"Dirk's new debut" by Exjockfeeder - Chapter 2

        For the next hour, the exjock wheeled an overloaded cart up and down every aisle of the store. By the time he hit checkout, his cart had spilled over into two extra hand baskets. He had enough food to feed an entire football team, and he was going to start growing the gut that would set him free tonight.

        “Geeze! Planning a huge party, guy?” The checkout clerk raised one eyebrow as he sent item after item over the scanner. Frozen pizzas and French fries. Ice cream. Pastas. Buckets of food from the deli. Pies and cakes. A few cases of beer.

        “Just suddenly feeling hungry I guess. The fridge is pretty cleaned out.”

        “Well hell. This is enough to fill a few fridges buddy.”

        “Yeah, well. Big plans I guess.”

        “I guess!”

        Soon he had made the last of six runs from the car to the kitchen. The counters, cabinets, and refrigerator were all stocked to capacity. It was Thursday night, and he had a long holiday weekend in front of him to do nothing but start his project. Dirk headed into the bedroom and stripped to his briefs. Reaching for a t-shirt, he stopped to look in the mirror. He stood square, looking long and hard at his physique. He had to admit that it looked good. He was far from a skinny boy. He had always been beefy, and he still stood up well. He turned sideways and ran his hand down his stomach. Stopping right at his navel, he took a deep breath and then exhaled, pushing out his stomach as far as he could and arching his back to accentuate the effect. With a grunt he thought, yeah, that’ll do it. A bit of a paunch like this will get me fired the second I walk on that lousy set.

        He yanked on the t-shirt and headed for the bathroom. Pausing at the bathroom, he stepped back and grabbed the scale. Throwing it in the middle of the floor, he stepped on to check his starting weight. A beefy, solid 235#. Break 250 and I bet I’m set. Easy as pie, cake, and ice cream.

        Dirk headed right to the kitchen and didn’t even sit down. Thinking of the shoot he had to appear for in less than ten days, he broke open a bag of chips and started shoving handfuls in his mouth. He never moved from that standing position and just powered his way through the groceries right in front of him. Cracking beers as he went to wash everything down, he stuffed himself like he never had. After an intense thirty minutes, he had gorged down a bag and a half of chips loaded with sour cream dip, a loaf of bread, and two-thirds of a giant can of nuts while waiting for a pan of lasagna to cook. When the timer rang, he dropped his hands on his thighs with a grunt. Fuck, I’m already getting full. He looked down and saw his belly poking out a little from the fast eating. But I guess this is what it’ll take. I always could eat he admitted to himself. So I guess I can get used to this for ten more days. Just treat it like a gym regimen.

        Taking a deep breath, he pulled the lasagna from the oven and again stood over the counter eating right from the pan. He felt his t-shirt clinging to him more, and his usually slightly loose jeans were feeling less baggy around his waist. He started to slow as he got further into the pan, but he kept thinking of getting out of this whole film mess and pushed himself to keep eating. Taking big gulps of beer as he went, he had to take deliberate, deep inhales through his flaring nostrils to continue shoving forkful after forkful of pasta into his mouth. Shifting and trying to ease the growing pressure on his stuffed gut, Dirk bent his torso forward, leaning into the counter a little. He was getting seriously buzzed from the beer, and his belly was feeling ready to bust from being stuffed so full so fast. He looked at the nearly empty pan. Okay, four more mouthfuls, and I’m done. One. Gulp. Two. Ugh. More slowly, three. Huge, strained inhale, and four. The last forkful had his mouth so stuffed his cheeks were bloated and he could barely close his mouth. He could hardly chew between the stuffed feeling in his belly and the wad of pasta and cheese in his mouth. After several hard gulps, he swallowed the last of the lasagna and let his head drop onto his forearm on the package strewn counter. With his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath, the overstuffed jock dragged one hand down to his bulging belly, grabbing its now hard and bloated curve to test his success. Fuck. I feel like a moose. He finally stood up straight, both hands on his gut as he groaned and slowly lumbered toward his bedroom where he passed out fully dressed, t-shirt pulled as tight across his stomach as it usually did across each pec.

        When he awoke the next morning, the first thing Dirk did was look down to check out his stomach. As his vision focused, he expected to see a belly bulging as big as it was when he passed out. But over the night, his gut had gone down to nearly normal size. He definitely still felt full, but he had hoped for some overnight miracle that would get him ready to blow that bastard director off right away. His head fell back on the pillow. Ugh. This is gonna take more than I thought. Nine more days. Nine more days of eating. I can do this.

