JAKE'S NEW REGIMEN
By ExjockFeeder

I. End of the Off Season

Jake 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. Jake dried off, not yet conscious of 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 brown 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. Jake held the towel over his belly to catch them. Waking a bit more, he paused to consciously study his reflection. A startlingly handsome man stared back with electric blue eyes, a strong jaw and a classically handsome face. He looked even manlier with the hints of growing fullness. He contracted his biceps and inspected the line of his shoulders, chest, and arms. He indulged a brief moment 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 thighs and beefy ass 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.
Jake, 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 yet. 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, Jake 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."
It may already be too late.
Jake flipped through the channels, sipped his coffee and decided he'd 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 a sluggish on the field. Jake 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, Jake 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, theneventually 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 hadn't curbed his appetite, and without the regular running inflicted on him during practices, he was without a doubt getting the start of a belly. A guy with smaller pecs would have noticed his gut's growing curve long ago, but Jake 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, Jake 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 briefs 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, Jake 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 mind that these were once his loosest pair. They now closely hugged his legs and butt. 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." Jake 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. "Fuck, I should go easy on lunch today or these things'll bust on me."
The gym scale dared him from opposite his locker. Tentatively, Jake 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 gut. He nudged the lower weight up 10 pounds, then ten more, but got only a slight wobble from the armature. "Man, I can't be over 250, can I?" He tapped the weights again. They finally teetered to level at 268 pounds. "Shit man, I've gained 33 pounds since I quit? No wonder these jeans are so fucking 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 top arc of his stomach, though, a faint grin blended in with the rather forced expression of resolve.
Jake 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. Considerations quickly shifted toward where to have lunch.
After some aimless driving as he thought about the construction job, Jake 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 Jake a second bag. "You sure man?" "Yeah dude, you had that big double order right? Must be yours." Jake 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, Jake reached for the shake. It had melted a bit by now, so he gulped it down like water. Thinking what the hell, 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. 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, Jake 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, Jake 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 ass tightly with each pumping step.
Jake 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 gut pressed firmly into the ledge. He seemed not to notice. "Hellooo?"
Suddenly a big hand clapped him on the shoulder. Jake jumped a bit and whirled around, his lunch stuffed paunch bumping into the company's manager, almost toppling the box of sandwiches he was carrying. They stood gut to stomach for a few seconds before the man stepped back.
"Easy there big guy. Didn't mean to startle you."
Jake took a step back, hit the counter with his ass, and tried to suck in his gut. As he composed himself, explaining that his friend had referred him to a Tom Rudnick, the manager noticed Jake's eyes traveling to the box of food he had brought back to the office.
"Whelp, looks like you found him. Jake, you say? I'm Tom. Come on in."
The pair headed into the office. Tom plopped the box of take-out on the front of his desk and settled himself back in his chair. Jake 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 big guy? I got enough for the whole office staff, but forgot they all were all leaving for a site meeting this afternoon." Tom nudged the box in Jake'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."
Tom tapped his own belt buckle and nodded towards Jake's waist. The still full stud looked down, but 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 hell, that's a fine way to impress the new boss, huh?" Jake turned sideways to try to button his jeans discretely, a nearly impossible task given the tightness.
While Jake's blush faded, he tried to recover his usual laid back demeanor. He and Tom discussed the company, and before long, Jake 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," Tom 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 didn't register with Jake, who liked the chemistry with Tom. 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 slight smirk on Tom's face. "It's all gonna go to waste if someone doesn't eat it." Jake 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." Tom's smirk curled into a slightly devilish grin. "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 Jake. "I'm always on the crew to watch budgets, so my assistant will give me endless shit if I bought a big lunch that no one ate. Consider it your first or many." Tom smirked again. Jake stared at the plate piled with meat and bread and couldn't believe he was tempted.
Tom took in the stud's beefy physique as he toured him through the office and covered the company's policies. Jake nodded and listened attentively, taking big bites as they walked. Tom watched the exjock's impressive musculature easily move his hefty body. He wondered if Jake 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 Jake might need to have twice the gut to feel what another guy would at this weight. Tom mused on the image of the overfed stud's gut growing out to twice its girth. Jake 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 Tom had given him, so his shirt not only felt hot it felt tight. As they headed back to the front office, Jake undid the front of his shirt while his new boss wasn't looking.
But Tom certainly noticed Jake's belly as he told him what time to report in the morning. How could he not? His white t-shirt was now snug enough to show the hair trail on the exjock's stomach, which was also fully exposed where the shirt crept away from his waistband.
"Two things I can't stand, big guy. One is wasted chow. The other is a weak, underfed crew 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."
Jake peeked in the bag to find a dozen large cookies and puzzled at how Tom 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."

III. The Fitting

As he hade his way home, the cookies became too tempting. Looking down, he eyed the size of his 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." Jake 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 hell. "Man, I can't wait to get these fucking things off." Jake 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. Almost impressed at the accomplishment, he took and 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 a huge 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 the guy refolding jeans. Jake ambled to the wall and stood wondering what size to get. It had been so long since he bought jeans, he wasn't even sure of the size of the faded ones straining on his butt now. Jake pondered over the selection spanning the entire wall.
"Know what size you need?" The clerk's voice startled Jake. Damn, he thought. He had really wanted to do this errand in peace. "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 pushed a grunt from the jock's lips. With a sudden pow, the top button shot off his jeans. Jake 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 salesman said. 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 slightly. "Here, come with me to a fitting room, and let's find you something you can wear out of here."
Jake was relieved that the guy didn't make a scene of his blow out, 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 ass, 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.
"Fuuuck," 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. Jake 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 of it, startled at how round and protruding it looked in the mirror. He felt his briefs start to tighten as he thought about his bigger belly. He pushed his gut out as far as he could and got more aroused. A rap at the door jarred him from his thoughts.
"Here are some pants for you to try out."
Jake opened the door a crack to take the stack of pants, shifting his hard on, trying to ease 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 man. I think maybe the ones I was wearing were 36's."
"Uh huh. Well, see what works for you, and I'll check back."
Jake 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. "Shit, these are tight too. Must be the wrong cut." Jake's growing hard on didn't 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 clerk handed the jeans over the door to Jake. "I'll wait right here to see if those are working."
Just great, Jake 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."
Jake 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. Jake didn't know where to look. Every mirror gave him an undeniable view of just how big his belly was getting. "Shiiiit," he muttered.
"What's the matter? Those too tight too? They are the relaxed fit ones." The clerk 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."
Jake's hard on spiked a bit more at the comment. Man, he thought, what's the deal with that? The clerk 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?" The clerk was now tugging at both the waist and the thigh of Jake's jeans. His gut bulged out in response, shown in full view three times over. Jake's face was getting hot, as was his groin as the guy 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.
"Oop. We better get you something to wear out of here, buddy."
Jake 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 Jake back into the fitting room. "Turn around and I'll get the tags off." Jake was again faced with the sight of his gut. He felt the guy 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 Jake, who couldn't take his eyes off his belly.
"By the way, I'm Jeff." Jake turned and for the second time in a day hit someone with his gut. Jeff let out a little laugh and patted Jake's belly on the side. "Come back and see me if all those cookies keep having their effect, big guy. Call ahead though so I can make sure I have the sizes you need here. You're hitting the top of our range."
Jake'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 rounded 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. Jake 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 cock jumped again, and soon he was beating off at the mirror, moving his belly to see every new bulge.
After the release and the rest, Jake 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 belly got him going again, so he beat off one more time before falling asleep. As he drifted off, he thought, "shit 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

