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Jim started in before Dirk could say a word.
"All right Dirk. I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re pulling here, but get your fat ass on this table now and let’s have it out.”
Jim was pointing to a doctor’s table on the sound stage. The scene planned for that day was set in a team’s locker room. It was one of those scenes where the football stud gets a physical that becomes a little too friendly. The set had all the equipment. The examining table, a doctor’s scale, a few medical instruments on a cabinet.
With temper flaring, Dirk hauled himself up onto the table and prepared to fight it out.
"You know, Jimbo, I’ve had enough. And I hardly see how you’d want a beer-gutted jock running naked in any of your story lines anymore anyway.”
"Shut up asshole. Don’t think your little plan is so obscure that I don’t get it. You think this little gut is going to get you off my roster? I should keep you here and put you on a treadmill until you’re back to standard, but I think there’s a better idea here.”
"Man, give it up. You’ve gotten your money’s worth out of me. Move on to some other dope and let me . . . . Hey, what are you doing?!”
As Dirk had started to retort, Both Jim and Bobby had grabbed his wrists. Suddenly, he was being pinned down to the table, hands pulled down to the sides of the rolling table. Thrashing with all his might, Dirk started to flail his legs when he realized he was losing out despite the strength of his powerful arms. But before he knew it, his hands where strapped to something below the pad of the table, and Bobby had been ordered to hop up and clamp himself onto Dirk’s ankles to calm him down. Panting hard from the struggle, Dirk closed his eyes tightly as Jim put his mouth up to one ear.
"Now, you fat son of a bitch, if you like having a gut like this and think that becoming some ball bellied exjock is going to set you loose, I’m here to tell you otherwise. This little game of yours just opens up a new avenue for you. Maybe you think all guys only go for buffed muscle jocks, but there’s a whole market out there of guys into huge bellied exjocks. If that’s where you want to go with this, I’m here to send your career in a new direction.”
Just then, there was a rap at the stage door. "Delivery.”
"Bobby – go pay that guy and let’s start rolling.”
Dirk looked down to see Bobby rush over to hand the delivery guy a wad of cash. Then he stepped outside and came back in rolling a tall bakery cart loaded with boxes from the place that always catered for their shoots. Holy fuck. This can’t be happening.
Jim must have read his mind. "That’s right, Fatso. There’s a world of guys out there who like their jocks to have nice big round guts, and you’re about to become the star of their genre. Bobby – get over here and let’s get going!”
Jim stepped over to run the camera himself, and Bobby wheeled the cart right up next to the football stud. He patted Dirk’s belly, causing him to flinch and rock to test the ties, which were definitely too tight to break. "Shit Dirk,” Bobby let out. "You’ve really been packing it in huh? This gut feels like a water balloon.”
Jim bellowed. "Shut up and start stuffing him! We’ve already wasted too much time.”
Bobby hesitated for a minute, but then he nervously broke open the first box and stuck and thick sandwich in Dirk’s mouth. Dirk tried to turn his head, and Jim yelled at Bobby again. "Pull his mouth open!”
Getting going, Bobby took one hand and wrapped it over Dirk’s chin, pushing down to yank his mouth wide open. With his other hand, Bobby pressed the sandwich into the stud’s mouth. Letting Dirk take a big bite, they both paused for him to chew.
Bobby jarred up straight at Jim’s shouting and shoved the entire sandwich in Dirk’s already full mouth. Dirk let out a loud grunt as the food rammed in his mouth pushed his first mouthful down his throat.
"That’s more like it. Next one Bobby, next one! Stuff this jock until he’s ready to bust, you hear me?!?”
Bobby really kicked into gear. Keeping one hand on Dirk’s chin to make sure he didn’t clamp it shut except to chew, he started cramming food into the stud until the first box was nearly empty. Dirk’s belly began to swell up, pulling his jersey a little tighter the more stuffed he got. After the top box was empty, Bobby paused and looked at the director. Jim pulled his head from behind the camera viewer and screamed again.
"You don’t think that’s it do you? Come on already! There’s a whole fucking cart of food there!”
