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Jakes new regimen Part 5

X. The Reward


Tom's phone rang the next day just before noon. Jake still sounded stuffed. "Boss. Jake here. Ooof . . . man." Tom heard the pats as Jake tapped his belly on the other end. "So do I need to come in today? I'm fuckin' wiped."
Tom wanted to get Jake back to his feeding room immediately, but took pity at the sound of Jake's voice. "Give it 'til tomorrow stud. See you then."
"You might have to come get me. Shit. This thing is still pretty bloated. Don't think it'll fit in my truck yet." Tom took a second to answer, picturing that.
"No problem. See you for breakfast."
Jake groaned. More thumps. "Boss, I think breakfasts are out for me for a while. It's gonna take some serious cutting back to get this thing to go down. Fuck, I really can't believe you got me so damn big."
"We'll see about . . . we'll see you tomorrow." Tom hung up, plotting his next move.



Tom arrived early to collect Jake, catching him not quite ready. The jock looked big as ever, though not as tightly stuffed as after the contest. His belly looked ponderous, though, most definitely inflated a notch more from the massive attach on its girth at the bar. Jake was moving slowly and silently loaded himself into Tom's truck. Tom fired up the engine and pushed a bag of doughnuts toward his fatboy.
"Oh, boss, not this morning. Seriously, it's gonna take, what, like twice as long as it took to grow this thing to get it to shrink back down?" He dropped his head back against the seat. "If this thing wouldn't bounce up and down so much, I thought about hitting a treadmill today. Damn. I don't think this bloat has shrunk any since the contest. I'm still fuckin' huge. Ooooof." Tom hated the vision of Jake working off his belly and planted the bag right on top of his fat ledge.
"Eat it. We're working hard today. You can fucking diet another day." Jake was too tired to protest, but he was eating halfheartedly at best. When they arrived at the site, Jake had only eaten three doughnuts. He also took little interest in the usual overloaded breakfast table. Tom was beginning to get very annoyed. He was terse with Jake as he issued instructions for the day's work, more terse as Jake set down the plates that Tom was handing him, mostly uneaten.
The room was nearly complete. As of yet, Jake had no answer about exactly what this project would be. It was just a huge finished room with a few long windows above eye level, connected to the room where Tom had been keeping all the food and a bathroom. There was a recess in the concrete just inside the sole outside door. Today they were to drop this large metal plate into the hole. It was a big stainless square, resting on springs encased in support tubes that brought it level to the floor. Jake tried to ask what it was. Tom was too pissed to explain and ignored the questions. Jake just did as he was told, shrugging. As Tom readied to drop the plate in place, he left it leaning upright against the jock's big belly. It was a fine sight. One that he was not about to give up. On cue, Jake tipped the heavy metal down, struggling to move it around his beach ball before securing its position. Tom fussed with some wiring, connecting it to a clock sized device that he screwed to the wall next to the door.
"There. Almost done except to test it. How about some lunch?"
Jake fought his usual urge to indulge. He felt fully hungry for the first time in months "Yeah okay. I could do a little bit of lunch I s'pose."
Tom fumed. He did not like his fattened jock talking about eating restraint of any kind. He hated nothing more than a guy worried about portion control. The feeder in him loathed that kind of hesitation. He found it girly. Men should eat until they were utterly stuffed. To him, that was a masculine rite of passage from a jock's younger playing days to full manhood. "Jake asked for this," he thought. "How dare he think he's going to diet off all my work!"
Tom decided to disguise the frustration he had been showing all day. Time for a new strategy. Jake was sulky from his treatment all morning. He definitely preferred feeling that he pleased his boss. Time to play on that again.
Tom went into the adjacent storage room and rolled out a hefty lunch, this time with a couple of pitchers of beer. "Jake, you did us damn proud yesterday. I think today, we knock off now and celebrate your victory." He poured Jake a huge mug of beer and clinked the pitcher against it in a toast. Jake was beaming again, and took a big swig. Tom got him talking about the contest win, playing on the jock's innate tendency to recount the winning plays the morning after the game. He didn't push food yet. He worked on keeping Jake chugging beers, knowing he'd soon be drunk on an unusually empty stomach. That stomach was huge, though, and it took a quite few beers to see Jake's buzz setting it. But in true fat jock mindset, Jake wasn't counting beers as calories, and he followed along ever more cheerfully. Tom kept him replaying the contest, and as Jake basked in his win, he started touching his gut once again. Jake had drained most of the second pitcher before he realized it, busy bragging about how he made Bruiser look like a loser.