Jake lumbered into the construction office right on time, despite some effort. He hadn't 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. Not anymore. It highlighted his huge shoulders and chest, and now the fabric hugged him all over.
Tom came out to meet him. "Welcome, welcome, Jake. Good to see you. Here, grab a few doughnuts and we'll get you introduced." This time Jake didn't argue and he dug into the loaded box of sweets, piling four doughnuts onto a napkin. Tom walked him around to meet the small crew there this morning ­ about twelve guys. All were the typical beefy construction guys ­ muscled exjock types, several showing a bit of a gut too. Though, Jake was already on the bigger end of the entire crew.
Jake was seated by the table with the food while Tom 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. Tom broke his update for a brief second. He spoke to the biggest guy in the room, whose round gut pushed into the table on the other side of Jake. "Bob, don't keep all those doughnuts to yourself. Share a few with Jake, would ya?" Jake 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 Jake. "There. The rest are for you, man." There were eight doughnuts left. Before Jake could protest, Tom was continuing the meeting. Jake sheepishly took another doughnut. Tom kept talking but signaled for Jake to take some more. Jake kept eating, and on the last doughnut, he found himself thinking he liked this place.
The rest of the day progressed smoothly. Jake was told he would shadow the guys who tracked the project logs and schedules for the first week, and then, as Tom promised, he would head out to his first site. There were always piles of food at the morning meetings, following by outings for huge man-sized, gut busting lunches. Despite eating like a moose with the crew all day, Jake went home at night and gorged on huge dinners like never before. 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, Tom kept mixing up who Jake spent time with so that he could meet the crew. At this lunch, he seated Jake next to Bob, the doughnut guy from day one. He was about Jake's height, a bit less muscled though still beefy, but he definitely had the biggest belly in the place.
"Hey, I'm Big Bob." The guy shook Jake's hand brusquely. It was the guy with the doughnuts from the first day.
"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. "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. Jake 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, Jake 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!"
"Fuck, Bob, I feel like I could bust already. I gotta let up."
"I took you for a better contender, Jake. Shit, I bet you could take in some more. Eat like a real man, bud."
Tom piped in. "Better do it Jake. Bob doesn't take on accomplices lightly. You don't want to let him down."
Jake found the conversation a little curious, a little scintillating. He caved. "All right, guys. One more round."
Tom stood before Jake could get 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, Tom plopped down a plate piled with twice as much food as even Bob had.
"Fuck, 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."
Jake grunted and leaned forward 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 big reach to get his hand under his food laden stomach. He was panting as Bob taunted him to keep up. Jake 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 Tom standing there with another loaded plate. "You're not done yet, big guy. Prove what you're worth, Jake."
"Huh?" Jake said, a bit perplexed. "Fuuck. There ain't no . . ."
"Did that sound like you had an option?"
Bob leaned in, the side of his belly pressing into Jake's food swollen bulge. "No one's ever taken me in the first week, Jake. I think the boss man Tom wants to see what you can do. Better listen up and impress the new boss."
Jake looked up at Tom. "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 Jake. "In fact, we're not leaving here 'til you do." Jake felt his face blush a little and his cock start to grow again. 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. Tom was ready with another plate the minute Jake had managed to finish. Soon the entire crew was cheering him on. "Go go go!" Bob was grunting, starting to slow. The competitive jock in Jake kicked in. Now he was out to win. He locked into a groove and shoveled in everything set in front of him. He didn't 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. Jake sat there, eyes half open, hands gingerly massaging the sides of his belly, unable to move.
"I . . . can't . . . eat . . . . . . no . . . . . . fuckin' . . . . . . more. Oooooo."
Tom made the pronouncement. "Gentleman. With some more training, I think we have found out new eating contest hero!"
The crew went nuts and came by one by one to shake Jake's hand or pat his bloated gut before heading to their cars. Soon it was just Jake, Tom 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 Tom."
"Yep, Jake. 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."
Jake was in a food daze, all the blood rushing to his ready to bust belly. He wasn't sure what they could be referring to, and he was too overfed to do much more than grunt. Tom's mouth curled into another devilish grin. He moved in closer to Jake'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, Jake was left alone in the buffet place, still rubbing his gut, waiting to feel the pressure ease before he stood. The waiter checked in after a while. "Anything else for you?"
Jake managed a laugh, which made him groan again. "Does it look like anything else would fit in this thing?"
"Actually, it looks like lots would. That's why I was asking. So all set then. Oh - did you want me to load the rest of this into a bag for you?"
"Rest of this??" Jake 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.
Jake just groaned and nodded.

V. Weekend Revelations

After getting the waiter's help to load the food into his truck, Jake struggled to focus on the road to drive home. His belly had never felt so full. It pressed out hard in every direction like a heavy medicine ball on his lap. It pushed firmly into the steering wheel when he reached to release the brake. 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." his silently vowed ­ as he reached down under his hovering belly to shift his throbbing erection.
Jake shed his strained clothes and dropped down onto the couch. He looked down at the mound of his belly, running his hands over its bigger arc as he drifted off into to a long nap.
Hours later, he came too. He was still slouched on the couch, legs spread, hand on his belly, which was still pushing out to full size despite the rest. Jake starting rubbing his stomach a bit before opening his eyes. 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. "Shit, I guess I needed to sleep that lunch off," he thought. One hand went to his belly again, checking how big it felt. His gorging session at lunch was still obvious, but at least he felt like he could breathe now. He caught his reflection in the television. Jake 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 cock 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, tearing into the boxes of leftovers, shoving food in his mouth with one hand while stroking his thick dick with the other. Moans and full-mouthed grunts were all that could be heard. Jake stuffed himself without letting up, only 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. With the last mouthful, he shot all over the kitchen floor and lumbered off to bed, checking out his even bigger belly in the mirror on the way.

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 mound of his belly. Jake 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 gut when he looked down. When he was done, he was again transfixed at the sight of his fat swell in the mirror. He never thought he'd 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 beefy ass 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 belly. Even this one barely made it to his waist and grabbed him like a tight sausage casing. 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, Jake 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 Jake 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 didn't 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. "Shit ­ Jake, is that you? What the fuck have you been eating, Fatboy? Look at the size of you man!"
Jake 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 fuck 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 Jake's belly with the back of his hand as his talked. Jake fought his arousal and tried to be cool.
"No man, I've been lifting like usual. Just kinda on a different schedule lately."
"Yeah, a fucking kinda eating more schedule from the looks of you."
"Um ­ yea ­ maybe some. Nothing I can't control."
"Shit, well the size of this gut says otherwise. You're getting fucking FAT dude!"
Jake'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 Jake's belly hard. "Shit ­ feels even bigger, if that's possible." Jake wanted to lean into Mark's grip but knew he had to pull back.
"Naw man. Just been letting myself enjoy a little less ass 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, Jake, 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 Jake more and more turned on. Good thing the shadow of his belly hid it from Mark. He didn't know why this drove him crazy to hear. All he knew was that he'd been more turned on this week than he'd 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? Shit." Mark whistled at the size of Jake's belly. Again, a gut smack, and he was gone.
Jake 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 dick jumped. He nudged the plates up a touch. They teetered. Jake held his breath waiting for them to level. They balanced at 281. "Whoooooa." Jake did the math. "Fuckin' 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 gorge the rest of the weekend. He made a revised deal to cut back come Monday, when he headed to work, but in the meantime, fuck it. Enjoy the weekend. He won't have time to eat like this when he's working. One last hurray and THEN I'll be good.

