Fast Food Rep, part 1 (Patreon)

- Story written by DeltaC - 

i. 

Perlman: O’Grady!  In my office…NOW!!!

O’Grady: Whoa Perlman ever heard of using your inside voice? What the heck has your shining dome spinning like a disco ball? 

Perlman: Cut the bullshit I don’t want to hear it! Not now!  Mind explaining what I am looking at here? 

O’Grady: Huh? This is how you treat your Exec VP of Marketing? You really need to mind that tone. I’ll let it slide for now…

Perlman: Hey hot shot, for once can you just stop running your mouth, and for the love of god just answer my question!

O’Grady: Fine. You really aren’t much fun until you have that first swig of brandy. 

Perlman: Get on with it. I am not getting any younger…

O’Grady: Perlman, buddy of mine, what we have here is our next marketing hit. I mean this here baby is going to go viral. Just look at that charming face and electrifying smile. This here is the face that will launch a thousand motorized scooters scooting into the double wide seating of our clients fine eateries across the nation. And not only that…

Perlman: Hard stop. Did you really go off script again? You were specifically instructed to stay on script. YOU were told to get an all American corn fed fat boy for this commercial. I am pretty damn sure I told YOU to get a guy with a dad bod borderline FAT. Why the fu..

O’Grady: Let me stop you there Perlman, buddy. Have I ever led you astray with any of my past decisions? How many times have I saved this ad agency from losing a single client? Come on Matty. Trust your golden goose here. 

Perlman: Are you kidding me?! Not only have you gone off script but from the looks of it you didn’t even bother to get a professional model. Did you really pick out your fitness obsessed husband for this? 

O’Grady: Matty you know that our viewers don’t want to see themselves on screen; they want to see an idealized version of themselves on screen. They’ll eat and buy anything we want so long as the right face is selling it to them. Besides, he is cute if I do say so myself. 

Perlman: God dammit John! Here is the bottom line. Either your husband there gains enough weight to pass as a fat guy for this commercial or we are going the dad bod route. And by the looks of it your husband there won’t cut it as a dad. So, either he gets fat enough for this gig or you better start memorizing the script because you’ll be starring in the commercial. So, if I were you I’d put that raise you got last year to good use, fatten up that husband of yours or start investing in some big and tall clothing for yourself. 

Golden goose? More like a golden cow. Hahaha!!!

Take this as a learning experience John. Don’t fuck with me. You don’t have the weight around here to pull this kind of shit. Well maybe you’ll have the weight soon enough. 

Oh and one last thing you better get used to a well rounded husband in the bedroom. From what I hear, more cushion for the pushin is always much more fun. 

***

O’Grady: Fuck fuck fuck! 

Client requirements: 

Male: 6’0” + height

Weight: 300 lbs minimum with a top weight of 500 lbs. Maximum weight is negotiable.*

Sopkeman is to demonstrate weight gain as the project progresses.

If the chosen spokesman is unable to meet minimum metrics a substitute MUST be found immediately. 

*If the spokesman meets and exceeds maximum set weight he shall be given a personal fitness instructor to lose weight. Of course, if the model opts out of fitness instructor he may be compensated handsomely with an annual allowance for clothing and food.

***

Oh Christ there has to be a way out! There is no way I’m letting Steve gain weight. And there is no way in HELL I am going to replace Steve in the commercial. What kind of script is this? What company would even want a fat spokesperson purposely gaining weight! It has never been seen. 

Steve: Hey John are you okay? 

John: Yikes! Don’t sneak up on me. 

Steve: Haha since when can I sneak up on you? Anywho, I can hear you cursing from the bedroom. Are you planning on coming to bed anytime soon? 

John: Yes of course I’ll be right in babe. 

*oh god how am I going to break it to him. He doesn’t deserve to pay for my fuck up.*

Steve: Come on John. Put that paperwork down and let’s have some fun in the bedroom to help you unwind. If you’re lucky I’ll give you a back massage afterwards. 

John: Awww you spoil me you know that right? 

Steve: I know I do. Not as much as you spoil me though. I still can’t believe you want me to star in this commercial of yours. You know I have zero background in acting. I mean I am flattered and you know I will give it my all. 

**Oh god my heart just dropped. I have to tell him. What is he going to say? How is he going to react? He’ll never forgive me. Everything is fucked** 

Hey Earth to John! Are you listening? Come on, let's get you to bed. 

John: Oh, oh right there. Stay on that spot. A little bit to the right…okay lower lower. Oh god yes! My lower back has been killing me. Steve, you got some magic fingers there. It’ll be a shame you’ll lose so much strength after this gig is over…

Steve: Huh? 

John: …shit…ahhh…a little higher? 

Steve:  Babe, what did you mean that’ll it be a shame I’ll lose strength after the gig is over? 

John: Nothing. Nothing. You know me, I speak nonsense when I’m stressed and under the spell of those strong fingers…come on keep rubbing my back. 

Steve: Yeah, I know you so well, and I know you start talking fast and enter executive VP mode trying to throw me off the scent. Plus your voice spikes and you get all defensive. Come on, spit it out. Baby, talk to me. 

John: YOU HAVE TO GET FAT FOR THIS GIG! I mean who the hell orders a commercial starring a fat guy getting FATTER! It makes no damn sense. And sure maybe I should have read through the entire contract. But come on, it read as a straightforward fast food commercial. And I can’t find a way out of this for either one of us…

Steve: Ummm come again? I need to get fat and continue to get even fatter. 

John: And that is only the half of it. If we can’t get you up to 300 lbs minimum I have to take your place in the commercial. I just can’t gain. I don’t want to be a whale. I just can’t…

**smoooch**

Steve? What are…why? Aren’t you pissed at me? I just fucked our lives. 

Steve: Shut up you big beautiful dork. We’ll sort it out in the morning. Now, I gave you a massage. The least you can do is go ahead and give junior a nice tug and make some love with me…you know before my big 300 lbs belly covers it up. 

*John blushes* 

Hey, you always did enjoy paying special attention to my bum. Just picture it three times wider and all the fun we’ll have. 

John: Steve…

Steve: John, baby, for tonight forget all your worries. Tomorrow is a new day. And hey I expect a big breakfast tomorrow. I'm eating for two now after all. Now pull yourself together and come and get it papi.