Don't Mess With Steve Ch. 3

Chapter Three

Bobby knew he was being filmed and therefore should've done his utmost to look simultaneously hot, unbothered and unfazed by what he was doing, but he couldn't keep his eyes from bugging as repeatedly pumping on the tap, he watched Mark's belly not so slowly inflate in each and every direction right before both their eyes. The pregnant stud's jersey crept ever higher as his belly steadily bloated to what now had to be near its new (and improved?) limit…

But whenever he slowed or even looked like he was about to ease up, Steve screamed at Bobby again, causing him to pump harder and faster as they tested just how massive they could get Mark before they had to stop.  Eventually, the film's "babies' daddy" couldn't help it… While Bobby wasn't actually into this whole scene, he still wanted to see Mark's gut in its new, full glory, so as he ran the tap with his right hand, he reached over with his left and tugged the jersey all the way up, exposing the entire, ballooned sphere.

When his pumping slowed again, this time, Steve didn't yell, he let Bobby take in the sight for a minute (since he was still pumping away on the tap, just slower.) Mark's belly was now so huge and tight, the skin covering it was starting to shine, it was so strained… Bobby traced his free hand over the ever so faint outline of Mark's once prominent abs, now nearly stretched to oblivion, what visible reminder of their former existence fading father with every other rich and creamy pump of shake he forced into the about to burst stud.

He was about to get going again when (much to Mark's relief,) Steve suddenly shouted from behind the camera, "Cut!!!"

Neither man in front of it could believe he had, both having reached the conclusion Bobby was going to pump more and more into Mark till he popped like a tick that didn't know it'd gotten (more than) its fill. Following the surprise order, Bobby slowly pulled the hose from Mark's throat and mouth, causing the pregnant man to gag slightly as it exited, he and Steve just standing there staring at him as he did.

Despite being so uncomfortably bloated and totally dazed, Mark managed to slowly raise his head and open his eyes. When he did, all he saw in front of him was his towering belly, bigger than he'd ever seen it, which unfortunately, had really come to say something… As he let out a huge, long groan of discomfort and defeat, he let his head drop back onto the pillows behind it. Despite his mouth finally being clear, he didn't say anything, simply too stuffed and in shock.

"Awesome fuckin' work, Bobby!" Steve commended as he turned the camera off. "Seriously, great! A few more weeks, months, maybe..? It's still to be determined…" he shrugged. "And we'll have ourselves and mpreg film, the likes of which no one's ever seen!" He said triumphantly. "Now go home and get some rest… We've got another big day tomorrow, and the day after that!"

"Sounds good," Bobby grinned at the sleazy director. "Today was kinda fun!"

"I'm glad you think so, 'cause there's a lot more to be had!" Steve chuckled as he wrapped his arm around the stud's broad shoulders and walked him out.

Still strapped to the table, still panting, too exhausted and stuffed to move (not that he even could,) Mark heard the exchange. Not that there had been but now, there was no denying Bobby wasn't in on Steve's plan. Too bad Mark wasn't…

"So, Mark…" the director said as he sauntered back over to his side. "What did you think of today?" Kinda fun?" He asked, raising his brows.

The pregnant man shook his head against the pillows as he licked his dry lips. "No. Not at all."

"Aww, I'm sorry to hear that," Steve frowned. "'Cause every day for the foreseeable future is going to be very similar to today… Bobby's going to stuff and stuff you till that jersey busts right off! I'm gonna have him get you and your babies,l he stressed. "All so big, you're gonna look like a fucking elephant, three years pregnant!" He beamed, not only like his scheme was obvious, but the best one ever.

Mark didn't see it that way. "But…" he began to protest, ready to follow it up with as much groveling as he needed to, but he didn't get the chance.

"That'll teach you to mess with me!" Steve cut him off. "I run this ship and I can do whatever I want or need to keep YOU bringing cash onboard!" He said as he gave the closest side of Mark's bloated belly a hard smack before leaving too. "He's all yours, Darnell!" He called with a wave over his shoulder.

Fuck, Darnell… In all the craziness of being held captive and force fed on camera, Mark had all but forgotten about the supposed "security guard." Now, he was being left alone with him… Was that going to make things even worse? Could they possibly get any?! The doubly pregnant man closed his eyes again in complete resignation, wishing he'd fall asleep and when he woke, all this would've been a bad dream. If only…

"I gotta admit…" a deep voice Mark hadn't heard before said from close by. "I'm a big fan of yours."