VI. Training Begins

The alarm went off at 6:00 am Monday. Jake 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 it's toll. Jake'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 powerlifter. 281 before the eating binge. He wondered what he weighed now.
He had worn nothing but briefs during his eating fest. He didn't 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 a taught tee shirt, stretched so far his skin tone showed through the white. A huge moon of his belly 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 shrugged. At least it covered the part of his belly that his tee shirt couldn't reach. "Time for the mall again after work," he thought.
The office was a lot quieter when he arrived today. Only Tom, who explained that the whole crew was out on various jobs again this week. He told Jake 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." Tom was pointing to a stack of doughnut boxes. Careful of his buttons, Jake picked up a box.
"Take another," Tom ordered.
"It's just you and me though right?"
"Was take another unclear? I'm sure you'll eat it" Jake silently obeyed.
As they drove, Tom asked about Jake's weekend. Jake was trying to suck in his gut, 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." Jake 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 Jake."
Tom took Jake 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. Tom took the boxes from Jake, stacked another six doughnuts on a napkin and handed them to his well-fed employee. He then explained the job as Jake 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, paint the space. "Just a good range of trades to get you exposed." All easy, Jake thought. He had done most all of that type of work before.
"What's the space gonna be?" Jake asked, around mouthfuls of custard.
"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," Jake said, wondering what type of food.
As they started talking about the wiring, Tom kept pushing doughnuts on Jake. Now the jersey was also stretched out to show the base of Jake's belly, but it was way too far under his fat mound for him to know. Tom certainly knew, pushing the last few on Jake and refusing to accept no for an answer. Jake loved the taste and acquiesced
About noon, there was a knock at the door. Tom looked up "Oh, that'll be lunch. I figured we'd send it. Tough to find good places in this area. Not very populated." Tom opened the door, and the delivery guy dropped off three huge bags.
"Anyone else coming this afternoon?" Jake asked, taking in a whiff of the food. It smelled like fried chicken.
"No, why?"
"Seems like a lot of chow."
"Does it?" Tom went from looking into Jake's eyes to staring at his big belly with a smirk. "Good."
They broke for lunch, and Jake 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 Tom loaded up a plate and handed it to Jake when he started to slow ­ which was after quite some eating. Jake was now in good practice from his weekend. He finished the first plate Tom gave him, and was handed an even more loaded plate. It sagged and Jake had to hold it with both hands. He looked around for somewhere to set it. Nothing. He looked up at Tom sort of embarrassed. Tom walked up to Jake and patted the top of his gut, right where it launched out under his pecs. "This looks like a good place to rest it while you eat, big guy." Jake's face got a little red, but he took the suggestion. Tom kept him distracted by talking about the work for the afternoon, but watched intently as Jake ate and ate off the top of his stomach, only having to nod at his plate periodically to keep him eating. Jake took another overflowing plate without resistance. "This is going to be easier than I thought," Tom thought to himself. Now he felt his briefs tighten.
Jake's jersey looked ready to absolutely bust 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, Tom was amazed. Jake's gut was tight as a drum, pushing straight out in front of him, a perfect hard sphere, except where the jersey pinched and cut into his fat flesh. They worked for another hour. Tom couldn't believe that Jake could move after that meal ­ and he couldn't believe that his jersey hadn't yet blown. "Time to make that thing give out," he thought.
"Jake, about ready for some dessert? I bet you've digested enough for these now." Tom pulled out a bag of big cookies he had stashed under the blueprint table. Jake let out a sigh. "Shit, I dunno. This belly's still feeling pretty full. Maybe I oughta rest a bit mormmfffph "
Jake was shocked. Tom has just jammed a huge chocolate chip cookie in his mouth. Instinctively, he began to chew, too surprised to say a word. "Like I said, I like a guy who knows how to eat. You will finish those off," Tom said insistently. Jake began to throb as he chewed. He took the bag and grabbed the next cookie.
It was strangely silent as Jake munched. Tom just stared at him as he ate, raising a directive eyebrow when it was time to take the next cookie. Jake followed the silent order and pushed one after the other into his mouth. His dick was pressing hard against his jeans as Tom kept him eating. After a dozen cookies were gone, Tom broke the silence as Jake kept eating.
"I am impressed with your abilities Jake." 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 mean construction. I am impressed with how you can eat. You'll do great representing us at this year's eating contest."
Jake suddenly stopped chewing for a brief second, remembering the reference during Friday's lunch. "The what?" His shirt looked ready to give at any second.
"We have a few contests between local contracting companies. The usual softball games, bowling, etc. We always 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 fucking 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 Jake. 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." Jake was slowing as he listened. "Cookie!" Jake started at the stern order and shoved another cookie in his mouth.
Tom moved closer and peered into the bag. His shirt grazed Jake's stomach. He leaned in a touch more, quiet and intense. "How many are left Jake?"
"Dunno. Shit, I musta eaten twenty already."
Tom leaned in harder, slightly rocking his torso into Jake's tight fat ball. "Did I ask how many you ate - or how many are left?"
"Uh ­ left." Jake again fought his hard on.
"And?" Tom leaned closer to Jake's face.
Jake looked down then back at Tom. He could feel his breath. "Seems like eight."
"And I want it to be none." Tom stared into Jake's eyes. Jake stayed locked in the gaze and started stuffing the cookies in faster and faster, pushing to finish them off. They both felt his gut edge forward with the effort. Jake felt ready to bust. He could barely gulp down the last cookie, but he did it with a proud flourish. Tom patted Jake's huge gut and stepped back, grinning. Jake's aching belly bulged to maximum swell as Tom eased back. POW. POW. Two of the buttons blew off 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." Tom broke into an evil grin.
Jake had no idea what to say. He rubbed his exposed stomach and let out a stuffed sigh. Tom moved back in and reached under Jake's huge gut. The jock held his breath, afraid Tom was about to grab his raging hard on. He felt Tom's fingers along the base of his hard round hovering ball of fat. It drove him nuts. He fought letting out a wildly turned on groan. With a quieter pop, Tom released the last stubborn button. Jake's gut bulged a touch more, now totally unrestrained. He let out a huge sigh, which pushed his fat closer to Tom. Jake wanted to tear his pants off next, release his throbbing urge. Tom looked Jake 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. Jake was too turned on to talk.
They silently went back to work for a few hours, not mentioning the fact that half of his belly was exposed. Tom closely watched Jake's belly bulging with each action, though, and Jake 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, Jake couldn't believe he was even musing on dinner. He barely dared to wonder if Tom had a dinner order on the way. He found himself hoping so. But when the time came, Tom told him it was time to wrap up, handed him his buttonless shirt and told him to load into the truck.
Jake rolled into the passenger seat. As Tom 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." Tom leaned on the word more as he smacked the side of Jake's still tight belly.

