Don't Mess With Steve

Don't Mess With Steve

By

Brimmingbelly04

*Author's Note: This story was originally based on the gainer fiction piece called "Dirk's New Debut" by Exjockfeeder. I changed it to an MPREG piece, originally titled,  "Untitled Story" then edited it to include a natural birth experience in "Don't Mess with Steve." This version has been quite heavily revised, so worth another read. As always, let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

"Hey, Steve," Mark said as he approached the director.

"Hey, good work today," Steve replied, not bothering to look up from his phone. He hadn't been able to stop looking at Mark not too long ago whereas now, he didn't have the time or interest.

"Thanks. Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"If it's about another raise, save your breath," he replied as he waved Mark off dismissively.

"It's not about that."

"Then what is it?" He asked with a sigh as he finally looked up, almost surprised to see Mark fully clothed after having seen him either just about or entirely naked for the last several hours.

"Could we go to your office where it's a little more private?" Mark requested, forcing himself to do so with as polite a smile as he could muster.

"No. In case you didn't notice, I'm busy running a business here, so talk here or make an appointment," Steve said as he returned his gaze to his phone.

This wasn't going how Mark had hoped, not that he really expected it to… He sighed and rolled his eyes as he looked around. There were still some people lingering around on set, but no one seemed to be in earshot so he decided to just go for it.

"I'm pregnant."

That got the director's attention. He stopped reading whatever he was on his phone, looked up at and stared at Mark for several silent seconds as he took in what he'd just said. Then he stood.

"Come with me," he said as he headed for his office.

Mark followed along. This was more what he'd been hoping for. Now he and Steve could have their conversation in private. Upon entering the office, the director walked behind his desk and rifled through the mess on top of it till he found what he was looking for.

"Go here," he said as he handed Mark the business card he'd found. "He'll get you taken care of."

Mark accepted the card out of instinct. He looked down at it to find the name, number and address of a doctor. He recognized the name from having talked with some other guys who'd gotten pregnant before. The doctor had "taken care of" them.

"Something else..?" Steve asked, sounding very much like he hoped there wasn't.

"I, um…" Mark hesitated. "Actually, I don't need this," he said, shaking his head as he handed the card back.

"What do you mean, you don't need it? Do you have a doctor you'd rather go to?" Steve rolled his eyes. "Fine… This guy gives me a deal, but if you wanna go to…"

"I'm not going to be going to anyone," Mark said. "I'm keeping the baby."

Steve huffed. "Why the hell would you wanna have a kid now? Shit… Do you even know who the other father is?"

"Well, no…" Mark admitted. "But I know who the possibilities are and I'm cool with them."

"But are they cool with this?"

"Doesn't matter if they are," he shrugged. "My body, my choice."

"You're being selfish… Maybe the hormones have already kicked in?" Steve huffed again. "Take the card, take a couple days to think about it, and then go do the right thing," he said as he tried to hand the card back.

Mark wouldn't take it. "I don't need the damn card and I don't need to think about it. I'm already doing the right thing."

"What if the right thing puts you out of a job?" The director countered. "How're you gonna afford to raise a kid then?"

"This isn't my only job," Mark reminded. He didn't realize it yet, but he'd just made a big mistake.

"Right, it isn't…" Steve cautiously replied, wheels turning in his head, now seeing where this conversation was going and trying to figure out how he could maintain control over it. "But it makes you good money. Really good money, paid under the table…"

"All true," the younger man had to admit. "But thanks to all the really good money, paid under the table, I've been able to save up enough to just work my real job and live comfortably while raising a baby."

"It won't always be a baby… It'll be a child, and they get expensive real fast, believe me, I know!" The director huffed again. "And you'll be financially and physically responsible for it for eighteen years!"

"Got it," Mark nodded. "I'll be good."

"Most pornstars don't come back to work once they have kids."

"I know."

"Would you?"

"No," he shook his head. "I wouldn't."

"But you could get back in shape… I'll make sure you do!" Steve offered. "You're what, twenty-eight?"

"Twenty-six," Mark corrected.

