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The Interview Part 1
 "Harry? It’s Kit. Any work right now?” "Hey Kit - good timing on your part, as usual – I’ll give you a choice. We’re catering a big party Saturday afternoon. So….you can be a waiter, or interview the host, one Lewis H.K. Thornton.” "Lewis H. K. – that’s Cain Rogers’ real name. Tell me you’re not kidding?” "Nope. He’s never used us before, but he must have heard good things - he’s ordered every appetizer, side dish, and entrée in the book, and a few I’m frantically learning how to make. No desserts, though, for some reason. Maybe you can find out why – those are my signature!!” "Huh. What do you think – a porn shoot? Comeback party? Family reunion?” "Dunno - you’re the writer! Just let me know what you find out. And, Kit?” "Yes?” "If it goes well, you owe me – big.” Wow - Cain Rogers. By in the late ‘90’s, he was porn. Beautiful smile in a boyish face, green eyes, black hair, sculpted muscular body, a long, thick horsecock, and incredibly limber – able to perform every sex position in the book, and add a few new ones of his own. His films were hard to come by now – they’d never been released to DVD - but no one who ever saw one stopped until they had a healthy collection. The sight of his beautiful ass (often rimmed but tattooed with a tiny red "No Entry” symbol above the tight hole) facing the camera, legs flung over his head as he slowly sucked himself off down to the root, pulled it out, and groaned in ecstasy as it shot a huge load into his mouth, his asshole spasming in synch, was seared in my mind forever. My own mouth watered as I thought of his dildo in my collection. I’d never been able to deepthroat it all, but it was sure fun practice… And, thanks to Harry, I’d scored the first interview with him in something like fifteen years. I had no idea Cain even lived on the island – like most people, I didn’t know anything about him after he’d dropped out of sight in the ‘90s, and even Wikipedia knew no more than his films. I still couldn’t believe it as I piloted my Geo Metro convertible out to his address that Saturday. I liked to imagine that its retro appeal and cheap upkeep nicely covered the fact that I was slowly going broke as a waiter/freelance reporter/sometime actor. In other words, someone with way too much time on his hands who watched way too much porn. And, althought I’m pretty happy with the looks that help me get all three of those jobs – sandy blond hair, long-lashed blue eyes, and a nice build – as you can tell by my loving description, Cain was in a league of his own in that area. I’d called and spoken with someone named Jack, whose driving instructions took me to an unfamiliar neighborhood up in the hills. Large houses set well back from the road, like the one I drove up to, a Mediterranean-style stucco house, slightly worn around the edges. I’d allowed plenty of time for the get-together or whatever this was, to get underway, but I was still the only one in the semicircular driveway. Then I saw one of Harry’s catering trucks driving out from the back of the house; I tried to wave down the driver, a friend of mine, to get some idea of what I was in for , but he just thought I was greeting him, and drove off. I slid over to the passenger side door to get out – the driver’s door has some issues – and when I slammed it shut, I was struck by how quiet it was. My knock at the faded purple door was answered – eventually. "Kit?” "Yes, you must be Jack?” I recognized the voice from our phone conversation, and now the man who owned it was shaking my hand with a smile. Tall and handsome, Jack Owen, another of the big names from the past, stood before me. He looked just the same, built, tanned, and sexy – except for the big gut which draped over his squarecut. Well, I guess it comes to us all – and Cain was the prize, anyway. "Nice to meet you,” we chorused. ”Am I early for the party?” "Nope you’re right on time. Let’s go out to the patio - Cain’s busy right now, but he’ll be out shortly. It’s this way,” his directions confirmed by the doughy gut leading us both. "By the way, were you able to get the TV Guide?” "Uh, yes, it’s the briefcase. Is there a TV theme to the party? "No, we just didn’t our copy this week. I really appreciate you bringing it - as you can see, we’re a little off the beaten track, and getting one would have required a special trip.” Even ex-pornstars like to know what’s on TV, I supposed. We walked through a courtyard, enclosed by the house on three sides, and by a wrought iron screen at the back. We went through a gate in it, and out to a lavish brick patio surrounding a large pool. Everything out here looked newer and better-kept than the house behind. A low brick retaining wall ran past a large building that I guessed was an oversized cabana, its ledge loaded with covered serving dishes, tray after tray of hors d'oeuvres, a large ham, and on and on until it disappeared from sight beyond the cabana. No one else was around, though. Curiouser and curiouser, and strangely familiar – and then it came to me. I’d seen the patio in more than one of Cain’s films. "Can I get you something to drink, Kit?” "Some iced tea would be great, thanks.” "Back in a minute. Help yourself to anything