        It was Friday. Dirk spent the entire day eating like a pig. He stuffed down a bunch of doughnuts as he whipped up a big batch of pancakes, which he then ate after slathering them with gobs of syrup. After a quick break, he started chomping on a bagel and decided to hit a diner, where he ordered the biggest platter he saw on the menu. He ate the same way at lunch, hitting a burger joint and ordering up a few of their meal deals, forcing himself to gorge until the tray was nothing but empty wrappers. He walked around for a while after lunch, needing the rest. His belly was now jutting out like he’d never seen it. His shirt felt like a second skin, and his swayed back seemed to only accentuate the bulge of his overfed belly. His breathing seemed shorter from the pressure in his gut, and as the stud swaggered along with his usual, though now slower gait, his puffed out belly rocked from side to side a bit. Never having gotten himself so stuffed, Dirk was hyperaware of the slight bounce to his distended belly. He put one hand squarely on the point where the bulge began. Hm. This is starting to do the trick. He felt oddly satisfied. Weird, he thought, as he headed into another burger joint to start a whole second lunch stuffing session.

        By Monday morning, Dirk’s belly was finally starting to stick. For the first two days, no matter how stuffed he tried to get, his belly seemed to ease back to nearly normal size by morning. But as he stood at the mirror this morning, he was convinced he could see a bulge where the firm, usually lower arc of his gut sat. There we go. But I better keep pushing. Only seven more days left, and I need to make sure he’ll have to kick my fat ass out of the studio.

        Driven with a focus he had always saved for the gym, Dirk ate and ate and ate for the rest of the week. Finally, it was the morning of the shoot, and he stepped on the scale. 252#. Yeah! There we go. This jock is getting way too fat to be in those fucking movies anymore. This is gonna be the best day yet.

        Yanking on one of his tightest t-shirts to be sure his added girth was pronounced, Dirk bent down to wiggle himself into his jeans. When he stood fully dressed, he could feel the waistband of his jeans digging into the base of his newly formed gut. The waistband was bending down at the front from the curve of his stomach, and his t-shirt was so snug that it highlighted every new bulge. The pounds he had managed to pack on over the last ten days had almost entirely hit his belly, making it even more obvious that he had fattened up. He zipped to the car sure that this would get him bounced from the shoot and sent home, free at last.

        As he lumbered into the studio, Dirk made sure to throw his shoulders back and puff up his gut as much as he could. He stopped in front of the director and proudly jammed one thumb in his jeans pocket to pull them down at the base of his gut. He rubbed his other hand in a circle around the front of his new belly and casually said hello to the director.

        Looking up from his chair just long enough to snap at Dirk, the director just said, “Oh there you are. You’re ten minutes late, Dirk! Go get changed. We need to get this thing moving.”

        Dirk’s face fell, as did both hands to his sides. He kind of stammered for a minute. “You sure you’re ready? I mean, what do I have to wear here today? It might not be such a good, I mean, I’m not really feeling the hottest, um.”

        The director looked up again. “What the hell is wrong with you? Get your butt moving. I don’t have time to waste here, Dirk. Time is money, stud. Move that jock ass over there and get ready.”

        “But Jim, I . . . .”

        “But nothing Dirk. Fucking get going!”

        Dirk’s face went red.  How could he not see the weight I’ve put on? I’ve been stuffing myself like a pig for over a week and came in here nearly 20 pounds fatter. How goddamn much weight do I need to gain to break out of this shit!

        To his complete frustration, the entire shoot went on like normal. Dirk thought he saw a few eyebrows raise when he poked out his gut all he could to exaggerate it, but no one said a damn word. He went through the motions, finished the day, and yanked his own now tight clothes back on. Grumbling to send the check soon, he sulked and headed toward the door.

        “Hey – Dirkie boy,” Jim shouted back at him. “Better lay off that pizza and beer. I don’t want to see that gut of yours getting out of control. Remember you’re to be grade-A prime exjock beef here, okay? Lay off the chow!”

It worked! Well, it was starting to work. But damn, shouldn’t my gut be big enough to do it already? Maybe just a little more. There’s no choice. It’s gotta be the only way. Just a few more pounds I guess.

To be continued