"Even better!" Steve grinned. "That'll make your recovery all the easier!"

"I'm done, Steve," the twenty-six year old firmly declared.

"Are you now?" The director raised his brows.

"Yes," Mark nodded. "Like right now. Today was my last shoot."

"It was? Why?"

"Um, because I'm pregnant?!"

"I can't tell yet," Steve shrugged.

"OK, yeah, not yet… But…"

"But nothing," he cut Mark off, waving him away again. "Now go. I'll see you at the next shoot in two weeks. Hopefully by then, you'll have come to your fucking senses!" He huffed.

"But…" Mark tried again.

"But fucking what, Mark?! Were you expecting me to just immediately say bye to my most popular star? Fat fucking chance!"

"Fuck you, Steve!" Mark yelled, causing the few people still around to turn and look in their direction. "I'm done!"

"Alright," the director nodded. "I just changed my mind. You can be done."

"Ser…"

"Just know I'm gonna make sure everyone at your real job finds out about the secret you've been keeping from them," he continued. "Everyone, including your boss, will find out you're a gay pornstar the second you walk out that door."

While he'd gotten this threat several times before, Mark had never had the nerve to fight back against it till now. "Please, Steve!" He begged. "You got two years and I don't even know how many films or scenes outta me! Can't you just find someone else?!"

"Oh, for sure!" Steve admitted with a chuckle. "But I still have plans for you, so if you're smart, you'll be back in two weeks, hopefully not pregnant, but if you still are, we'll… we'll figure something out," he shrugged. "If I don't see you, out comes your secret. Don't think it won't."

Mark couldn't take anymore and stormed off. It was possible he was already getting hormonal, but he was definitely furious with himself for having gotten into this situation. Furious for not going with his gut two years prior… His mind raced, angry thoughts of escape raging through his head as he left the set through the back door, squinting at the sudden burst of sun.

As he hoisted his duffle onto his broad shoulder, Mark recalled how fun he used to consider what he did on the side and under the table, but not any more. "I'm not showing next time!" He fumed as he stormed towards his car. "Fuck Steve and his fucking threats!" He muttered, even though he already knew he'd find himself back under the director's gaze in two weeks, once again doing his bidding.

As he stomped through the parking lot, he barely noticed the security guard eyeing him up and down. He barely noticed the guy at all, he was so pissed. If he had, he would've noticed the new guard was a hunk. Someone he'd like to shoot a scene with, if he wanted to anymore, which he didn't. Mark also didn't notice his beef-cake reflection in the window as he stood next to his car, digging through his tight pockets for his keys, too upset to remember all he had to do was grab the door handle to unlock it.

Had he taken a moment to take his reflection in, he would've seen one of another hunk, this one 6'3" tall, with a masculine, square jaw. His hair, blonde and thick, was neatly cropped on the sides, longer on the top, framing his stubbled, ruggedly handsome face. In short, Mark would've seen the reflection of the archetypal, all-American stud.

His solid neck flowed into his thick shoulders, so bulky with muscle, it looked like he had pads on under his faded football jersey. Years of playing football followed by devotedly working out, had kept his body in perfect tune. Mark's pecs rounded out nicely, two big and pronounced bulges that yanked at the "8" in the center of his old jersey. His biceps, each the size of softballs, tugged at the striped bands at the end of the sleeves as he shoved his left hand from pocket to pocket. Doing so pushed the waistband of his tight jeans below the hard bow of his stomach.

Despite his best efforts, Mark had never had a totally flat midsection. He was religious with his sit-ups and he had the firm, visible abs to prove it, but the arch in his back leading down to the big, meaty ass he sometimes took cocks in (obviously,) made his abdomen jut somewhat forward, from the base of his pecs to the tapered V of his hips. Mark's long, powerful legs moved from side to side as he continued his search, bobbling his butt in a way so delicious, the security guard couldn't help but keep staring at it.