The pregnant pornstar turned his head to the right, opened his eyes and looked up at Darnell, who was now standing right next to him. Mark would've been able to reach out and touch the noticeable bulge in the front of his black head had he been able to touch anything at all… Aside from that, the first thing the pregnant pornstar noticed was how big, tall, dark and handsome the man standing over him was. The next thing he did was the Glock holstered on his right hip, just behind his hand…

Always gracious and cordial with his fans (so long as he wasn't around anyone he knew,) Mark almost thanked Darnell for the compliment but thankfully, stopped himself before he did as doing so would've been ridiculous. Instead, the still somewhat breathless man asked with a roll of his eyes, "Is this how you… treat everyone you're a… big fan of?"

"No…" Darnell replied with a smirk and a chuckle as he shook his head.

"So then why me?"

"It's simple, really," the handsome African American shrugged. "Money."

Of course the reason was money. Everything somehow had something to do with it when it related to Steve…

"So obviously… You're not the kingpin of this illegal activity, so what are you?" Mark asked, cocking his sweaty brow. "My kidnapper, my…"

"Why don't you consider me your…" Darnell stopped for a pregnant pause before finishing his thought. "Babysitter."

The doubly pregnant man groaned as he rolled his eyes again and, believe it or not, despite the situation, chuckled… "You've been waiting to say that, haven't you?"

"Maybe..?"

"I might not know you, but I'm… willing to guess you know this is… wrong, don't you?" He continued.

Still looking down at him, both hands still on his trim hips, Darnell cocked his head to the side. "You probably need to go to the bathroom, huh?"

"Um, yeah!" A now somewhat reinvigorated Mark emphatically nodded. "Did you see how much they crammed in me?!" He asked in a huff.

"I did," his "babysitter" confirmed with a nod as he righted his head. "But I also couldn't help but see how much you crammed in your own damn self since last month! Shit…" he grunted. "How much weight you put on?"

"Not including today..?"

"Since the beginnin'," Darnell nodded again. "Gotta be fifty-some pounds…"

"Good guess," Mark raised his brows again. "You're actually really close."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Not including today, which added God knows how many more, I gained fifty-one pounds."

"Shit!" Darnell grunted again. "Ain't that how much you shoulda gained over the course of your entire pregnancy?!"

"Just about…" Mark admitted in a groan before remembering the question Darnell had first asked him. "So, um… Bathroom?"

"Right! Yeah… Let's see…" he said as he took a step back and looked Mark up and down from that side. "How we gon' do this?"

"You're seriously asking me?!" The doubly pregnant man scoffed as he let his head drop back onto the pillows. "Some babysitter!"

"Careful…" the guard warned with a chuckle. "I know how we gon' do this, I shoulda said we need to lay down some ground rules first. You good with rules?" He raised his brow this time. "'Cause Steve said…"

Out of habit, Mark tried to hold up his right hand to stop Darnell from speaking but was reminded by the bind around his wrist he couldn't. "I can guess what he said… But yes, I'm good with rules," he nodded. "When I have to be…"

"And would one of those times be now?"

"I would say it is," he nodded again.

"Good," Darnell nodded back. "'Least we startin' off on the same page."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Have you ever been a real babysitter?" Mark asked.

"Yeah, back when I was around twelve and I used to watch my seven year old twin cousins for my aunt," Darnell replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Twins…" the twin-filled man muttered. "Interesting… And they were seven?"

"Yeah, why?"

"So you didn't have to deal with any accidents, did you?" Mark raised his brows.

"Bathroom ones? No. Why…"

"It's simple, really," he interrupted using Darnell's own words from before. "If you don't help me get to the bathroom now, you're going to."

"Going to..?"

"Have to deal with an accident!!!" Mark shouted. "Probably a big one! I gotta fuckin' go and HOPEFULLY GET THERE before I do!"

"Oh! Shit!"

"Uh huh!" He nodded. "So.?!"

"Alright! Alright!" Darnell nodded back as he sprung into action, rushing around to the other side of the table and starting with Mark's bind there. "You gotta promise me…" he said as he hurried to undo his left wrist, looking him sternly in the eye as he did. "No funny business."

"Does it look like I'm up to any now?!"