"Aw, but boss, look at his gut already. There’s no way he can hold . . . .”
Bobby looked Dirk in the eye and put one hand on his already bulging gut. "Sorry buddy,” he whispered, "but looks like you’re gonna have to eat a little more here.” Both of them ignored the pressure rising in each of their groins as Bobby broke open the next box.
Halfway through the next case of food, Dirk had just given in and was trying all he could to keep up. His eyes were shut hard as he felt his belly strain tighter. Bobby was now rubbing his hand across the top arc of Dirk’s gut. It seemed to swell and rise a few more inches into the air. He was afraid Dirk would literally bust as the feeding went into the fourth box of food. Dirk’s jersey was now starting to creep up his belly, the holes in the fabric starting to distort from the pressure of his bulging, overstuffed gut.
Bobby finally eased up. "He can’t Jim! He’s gonna blow if I feed him this last box! Look at him. He looks like someone inflated his belly with an air hose or somethin’!”
Jim stopped filming. It was the first time he didn’t yell back all afternoon. This stuffing session had gone on for almost three hours now, and both Jim and Bobby heard Dirk groaning now that the endless flow of food had paused.
"Fuck. Man, give me a rest! Ooooooo. I feel like my gut is gonna fucking split. Please guys. Uuugggghhh. You’ve made you’re fucking point. I . . . can’t . . . . . fucking . . . . . . . breathe!”
Jim walked up to Dirk and set his hand on his towering gut. First running his fingers around it like he was rubbing the rim of a big glass, he then slapped Dirk’s gut hard, making both Bobby and Dirk jump. "Well now Fatso. Seems we have some fine footage here of your football jock gut blowing up – how did you put it Bobby? – like someone hooked you to an air hose.”
"Delivery.” Another knock at the door. Bobby looked up at Jim. "Well, go get it Bobby.” Bobby headed to the door as Jim went in to Dirk’s ear again.
"See how this is going to work now? You’ve gotten off to a fine start gaining a ball gut that’s going to hit a lot of cult nerves. Now I’m going to make sure we have enough footage to release a video of you ballooning up like every encourager out there has dreamed. I actually think we’re waking up something in both you and my pal Bobby here. I think he’ll be a star as your encourager too.”
"Encourager?? What the hell are you . . . .?” Dirk trailed off, too drained from the stuffing to really talk.
"See, buddy, there’s a whole group out there that gets into fattening guys up.” As Jim said this, he wrapped both hands around Dirk’s massively stuffed belly and thumped it like a drum. "I never planned to cater to that market. But since you’re one of my prime stars and seem to be getting yourself into this gaining thing, growing a gut at a rate like I’ve never seen, we’re just going to capitalize on this tendency of yours and make you the center of that show!”
Dirk shut his eyes and felt his face getting hotter. How the hell can this be backfiring like this? What kind of sick scheme was Jim trying to . . . .
"Oh now what’s this?” Dirk felt Jim grab his dick. "Seems the idea of ballooning up like a fat pig has this stud of ours horned up. Look at the hard-on we have going.”
Bobby looked down as he rolled a handcart stacked with beer kegs up to the fat stud’s table.
"Seems you can’t be hating this so much after all. Maybe we’ve just hit on a scenario that will be getting our fat star hotter than anything we’ve filmed so far.”
Dirk closed his eyes tighter and tried to tune Jim out, but the harder he tried, the more he felt his cock stiffen, especially as Jim rubbed his packed gut and yanked on his throbbing cock.
"I think we need to get going on those progressive shots, Bobby. Pull that first keg over here.”
Aw shit. This can’t be happening. There’s NO way they can get more into this gut. I’m gonna fucking bust. I’m "gonna fucking BURST! STOP!!” Dirk’s thoughts came like a shout out of his mouth.