Understandably so though as Mark was the image of most guys' fantasies, gay or straight. Everywhere he went, men couldn't help but stare, straight ones wanting to be him, gays wanting to be with him. Mark was the type of guy one would conjure up when playing that cliché, football jock sex fantasy in their head. The type of guy you'd expect to see in correspondingly stereotypical gay porn. As such, it made sense that Mark was in fact, that very guy. A big, buff, "macho" jock one would watch while getting their rocks off with their hand or while having sex, as he did the same on screen.

Two years ago, he'd been new to the city and in increasingly desperate need of finding a job after the offer that caused him to move suddenly fell through. Left with a lot of free time on his hands between filling out job applications and going to interviews, Mark got into an even more extensive gym routine as he tried to keep himself from thinking and/or worrying about the dwindling funds in his checking account. During his job search, Mark treated going to the gym like it was his job, rapidly adding muscle mass to the point he was soon bigger, thicker and harder than he'd been at his playing prime.

A few fruitless weeks into his search, an increasingly desperate and depressed Mark went to a cheap bar, where he started knocking back accordingly priced beers. Cheap as they were, he really shouldn't have kept buying them as he really didn't have the extra money to, but his outing proved serendipitous when several brews in, he was approached by a guy who said he was a modeling agent and that Mark had just the look he was well, looking for.

By then, Mark was buzzed, but not so drunk as to not notice the guy was being pretty vague when it came down to what sort of "modeling" he thought he'd be perfect for. The agent claimed the pay would be great and the work fun, stressing the fact he'd hardly consider it "work" at all. Before leaving Mark to think about it, he handed him his card and told him to reach out if he was interested.

An hour and a few beers later, Mark was sending the guy an email saying he was as he stumbled home. When the agent replied and told him he'd have to go get an STD test at a specific clinic, he was all but sure he'd be "modeling" in a porno. Having never had it for money before, Mark found himself agreeing with the agent that this would hardly be "work," but while it would earn him a quick and easy buck, was doing porn the answer?

Admittedly, no. At the very least, he immediately realized that, but if it got him through this tough spot without him having to call his parents to bail him out, maybe it was? After giving doing so a little more thought, Mark went and got tested, then emailed the clean results to the agent and waited to hear back, still on the fence as to whether he'd go through with everything or not, but feeling increasingly adventurous and curious, to say nothing of his also increasingly dire straits.

When he got to the studio, he expected to be put to "work" right away, but as with any new job, there was paperwork and formalities to attend to first. As he filled out form after form, Mark listened as the studio's main director, a guy named Steve, talked about the industry and what Mark was there to do. While the would-be "model" listened, nothing Steve said was too interesting or surprising since it really didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the ins and outs of making porn.

What finally really got his attention was when Steve told him how much he'd make off agreeing to one flick. Mark's eyes bulged as a sense of relief washed over him. Agreeing to shoot just one film, which Steve promised would only take a few hours, would get him nicely through another month. It could get him through two if he was tight with his funds… The director guaranteed the sex to be safe and introduced Mark to his potential co-star.

The guy was hot as hell, and not having to worry about safety was good too, as was the simple fact he'd be having sex, but it was the money that convinced Mark. As soon as Steve in a rather roundabout way let it be known he'd be getting paid for his "work" under the table, Mark hurried through the rest of the paperwork, suddenly very eager to get to it.

He felt a little anxious again as he was getting ready for his first, first scene. While the money would be good, he'd forever be immortalized naked and fucking onscreen (potentially, many of them,) which was more than a bit unnerving. Enough so that Mark had to talk himself back into doing so by reasoning no one he knew would probably ever see the flick. He'd watched a lot of porn himself and he'd never heard of this studio before (not that he cared about or paid much attention to who made what,) nor did he recognize his sexy co-star from anything he'd seen, so what could be the damage? The benefit simply outweighed the risk..

Soon following its release, Mark's first film turned out to be a hit. Even though he'd never seen and/or jerked off to him before, apparently, his sexy co-star had a loyal following and all of a sudden, he, the newbie, was getting just as much fan support. Mark credited his "success" to not being just a "gym queen," but someone who'd actually played football and been a (closeted, at the time) gay jock in real life. Not long after the film's release, he got the call he'd already been expecting from Steve, asking if he'd be interested in doing another?