Tom knew he could push food on Jake now. He started with one sandwich, and it went easily from there. "Better soak up some of those suds, there, Big Guy." Jake's resistance was completely down. He laughed and took the sandwich. "Yeah, good idea. Kinda feelin' this beer a bit." After two bites of the sandwich, Jake was inhaling it. It had become the only way the fat pig knew how to eat. Tom kept him drinking and eating as they celebrated for the next hour. Before long, Jake was stuffed tight, drunk, rubbing his belly.
"Fuck, boss. You got me going again here. I swore today would be the day I start dropping some of this gut."
"Did you now?"
"Yeah man. I mean shit ­ LOOK at me. I've become a fucking moose."
"Yes. Let's look at you, Jake." Tom moved a sheet of plywood to reveal a big mirror. He pushed another beer as they stared at his body. Jake put the glass to his lips and Tom tipped it high. "I bet you could drain that thing in one go." Jake's fogged head didn't fight. His jock side won out. He took the dare and pounded the beer in a matter of seconds. He checked out the sight of his belly as Tom grabbed for the next pitcher and moved behind him.
"Put your hands on your belly, Fatboy." His voice was low but intense. Jake obeyed. "Feel that big belly. Feel every fat fucking inch of it."
Jake was turned on. He grabbed himself as ordered, felt his giant belly anew, investigating its mammoth round bulge. Tom grabbed Jake's forehead and tipped his throat open, pouring from the pitcher and forcing Jake to chug. Jake felt ready to choke, but gauged his gulping to keep up. He felt his belly swelling as he was loaded with beer. Tom refused to let up until Jake had emptied the pitcher. Jake's head was swimming. He gasped for air as Tom released his head.
"Now let's check out that belly again, Fatboy." Tom gripped Jake's ears and forced the jock to look himself in the eye. His planet of a gut seemed to fill the mirror. "See how that belly looks Fatboy? You can't tell me you don't fucking love that giant - FAT - belly." Tom thumped Jake's ball, making his dick grow tight against his pants. He fought to stay mute and not moan in pleasure.
"Just look at you. A total fattened porker. Only a fucking pig would have taken to being stuffed like you did, Jake." Tom slowly released his head and was rubbing Jake's fat sides. His arms moved in big round circles over his hog's ballooned flesh. The jock was locked on his own image, carefully studying his own ball bellied mass.
"Nothing has ever turned you on like this belly, has it Jake?"
Jake moaned despite himself.
"You love being my Fatboy, don't you Jake? You would love nothing more than to be fed more, fattened more and more." Heavy bounces punctuated each word.
Jake groaned louder.
"And MORE." Tom bounced Jake's belly and reached for his pants, tugging them down to release Jake's pulsing erection.
"Feel how fat I've made you, Fatboy. Feel that belly for me."
Jake's hands flew to his gut. He had to feel the giant orb too. He was rubbing his belly in amazement and ecstasy, hips rocking as if trying to fuck his own fat.
"I bet you wonder just how fat we've made you ­ so far ­ don't you Jake?"
A muffled affirmative.
"Want to weigh in for me Fatso?"
Jake looked confused, but nodded, eyes still locked on his giant image.
"Go step on that then." Tom pointed to the plate in the floor. Jake didn't want to tear away from the mirror. He wanted to get off right there. Tom's intense look gave him no choice. He lumbered drunkenly over to the big square and stood at the edge.
"It's a scale. Get on!"
Jake landed one foot and then the other on the plate and felt it spring under him. Red numbers flashed on the wall panel. Tom covered them with his hands before they stopped racing by. Jake steadied himself to stop the bouncing. He looked like a bull being weighed in at the farm. Tom peered behind his hand but wouldn't let Jake see.
