Chapter 1

Saroya Montenegro sighed.  She stood in the middle of her spacious living room, looking glumly at the wall-mounted poster from her first, and last, blockbuster.  She had played the action-heroine role, and played it well enough to pay for her large mansion. Saroya had been 22 when the film was shot, supposedly the next hot actress on the rise.

She studied her image in the poster – the dusky olive skin, straight deep black hair, striking green eyes.  Her non-surgically enhanced 36C’s had made her popular with the young-male viewership, and she was especially proud of her flat muscular abs, her tight round ass, and her toned slim legs.

 

Saroya looked down at her 27 year old body.  She still adhered to a very strict diet and vigorous workout regimen, still only carrying 120 pounds on her 5’8” frame.  It hadn’t helped her gain any more sizable roles, however. She had made a few guest appearances on various TV shows but was antsy for a return to the silver screen.

 

Damn those blonde bitches!

 

Saroya had the particular misfortune to have her own rise to fame overtaken by two extremely talented and beautiful actresses. Lauren Medvich and Summer Vitriggo had taken the film industry by storm, each possessing great beauty as well as once-in-a-generation acting talent.  As a result, Saroya had seen her offers wither and die.

 

Just then, her phone rang, interrupting her spiral down into despair.  She checked the caller ID – it was her agent Ruth.

 

“Yeah?”

 
“Really, a movie?!”

 

“Ohmygosh ohmygosh, the Neil Reynolds?!”

 

“……what do you mean, pregnant?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

� �

Saroya had gone on her first audition in months for a major movie role.  It was a film that was being directed and produced by the eccentric, reclusive, and rather mysterious Neil Reynolds.  Neil was rather youngish, only in his 30’s, but was regarded as a bit of a film prodigy.  Every two or three years he produced/directed a movie, and so far every single one was a smash hit.  The characters were forceful, the storylines were gripping, and the production was simply top notch.  Saroya knew that a role in a Neil Reynolds film would catapault her back into the upper echelon of young actresses.

 

Now she had been called back.  Saroya stood in front of a table, behind it sat Neil and several others involved in casting.  She tried not to stare at Neil’s right hand, he was missing half of the middle and ring fingers.  He was a rather short and unkempt man, and his gaze seemed to center on a location roughly two feet away from her right hip.

 

“We like you for the role of Samantha,” he muttered.  “Now we just have to know if you’ll commit.”

 

Saroya gulped.  “Y-yes, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

 

“Mr. Reynolds abhors the use of prosthetics in his films,” said a nasally blonde woman.  “Everything must be as authentic as possible.”

 

Saroya’s eyes widened.  Samantha was the main character of the movie, but she was supposed to be a heavily pregnant woman in late-19th century England . 

 

“You,” she paused to lick her lips, “you want me to be pregnant?”

Her question was met with condescending chuckles.

 

“No, no,” intoned the blonde woman, “that would be borderline unethical.  But you must be willing to gain a substantial amount of weight.”

 

Saroya’s breath caught in her throat.  She was torn, facing the horrible choice of losing her figure or her career.

 

What difference does it make? If I don’t get this role I may as well let myself get fat anyways since my career will be over.  Besides, lots of great actresses and actors gain weight for roles and then look great just a couple months later.  I can do that.

 

“I’ll do it,” she said.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 
The following Wednesday Saroya answered the knock at the front door.  On the step stood two people, her personal trainer and nutritionist for the next four months while she prepared for her role.

 

“Hi, I’m Ken,” the tall muscular man introduced himself. 

 

He wore his blonde hair short and spiky, his teeth were very white, especially against the backdrop of his tanned face.  Standing about 6’2”, he was obviously in very good shape, despite being on the wrong side of 40.  For the next four months he would guide Saroya through a specifically designed exercise routine to mold her new flesh into a shape identical to late-term pregnancy.

 

“I’m Wendy,” chirped the woman.

 

She also had blonde hair, hers in a ponytail down to the middle of her back.  Her eyes were bright blue and she had a smattering of freckles across her cute little nose.  She looked about 15 years younger than Ken.  Wendy had designed the diet for Saroya, it would maximize the growth of her middle, hopefully creating a believable pregnant form.

 

A little over an hour later Saroya pushed away the finally with a petite groan.  The meal prepared by Wendy was by far the largest and heaviest meal she had eaten in years, and now she felt uncomfortably bloated.  

"Let's go to the gym area," Ken said.  "I'll show you some of the basic exercises you'll be doing while your meal settles."

Saroya rose to her feet, one hand pressing against her full stomach.  Even though it was barely distended at all, it looked absolutely huge to her.  For about the eighth time that day, Saroya started to wonder if she was making a horrible mistake.  With a grimace of disgust she let out a small burp, then followed Ken to her personal gym.