But it was too late. Bobby had the keg’s nozzle shoved in Dirk’s mouth before he could protest more, and soon he was jamming on the tap, pumping it like crazy as Jim restarted the camera. Dirk looked down to see his gut somehow start to swell up again. He felt his belly tighten and felt the pressure grow to a firm ache in his gut. He pulled at the restraints again, and just dropped his head in defeat. All he could do was try to ignore the building tension in his dangerously swollen belly and work to keep up with the now rushing flow of beer. Bobby’s eyes bugged as he pumped. Dirk’s belly seemed to inflate before their eyes. The jersey pulled up even higher as the jock’s rock hard, overblown belly bloated up to near bursting. Every time Bobby started to ease up, Jim yelled again, and the tap pumped harder as they tested just how massive Dirk would get before they had to stop. Bobby couldn’t help it. He had to see Dirk’s gut in full glory. As he ran the tap with one hand, he reached over with the other to tug Dirk’s jersey up, exposing the rest of his ballooned belly. The skin on his beach ball gut was starting to almost shine. The hard round bulge was so strained. Bobby traced his hand across what used to be the faint outline of Dirk’s abs. The former muscles were now just the highlighting marks on a belly that looked like a huge exercise ball had somehow been shoved into the beefy guy’s stomach.
"CUT!” They all stopped and stared. Dirk, totally dazed, somehow managed to raise his head. All he could see was his towering belly. Letting out a huge, long groan, he slowly set his head back down. He couldn’t even talk. He was so stuffed.
"Now that’s more like it. A few more weeks of work like today’s, and we’ll have one hell of a gainer film on our hands.”
Bobby was told to leave, and then it was just Jim and Dirk. Still strapped to the table and too exhausted and stuffed to move, Dirk just listened to Jim’s plan.
"Just like this, Fatso. Every day, stuffing and stuffing you until that jersey busts wide open. I’m gonna have Bobby pack your gut until you look like an elephant three years pregnant. Maybe this will teach you to EVER fuck with me, and it will serve to remind you that I run this ship and can come up with anything to keep you bringing cash into this little film operation.”
With one last hard thwap on Dirk’s giant belly, Jim snapped off the lights and left the bloated stud tied to the table to sleep for the night. Dirk just passed out, hoping it was all a bad dream that would be gone by morning.
But then he heard the lights click back on, and Dirk shook out of his groggy sleep to realize it was not a dream. There he was, still firmly strapped to the table, his belly not as painfully stuffed as before, but still definitely rising high into the air from the merciless stuffing during the previous day’s scene. And there were Bobby and Jim, ready to go again.
"All right Bobby boy, let’s stretch that jersey over his big fat gut and get going again.”
Bobby stood to one side of Dirk and reached an arm over his belly. With both hands, he grabbed the bottom edge of the jersey, which now sat scrunched up under Dirk’s rounded pecs, and slowly dragged the shirt across Dirk’s skin to get it over the big bulge of his belly. It took some serious tugging to get it to go all the way, and once Bobby managed to get the fabric pulled over the widest, top-most swell of Dirk’s belly, he yanked harder and harder to try to tuck the jersey into Dirk’s shorts. The force pushed an expulsion of air from Dirk’s mouth, and Bobby let go, seeing the jersey tug back up Dirk’s ball belly by a good few inches as they both let out a grunt.
"Don’t worry about it Bobby. The next few weeks of feedings are going to make that thing too fucking small to cover even half of his fat gut!”
In spite of himself, Dirk felt his dick going hard again. He tried thinking of anything else, but the more he tried, the more aware he was of Bobby’s hands on his belly, working the hem of his jersey so that it sat straight across his gut for the first shot. He felt his shorts getting as tight as the jersey.
"Seems our beer bellied star is definitely starting to like this, Bobby. Why don’t we take advantage of that? It’s time to fatten him up some more.”
And the feedings resumed. For days and days afterward, the same scene repeated as Dirk’s belly ballooned up fatter and rounder. He was kept on the set like a pig being fed up for the state fair. He saw his belly swelling up bigger and bigger, pushed dangerously close to exploding before each take would end. All he could see was the giant spherical mass if his gut growing fatter and fatter and fatter, rising higher above his once flat torso toward the ceiling.
It was God knows what day of shooting. Six weeks? How the hell long have they kept me here?! Eight weeks? Ten?