Fun as shooting his first had been, and hot as it was to think about guys getting off watching him "in action," Mark wanted to say no, but he couldn't. By then, almost two months had passed since he'd transferred Steve's Venom payment to his account and he'd only landed a couple temporary "real" jobs and was therefore once again about to struggle making ends meet. Sensing his newest, immediately popular star's hesitation, the director sweetened the deal by offering to almost double Mark's compensation and agreeing to foot the bill for his gum membership for a year.

He readily agreed, but how couldn't he? One more film couldn't do any more harm, right?

Ultimately, wrong… Before he knew what or how it'd happened, what was supposed to have been a two time thing, morphed into a regular one that had gone on for two years and he was over it. He had been for some time…

Steve put him in the same role, only altering sexual roles from time to time, again and again and again. Almost always, Mark played the straight-appearing, beefcake jock, who (shocker,) turned out to be into other men. The big, cocky jock that strutted around, showing off his meaty, muscular body, supposedly unaware of its effect on the other guys in the scene, at least until he stripped out of one type of uniform or another and started getting it on (usually, in a locker room setting) with some cute, typically twinkish, "stunned" jock groupie.

But it was old and boring now. Even before finding out he was pregnant, Mark wanted out. Yes, it had been fun and easy "work that got him through a tough spot and then some, but it had to stop. Not only did he have a successful "real" job now, he was going to be a dad, even if he couldn't be sure who the other father was and would be raising the baby on his own. He could do it. He wanted to, but not while still making porn.

But every time he worked up the nerve to tell Steve he quit, the director would threaten to expose him. Further complicating matters, Mark suspected the director had the hots for him, but he knew there had to be a way out without getting exposed, he just didn't know what it was? Somehow, he needed to make Steve lose interest in him, personally and financially… For him to consider him a losing proposition. Problem was, Mark was hot at shit and only in his mid-twenties, so becoming "undesirable" or aging out didn't seem to be options, but him having gotten pregnant might be…

He'd always known he wanted to be a dad someday, but not necessarily now or under these circumstances. That being said, "bloating out" of the industry he'd been trapped in seemed his best option. Really, it was Mark's only option, so he decided not only to stay pregnant, but keep the baby he couldn't be a hundred percent sure of who else had fathered. He thought that once he told Steve, the director would cut him loose, because who wants to see a pregnant pornstar, right? Maybe some people did, but even of those few, how many of them would be able to get their rocks off if they knew Mark was actually going to be a father? True, they never really would, but to him at least, it made his condition all the more unsexy, didn't it?

Wrong. Well, at least for now… How many more films was he going to have to make?! As much as he was dying to walk away, he knew he couldn't if Steve went through with his threats and exposed him to the corporate world. While a few guys he knew had probably seen his "side work," they'd kept it to themselves if they had.

Furious his plan hadn't gone accordingly, Mark tore out of the parking lot. He sped home on autopilot, finally snapping out of it when he nearly slammed into the back of the car in front of him. Shaking his head, he looked to his right and saw he was in front of the grocery store, the sight of which instantly made his stomach grumble as he hadn't eaten all day. More aware of his surroundings now, Mark carefully switched lanes and turned into the lot to grab something to eat.

After parking and getting a cart, his mind went back to hatching up another way out since his first had failed. As he steered through the produce section absorbed in his own thoughts, the distracted, newly pregnant (but not visibly yet, as Steve had been so quick to point out) stud's cart suddenly bumped back into him despite him still trying to push it forward…

Looking up, Mark saw he'd bumped into someone. More accurately, he'd shoved his cart right into some guy's belly! His very pregnant one… His eyes bulged as he profusely apologized, trying not to stare but unable to stop, the guy's belly was that big.

It looked like someone had inflated one of those giant beach balls inside him! As Mark took his eyes from the massively protruding belly and raised them higher, he realized the guy was hot. Really fucking hot… He had a great face and nice frame (belly aside) complete with muscles that rivaled his own. Had it not been for that huge belly and correspondingly sized tits, he would've caught any guy's eye. The more Mark stared, taking all of him in, the more he saw how studly the guy would be if he wasn't knocked up. Almost every head would turn the way they did when he walked (not waddled) by.