"Just makin' sure we stay on the same page," he said as he moved down to the pregnant man's feet. "I dunno if you noticed, but I've…"

"Yes, I noticed the gun," Mark said, grimacing slightly as he slowly raised his arm and bent it at the elbow and wrist. "Congratulations!" He huffed as his right ankle started to be worked on.

"Congratulations? For what?"

"For being my first babysitter to carry… More of you should think about it if…" Mark paused to wince again as he wriggled his freed ankles and slowly bent his knees. "It produces results like this."

"You mean, compliancy?" Darnell asked as he moved to undone Mark's last bound appendage, his right arm.

"Compliancy, complacency, whatever…"

"You're funny…" he chuckled.

"What I am is about to piss and shit myself!" Mark corrected.

"Eww!" The guard frowned. "Well you're good to go now, so…" he nodded expectantly as he stepped back, giving Mark room to get up, right hand instinctively coming to a rest right in front of his Glock again.

The doubly pregnant man snorted as he raised his right arm. "Seriously?!"

"What?!"

"After being strapped to this thing and stuffed till I almost popped, I'm gonna need a hand, that's what!" He scoffed as he offered his.

"Oh, right…" Darnell realized as he took it with his right but rather than pull on it, he shook it. "Darnell," he smiled as they shook, smiling like they were actually greeting each other.

"Mark…" the pornstar rather needlessly replied. "Knowing your babysitter's name is one thing, knowing your captor's is another… Might wanna think about that the next time you babysit?" He suggested. "Just sayin'..."

"Pretty sure this is only gonna be a one-time thing," Darnell shrugged as he released Mark's hand and then grabbed it again with his left. One he had a firm grip on both, he nodded. "You ready?"

"More than…"

On his count of three, working together, Mark grunting and groaning as they did, they slowly got him sitting up. After giving him a break for a second, still holding his hands, Darnell stepped back some more to give the pregnant man enough room to turn and angle his belly towards him and slide his legs off the table.

"Careful…" he warned again, this time more seriously. "You ate a lot today."

"No shit, Sherlock! Drank a lot too! Tell me something I don't know!"

"OK…" Darnell chuckled. "Since you haven't used 'em in hours, your legs might not be used to the new weight, so give yourself some time."

"Wish I could, but I don't have much," Mark shook his head as he tightened his grip. "This has to be now, otherwise one of us, probably you, is gonna have a mess on their…"

"Yep, I get it. Alright, come on now…"

Once more relying on his "babysitter" for a good deal of help, Mark slowly lowered his feet till they were touching the floor. He couldn't feel them thanks to their lack of use, but he was able to feel the resistance his sneakers gave as they took on more of his weight. Even more slowly, putting even more of his weight against Darnell, he stood, the guard having to move back some more to give his belly room. It was already that big and this was only day one of God knows how many?

Mark gave himself a few seconds to re-orientate to standing, still relying on Darnell to support him as he did, then nodded. "OK, lead the way."

"Actually, you should," the guard replied as he released his grip.

"Hope you can keep up…" Mark said over his shoulder as cradling the underside of his tightly packed gut, he slowly lumbered towards the door.

"Whoa… Wrong way!"

"What're you…"

"We're not going to the locker room," Darnell said as he gently took Mark by the left shoulder and steered him in the other direction, further back into the small room.

"Why not?"

"'Cause there's a bathroom right here."

"Oh, right."

Because of all the insanity, Mark had forgotten he'd been mere feet from a bathroom the entire time. If there was anything good about Set 3, it was that it had its own. That was one of the reasons newbies always started out there since they (the bottoms) often had to utilize it during a shoot since they didn't realize how long they'd be having sex.

Like the set, the bathroom was very small and simple, just a toilet and a sink. There was no shower and to reiterate its size (or really, lack thereof) Mark had considered it small before he'd been lugging around an additional fifty-plus pounds. But desperate times call for desperate measures and as soon as he was on his feet, the need to go really hit so the tiny bathroom would do the trick. This time, anyway…

As he lumbered into it, Mark reached to close the door behind him with his left hand while his right got to work on his pants. The door barely moved before it came to a stop. Still headed for the toilet, he looked over his shoulder and saw Darnell standing in the open doorway, having pushed the door back against the wall.

"Gotta stay open," he said firmly, obviously not leaving the matter up for discussion.