VII. Getting Serious

Jake 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 he knew he couldn't 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 Jake?"
"Uh, yeah. That's me."
"Okay, this is for you." The guy handed him two bags. Jake smelled the distinct aromas of pasta and sauce. The bags weighed a ton.
"But I didn't order any of this." Jake 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 Jake and you live at t his address, looks like it's for you."
Jake 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." Jake laughed at the guy's presumption.. "Oooh, I will," he thought.
The last bag had a note from Tom, with instructions to keep up the training for the contest. Jake spent the rest of the night stuffing himself like a prize pig.
The next day greeted Tom with Jake's pasta grown belly and Jake 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 Tom. His tee shirts would be riding up more as the week progressed, but the sweatshirt at least got him to and from work. Tom kept him eating like a trained sumo all day, all week, demanding he hit another helping when Jake was certain he would bust. He kept surpassing his own limits. He was the competitive jock out to impress his coach. The construction was progressing slowly between his constant helpings. His gut seemed to be progressing the most.
By the fourth week, Jake couldn't come close to tugging his sweatshirt over his belly, and there wasn't a shirt in his stock pile that would reach his belly button. Jake's gut felt rounder by the day. He would lumber into the job site good and fed, where Tom made damn sure Jake ate progressively more each day, sending his stud home looking ready to blow. Jake would diligently race home to gorge nonstop the rest of the night. He avoided hitting the gym the bigger he grew. He felt guilty and broke out his free weights at home. He would get as far as pumping his pecs, arms and shoulders, and then he would be back in the kitchen stuffing his face until he was groaning. Each feed 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 and eat for a weeks. He had never been so transfixed on anything in his life. He couldn't get enough of that feeling of being stuffed to the max. The reinforcement he got from Tom 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 Tom during those weeks. He wanted to impress him. He became addicted to hearing he looked better each day. To him, it was like having someone rub his muscles when Tom patted his belly each morning and pointed him to the food. He found himself pushing his gut out for Tom to admire. 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 Tom or the delivery guy who brought the endless stream of fattening dinners. Gut mounded in front of him, Jake 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 ­ as Tom had ordered. 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 ass and thighs. The side seams were tugged to the exposed threads across his meatier muscled legs. The denim grabbed his rounded ass and hoisted it high to admire. Jake 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. Jake swore he heard a tear during his last helping and couldn't 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. Jake was glad for the room, but Tom 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.

VIII. Final Preparations

On the final Friday, just three days before the eating contest, Tom 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 Jake's mass was making him nuts. The jock's transformation was stunning.
"Well, Jake. 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."
Jake beamed and threw his shoulders back. His gut launched out in from of him. 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 big bubble butt and meaty pecs. He had no idea what he was weighing, but he knew his belly was damn huge.
Tom's jaw dropped, despite himself, despite having seen the daily growth. Jake caught his reaction, took a deep breath and pushed his gut out some more to really impress his boss. Tom had to come closer. Jake was totally into it. He stood proudly to be admired. He grabbed the sides of his belly and bounced it for Tom. It rocked with a heavy thud. "Boss, you've really gotten me into this eating thing." Tom was walking around Jake slowly, brushing against the beefy stud's body as he studied his blown out gut from all angles. Jake was rubbing his fat bulging sides vigorously. "I mean, heh - I'll have to work pretty fucking hard to shrink this huge thing after that contest, but man, I've been getting SO into all this food. I'm gonna miss it. Shiiiit, this feels goo-oood!" It was hard to say who was more into the jock's belly.
Tom took in Jake's every muscled and fattened bulge. Everything on him looked thicker. His beefy ass pushed out like two giant melons. His broad shoulders were back and his tree trunk legs spread to counterbalance the ponderous bulk of his gut. Amazing how the jock took to this. Tom envisioned Jake even fatter. "You're not losing a fucking pound, fatboy," 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 Tom's usual control. Jake looked up from his own belly and chuckled. "What, this hasn't been really goin'?" He had no idea what Tom meant. All he knew was that Tom was loving the view, and he was standing there proudly, letting his gut show in full glory. It was like hitting a home run.
Tom came around to the front of Jake's belly and stopped, leaning into the fat sphere between them. He had to fully feel it. Jake didn't flinch. If anything, it felt like he was pushing his belly out a bit more.
"I have an idea Jake." Both men were leaning into his gut full force 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."
"Heh ­ pretty much how all these work days have been going, boss."
"You think? You have no idea. Better loosen your belt Jake."
"No belt boss. None of them fit any more. This gut's gotten too fucking big for that. Hell, these new jeans barely fit any more. Not like I need to hold 'em up."
Tom wrapped his big arms around the fat swell pressed into him and started pushing Jake across the room by his belly. Jake took his lead, keeping in step without losing contact between his belly and Tom's strong torso. Tom guided him onto the only stool in the nearly finished room. Jake landed on it hard, his beefy muscled thighs nearly crushing it between them. His gut rounded upward as his big legs hit its underside.
"Sit right there. The food is coming to you today. Remember. This is your dry run for the eating contest. Show me what you can do. Impress me Jake. I want to see a new level from you."
Jake readied himself like it was the start of the big game. Tom went into the adjacent storeroom ­ a room that Jake had yet to be in. He came back wheeling a cart loaded with breakfast foods. Stacks of pancakes. Pastries. Bacon and sausage. Biscuits. Heaps of cheese and eggs. Jake was salivating at the sight of the food like Pavlov's Dog. Tom pushed the trolley up to press into the jock's belly and made him eat right off the cart. No plates. Just a fork, his hands, and the platters of fattening food. Jake ate and ate. Tom walked around him, surveying his progress, issuing stern commands to keep gorging. Jake might slow for a second, but Tom kept spiking his pace, urging him on, a driving taskmaster. Jake responded every time. The combination of orders and encouragement brought out the show-off jock in spades. The fat stud was inhaling the food, only able to groan and chew as his belly pushed out. His face reddened from the effort, but he pushed on. His orders were to clear the plates. He wasn't going to stop until each one empty. Tom insisted. Jake obeyed. His belly ballooned. He finally fell back from breakfast victorious. The cart was ravished. Jake 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. Fuuuck. Boss . . . shit! SO stuffed . . . I . . feel . . . . so . . . . . fuuckin' . . . full . . . ." Jake looked ready to pass out.

Tom let him rest it off, but not for long.