"So, Jake."
"Uh huh." Jake was tentative, though eager to know what he weighed. He thought back to his last 281 pound reading.
"What do you think that big belly has you weighing?"
"Shit, I dunno." Tom could see Jake was rock hard in anticipation.
"You feel pretty damn fat, don't you."
"Ooof. Boss, I told you, I feel huge."
"How huge?"
"Fucking massive man."
"Guess."
Jake studied his belly, lifting it to check its heft. He clearly loved that feeling.
"Dunno. What, 325?"
Tom let out a hearty laugh. "Oh hell no, Fatboy. You think all this gut stuffing only made you that fat? Look at the size of that gut again."
"More huh?"
"Hell yeah. Guess again. What else have you been doing but getting stuffed like my prize hog, Jake?"
Jake's dick bounced at being called a hog.
"Umm. Okay. 340 then."
Tom shook his head.
"350?? No way boss. Can't be!"
Tom came closer to Jake, touching the front of his belly. "Just look how huge this thing is, Jake. One more try." As Jake mused on the distance from his back to Tom's hand, he looked over at the reading.
"Holy fucking hell!"
The red numbers blazed. 375 pounds. Jake was dripping. He had gained nearly 100 pounds. Tom stepped on the scale with him and the reading jumped to 600 pounds. Tom turned his glutton on the scale so they could see him in the mirror. Jake's head was spinning from beer, arousal, the full force realization of how incredibly fat he had grown. He felt Tom grab his cock under his belly.
"So how much fatter are you going to get for me FATboy?"
Jake leaned into Tom's hands, pulsing.
"Boss ­ I ­ I gotta cut back ­ Ooooooo. I'm too fat. Oh. Oooh. Feels good."
"You are such a fucking pig Jake, you're doing NOTHING but getting fatter for me."
Tom made Jake rub his belly more as he stroked.
"Admit it fatso, you love this belly!"
"Oh yeah. Oooh, boss. That feels good."
Tom's strokes quickened. Jake was transfixed on his gut, feeling it all over as he leaned back into Tom.
"You want to get fatter for me, don't you Jake?" Tom had his lips against his fatboy's ears. Jake was close to erupting. His legs were quivering. His huge belly rocked heavily.
"You're going to let me fatten you up as much as you want Jake, aren't you?"
Jake moaned a yes.
"As fat and huge as I want, right Jake?"
"Oh yes. Anything." Tom was keeping Jake right on the brink of cumming.
"Anything Jake?"
"Yes ­ Ooooh ­ YES. Fatter boss. Make me FATTER!"
"You asked for it you fat pig. 600# it is. You're not leaving this room 'til that scale reads 600# like it does now!"
Jake couldn't take it any more. He was ready to erupt, staring at his belly, daring to picture himself over 200 pounds fatter. He practically knocking Tom over as he convulsed at the thought of growing that huge, cum shooting everywhere. He dropped to his knees after Tom drained him, leaning forward on his huge belly. Tom stepped back, pleased as could be.
"That's right Jake. You just proved to me what a fat pig you really are. And ­ you just calibrated your own scale."
Jake was still panting from his orgasm, not getting it.
"You see, Fatboy. The door to this room ­ the room we've been building ­ is your feed pen ­ the room where you will get as fat as I want. And it will not open again until this scale hits the 600 pound mark."
Jake looked up confused. "Wha -?"
"That's right Jake. You will be doing nothing from now on but staying here, eating and fattening yourself up for me. This door will not open again until you are fat enough to trigger it. It's now connected to that scale, and it only unlocks once it reads 600#. Better go eat, Fatboy!"
And with that Tom left. The door clamped shut with an ominous bang. Jake hoisted himself up and bounced on the scale. A firm 375# reading. He pulled at the door. Locked solid. He stood there for a few minutes. Then he started picturing his belly bigger ­ and bigger ­ and bigger ­ and bigger! 600 it is! He was nuts at the thought. He charged straight for the food room, stuffing himself until he couldn't move.

"Yeah, 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: 6123 | Rating: 3.2/4
Total comments: 0
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