Thanks to his "side job," Mark had done a lot of "private" things in front of a lot of people, but using the bathroom had never been one of them. He considered protesting but thought better of it, instead continuing to work on his pants and jock, now with both hands as he stopped in front of the toilet and turned facing away from it.

"In case you didn't guess, this isn't going to be pleasant…" he warned.

"I figured…" Darnell sighed.

"Could you at least turn around?"

"Promise not to shank me if I do?"

"With what, my shit?" Mark huffed. "Turn around!"

The guard did with another sigh. The next few minutes weren't pleasant for either of them, most especially the overkill and covered pregnant man. Once he'd finished, wiped, flushed and worked his jock and tight pants back on, Mark felt slightly less bloated, but still incredibly full as he headed for the sink to wash his hands.

"You know this isn't always going to cut it…" he said as he washed.

"What isn't?"

"This bathroom. I'm assuming I'm gonna be here for a while, so I'm gonna need to take a shower at some point."

"Well we'll go to the bigger bathroom when you need to," Darnell said.

"And when will that be?" Mark asked.

"Tomorrow."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes as he dried his hands. "I'll need stuff though… Towels, body wash, deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste," he listed off. "Didn't bring any with me since I wasn't planning on this happening," he grunted as he shuffled out of the small bathroom. "So what now?"

"Back to bed," Darnell said as he nodded over his shoulder in that direction. "I'll get everything you said and bring it when I come back."

"You're leaving me now?"

"No, not till the morning."

"So I have to sleep there?" Mark groaned, eyeing the table he'd been strapped to most of the day.

"Yes, sir."

"Great. Where will you sleep?"

"I won't. Maybe I'll catch a few winks, but I'm babysitting, remember?"

"How could I forget?" He grunted as he got back on the table without Darnell's assistance, having gotten feeling back in his legs and feet and feeling somewhat lighter now.

"Arms or legs?" Darnell asked.

"Legs," the pornstar replied.

"Legs it is," the guard confirmed as he moved to the foot of the bed and set to resecuring Mark's ankles.

"So, what? You're just gonna sit there and watch me… sleep?" Mark asked with a grunt as he adjusted himself, wishing the table wasn't flat so the mountainous weight of his belly wouldn't press entirely down on him.

"Like I said, I'll probably doze some, but I've got my phone to keep me busy," Darnell replied as he turned off the lights, pulled over Steve's chair and sat down.

"Any chance I can have my phone?"

"Um, no…" he chuckled.

"Had to try," Mark shrugged as he settled in for the night, wondering how many more like it were ahead of him?

Full and bloated beyond belief, scared, anxious and mad as he all was, Mark eventually drifted off, sleeping through the night as his body worked overtime to digest all the food he'd been forced to consume. Darnell gently woke him early the next morning to let him use the bathroom again, then returned the doubly pregnant man to the table, where he secured his arms again as well.

"I'll see you later," he said as he turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"My other job. My real one."

"You're not a full-time babysitter?" Mark asked as he closed his eyes, still tired.

"No, I'm not," Darnell chuckled.

"So what do you really do?"

"We'll talk about that later," he replied.

"When you come back tonight after working your real job…"

"Right."

"You barely slept."

"How do you know? You were asleep the whole night."

"Well, you said…"

"I'll get enough rest before I see you again."

"You sure about that?" Mark asked.

"I'm sure," Darnell confirmed. "I'll be well-rested when I come back so I'll be able to help if you need it, and…"

"You know what would really help me, don't you?" The pregnant man cut him off.

"Unfortunately, that's not an option, so be a good boy today…"

"Right," Mark grunted back before releasing a big yawn. "Steve's gonna give you a full report on how I behaved."

"I doubt that. I don't doubt he's expecting you to be good though, so be good…" Darnell reiterated. "He and Bobby will be here soon, so rest up till they are, 'cause somethin' tells me, even if you won't be gettin' off that table again till I get back, you're gonna need all the strength you can get," he predicted.

Darnell was right. An hour or so later, during which Mark drifted off again, Steve and Bobby arrived. The lights turned on and through bleary eyes, Mark watched them start getting ready. Needless to say, he hadn't been dreaming, but he already knew that… There he was, strapped back to the table, belly thankfully no longer as painfully tight but still rising higher over him than it had the day before. Speaking of "before," before Mark was ready, Bobby had gotten back into his uniform and he and Steve were ready to start rolling again.