A new cart appeared within an hour. "Ready for the next round,?" Jake hadn't stopped rubbing his belly since breakfast. He surveyed the heaps of food now facing him. "Damn, dunno . . . if I'm . . . mmmmm . . . ready . . . ooooofff . . . yet." Jake tried to sit upright. His belly bulged to show how tight it still was. He shook his head and made an effort to revive. His gut pushed him back. "Feel - this - thing - boss." Jake was smacking his belly hard. The thump resonated across the empty room. "I think - those pancakes . . . shit, I feel FAT . . . swelled up in here . . . or somethin'!"
Tom saw not only the jock's giant 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," Tom said. "You think that guy Monday is going to ask for a rest? Hell no. This food in going in you NOW Fatboy!" Tom stood over Jake with a burger in his hand. Jake opened his mouth to protest, and Tom rammed it into his mouth. Jake was trying to talk through the food pressed to his lips, but each attempt only let in more of the burger. Jake's eyes went wide. Tom let out an evil laugh. "That's it fatso. EAT EAT EAT!" Jake started chewing and swallowing, faster, more hungrily - his only choice. Food came at him in a fury. He sounded like a rutting pig as he gulped it down and tried to inhale between mouthfuls. Tom was relentless. 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 Tom stuffed and stuffed him, eating ravenously and relishing Tom's impressed grin despite the growing ache in his dangerously bulging belly. His gut blew out tight in every direction. The skin stretched over his belly like a taught balloon. The tighter his belly swelled, the harder his dick got. Precum spots began leaking through his jeans. Tom saw every bulge. He fed Jake even harder. With one hand he rammed food in the jock, with his other, he reached for the jeans. They were so damn tight. He could barely get his fingers in them to pop the buttons. Jake was aching to free his thickly swollen cock. Tom's hand on his waistband made it worse. Mouth stuffed, he reached under his giant belly to help Tom bust open his pants. He furiously fumbled with the bottons, now so tough to reach. Once the first one was popped, the others blew open from the pressure. Jake let out a grunt or relief.
Tom shoved an entire pie toward Jake's fattened face and grabbed the jock's engorged cock. "Feed yourself, you fat pig!" Jake's dick leapt in Tom's hand. He took the pie with both hands and buried his face in it while Tom stroked. Jake's belly looked ready to explode, but he was in utter ecstasy. He gobbled down huge mouthfuls of pie. It was smeared on his nose and lips as he gorged. "That's it you fat pig. Eat like the prize hog you are! I know just how much of a pig you are now, Fatboy! Make that belly explode for me you FAT fucking PIG!" Jake's tongue hit the bottom of the pie plate and his dick erupted all over Tom's hand and his giant belly. Jake fell back and the stool flew out from under him. He was still shooting as he toppled back against the wall, pinned under his gut. He moaned and slid down the wall until he sprawled flat on his back. His belly towered in the air. Tom saw nothing but the jock's spread legs and the giant sphere of a cum spotted belly. He tore open his own pants and beat off over the fattened, comatose jock, spewing on the top of the planet of fat. Jake barely lifted his head at the feel of the warm cum and indulged a dazed grin before dropping his head and passing out asleep, holding 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 the round horizon. He couldn't even see what he felt, but it felt damn good. His groan of pleasure let Tom know his prize hog was awake again.
"Like the feel of this fat belly, Jake?" Another moan in reply. "Good thing. I've decided you're not leaving this room until the contest." Jake tried to lift his head. The weight of his gut surprised even him. He was still stuffed tight. His huge belly weighed a ton. Tom was now massaging Jake's fat bulge in big slow arcs. The jock laid back and pushed his gut into Tom's hands. "That's it fatso. Now I know just what a pig you are. You're doing nothing but eat for me ­ as long as I say." Jake felt Tom's crotch pressing into the top of his belly as he rubbed. He would submit to anything he was told the way he felt right now. He had no idea how much more he could eat. But he wanted Tom to show him. He wanted it bad. He moaned again at the feel of Tom's manly hands and body on his belly. He let the words out softly.
"Feed me coach."
"What did you say fatso?"
"Feed me."
"You want me to feed you MORE, fatso?"
"Yeah. Oh god yeah. Feed me coach."
"How much, fatso?
"Fuck, whatever you want coach. More. Feed me more!"
"What do you want me to do to you fatso?"
"Make me fatter coach."
"How fat, fatso?"
"God. SO fat coach! Make me fatter. Make me fucking HUGE!"
Tom was hugging Jake's belly and thumping its sides. "Fatter than this, fatboy?"
"Oh god yeah. Make me so fucking fat coach. Make me a fucking BLIMP!"
Jake was ready to cum all over again. Tom was grinding his hips into Jake's gut as the jock begged. The fat mound between them rocked with their movements. They both shot with a loud yelp. Tom collapsed on Jake's belly, looking down into the handsome stud's post coital gaze.
"Just remember you asked for it you Fat Pig."

Jake was kept in his feed room for the rest of the weekend. Tom fed him ruthlessly. Jake barely spoke except to ask for more food. Jake had no sense of time. His weekend was nothing but feedings, sexual explosions and naps. He was dazed when Tom finally told him it was time to go home.
"Tomorrow's your big day, Fatboy. You finally 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 almost feel forward from the weight in front of him. Tom guided him to his truck, and Jake worked to climb up into the cab. He planted his beefy ass 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. Jake rocked to his left and threw his weight again. Bam. No luck. His belly had grown too big to even fit behind the wheel. Tom was thrilled. Jake 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. "Now what coach?"
"Guess you stay here tonight, Fatboy." Jake lumbered back into the room he knew all too well. He was exhausted. He needed to sleep and didn't care where. He was actually glad he didn't have to drive home. He dropped to his knees, let his gut hit the floor, and then rolled over his beach ball gut down onto his back. Tom found a tarp and rolled it up into a pillow for his trainee and let him sleep it all off.

IX. The Showdown

It was dark in the windowless room when Jake roused. 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 up at the belly bulging high off his body. Despite not cramming in food for the hours he had slept, he still felt a massive pressure from his gut. He rubbed its curves as he laid there, wondering if this was a dream. He didn't even see Tom sitting on the stool across the room.
"Sleep well, Jake?"
"Mmm hmmm," Jake moaned, not letting go of his fat ball.
"Today's the big day. We better get you up and dressed for the contest."
"Yeah." Jake still didn't move except to caress the sides of his distorted stomach. It was like he was checking to see if it was still there, pleased that it still felt so big.
Tom came closer. "Come on, buddy. Time to get up. You've slept late. Lunch is in an hour. Better get that appetite ready."
Jake 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, let me help, Big Guy." Tom scooped his big arms under Jake and pushed. There was no way he was sitting straight up and they both knew it. Jake rolled to the side. His belly was now so big that he needed momentum to get over the first bulge of his meaty love handles. Tom came around and pushed his back, rocking Jake over onto his belly. With some groggy effort, the sleepy huge jock rolled up onto hands and knees, his overgrown belly pressing firmly on the floor. He tried to shove himself upright with his arms, but as strong as he was, there was no room to thrust with his belly filling every inch between his back and the ground. Jake kind of bounced, popping his gut out a couple of times until he could throw himself up on his knees. Tom raced around to steady him, grabbing him by the broad shoulders and helping him shuffle his mass to standing. Jake was leaning back into Tom, his gut pushing out for what seemed like miles in front of them. Tom couldn't resist. He reached around from behind Jake and grabbed the meaty sides of his gut. Both men were rubbing its unbelievable sphere. Jake was happily groaning all over again.
"You're going to do me proud today, Fatboy, aren't you?"
"Oh yeah coach. I'm gonna eat but good for you. One last gorging. You've trained me right."
Tom handed Jake some new clothes - track pants with a big stripe up the leg and a white ribbed tank top. "Bigger clothes. Should give enough to cover you. You'll definitely be needing the room from here." Jake was thinking room for the eating contest. Tom was thinking much further out. "Last gorge my ass."
Somehow balancing his mass with his powerful legs, Jake, stood on each foot to slip into the track pants. Bending to pull them up had become an effort. His gut was too huge 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 thick thighs. The fabric was at its tightest as it pulled over his round ass cheeks, highlighting their full shape before dipping between his butt. Thin white threads were already showing along the seams. The ribbed tank distorted to encase the jock's enormous girth. It looked painted on, each rib of the shirt pulling wide as it tugged around his broadest circumference. He yanked at the hem. Jake was so fat now that he thought it covered him, yet there was a good half foot of belly hovering horizontally below him that even the new shirt just wasn't going to reach. His pecs bulged with muscle and fat, the shirt so tight that it traced his nipples for everyone to see. Jake's huge arms and forearms looked bigger than ever, despite the size of his belly. He looked inhumanly swollen.
"Looks like you're ready, big guy. Hope you're damn hungry. You know how bad I want you to beat this guy."
Jake pulled at the hem of his tank again. "Coach, I'm gonna kick his ass and eat him under the table. Let's do it!"
With that Tom loaded him into the passenger seat of his truck. Even without a steering wheel in the way, Jake's thick fat ball seemed to nearly fill the cab, threatening to graze the dashboard. Off they went to the bar for the contest. Tom found himself calculating how many meals it would take to wedge Jake in his seat.
Tom 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."
"No way, Fatboy. 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."
Jake frowned. He was no longer accustomed to going so long without stuffing himself.

