Nuh uh. Oooooo . . . . sooooo . . . . . . stuuuuu --- uuffed.”

He just laid there, eyes shut, holding his sides. Paul pushed through the crowd and set his hands on the top of Dave’s belly. “Let him rest. He’s fine. He’s just over-stuffed, nothing you can’t recover from.”

Dave grinned faintly, moaning at the feel of Paul’s hands.

Bill was rudely telling his crew to get Bruiser out of his sight.

“Looks like we have a wimp and a winner, Bill.” Paul was tapping the hard ball mounded on top of his stud. “The size of this gut right here makes it pretty clear who’s who.”

Bill opened his mouth but had nothing to say. He snapped it shut and stormed off. “See you next year!”


It would take a few guys to help Dave out of the bar, but no one moved him for a while. Paul kept testing the pressure on his champ’s mound of fat. When it had eased, they loaded the groggy, fattened man onto the flatbed of Paul’s truck. Everyone could see the arc of Dave’s belly as they drove off. Paul took him home where they wrestled him into bed. Dave was ready to sleep it off and passed out immediately. Paul watched his stud’s belly rise and fall as he slept, admiring every inch of the jock’s massive body for a bit before leaving.

-----------------------------
To be continued...
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Old 25th January 2007, 07:37 PM
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X. The Aftermath

Paul’s phone rang the next day just before noon. Dave still sounded stuffed. “Boss. Dave here. Ooof . . . man.” Paul heard the pats as Dave tapped his belly on the other end. “So do I need to come in today? I’m totally wiped.”

Paul took pity at the sound of Dave’s voice. “Give it ‘til tomorrow stud. See you then.”

“You might have to come get me. Shoot. This thing is still pretty bloated. Don’t think it’ll fit in my truck yet.” Paul took a second to answer, picturing that.

“No problem. See you for breakfast.”

Dave groaned. More thumps. “Boss, I think breakfasts are out for me for a while. It’s gonna take some serious cutting back to get this thing to go down at least some. Man, I really can’t believe I got so damn big.”

“We’ll see about . . . we’ll see you tomorrow.” Paul hung up, feeling for him.

Paul arrived early to collect Dave, catching him not quite ready. The jock looked big as ever, though not as tightly stuffed as after the contest. His belly looked ponderous, though, most definitely inflated a notch more from the massive attach on its girth at the bar. Dave was moving slowly, and silently loaded himself into Paul’s truck. Paul fired up the engine and pushed a bag of doughnuts toward him.

“Oh, boss, not this morning. Seriously, it’s gonna take, what, like twice as long as it took to grow this thing to get it to shrink back down at least some?” He dropped his head back against the seat. “If this thing wouldn’t bounce up and down so much, I thought about hitting a treadmill today. Damn. I don’t think this bloat has shrunk much since the contest. I’m still too huge. Ooooof.” Paul understood the guy’s problem but at the same time he had to admit that he disliked the vision of Dave working off his whole belly that he had willingly (and, at first, unknowingly) grown over the past weeks. Dave placed a burly hand right on his sagging fat ledge.

“Eat at least a few.” Paul urged. “We’re working hard today and you can always start some diet another day.” Dave was too tired to protest, but he was eating halfheartedly at best. When they arrived at the site, Dave had only eaten two doughnuts. He also took little interest in the usual overloaded breakfast table set for the crew. Paul felt a little bad for Dave and his pity was mounting. He went easy on Dave as he issued instructions for the day’s work, especially when Dave set down his plate of food unfinished.


The room was nearly complete. As of yet, Dave had no answer about exactly what this project would be. It was just a huge finished room with a few long windows above eye level, connected to the room where Paul had been keeping all the food and a bathroom. There was a recess in the concrete just inside the sole outside door. Today they were to drop this large metal plate into the hole. It was a big stainless square, resting on springs encased in support tubes that brought it level to the floor. Dave tried to ask what it was, but everyone seemed to dodge the question. Dave just did as he was told, shrugging. As Paul readied to drop the plate in place, he left it leaning upright against the jock’s big belly. It was a fine sight--one that he was not about to give up. On cue, Dave tipped the heavy metal down, struggling some to move it around his ball midsection before securing its position. Paul fussed with some wiring, connecting it to a clock sized device that he screwed to the wall next to the door.

“There. Almost done except to test it. How about some lunch?”

Dave fought his usual urge to indulge. He felt fully hungry for the first time in months. “Yeah, okay. I could do a little bit of lunch I s’pose.”

