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Jakes new regimen Part 3
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. Part 4 Source: http://www.bellybuilders.com/messageboard/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=11670 | |
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