Tom 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, Tom, 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?"
Tom was scanning the room for last year's winner. He hadn't 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 Jake to within a millimeter of busting day after day, wondering if he was able to make his fat jock big enough in time. Finally his eyes landed on the competition. A big burly guy, lineman type for sure. Pretty much Jake's build but a couple of inches taller, a faint bit more muscular if that was possible. Tom saw his head poking above the group. His coworkers parted and the guy was glaring smugly at Tom's team. Tom's crew went silent. Tom broke into a grin. All year he had thought this guy was untouchably big. Now he let out a satisfied laugh. Given what he had done to Jake, this was going to be more than possible. The guy was the typical overfed ex-lineman, but Jake changed his perspective. Jake was most certainly fatter. He had made his jock the monster in the room now. Just wait!
The other crew started taunting Tom's, and his team was looking doubtful. The company's owner, a brusque guy named Bill, known to be an asshole, walked up to Tom with his eating machine in tow.
"Ready to have your ass kicked again Tom? Big Bob's not looking so big after his whomping last year. Think he even stands a chance against old bruiser here?" Bill's team was chanting. "Bruiser! Bruiser! Bruiser!" Bill waved them quiet. Tom grin had anything but faded.
"Well Bill. We have a new contender. We'll just see who's the bruiser this year."
"Well where the fuck is he then? Bring your little apprentice on, Tom. I hope he's ready to be fetching Bruiser's last few helpings once he caves. Let's see what you got."
Tom silently turned to get Jake, leaving everyone wondering. He helped the heavy jock down from the cab and tugged his shirt tight over his belly, tucking it in as much as possible to further highlight his bulk. "First impressions are everything, Jake. This is your day to impress me like NEVER before."
Jake set his legs wide and planted one hand on the top of his belly and one under its round base. He was thumping it like a show off. "Shit coach, I am so ready! In fact, I'm pretty fucking hungry here. You haven't given me any breakfast. Let's take this guy." He was walking toward the bar door like a gladiator ready to take the lion. Tom had to catch up to him, marveling at how fast Jake could move his massive bulk.
Tom pushed open the door of the bar. "Gentlemen, I give you this year's eating contest winner." Jake lumbered in, his heavily fattened belly rocking hard from side to side with his confident stride. His tank was already 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 crowd went 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, Tom's in proud amazement.
"Holy fuck. Look at that guy's gut!"
"Shit Bill, he's even bigger than Bruiser."
"Tom, what the fuck have you been feeding this guy??"
"What?! Look at the size of that thing! Is that guy gonna birth an elephant over there?"
"Whoa! How many rounds do you think that guy can eat?!"
"Damn, one helping and it looks like he'll bust!"
"Jake man, that can't be you." One guy came up and was bold enough to touch Jake's belly. "Shit bud, have you been doing any work, or just eating on the payroll?" He smacked Jake's belly, which barely moved it was so tight and round. "Guy's, you won't BELIEVE this thing. It feels like a fucking overblown ball. Tom, what did you get in him?"
"Yeah Tom, did you blow him up with something or what?"
"Where's the pump hole?" The guy poked around Jake's belly button, which seemed inside out from the pressure behind. "This it big guy?" Jake held his gut firm and leaned in.
"Fuck Jake, 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 Jake up. He looked over Jake's belly to his buddy on the other side, stunned. "Jesus Jake, this thing can't be for real. You already look about ready to pop and you haven't even had the first round."
Both guys were rubbing the sides of Jake's belly. He was beaming with pride, pushing his gut out, eating up the admiration and intimidation. The two guys playfully bounced Jake's belly.
"Shit look at it! It even bounces like a big ball!" Jake reached around his gut to help them show off how his solid fat mass moved. The team was going wild.
"Just look at him compared to me!" One guy stood sideways, shoulder to shoulder with Jake. "My beergut goes to here, but look how far out his goes!" Jake 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 Jake for everyone to compare. Bob's belly was impressive. Jake's still ballooned out a good foot thicker. The cheers became deafening. Bob grabbed Jake's hand and raised it like Rocky's. His tank pulled up more, his belly on full display. On instinct, Jake was rubbing his fat with his other hand. "Gentlemen, I give you this year's winner!!" Deafening cheers.
Bill was shouting to quiet the crowd.
"Hold up! Hold up! Hold up! He hasn't even proven what that gut can do. Don't get all cocky just yet, Tom. Bruiser here is ready. Your boy may be a total fatso, but this is a contest for men. Let's stop with the bullshit and see what he's made of."
With that Bill shoved his man down into a chair. Jake grabbed his own chair and planted it right across from Bruiser, smacking his fat butt cheeks 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." Jake was in full competitive jock mode, determined to win.

