-Part 1 can be found here:https://www.dimensionsmagazine.com/threads/big-shot-bhm-wg-stuffing.125763/
BHM, Stuffing. Isaiah Resnik and Liam McAllister try to survive awards season. A sequel to Big Shot.
By Shh! Don’t tell!
By Shh! Don’t tell!
So, you have an anger management problem. You might even be starting to become angry reading this pamphlet.
Ugh, thought Isaiah, tossing aside the self help pamphlet he’d descreetly picked up the previous day. What a load of crap. He sat for a moment, arms crossed over his chest, before remembering all the times he’d exploded at people he actually liked for no good reason. He picked up the patronizing pamphlet again and flipped through it, looking for something helpful.
Often, excessive anger can disguise other emotions, like sadness or fear. When you feel angry, ask yourself-what am I really feeling?
Oof. That was a little much to deal with.
“Garbage,” mumbled Isaiah as he got up to go meet Liam at Columbia.
“So,” said Liam, pacing the front of his lecture hall. “Does anyone have any questions about the role of seduction in the narrative?”
“I have a question,” someone yelled from the back of the room. “When are you going to let these kids go enjoy their Friday afternoon?”
Liam crossed his arms, grinning. “Excuse me, sir, I don’t believe you’re enrolled here.”
Students chuckled. A few turned to stare at Isaiah, who was leaning against the doorway.
“Is that...” Someone whispered.
“We are actually out of time,” Liam conceded, glancing at the clock. “Alright. See you all next week.”
The students filed out.
“You know,” said Liam, as Isaiah walked down the stairs towards him. “You can’t keep interrupting my classes.”
Isaiah smiled mischievously. “Sorry,” he said, not looking entirely sorry. “God, you make one hot professor. All these college kids must be drooling over you.”
“No, they’re not.”
“Sure,” said Isaiah. “They’re not attracted to the young, tall, hot, incredibly successful guy teaching their creative writing class. Get real. Half the class wants to bang you.”
“You’re projecting. How was your day?” Liam asked as they walked out into the snowy campus.
“It was good. I did some reading.” Isaiah brushed his sleek dark hair out of his face. It was getting long and looked fantastically thick. “I did some photography out our window. People walking outside in the snow. I’m trying not to be too nervous about tomorrow.”
Tomorrow was the day that the Oscar nominees would be announced and Isaiah had been jittery over it for days on end. Liam had woken up in the middle of the night earlier that week to find him staring out the window like a moody byronic hero. Poor silly, sweet, dramatic, man.
“Don’t be nervous,” Liam said. “Everything will be fine.”
“You’ve never lived through an award season before. It can get really ugly. You’ll understand, soon.”
“Uh-huh,” said Liam, covertly scooping up a handful of snow and pressing it into a snowball.
“It’s war. People get-hey!” Liam had thrown his snowball. It hit Isaiah in his belly, which was an unfairly large target. “You asshole!” Isaiah scooped up a loose handful of snow and flung it at Liam, who laughed and ran. “I’ll get you for that. When you least expect it!”
“Oh, I’m terrified.”
The pair made their way to the diner near campus, where they had been eating dinner after Liam’s classes. Isaiah announced that he was starving because he’d only had a roast beef sandwich and chips for lunch and nothing since then.
“Can’t have that,” Liam growled, giving Isaiah’s gut a casual slap. It felt heavy and solid, not particularly empty, but not at full capacity. “Let’s get you some food.”
Isaiah got a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a side of onion rings. Liam got a modest sandwich with fries and added another side of loaded potato skins for Isaiah. He watched with pleasure as Isaiah chowed down. His weight gain had slowed significantly over the past month, but he was still overeating and slowly but surely getting fatter. As Liam watched, Isaiah finished off the onion rings, after having already demolished the burger and fries. He stifled a belch and wiped his greasy lips with a napkin.
“I’m full,” he remarked, as he moved on to the potato skins. He winked at Liam. Flirty bastard.