"OK, Bobby boy… Get that jersey stretched as far down that giant gut as possible, then we'll start up again," Steve directed.

After finally greeting Mark with a cheerful, "Good morning!" as if it were just another normal day, Bobby moved to the prone stud's left side and reached over his belly. Using both hands, he grabbed the hem of the jersey, which sat bunched up under Mark's bulging pecs, and slowly pulled it down. It took some serious tugging to get it over and around the widest part of the swell but once he had, Bobby yanked extra hard to try and get the jersey to tuck into his shorts in the front.

It wouldn't even come remotely close. Bobby's vain attempts resulted in a loud belch flying from Mark's mouth, ever so slightly reducing the size of his belly as his "babies' daddy" let go. As soon as Bobby did, the jersey shot back up several inches.

"That's good enough, Bobby," Steve said. "That thing's gonna be too small to cover even a quarter of that tank soon!"

In spite of all that had happened, and the fear of what more was to come, Mark felt his dick start to get hard again. He tried to will it back down (which shouldn't have been hard) but the more he did, the more aware he became of Bobby's hands on his belly as they worked the jersey's hem so it at least sat straight across its rounded underside for the beginning of the shoot. His jock and football pants now felt almost as tight as the jersey did, which of course, Steve noticed…

"I think our ball-bellied star's starting to like this, don't you, Bobby?"

"I think so!" The non-bellied stud agreed as he moved his left hand down and gave Mark's engorged dick a quick, not so gentle squeeze.

"We'll certainly have to try and use that to our advantage as we fatten him up some more!" Steve grinned as he moved behind the camera. "Ready, and action!"

***

Mark's day was full, in more ways than one. If it hadn't already been evident Steve was serious, it sure was now. This production wasn't going to be a "one and done" like all the others the now pregnant man had shot in the past. No, this was going to take time to complete. More time than just the usual few hours, along with a lot of food…

For four hours straight, he was stuffed relentlessly till Steve yelled "Cut!" so he and Bobby could break for lunch. He'd only had to shout at Mark's onscreen babies' daddy once the entire morning, Bobby having really gotten a sense for the "caring" and "nurturing" aspects of his role. He'd gotten them down so well, Steve had simply shouted a suggestion at him: that he be "more seductive" with them as he shoved hotdog after hotdog down Mark's throat into his seemingly bottomless stomach.

As Bobby changed back into his street clothes so he and Steve could go grab a bite themselves, Mark almost puked as he listened to them talk about what they were going to have. He never wanted or needed to eat again, but knew that in roughly an hour, he'd have no choice. It was a real challenge, but he managed to keep everything down, knowing if he didn't, it would only make things worse.

For a moment, Mark found himself glad his "training" had allowed him to be so stuffed with so much without bursting, but only for a second as he reminded himself that was also why he was here… While Bobby had figured out when to switch between breaded wieners to pumping more creamy milkshake into him, not only to make the most out of Mark's "stretch," but also to give his jaw a break, because the tube the shake was pumped into him from went more than halfway down his throat, it and the doubly pregnant stud's mouth had gotten incredibly dry.

Mark was about to call out and ask for something to drink before he was left alone, but just before he did, his overpacked gut gave an ominous sounding groan and he smartly decided he could do without. He spent his "lunch break" moaning, groaning and doing his best to breathe through the intense cramps coming from his overworked and overloaded stomach and intestines. Mark didn't realize it, but he was basically doing lamaze…

He'd just fallen into his most recent food-induced coma when he woke with a start, hearing laughter coming from the hall. Not bothering to lift his head, he turned it on the pillows and watched as Bobby and Steve returned to the set, closing the door behind them, the director with his arm around the muscle stud, the pair all chummy, all smiles.

"I really can't thank you enough for adjusting your schedule," he said to the younger man as he gave his broad, solid back an even more solid pat. "I know it's a big commitment from you, but I promise it'll be worth it."

"I hope you don't think I'm questioning your judgment," Bobby began with a shake of his head. "But do you really think so?" He asked before taking a big, voluntary sip from his milkshake. "You really think people are gonna be into this?"

Steve nodded. "I'm counting on it. Baking on it, actually…" he amended. "Not that any of the stuff I make is particularly cheap, but you wouldn't believe how much it's costing me to stuff this heifer!" He groaned as he gestured at Mark using the hand holding his own, reasonably sized milkshake.