The kitchen rolled out huge carts lined with plates of food. Tom took Jake's side, and Bill stared back at him. The rules ­ the guys go head to head, helping for helping, until one of the huge studs can't wedge in another bite, plain and simple.
Tom handed Jake the first plate, heavy with a burgers. On the word go, Jake inhaled the fattening food like it was air, reaching for the next plate before his last bite. In a matter of minutes, he had gobbled down the next three. Bruiser was keeping up without issue, but it was quickly apparent that he was not the one setting the pace. Jake 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, stuffing his mouth with abandon, as if issuing a dare. Soon the cart was half cleared, and it was apparent that Jake 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. Jake had barely broken a sweat, well-trained to eat until his gut was utterly overstuffed. Bruiser, trying to look calm, was getting red. He was starting to look uncomfortable. Jake beamed as he licked the last plate clean. He threw it back on the cart and bellowed like Henry VIII. "Bring me more chow. This gut ain't even CLOSE to full yet!" Jake puffed out his giant belly and pushed it right into Bruiser's. Tom's team went crazy. Bruiser took a deep breath and struggled to down his final mouthful, trying to edge away from Jake's massive 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 Tom's team were drowning them out.
"Man, Jake, you are a fucking eating machine!"
"Look at his gut! It's grown just since he's been here."
"Damn Jake, how big can that thing stretch? What, is it made of rubber?"
Jake proudly smacked his belly and shifted his bulk 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 his stomach. He was in trouble and Jake could see it. Tom leaned in to urge his champ on, whispering in his ear. "I want you to not only beat him, but flatten him Fatboy."
With a huge inhale, Jake puffed out his gut cockily. Their bellies brushed and Bruiser flinched. Jake pushed out his belly more. "Ready man? Or do you wanna surrender now?"
Bruiser opened his mouth, but Bill snapped back first. "Of course hes' ready, you pipsqueak. That fat gut of yours may be huge, but my boy can eat. Let's keep this going." Bruiser blinked hard and rubbed his stomach with none of Jake's pleasure.
Jake whispered back to Tom, "I'm gonna make that guy think he's about to explode." Tom was the one who got hard this time.
Jake grabbed his next plate and starting gorging like he was empty. Bruiser was not living up to his name. He was quickly lagging, and Jake 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 Tom had on the ready. He was in an eating trance, refusing to acknowledge the building pressure in his own belly. Bill was getting nervous. His boy was visibly failing and the whole room knew it. Bruiser looked ready to fall over. Jake's belly looked ready to launch, dangerously stuffed, inching out with each helping as his shirt rode up the hard, inflated expanse. His huge fat ball threatened to shove into his challenger enough to knock him over. Bill tried to shuffle Bruiser back while yelling at him to eat. The more Bruiser groaned in pain, the harder Jake stuffed himself. 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 fucking stuff him myself!" He was behind Bruiser's head, holding the plate under his chin and ramming handfuls of food in the poor guy's mouth. Bruiser looked ready to pass out.
Jake signaled to Tom, who took the cue right away. "Fairs fair, Bill." He whirled behind Jake and didn't have to ask for another plate. His team was ready with several. Jake held the sides of his belly with both hands and tipped his head back to be force fed. He practically opened his throat and took in food as if chugging from a beer bong. He belly ballooned bigger and bigger. He shut his eyes and focused hard. He was breathing deeply through his nose to keep taking it in. Tom was packing his gut fiercely, 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. Jake ate and ate. It took a few minutes for the crew to break through to tell them to stop. Jake finally opened his eyes and saw his fallen challenger. He grunted like a pig and smacked his belly hard. Then he saw Bruiser's cart, a few plates uneaten.
"Give me those too!" Tom didn't hesitate a second. He had Jake's mouth crammed full before he could ask twice.
"Jesus Tom. You won already. Let the guy stop!"
"You heard him! Shut up and give me the next plate." He kept Jake's cheeks bulging with food.
"Shit Tom. Seriously. He's gonna fucking blow if you feed him more!"
"Yeah Tom. Holy shit, look at his belly! It's fucking blue it's so tight." Jake's belly looked like the Goodyear Blimp, inflated a few notches tighter. He felt hands on his gut, testing its pressure. He loved all the attention. Not that Tom was letting up, but Jake managed one food-muffled word. "More!" Tom stuffed him relentlessly, out to see just how much he could make Jake down. It was just about their own record now.
"TOM ­ he's gonna fucking BUST. You GOTTA let up man!" One of the guys started holding Jake's belly as if to stop it from splitting. Tom grabbed the last plate and rammed it against Jake's lips. The jock let out his first pained groan but opened wide. With some work, he gulped the last of it down and fell back in his chair. He let out a deep, long groan.
Every stood back, almost afraid Jake would literally explode. His belly looked tight as a drum, stretched hard and round, pushing out in every direction, the biggest sphere of fat that anyone there had seen. Jake couldn't talk. He was so full he couldn't sit upright. He tried to hoist himself up. The pressure on his pants blew a seam wide open. 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.
"Jake! Jake! You okay man?"
"Ooooooh. Fuuuck."
Can you move?"
Jake was panting hard, the full force of his gorging finally conscious, its full weight pinning him to the floor.
"Fuck . . . . no . . . . uuuuuuggggh."
"Anything broken man?"
"Nuh uh. Oooooo . . . . sooooo . . . . . . fuuuuk'n . . . . stuuuuu --- uuffed."
He just laid there, eyes shut, holding his sides. Tom pushed through the crowd and set his hands on the top of Jake's belly, gentle for the first time all night. "Let him rest. He's fine. He's just stuffed like the prize hog that he is."
Jake grinned faintly, moaning at the feel of Tom'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." Tom 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 Jake out of the bar, but no one dared move him for a while. Tom kept testing the pressure on his champ's mound of fat. When it had eased, they loaded the groggy, fattened blimp onto the flatbed of Tom's truck. Everyone could see the towering arc of Jake's belly as they drove off. Tom took him home where they wrestled his bulk into bed. Jake was ready to sleep it off and passed out immediately. Tom 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. He went home and beat off several times remembering the day's sights.

X. The Reward

Tom's phone rang the next day just before noon. Jake still sounded stuffed. "Boss. Jake here. Ooof . . . man." Tom heard the pats as Jake tapped his belly on the other end. "So do I need to come in today? I'm fuckin' wiped."
Tom wanted to get Jake back to his feeding room immediately, but took pity at the sound of Jake's voice. "Give it 'til tomorrow stud. See you then."
"You might have to come get me. Shit. This thing is still pretty bloated. Don't think it'll fit in my truck yet." Tom took a second to answer, picturing that.
"No problem. See you for breakfast."
Jake 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. Fuck, I really can't believe you got me so damn big."
"We'll see about . . . we'll see you tomorrow." Tom hung up, plotting his next move.