you like!” I took a plate and put a shish kabob and some macaroni salad on it, and sat down to wait. In the silence, I could hear faint groans from the cabana, growing progressively louder – someone was having a good time, and I was about to get up and look when Jack came back with my drink. "Am I missing the best part of the party?” A strange smile spread across his face as he looked at his watch and said,”It’s Kit’s previous engagement - he should be almost done by now.” Sure enough, the groans of pleasure turned to a breathless sigh of deep satisfaction, to be followed by – a loud, long toilet flush, even more so in the quiet. Jack threw his head back, laughing, "I’m sorry, Kit, I know what you were thinking, and I would have thought the same thing in your situation, but I couldn’t resist waiting ‘til you figured it out for yourself.” I grinned and rolled my eyes, and we made small talk for another ten minutes until I heard another sound - the whine of a struggling electric motor. From beneath the deep shadow of an arbor lush with ivy, came a lightly tanned stomach, or belly, or gut… …or, more accurately, a wall of flesh a good four feet wide riding on and between a pair of pillowy thighs. The belly button, a wide oval shadow, hung in its own drape of flesh, at least six inches beneath the level of knees spread wide by the stomach between. It winked open and closed as the scooter that hauled it bumped across the joints in the patio. As more still more flesh came into view , the massive mound of the stomach curved farther and farther back. Now I saw saddlebags of fat following alongside, overgrown love handles sagging down over an unseen seat. Then, flabby arms, crossed on the shelf of the stomach in front of a pair of pecs inflated to pneumatic boobs; my eyes were drawn to them, bouncing up and down, barely held in place by a tentlike white t-shirt that was skintight on their girth, almost like a bra. The stupendous gut hefted the pair of them up slightly, falling back heavily, to be pushed up again and again as the scooter hit the mortar joints. Then, sliding back and forth over the barely covered cleavage was a heavy roll of fat following their curves into the deep cleft, rising up to the chin it had grown from. It passed a set of shoulders dwarfed by the width of the boobs, rising to a man’s face, its rounded features boyishly cute, and smiling at me – a smile I’d know anywhere. Cain Rogers’ face. "Kit Larson, Cain Rogers,” Jack said with a big grin on his face as Cain piloted his scooter to my chair, a knowing smile on his face. At close range he was even more immense, momentum from the trip keeping the fat quivering long after he stopped the scooter. I noticed he controlled it with a joystick remote sitting on the broad ledge of the gut - there was no other place for it, I guessed, since flesh overflowed the space where a steering column might have gone. A turkey leg picked clean occupied the other hand. He threw it deftly into a metal trashcan some feet away, and wiped his hand with a steaming washcloth handed him by Jack. "Kit! Great to meet you. We don’t get many visitors these days. Won’t you have something to eat?” he said as he shook my hand, then used it to heap a buffet plate with mini chicken wraps and California rolls. He balanced it on the deep tabletop provided by the stomach he was attached to. Trying to mask my surprise, I replied after a short pause,”Um, thanks, Cain, I’ve had a great shish kabob, and Jack was kind enough to bring me a drink.” "Is that all? Surely we can tempt you with something more? Someone as slim as you can afford some calories, I’m sure,” he teased, his mouth full but every word clear. "Well, I am trying to watch what I eat –" came out before I realized what I was saying, but Cain grinned broadly. I tried to focus on his face, but I couldn’t – I’d never seen a body with so much fat, especially on a man who couldn’t be any older than 30. Aside from the T-shirt, I had no idea if he was wearing anything else. A red metal ledge glimpsed between a pair of bare feet so soft they looked unused gave the only hint that there was a seat somewhere under him. "I’m sorry, guy, I’m not what you expected and I’m taking advantage of the situation. I heard Jack laughing, probably at your expense, so no more nonsense. You’ve come for an interview, and an interview you shall have. Ask me anything,” he said, finishing the plate off, and refilling it with a pork dish and mashed potatoes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack rearranging the patio furniture; was it my imagination, or did he look enviously at the plate Cain was now quickly but quietly tearing through? "Well…I guess the first thing is, what is this event? Are you planning a comeback? It looks like you pulled out all the stops,” I said, looking at the buffet stretching into the distance. "No. This event is for me – all for me,” he said firmly, hastily adding,”with you as a welcomed guest, of course!” he said, as he took another helping of the pork and potatoes. "Sooooo….this is a regular thing?” "Well, I don’t usually go in for catering, but our cooks are on well-deserved vacations – I ask a lot of them,” he said, smiling. (Them?) "You set a lavish table – clearly you enjoy a variety of food…” He was relaxed about his weight, so I took the plunge. "…but speaking as both a writer and a longtime fan, if the washboard abs were here what would they say? How about the perfect v-shaped build, and the muscular thighs, and the penis that draped over them?” "Oh, they’re all in here somewhere,” he said, looking out over the stomach which encased him,”but that’s a role I don’t need to play anymore. Everyone, even me sometimes, fantasizes about that body, but I’ve been there and done that, and it’s not the reality I need now.” "I was always on the go – I visited 50 countries. 