When the otherwise handsome man smirked and cleared his throat, Mark snapped out of it, apologizing again as he steered his cart wide around his belly. After clearing it and turning to see the guy waddle away like a duck, he came to the sudden realization that (most) guys would stop looking at him (in a sexual manner, anyway) once he had a belly, bringing him to another abrupt stop but this time, thankfully not involving a collision.

Was that it? It probably was, because who the hell would wanna see a "football jock" knocked up, with big tits and a huge pregnant belly in a porno, right?!

A few extra, extra pounds around the middle and Steve would have no choice but to fire him! Mark had always been able to eat like a horse so he could quickly and easily make that happen. He'd have to cut back on all the workouts to curtail his actual caloric needs for the time being, but he was OK with that. He only worked out as much as he did to keep "camera and fantasy ready" anyway, so if he stopped and started eating a little more than he already did, the pounds would probably quickly pile on, resulting in the canning he'd been hoping for.

It was a beautifully simple idea. He'd be freed, unable to be blackmailed. Yeah, he'd have to worry about losing the extra, extra weight after he had the baby, which could prove a challenge, but still… What an easy solution with just about guaranteed results!

Over the course of the next hour, Mark wheeled his increasingly overloaded cart up and down each and every aisle in the store. By the time he was ready to checkout, his haul had spilled over into two hand baskets as well, having picked out enough to feed an entire one of the football teams he'd previously played on.

"Geez!" The cashier exclaimed. "Throwing a big party?" He asked as he sent item after item across his scanner, including several frozen pizzas, bags of chips and fries, pints of ice cream, frozen pasta dishes, and various buckets and containers of remade food from the deli, along with plenty of desserts from the bakery, finally followed by a few gallons of whole milk.

Mark gave a nonchalant shrug as he helped the guy bag. "Just realized the kitchen was pretty cleaned out."

"All this is enough to fill a couple kitchens, bud!" The cashier said with a shake of his head.

"Nah… It's not that much," Mark replied with a shrug before asking, "Is it..?"

"Yes, it is!"

"Then perfect…"

***

Mark sighed in relief as he locked the door behind him, having just made the last of the six trips from his car to the kitchen. It went without saying that now,each and every cabinet in the pantry, and every shelf the fridge and freezer had to offer, were all filled to capacity. It was Friday night and Monday was a Federal holiday, so Mark had a long weekend ahead of him, with no plans other than to get his "project" off to as good a start as possible…

After unloading the last of the groceries, he headed for his bedroom, where he stripped down to his briefs, tossing everything else into the hamper in his closet as he entered. Hands freed, he reached for a clean shirt, then paused to look at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of the door.

Mark squared himself in front of it and then took a long, hard look at himself. Not yet "showing," he couldn't help but think he looked good, which made what he had to do next all the more difficult and unnerving. He reminded himself yet again that he'd never been a skinny guy… Always big and beefy, which had suited him and others quite well till now… Now, he had to get himself bigger and beefier. Too much so.

He turned to the side in front of the mirror and ran his right hand from the top of his already naturally curved abdomen, just under his pecs, down to his navel. Holding it there, he took in a deep breath and held that as well as he pushed out his middle as much as he could, simultaneously arching his back to accentuate the effect. With a satisfied grunt and reaffirming nod, he told himself aloud that, "With a paunch like this: baby plus some extra fat… Steve will can me the second I walk onto that lousy set next time!"

Mark put on the shirt and headed for the bathroom. Just as he was about to enter, he doubled back some and grabbed the scale out of the linen closet in the hall. He set it down on the floor and waited for it to start before climbing on. Mark weighed in at a beefy 235 lbs.

"Break 250 and I'll be set free!" He grinned. "Easy as cake, pie and ice cream!"