Bobby stood above Dirk, cradling his head in one hand and shoving fistfuls of food in his mouth for what felt like hours. All the while, the camera whirled and Dirk felt his belly rising higher and higher and higher with the now familiar feeling of his gut growing so stuffed it was ready to split. He just gave in again. Whatever was shoved in his mouth, Dirk just worked to keep up. He silently resigned himself to just make it go as fast as he could, hoping it would all be over soon, wondering if he’d even be able to balance the weight of his massive belly once they finally let him stand back up. He grunted and chewed like a prize hog, but the more fattened-up he felt, the hotter his face felt, and the more he had to admit it was turning him on. He could feel his dick pointing straight up in his shorts. It would probably slap into the base of his bloated gut if set loose from the Lycra. If he could even see past his belly, he was sure he’d see a boner the size of a cucumber.
Then one day the scene suddenly shifted. After hours of the now routine gorging session, Jim brought in a huge soft serve ice cream machine. Bobby moved around to the other end of the table, and Jim set the machine right over Dirk’s head, positioning the nozzle right over his mouth.
"Guys. Oooooo. Come on!” Dirk moaned. They can’t be this crazy, can they? "There’s no fucking way . . . . ughhh. I can’t hardly . . . . eat . . another . . . . mouthf-mphff-mmff-hmm.” Jim had lowered the machine until the nozzle shoved square into Dirk’s mouth.
"All right Bobby, my boy. This is the final shot. The moment this fat jock has been waiting for!”
Dirk heard the machine kick on, and soon there was a burst of chocolate goo rushing into his mouth. His eyes started to water slightly, and he struggled to throw his throat open to keep pace with the rush. This was even more intense than the beer keg!
"That’s right you fat blimp. Your belly is now so massive we need to hook you to a feeding machine to load it up! Never thought your gut stuffing would lead to this did you?”
But Dirk barely heard Jim’s taunts. It took his full energy to try to swallow as fast as the ice cream was rushing into his mouth.
"See, Fatso, this isn’t just ice cream either. It’s charged with enough weight gainer to make you balloon up twice as fat as we’ve already gotten you.”
Dirk almost choked, and the ice cream started overflowing down the side of his puffed-out cheeks. But then he felt a warm jolt – a burning hot feeling – and he figured out that Bobby had locked his mouth over his throbbing dick. In unison rhythm, Bobby’s pumping timed with Dirk’s chugging, getting Dirk into a swallowing pattern that opened his throat further to the rush of gainer fluid. Every time Dirk started to slow, Bobby stopped, leaving Dirk in agony and on the brink of explosive orgasm, only starting again once Dirk fell into a regular chugging to get back in time with the flow of the feeding machine. Dirk felt the pressure in his mammoth belly press against the surface of his gut like never before. If ever he felt ready to explode, this was it! He was sure he was going to pop. That jersey never felt more pressed against Dirk’s belly. He could feel the outline of the hem digging into the girth of his ballooning stomach. He swore he could feel the side seams cutting into his bulging love handles in a bowing arc outlining the rise of his gut. Then he was sure he felt them starting to separate, two lines digging into his belly and pulling wider apart as he heard a loud ripping noise mix in with the hum of the machine and the slurping sounds of his gulps. His eyes were watering harder, his belly was strained to its very limit, the jersey was busting wide open from the pressure, and his hips were rocking hard as Bobby finally picked up his rhythm in time with the building swell of Dirk’s belly. This was it, he was going to blast wide open, belly blowing like the Hindenburg, his cock exploding all over the …..
With Dirk’s monstrous yell, the nozzle popped free of his mouth, Bobby’s arms locked around Dirk’s immense belly, and Dirk blew his load all over the base of his belly in a rush that lasted for what seemed like ten minutes. Feeling so light headed he could pass out at any second, Dirk felt the warm splatter of his cum dripping down the sheer rise of his belly. Bobby was rubbing his hands up and down the underside of Dirk’s gut, smearing his cum over the bottom expanse of his gut that could only be felt, not even seen.
"Goddamn, I couldn’t have staged that better myself!” Jim was applauding. Dirk was too weak to even react. He just felt himself pressing his belly into Bobby’s hands as he continued to massage his tightly stuffed monster of a belly.