50! I had great sex, great trips, great movies, and a nonstop gym routine. And I was tired. I was only 24, and looked fantastic, at least on the outside, but I felt worn out. One day I’d had enough, and I knew someone who’d had enough of that life too, someone else ready to retire.” "Jack?” "Yep, Jack. I’d done him in some of my movies, but he was becoming very successful with real estate by then, so I asked him to manage my investments, too. And, the house – as a fan, I’m sure you recognize this pool – seemed kind of big for one person. I wanted a more leisurely life, and so did he. Could you reach those cheese puffs for me – no, the big tray. Thanks.” "I wanted to have time to indulge my hobbies, like historical fiction, and gardening and model train railroading…and cooking. You can guess which became my favorite.” "So, it’s more about the food?” "That’s part of it. The plan was originally for us both to keep to a minimal gym routine for six months, and then decide what we wanted to do – bulk back up for the cameras, or take a different direction. " "But with the pressure gone, my discipline didn’t last long. You still go three times a week though, Jack,” he said with a big smile to Jack, who silently took the now-empty tray, and gave Cain an even bigger one. He didn’t look like he wanted to part with it, and then I knew it wasn’t my imagination – Jack was torn. He was trying to keep from gaining more weight with his diet cola and salad, but clearly he liked his food; and, it couldn’t be easy keeping his discipline around Cain, who didn’t look like he ever stopped eating. "So, plans changed?” "Yep. Once I stopped the workouts, I started putting on weight, and found I liked it – a lot. The sex drive was still there, but stoked in ways I’d never known. Jack, are there any more of those crabcakes? We’ve got to get that recipe!” Out front, a horn sounded. "Here you go, babe,” Jack said with what sounded like relief, quickly handing them to Cain,”That’s Bob – we’re headed to the gym now, as it happens. Kit, it was nice meeting you,” and with a handshake for me and a kiss on the foreheaf for Cain,who was busy chewing, he hustled his bulk out the door. Cain watched him go with a mischievous grin, and turned to me still smiling,”I love him with that gut, but he’s been trying to lose it for years. What do you think his odds are?” I talked around the question. "Well, how long have you two been retired?” "Let’s continue talking inside,” he said. As he moved the joystick, the scooter reluctantly picked up speed, complaining bitterly. As I followed Cain, I saw he had two backsides now. The first was courtesy of his overstuffed love handles: they were connected by a thick bolster of fat stretching across his middle back. It was pushed up by a swollen bubble butt so fat that the long crack between its oversized (but still perfectly shaped!) cheeks dropped in a curve beneath the edge of whatever he was sitting on. Unlike his boobs, restrained by their shirt, their soft flesh moved independently as they were towed behind him. The shirt seemed to be all he was wearing. Maybe it was all he could wear. We entered the cabana through power operated doors like the supermarkets have, into a big room which turned out to be an extremely well-stocked kitchen. On its counters were still more of Harry’s work, and I saw Cain’s eyes light up. "This looks wonderful! Do you mind if we take a break, Kit? These are all new to me, and everything looks amazing!” I didn’t think we’d been working all that hard, but said,"OK, I need a pit stop anyway – through there?,” pointing to the only other doorway I could see. "”Yeah… drop off that TV Guide while you’re there, would you please?” he said absentmindedly, closing his eyes in pleasure as he bit into the first dish, shaking all over from his munching alone. Then he called after me,”And tell Dr. Alex I’m back.” Huh? I walked through more power doors into what was clearly his bedroom, with a bed that must have measured at least 10 x 10. One either side, raised to mattress height, were small brightly lit glass-fronted fridges at where nightstands would have gone, stuffed with food. "Hi, you must be Kit!” said a voice from the side of the room, and I turned to see a cute Eurasian guy in scrubs walking toward me,”I’m Alex. I help him with his routine.” Tall and packed with lean muscle, I noticed he had incredibly large arms,” I’d shake hands, but I’m doing some cleaning,” he said holding up hands covered in bright pink rubber gloves. Source: http://www.bellybuilders.com/messageboard/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=8467 | |
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