Paul pretended to fume. But he still did not like his fattened jock talking about eating restraint of any kind. He disliked nothing more than a guy worried about portion control. The Feeder in him resented that kind of hesitation. He found it un-becoming, unmanly. Men should eat until they were stuffed. To him, that was a masculine rite of passage from a jock’s younger playing days to full manhood. “Dave, man, come now,” he said. “How dare you think you’re going to diet off all the work that went into this belly?!”

Dave was sulky from his treatment all morning. He definitely preferred feeling that he pleased his boss. Paul decided it was time to play on that again.

Paul went into the adjacent storage room and rolled out a hefty lunch, this time with a couple of pitchers of beer. “Dave, you did us damn proud yesterday. I think today, we knock off now and celebrate your victory.” He poured Dave a rather full mug of beer and clinked the pitcher against it in a toast. Dave was beaming again, and took a big swig. Paul got him talking about the contest win and the trophy that he had won, playing on the jock’s innate tendency to recount the winning plays the morning after the game. He did not push food. He worked on keeping Dave chugging beers, knowing he would soon be drunk on an unusually empty stomach. That stomach was large, though, and it took a quite few beers to see Dave’s buzz setting it. But in true fat jock mindset, Dave was not counting beers as calories, and he followed along ever more cheerfully. Paul kept him replaying the contest, and as Dave basked in his win, he started absentmindedly touching his gut once again. Dave had drained most of the second pitcher before he realized it, busy bragging about how he made Bruiser look like a loser.

Paul knew he could push at least a little food on Dave now. He started with one sandwich, and it went easily from there. “Better soak up some of those suds, there, Big Guy.” Dave’s resistance was completely down. He laughed and took the sandwich. “Yeah, good idea. Kinda feelin’ this beer a bit.” After two bites of the sandwich, Dave was inhaling it. It had become and had been the only way the guy knew how to eat. Paul kept him casually drinking and eating as they celebrated for the next hour. Before long, Dave refused to eat anymore, slightly drunk, rubbing his belly.

“Gosh, Paul. You got me going again here. I swore today would be the day I start dropping some of this gut.”

“Did you now?”

“Yeah, man. I mean shoot – look at me. I’ve become as big as a house, and now it’s noticeable, even for a guy my size.”

“Yes. Let’s look at you, Dave.” Paul moved a sheet of plywood to reveal a big mirror. He pushed another beer as they stared at his body. Dave put the glass to his lips again.

“I bet you could drain that thing in one go.” Dave’s fogged head did not fight and his jock side won out. He took the dare and pounded the beer in a matter of seconds. He checked out the sight of his belly as Paul heartily refilled his glass.

“Go ahead, put your hands on your belly, don’t be bashful.” His voice was low but intense. Dave obeyed. “Feel that big belly. Feel every fat, muscled inch of it.”

Dave was turned on. He grabbed himself as ordered, felt his giant belly anew, investigating its round bulge. Dave chugged the glass of beer again. He felt his belly swelling as he was loaded with beer. Dave’s head was beginning to swim.

“Now let’s check out that belly again.” Paul gestured for Dave to look himself in the eye. His gut seemed to fill the mirror. “See how that belly looks, Dave? You can’t tell me you don’t love that giant, fat belly you grew.” Paul himself thumped Dave’s ball, making Dave’s private grow tight against his pants. He fought to stay mute and not moan in pleasure.

“Just look at you. A total porker, and you earned it.” The jock was locked on his own image, carefully studying his own ball bellied mass for a few seconds.

Paul broke the silence and played his ultimate stroke to convince Dave to keep his belly. “Nothing has ever turned you on like this belly, has it Dave? So why would you want to loose it, any of it?”

Dave moaned despite himself and his shock that his boss had asked such a question. But he knew full well that this was true and looked back on the time how exciting he found his belly to be in its earliest beginnings. Now his excitement was mounting again at the recollection.

“You love being a big boy, don’t you Dave?” Heavy bounces punctuated each word.
Dave groaned louder.

Paul gingerly bounced Dave’s belly now, making Dave nervous as he now had a pulsing erection in his pants.

“Feel how fat you’ve become. Feel that belly for me.”

Dave’s hands flew to his gut. He had to feel the big ball too. He was rubbing his belly in amazement and ecstasy, hips almost rocking as if trying to **** his own belly.

“I bet you wonder just how much weight you’ve gained?”

A muffled affirmative.

“Want to weigh in and see?”

Dave looked confused, but nodded, eyes still locked on his giant image.