“Will you come to the anthropology exhibit at the campus museum?” Liam asked. It had come to Liam’s attention that his director-roommate-boyfriend was not particularly well-educated, so he’d taken it upon himself to bring him to museums and send him to lectures. Isaiah, who’d hated school as a child and teenager, actually enjoyed learning without the pressure of schoolwork or the distraction of the bad things, that Liam knew existed but did not dare probe into, that had plagued his childhood. “My old adviser helped organize it and it’ll probably help distract you from the nominations.”
Isaiah nodded, his mouth full of potatoes. After he finished his dinner, some of Liam’s fries and a slice of apple pie a la mode, they trudged back across campus to the museum.
“Weird!” said Isaiah, looking at an ancient figurine with spike-like nipples. “Where’s this from?”
“West Africa,” said a grey haired man. “Hello, Liam!”
“Hi, Jack!” said Liam enthusiastically. “Isaiah, this is Jack Leary. He was my adviser when I was an undergrad.”
“Hello, Isaiah,” said Leary. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Isaiah shook Leary’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Some movie you two put out,” Leary said. “It’s just like Liam to get really successful, then come back and teach anyway.”
“He’s so modest,” agreed Isaiah.
“Stop it,” said Liam, blushing furiously.
“What’s that over there?” Isaiah asked, pointing to a wall of photos.
“Oh, that’s female body modification rituals in a variety of cultures. Here’s a Padung woman with an elongated neck-they do it to protect themselves from enslavement. And this one is quite abusive and grostesque- force-feeding for male sexual pleasure-“
“What?” said Isaiah, his eyes going as wide as saucers as he took in the images of several obese young women.
“In certain parts of Africa. Here’s a woman from Morocco. And here’s a Tunisian woman.”
“Huh,” said Isaiah. “Huh.” Liam nudged him in the side.
“Well,” said Liam, later, as they walked into the apartment. “That was enlightening.”
“It was!” Isaiah took off his puffy winter coat revealing his puffy fat body underneath it. “There’s a whole world of perverts like us out there. I wonder how many other men like getting fat and not just watching women get fat.” He turned to Liam. “Do you like fat women, too?”
“Um. Yes. Sometimes. I prefer fat men.”
“Interesting,” said Isaiah. He flopped down on the bed. “Ugh. I’m still nervous about the nominations.” Liam walked over and sat down next to him, rubbing soothing circles on his belly. It was tight, round, packed with food. “Mmm,” Isaiah sighed. “Oh. That’s nice.”
“The nominations will be fine,” Liam soothed. “It’ll be fine.” He freed Isaiah’s cock from his pants, marveling at the way his belly looked mountainous from below and how the little pillow of fat above his shaft had gotten just a little larger since their first time. “Mm. Look at you. Getting so big and round.”
“I’d probably be popular in Turkey. Or what was it? It wasn’t Turkey. Micronesia? Oh, yes, baby, just like that.” Liam rubbed Isaiah’s belly worshipfully as he sucked his cock.
Isaiah woke up at four in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. He tossed and turned. He paced. He brushed his teeth. At six, he made himself tea. At seven, he put some coffee on for Liam and made some toast, slathering on massive quantities of butter. Shortly after that, he gently shook Liam, who looked incredibly beautiful in sleep, awake.
“Psst,” Isaiah whispered. “Liam. The broadcast starts soon. Get up. I made you coffee.”
Liam dragged himself out of bed and joined Isaiah in front of the television. The announcer was beginning, listing names, so many names. For a long time, they waited through the endless listings of celebrities and unknown strangers.
“Jack Simmons,” the announcer said, and Liam sat up straight. Isaiah nodded, sipping tea.
“Evelyn Weiss,” she said.
“Evelyn!” Liam said. Isaiah grinned like an idiot.
“Liam McAllister,” she said and Isaiah all but tackled him, knocking him over on the couch.
She listed directors off. “Fredrick De Luca. Sam Rosenthal. Isaiah Resnik.”
Liam whooped and pulled Isaiah close.
“Call your mom,” Isaiah whispered. “Go do it.”
“Yes,” said Liam. “I will.”
“Jesus.” Isaiah shook his head. “It’s fucking awards season.”
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