"I'm sure!" Bobby shook his head. "Makes me glad I'm not really the babies' daddy so I don't have to be the one footing the food bill!"

Within fifteen minutes of their return, Bobby was back in his uniform, Steve was back behind the camera, and Mark was back to being stuffed again. This time, Bobby "treated" him to dessert, seductively feeding him (without it having been suggested this time) large, phallic-shaped, cream-filled eclairs, one after another, with barely a break in between. When he ran out of eclairs some two and a half dozen in, he moved on to cream puffs.

Even if it was basically more of the same just on a smaller scale, initially, the pregnant man was relieved. The puffs were easier to chew and swallow, but then Mark turned his head to the right and saw there were four, huge cake boxes filled with them and he went right back to feeling utterly defeated and like he was about to blow. Being the "loving and caring" babies' daddy he was, Bobby was quick to provide Mark with (much) more milkshake to "wash everything down…"

By the time he finished the fourth and thankfully, last box of puffs, the doubly pregnant stud was having a difficult time breathing. He may've thought he had, but he'd never actually been this stuffed in his life and knew that unfortunately, he would be again soon, if not even more. All Mark could do was hope it at least wouldn't be till the next day, after he'd had some much needed time to digest…

Presently, he couldn't even groan, leaving speaking not an option. Mark lay there, panting and sweating as he waited for what came next, praying it wouldn't be any more cream-filled baked goods or milkshake. After giving his belly (which he'd fully bared more than an hour ago) one last thorough rub which he followed up with a resounding series of pats, Bobby looked up from the massive sphere glistening with sweat, to Steve behind the camera, knowing the director would edit this part out.

"Anything else, boss man?" He asked.

Steve thought about it for a second, then shook his head. "We didn't get to the cookies, but I guess we can save 'em for tomorrow. Don't wanna push our luck too far!" He chuckled as he turned the camera off. "Got any plans this evening?" He asked Bobby as if they'd just finished a normal workday, not the deranged one they actually had.

"Shoveling all this food into Mark's got me hungry again! Even after my huge lunch, which big as it was, was tiny in comparison!" Bobby laughed. "So once we're done here, I'm gonna go grab something to eat, then hit up the gym."

"Watching you stuff him has me hungry again too!" The director laughed as he stood, stretched his arms over his head and approached, all things Mark wasn't presently able to do. "What were you thinking of having for dinner?" He asked Bobby as he came and stood on the other side of the prone, pregnant stud, set his left forearm down on his belly and leaned against it.

"OoooooOoooooh, fuuuuuuuuck!" Mark groaned at the added pressure before another massive belch flew from his mouth.

Steve and Bobby thought this was hilarious. As they laughed, they used their hands to rub, slap and press the sphere their combined efforts and money had caused to expand quite significantly over the course of the last nine hours. Even though he didn't have much choice about it, Mark still hated that he was stuck there panting, moaning and groaning. But even if his limbs hadn't been bound and he'd been free to move, he simply wouldn't have been able to. He hated even more when tears of anguish and agony began filling his eyes, threatening to spill.

"Aww, poor guy…" Steve mockingly cooed in his sweaty face as he gave his now literally, biggest star's bulbous middle another smack before pushing off of it (forcing out another groan) and turning to Bobby. "Ready to get outta here?" He asked him.

Though his eyes were clouded with pain, rage and tears, Mark was still able to see the (somewhat) concerned look Bobby directed at him before turning his attention back to Steve and asking, "So we're just gonna leave him here like this?"

Mark also saw the eye roll Steve gave as he waved Bobby off. "He'll be fine. Darnell will be here soon to deal with him. Mark's not our concern again until tomorrow. So, dinner?"

"What about it?"

"Would you like to go? My treat…" he offered the not pregnant, mobile stud.

"But you treated me to lunch," Bobby reminded.

"Yes, and..?"

"And well…" he continued. "I'm not usually one to turn down a free meal, but I know how much you're paying me, and you mentioned it's costing you a lot to blow Mark up, so…"

"So don't worry about it, Bobby boy!" The director shrugged as he walked around Mark and wrapped his left arm around "Bobby boy's" big shoulders again.

"OK, but…"

"If I'm not worried about, you don't have to be, but if it makes you feel better, you can consider tonight a business dinner," he said as he steered Bobby towards his street clothes he'd left over in the corner. "Now get dressed."