“Go step on that then.” Paul pointed to the plate in the floor. Dave did not want to tear away from the mirror. He wanted to get off right there. He lumbered over to the big square and stood at the edge.

“It’s a scale from the bathroom. Get on!”

Dave landed one foot and then the other on the plate and felt it spring under him. Red numbers flashed on the wall panel. Paul covered them with his hands before they stopped racing by. Dave steadied himself to stop the bouncing. He looked like a bull being weighed in at the farm. Paul peered behind his hand but would not let Dave see.

“So, Dave.”

“Uh huh.” Dave was tentative, though eager to know what he weighed. He thought back to his last 281 pound reading.

“What do you think that big belly has you weighing?”

“Man, I dunno.” It was clear that Dave was rock hard in anticipation.

“You feel pretty damn fat, don’t you.”

“Ooof. Boss, I told you, I feel huge, bloated right now too.”

“How huge?”

“Darn massive, man.”

“Hm. Guess.”

Dave studied his belly, lifting it at its front base to check its heft. He let it drop back into place, where it began to hang over his work jeans beneath his tucked in shirt. He clearly loved that feeling.

“Dunno. What, 325?”

Paul let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, heck no, big guy. You think all your eating only made you that big? Look at the size of that gut again.”

“More huh?”

“Heck, yeah. Guess again. What else have you been doing but working and eating like a man’s gotta eat, Dave?”

Dave’s tight private bounced at the comment.

“Umm. Okay. 330 then.”

Paul shook his head.

“340?? No way boss. Can’t be!”

Paul came closer to Dave, touching the front of his belly. “Just look how huge this thing is, even for you Dave. You were a big guy before, so your own dimensions still hide some of your girth’s weight, so one more try.” As Dave mused on the distance from his back to Paul’s hand, he looked over at the reading.

“What the hell!”

The red numbers blazed--347 pounds. Dave was nearly dripping. He had gained nearly 100 pounds. Paul turned Dave around on the scale so they could see him in the mirror. Dave’s head was spinning from beer, arousal, the full force realization of how incredibly big bellied he had grown. He felt himself reach under his belly and lift the front base beneath his navel slightly.

“So how much more are you going to gain?”

Dave dropped his gut, pulsing.

“Boss, Paul – I – I gotta cut back – Ooooooo. I’m too fat. Oh, man. Oooh. But feels good.”

Paul made Dave rub his belly more as he stroked.

“Admit it Dave, you love this belly you’ve grown!”

“Oh yeah. Oooh, Paul. That feels so good.”

Dave’s strokes quickened. He was transfixed on his gut, feeling it all over as he leaned back nearer to Paul.

Paul said something, but it went unheard by Dave. He was too close to erupting. His mighty legs were quivering and the manly belly now attached to his waist rocked heavily with his movements.

Dave almost involuntarily moaned again.

“I dunno ‘bout this gut, ooof. Oh, but this thing makes me feel so…so…” Dave was right on the brink of cumming.

“In my humble opinion, you look more full and handsome with the gut added to your profile.” Paul said.

“Yes – Ooooh, yeah. Heh, the fat.”

Dave could not take it any more. He was ready to erupt, staring at his belly, daring to picture himself even a few pounds bigger. He practically knocked Paul over as he convulsed at the thought of his growth.

“Paul, be right back—bathroom. The beer must’ve gotten to me.”

Not giving his boss time to respond and trying to hide his erection, he raced to the bathroom and slammed the door, his mind in frenzy. There was not a moment to spare. His private released his cum violently just as he reached a chair. He dropped to his knees after being drained, leaning forward on his ball belly.

Still panting from his orgasm, he sighed at the relief of it all and relaxed some. He looked down at the arc that rounded out from beneath his slightly sagging chest when he slouched on the chair. “Darn, what’s not to like about this big boy? How could any guy dread growing this?”

Even as his mind cleared, Dave subconsciously knew that he was probably going to live with his gut for the rest of his life, and it was inevitable that he was bound to gain more weight in years to come. The days prior to his gain were over; now he was a heavily bellied man—classic fat jock though he be—and he would just have to get used to it all in time. He was nuts at the thought.

He hoisted himself up and headed for the door, gut held confidently above his belt.

“Yeah, I’m gonna like this place.”

---------------------------------------
There you have it! Hope you enjoyed.
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  #9  
Old 25th January 2007, 10:05 PM
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awesome story dude
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  #10  
Old 26th January 2007, 04:19 AM
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Great story. Makes me incredibly hungry...!
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