Tom arrived early to collect Jake, 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. Jake was moving slowly and silently loaded himself into Tom's truck. Tom fired up the engine and pushed a bag of doughnuts toward his fatboy.
"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?" 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 any since the contest. I'm still fuckin' huge. Ooooof." Tom hated the vision of Jake working off his belly and planted the bag right on top of his fat ledge.
"Eat it. We're working hard today. You can fucking diet another day." Jake was too tired to protest, but he was eating halfheartedly at best. When they arrived at the site, Jake had only eaten three doughnuts. He also took little interest in the usual overloaded breakfast table. Tom was beginning to get very annoyed. He was terse with Jake as he issued instructions for the day's work, more terse as Jake set down the plates that Tom was handing him, mostly uneaten.
The room was nearly complete. As of yet, Jake 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 Tom 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. Jake tried to ask what it was. Tom was too pissed to explain and ignored the questions. Jake just did as he was told, shrugging. As Tom 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, Jake tipped the heavy metal down, struggling to move it around his beach ball before securing its position. Tom 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?"
Jake 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."
Tom fumed. He did not like his fattened jock talking about eating restraint of any kind. He hated nothing more than a guy worried about portion control. The feeder in him loathed that kind of hesitation. He found it girly. Men should eat until they were utterly stuffed. To him, that was a masculine rite of passage from a jock's younger playing days to full manhood. "Jake asked for this," he thought. "How dare he think he's going to diet off all my work!"
Tom decided to disguise the frustration he had been showing all day. Time for a new strategy. Jake was sulky from his treatment all morning. He definitely preferred feeling that he pleased his boss. Time to play on that again.
Tom went into the adjacent storage room and rolled out a hefty lunch, this time with a couple of pitchers of beer. "Jake, you did us damn proud yesterday. I think today, we knock off now and celebrate your victory." He poured Jake a huge mug of beer and clinked the pitcher against it in a toast. Jake was beaming again, and took a big swig. Tom got him talking about the contest win, playing on the jock's innate tendency to recount the winning plays the morning after the game. He didn't push food yet. He worked on keeping Jake chugging beers, knowing he'd soon be drunk on an unusually empty stomach. That stomach was huge, though, and it took a quite few beers to see Jake's buzz setting it. But in true fat jock mindset, Jake wasn't counting beers as calories, and he followed along ever more cheerfully. Tom kept him replaying the contest, and as Jake basked in his win, he started touching his gut once again. Jake had drained most of the second pitcher before he realized it, busy bragging about how he made Bruiser look like a loser.
Tom knew he could push food on Jake now. He started with one sandwich, and it went easily from there. "Better soak up some of those suds, there, Big Guy." Jake'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, Jake was inhaling it. It had become the only way the fat pig knew how to eat. Tom kept him drinking and eating as they celebrated for the next hour. Before long, Jake was stuffed tight, drunk, rubbing his belly.
"Fuck, boss. 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 shit ­ LOOK at me. I've become a fucking moose."
"Yes. Let's look at you, Jake." Tom moved a sheet of plywood to reveal a big mirror. He pushed another beer as they stared at his body. Jake put the glass to his lips and Tom tipped it high. "I bet you could drain that thing in one go." Jake's fogged head didn't fight. 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 Tom grabbed for the next pitcher and moved behind him.
"Put your hands on your belly, Fatboy." His voice was low but intense. Jake obeyed. "Feel that big belly. Feel every fat fucking inch of it."
Jake was turned on. He grabbed himself as ordered, felt his giant belly anew, investigating its mammoth round bulge. Tom grabbed Jake's forehead and tipped his throat open, pouring from the pitcher and forcing Jake to chug. Jake felt ready to choke, but gauged his gulping to keep up. He felt his belly swelling as he was loaded with beer. Tom refused to let up until Jake had emptied the pitcher. Jake's head was swimming. He gasped for air as Tom released his head.
"Now let's check out that belly again, Fatboy." Tom gripped Jake's ears and forced the jock to look himself in the eye. His planet of a gut seemed to fill the mirror. "See how that belly looks Fatboy? You can't tell me you don't fucking love that giant - FAT - belly." Tom thumped Jake's ball, making his dick grow tight against his pants. He fought to stay mute and not moan in pleasure.
"Just look at you. A total fattened porker. Only a fucking pig would have taken to being stuffed like you did, Jake." Tom slowly released his head and was rubbing Jake's fat sides. His arms moved in big round circles over his hog's ballooned flesh. The jock was locked on his own image, carefully studying his own ball bellied mass.
"Nothing has ever turned you on like this belly, has it Jake?"
Jake moaned despite himself.
"You love being my Fatboy, don't you Jake? You would love nothing more than to be fed more, fattened more and more." Heavy bounces punctuated each word.
Jake groaned louder.
"And MORE." Tom bounced Jake's belly and reached for his pants, tugging them down to release Jake's pulsing erection.
"Feel how fat I've made you, Fatboy. Feel that belly for me."
Jake's hands flew to his gut. He had to feel the giant orb too. He was rubbing his belly in amazement and ecstasy, hips rocking as if trying to fuck his own fat.
"I bet you wonder just how fat we've made you ­ so far ­ don't you Jake?"
A muffled affirmative.
"Want to weigh in for me Fatso?"
Jake looked confused, but nodded, eyes still locked on his giant image.
"Go step on that then." Tom pointed to the plate in the floor. Jake didn't want to tear away from the mirror. He wanted to get off right there. Tom's intense look gave him no choice. He lumbered drunkenly over to the big square and stood at the edge.
"It's a scale. Get on!"
Jake landed one foot and then the other on the plate and felt it spring under him. Red numbers flashed on the wall panel. Tom covered them with his hands before they stopped racing by. Jake steadied himself to stop the bouncing. He looked like a bull being weighed in at the farm. Tom peered behind his hand but wouldn't let Jake see.
"So, Jake."
"Uh huh." Jake 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?"
"Shit, I dunno." Tom could see Jake was rock hard in anticipation.
"You feel pretty damn fat, don't you."
"Ooof. Boss, I told you, I feel huge."
"How huge?"
"Fucking massive man."
"Guess."
Jake studied his belly, lifting it to check its heft. He clearly loved that feeling.
"Dunno. What, 325?"
Tom let out a hearty laugh. "Oh hell no, Fatboy. You think all this gut stuffing only made you that fat? Look at the size of that gut again."
"More huh?"
"Hell yeah. Guess again. What else have you been doing but getting stuffed like my prize hog, Jake?"
Jake's dick bounced at being called a hog.
"Umm. Okay. 340 then."
Tom shook his head.
"350?? No way boss. Can't be!"
Tom came closer to Jake, touching the front of his belly. "Just look how huge this thing is, Jake. One more try." As Jake mused on the distance from his back to Tom's hand, he looked over at the reading.
"Holy fucking hell!"
The red numbers blazed. 375 pounds. Jake was dripping. He had gained nearly 100 pounds. Tom stepped on the scale with him and the reading jumped to 600 pounds. Tom turned his glutton on the scale so they could see him in the mirror. Jake's head was spinning from beer, arousal, the full force realization of how incredibly fat he had grown. He felt Tom grab his cock under his belly.
"So how much fatter are you going to get for me FATboy?"
Jake leaned into Tom's hands, pulsing.
"Boss ­ I ­ I gotta cut back ­ Ooooooo. I'm too fat. Oh. Oooh. Feels good."
"You are such a fucking pig Jake, you're doing NOTHING but getting fatter for me."
Tom made Jake rub his belly more as he stroked.
"Admit it fatso, you love this belly!"
"Oh yeah. Oooh, boss. That feels good."
Tom's strokes quickened. Jake was transfixed on his gut, feeling it all over as he leaned back into Tom.
"You want to get fatter for me, don't you Jake?" Tom had his lips against his fatboy's ears. Jake was close to erupting. His legs were quivering. His huge belly rocked heavily.
"You're going to let me fatten you up as much as you want Jake, aren't you?"
Jake moaned a yes.
"As fat and huge as I want, right Jake?"
"Oh yes. Anything." Tom was keeping Jake right on the brink of cumming.
"Anything Jake?"
"Yes ­ Ooooh ­ YES. Fatter boss. Make me FATTER!"
"You asked for it you fat pig. 600# it is. You're not leaving this room 'til that scale reads 600# like it does now!"
Jake couldn't take it any more. He was ready to erupt, staring at his belly, daring to picture himself over 200 pounds fatter. He practically knocking Tom over as he convulsed at the thought of growing that huge, cum shooting everywhere. He dropped to his knees after Tom drained him, leaning forward on his huge belly. Tom stepped back, pleased as could be.
"That's right Jake. You just proved to me what a fat pig you really are. And ­ you just calibrated your own scale."
Jake was still panting from his orgasm, not getting it.
"You see, Fatboy. The door to this room ­ the room we've been building ­ is your feed pen ­ the room where you will get as fat as I want. And it will not open again until this scale hits the 600 pound mark."
Jake looked up confused. "Wha -?"
"That's right Jake. You will be doing nothing from now on but staying here, eating and fattening yourself up for me. This door will not open again until you are fat enough to trigger it. It's now connected to that scale, and it only unlocks once it reads 600#. Better go eat, Fatboy!"
And with that Tom left. The door clamped shut with an ominous bang. Jake hoisted himself up and bounced on the scale. A firm 375# reading. He pulled at the door. Locked solid. He stood there for a few minutes. Then he started picturing his belly bigger ­ and bigger ­ and bigger ­ and bigger! 600 it is! He was nuts at the thought. He charged straight for the food room, stuffing himself until he couldn't move.

"Yeah, I'm gonna like this place."

The End