Home » Articles » English Stories » realistic [ Add new entry ]

Jakes new regimen Part 1
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."

Source: http://www.bellybuilders.com/messageboard/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=11670
Category: realistic | Added by: existimator (2012-08-17) | Author: ExjockFeeder
Views: 8666 | Comments: 2 | Rating: 4.0/4
Total comments: 0
Only registered users can add comments.
[ Sign Up | Log In ]