Feeling good about his goal, Mark went to the kitchen and set to work. Thinking about the shoot he had to be at in less than ten days, he tore open a bag of chips and started shoving them into his mouth.  He didn't bother sitting, just stood there in front of the counter, powering through all the groceries in front of him. Mark wished he could have a beer to quench his salt induced thirst but since he couldn't, he opted for whole chocolate milk to wash everything down instead.

He stuffed himself like he never had before. After an intense thirty minutes, he'd finished off a bag and a half of chips, loaded with sour cream dip, a loaf of bread and two-thirds of a giant can of nuts as he waited for the pan of frozen lasagna to finish cooking. When the timer finally went off, Mark let out a grunt as he leaned forward and braced himself on his thighs. He was already uncomfortably full. So full that he wanted to stop but knew he couldn't.

His belly was poking out a little more from the quick, intense feeding, but not as much as he hoped. Mark reminded himself he'd always been able to eat, so he just had to push himself. Treat eating like he did the gym, which he wouldn't be hitting again till after the shoot, just to be safe.

Taking in a deep breath, he pulled the lasagna from the oven, set it on top and let it cool for a few minutes before digging in right out of the pan. Mark felt his t-shirt start clinging to him and his usually loose pants feeling less baggy around the waist. The further he got into the lasagna, the more he slowed, feeling bloated and increasingly lethargic, but he kept on going, taking big gulps of chocolate milk between every bite.

It soon reached the point where he had to take in deep, deliberate breaths through his flared nostrils. Mark shifted, trying to ease the growing pressure in his stuffed stomach as he shoved forkful after forkful of pasta into his mouth. His jaw ached from chewing, not used to being put through such a workout.

Mark started to get nauseous and his stomach felt ready to burst from being stuffed so full, so fast. He looked at the nearly empty pan and decided he could finish it off in four more (big) bites, then he'd call it a day.

One. Gulp. Two. Ugh… Much more slowly, three. Huge, strained inhale, and four.

The last bite was so big his cheeks bloated to the point he could barely close his mouth. Between the stuffed feeling in his belly and the massive wad of pasta and cheese in his mouth, Mark could hardly chew. After several hard gulps, he swallowed the last of the lasagna and let his head drop to his forearm on the stove. Shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath, the overstuffed jock dragged one hand down to his bulging belly, gently pressing against its bloated curve to measure his success. He felt like a fucking moose.

Mark finally, slowly stood up straight, both hands on his belly as groaning, he slowly lumbered to his bedroom. He passed out fully dressed, shirt pulled as tight across his stomach as it usually did across his chest. When he woke the next morning, the first thing he did was look down at his stomach. As his vision focused, Mark expected to see his belly bulging as big as he'd gotten it the night before but while he'd slept, it'd gone down to nearly normal size.

Damn it. He'd been expecting more. His head fell back against the pillow as he groaned. This was going to take more than he thought but he still had nine more days. Mark could do this. He had to in order to get Steve off his case.

On Friday, he spent the entire day eating like a pig. He stuffed down a dozen donuts as he whipped up a huge batch of pancakes, all of which he ate slathered with gobs of butter and practically a gallon of syrup. After a quick break, Mark grabbed a bagel and ate that on his drive over to a nearby diner, where he ordered the biggest breakfast platter on the menu.

Somehow, he managed to eat the same way at lunch, even though hardly any time had passed since he'd finished breakfast. Mark hit up a burger joint and order three combo meals, forcing himself to eat and eat till there was nothing on the tray but empty wrappers and containers. After, he took a walk, his belly and sore jaw both needing a break. The good news was by then, his belly was jutting out further than ever, his swayed back further accentuating the bulge. His shirt feeling like a second skin, Mark found it a little difficult to breathe given all the pressure, his puffed out belly rocking slightly from side to side as he swaggered along at a slower than usual pace. He felt like he was about to burst.

Having never been so stuffed, Mark was now hyper aware of the bounce emanating from his belly. He placed his right hand on the point where the bulge began and uncomfortable as he was, he was glad all the eating was finally starting to do the trick. After his walk, Mark headed for another burger joint for a second lunch, feeling oddly satisfied with himself as he did.