"But why would I consider it a business dinner?" Bobby, not the sharpest tool in the shed, questioned as standing in front of his clothes, he began to strip without hesitation.

"Simple…" Steve said as he watched the sexy jock change. "Because I'd like to talk about your career path."

"Is it changing?" Bobby asked as he worked his extra tight and small (but in all the best and right ways) t-shirt down and over his broad shoulders, bulging arms, and ripped torso.

"I'd like it to."

"Yeah..?" He asked as he shimmied off his football pants, leaving his jockstrap on.

"Very much so!" The director nodded. "I…"

"Sorry, but I dunno, Steve..?" Bobby cut him off with a sigh. "I believe in you and I'm onboard with this, but…" he trailed off in another sigh. "If what you have in mind for the future is more stuff like this, I…"

"No, that's not it," Steve replied, shaking his head as he kept his eyes intently focused on Bobby, watching the stud as he worked his skin-tight jeans up his thick calves, then up and over his even thicker thighs and ass. They were all thick with just muscle, not added fat.

"No?"

"No!" He reiterated with a small, forced laugh. "I won't be sure I'll do something like this again till I see how it pays off, so don't worry about that."

"If you tell me not to, I won't," Bobby shook his head.

"Thank you," Steve sighed. "The reason I'd like to take you to dinner is so that we can discuss you becoming Mark's replacement."

"Me?"

"Who else?!"

"Wow! Um, OK!" Bobby grinned. "Seriously?!"

"Yes!"

"But why?"

Everything else as he presently was, even Mark had to groan at Bobby's idiotic questions. For what had now come to be very obvious reasons, Mark saw the writing on the wall, so how and why didn't Bobby?! Was he that dumb? Apparently so. As such, for his sake, it was a good thing the idiot was so muscular and handsome…

"Because…" Steve replied slowly and deliberately, obviously trying to mask his frustration. "Mark won't be coming back after this."

"You mean after today?"

"No…" he sighed again as he forced himself to smile. "He'll be here tomorrow. What I mean is he's not coming back to being my hugely muscled and toned star jock. Get it?"

"I think so…"

"Well that's a start!" A now exasperated Steve replied. "So how does a nice, big juicy steak sound to you?" Be asked as they headed out, leaving Mark alone.

"Awesome!"

The whole point of Mark's plan had been to get fired. That hadn't happened yet, but he knew now whatever the case, Steve had no choice but to find someone else to "fill his jock" so to speak. That all being the case, why was he suddenly so upset about it?  Hormones, maybe? Whatever the reason, it certainly didn't help hearing he was going to be replaced by stupid Bobby…

Physically, the relative "up and comer" deserved the promotion. With a little more dedication, time spent at the gym and maybe some help from some steroids, Bobby could easily get in better shape than Mark had been. Aside from that though, the guy was a stupid piece of shit, just like their mutual director, but maybe that made them a match made in heaven? For his sake (not that he deserved it,) Mark hoped Bobby would learn from his mistake and not ever try to push his luck and mess with Steve.

This new development at least distracted him from some of the bloated discomfort he was experiencing. It gave Mark something else to think about, if only for a little. As he lay there, sweating, huffing, puffing and thinking, his thoughts moved on from Bobby to someone else… Darnell. Much to the pregnant man's own surprise, he found himself actually looking forward to his "babysitter's" arrival.

This was mostly due to the fact it meant he'd get to use the bathroom for the first time since that morning, and also get to take a shower for the first time in two days. But it was also because in a strange, admittedly demented kind of way, Mark sort of liked Darnell… Even though he was "playing for the other team," he was unquestionably the nicest member of the opposition. Obviously, it didn't take much to be better than Bobby or Steve but at the very least, the guard was the best of the worst and Mark definitely didn't mind the fact he was so easy on the eyes…

Said eyes already closed, he mentally pictured Darnell, who looked every bit a security guard one might find in a cliché, gay porno, naked. While his body was enviable and desirously bulky with muscle, it was nowhere near as cut as Bobby's currently was or Mark's had been. Incidentally, that was how the latter preferred his men.

If and when he had his pick (which he almost always did when he wasn't "working,") Mark liked guys with some meat on their bones. Extra even, and not just muscle, but to be clear: not to the degree or manner in which his body was coming to accumulate it. Steve may've thought he was onto something, but Mark (and Bobby to a reasonable degree) weren't so sure. Which of them ended up being right, remained to be determined.