"I guess maybe we can let you free now Fatso. Seems you finally ballooned up enough for me to get the climax of this little picture. This thing is going to be a beauty of an edit. You’re going to be out on video shelves with a continuous shot of your gut inflating before people’s eyes. I'm gonna splice frames together so it looks like the past several weeks of stuffing made your gut balloon up in about thirty minutes before old Bobby’s eyes. The world will see you growing fatter and fatter and fatter until that jersey finally gives way for us! I’m a fucking genius!”
With that Dirk felt his hands come free. Jim undid the bonds and again slapped Dirk’s immense belly.
"Thanks for the new idea you blimp. I think this may just bring in a whole new market for us.” Jim chuckled to himself as he told Bobby to help Dirk up. With one last hiss in Dirk’s ear, Jim left the set with "don’t ever think you can fuck with me like that again, you got it Fatso!”
Dirk was still panting too hard to even say a word. Laying there until his breathing returned to normal, he could only slowly lift his arms to feel his belly. Soft groans came from his throat as the once buffed stud felt his massive belly for the first time. He tentatively ran his hands higher and higher up the rounded bulge of his spherical gut. Bobby watched gape jawed as Dirk’s muscled arms tried to reach the top. Dirk finally opened his eyes, trying to sit up as he struggled to reach completely around his belly. With louder grunts, he twisted with all his might, realizing there was no may to make his hands meet. Even though he was pushing with all his strength, he could only wrap his hands around his bulging gut to leave a good three feet of belly exposed between them. His head slammed back on the table as his arms fell.
"Oh my God! I’m a fucking blimp!!”
Bobby came around and pushed his hands under Dirk’s shoulders. Coaxing Dirk to help him out, they hoisted Dirk up, twisting his legs to drop off the side of the table. Dirk was nearly in a sitting position, but Bobby had to brace his back with his shoulder; Dirk’s giant gut was pushing him back, pressing into his thighs and back into his pecs, shoving them toward his chin. With both of them breaking a sweat, Dirk was finally shoved forward until his feet hit the floor. He supported himself by kicking his arms back, but even as strong as he was, Dirk’s arms had to work hard to give that final push to get up to a standing position. The momentum nearly toppled him forward, and Bobby raced around the table to help stabilize the fat stud before he rolled down to the floor, where he’d end up resting on his gut.
"You’re gonna have to learn how to balance that thing,” Bobby said as Dirk leaned his shoulders back to counter-weight the gut that launched out for days in front of him.
"Holy fuck. I have to weigh a ton.” Dirk shook his head as he looked down from his fattened up pecs to see the top arcing line of his belly fade away from him like a planet’s horizon.
"Step over here and let’s find out.” Bobby guided Dirk a few steps across the set to the medical scale. When Dirk’s belly bumped into the upright before his feet even stepped onto the base, Bobby slowly turned Dirk so that he could step backwards onto the scale. Staring with amazement, Bobby’s eyes followed the huge line Dirk’s belly traced as he turned. With the thud of the scale’s plate under Dirk’s massive weight, Bobby starting shifting the weights to get a reading.
"I’m not sure I want to know.”
"What’s it reading?”
"Can’t tell yet.”
Dirk groaned and rubbed his aching, massive belly.
A little laugh. "On no, I passed that one a few tries ago.”
"Shit!” Dirk put one hand underneath his belly and ran the other one along the gargantuan top line of his blimped up gut, wondering if his hands could meet along this path. They couldn’t.
"400. 450. Nope. 475. Oop. Maybe – ooo. Nope. 4 . . . . 9 . . . . Four hundred and ninety five pounds! Holy shit you’re HUGE!!!”
Dirk shuffled off the scale and grabbed his gut again. "Omygod. I can’t believe this!”
Bobby pressed up behind Dirk, nestling his stiffening dick into the valley between Dirk’s meaty butt and reaching his arms around the stud’s giant sphere of a belly to grasp his forearms. "Should we head out of here to feed you a dinner big enough to break and even 500?”
Dirk felt the heat building in his nuts again.
"Yeah. Stuff me!”
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