Come Monday morning, the belly was really starting to stick. For the first couple days, no matter how much he crammed into it, it'd eased back to close to its normal size by the morning. But on Monday, as he stood in front of the mirror, he was sure he could see a noticeable bulge, but it still wasn't enough. Not nearly… He had to keep pushing through.

Only six more days till the shoot, and he needed to make sure he was fat enough to get canned. Reaffirming his conviction, Mark ate and ate and ate for the rest of the week, determined to succeed.

Finally, Saturday rolled around, the day of the shoot. Nervously, Mark stepped on the scale he hadn't used since his initial weigh-in, worried the results wouldn't be what he hoped. But he'd done it. The scale measured him at 252 lbs. Mark was too fat to play the jock in any more (literal) fucking films, he was sure of it. Today was the day he was going to be set free!

To be sure his added girth was as pronounced as possible, Mark put on one of his tightest shirts. His jeans were quite a struggle to wriggle into, the 34" waistband now digging into his belly. It wasn't a good look, but that wasn't the point. The point was to highlight his bulging belly.

Thankfully, that's right where just about all of the pounds he'd packed on hit. Mark's mood brightened as headed for his car despite feeling heavy and like he looked ridiculous. He was sure his bigger belly would not only get him kicked off that day's roster, but fired from the studio, no longer of use to Steve.

As he lumbered inside, Mark made sure to throw his shoulders back and really puff up his gut as much as he could. He came to a stop in front of the director and jammed the left thumb into one of the belt loops of his jeans, pulling them down a little further under his belly, giving it more space to stick out. Mark brought his right hand to his belly and rubbed the front of it as he casually greeted Steve.

The director looked up from his phone just long enough to snap at him. "There you are. You're ten minutes late! Go get changed and be quick about it. We need to get this thing going."

Mark's face fell, as did both of his hands to his sides. "Are you sure? I mean, what do I have to wear today?"

"Why does that matter?" Steve asked as he typed away on his screen.

"'Cause I'm not feelin' the hottest and I…"

"I don't care how you feel, what I care about is wasting time, which you're doing! Time is money, so move that jock ass and go get ready!"

"But, I…"

"But nothing, Mark! Fucking get going!" Steve shouted, looking up at him again but not saying anything about him being almost 20 lbs heavier.

Mark's face went red as he stomped away. How much fucking weight would he need to pack on to get out of this shit?! Fuck! To his complete amazement and frustration, the entire shoot went like normal. Mark thought he saw a few eyebrows raise when he poked his belly out all he could as he fucked some twink, but no one said anything. He went through all the motions, finished the shoot and then put on his now too tight clothes without bothering to shower.

As he passed by the director, he grumbled at him to  send him the money soon. He was just about to the door when Steve called after him.

"Hey, Marky-boy! Lay off that chow! Don't want that gut of yours gettin' outta control just yet! Remember, you're grade-A beef, not pork! I can get another few flicks outta you!"

Mark was too pissed to reply. But happy too that his plan had actually worked, or at least it was starting to… He'd been so sure he'd already gotten his belly big enough, but apparently it still needed to be a little bigger. He really didn't wanna keep up this exhausting and expensive, binge eating marathon, but it was the only way he could think to finally get out of the business.

Just a few more pounds…

This time, he had an entire month till he was due to film again. So even if it gave him a heart attack or diabetes in the process, he was going to keep eating himself right out of his jock body and into a big, fat, pregnant one. Steve's warning proved his was on the right track, just not far enough along it.

Maybe 275 would do the trick? That would bring Mark's rapid weight gain to over 40 lbs, a number he wasn't exactly comfortable with, but he'd eventually gain that much over the course of the pregnancy anyway, right? He reasoned he'd just have to be much more mindful going forward, but not yet. For now, he stuffed more of the food he'd just picked up at the McDonald's drive-thru as he headed home.

"Sorry, Steve-o," Mark said through his mouthful. "This jock's not layin' off the chow any time soon! He's gettin' out!"