The Swellin' Up Begins

Josh was always a tiny guy. With his last major growth spurt at twenty leaving him at a paltry 5'7, 120 pounds, he was the definition of a twig, one you could easily snap down to puny size. At home, he was pretty average, invisible even, his loosely clothes form quickly dodging through the hallways from class to class. College was a different story. At a school known nationally for its large athlete population (a place he attended solely for it's generous scholarships), Josh was extremely undersized. Sitting in his lecture classes, he was surrounded by the tall, ripped frames of soccer, lacrosse, and football stars, their bulky arms pushing their sleeves to the limits. They were superhuman, supermen, and they were in abundance. Josh felt their shadows eclipse him everywhere he went, and every time he had to slide his belt over his skinny waist, he dreamed of swelling up to their size, being ripped and strong. Fuck, even having nice abs would be nice. He wanted to transform. And so, he began heading to the 24 hour gym each night, sheepishly working out long after the behemoths called it a night.



He made progress. Slowly, over the weeks and months, his belly hardened into a six pack, his biceps tightened and formed, and his chest looked firm. His clothes were less baggy. However, weighing himself he was still hovering at 135 pounds, his high metabolism making him toned, but not big. Late one night he moved to the gym mirror, flexing his arms. Nice for skinny guy, he thought. He scowled. He saw how the big guys ate in the cafeteria, eating so much food that fueled their size. He tried eating that much, but nearly made himself sick, the food becoming an impossible, mountainous obstacle. Josh took a sip of water, and headed out of the gym, the cold evening air hitting him in the face. He sulked across campus passing the rows of posterboards announcing the club meetings, sporting events, and other activities that turned campus into a frenzied mass of activity. His eyes quickly scanned a black flyer, something on it catching his eyes. He walked up to the board, pulling it off the cork: "Society of Transformational Hypnotists: Visualize Your Dreams at Our Weekly Friday Meetings!" Josh stated at the paper. Ignoring the fact that this probably wasn't a school approved club, maybe they could help him out. Putting the flyer in his pocket, he made a mental note to visit the group.



Friday came and Josh soon found himself outside an off-campus house, flyer in hand. Looking around and seeing the street deserted, he gulped nervously before ringing the doorbell. The doorbell echoed for a while before the door pulled open, revealing a tall, cheery upperclassmen in jeans a t-shirt. Definitely not the creepy image Josh was expecting. "Hey, are you here for the hypnosis meeting?," the man said cheerfully.



-"uhh yea. Am I allowed?:

-"Of course. We rarely get visitors. I'm Ryan, by the way."

-"Josh. And Cool. I mean, I don't think I want to learn, but maybe you could help me with a problem."



Ryan stares at Josh for minute. "You wanna get bigger?," He says.



-"Can you read my mind?"



Ryan laughs. "No, I see you in the gym every night. You look really focused. Anyway, come on in!"



The tall guy leads the way down the hallway, entering a small, but comfortable living room. He motions for Josh to lie on the sofa, while he sits in an armchair near him. Another guy walks in, heavyset, spotting Josh. "Who's that?" He asks. "Just a friend I'm gonna help out," Ryan says, smiling. The large guy grins, before heading out. Ryan looks over Josh. "Now, close your eyes and just relax, bud. I'm gonna help you out." Josh closes his eyes. "Thanks, Ryan. I just wanna be a huge hulking guy, I just can't seem to eat enough."



-"Well don't worry about that. For now, just feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper. With each breath, you get more relaxed..."



Slowly, Josh feels himself drifting off, Ryan's voice growing more distant, fading out to a slight hum in his ears at the world falls away. He's unaware of what Ryan is saying:



"From now on, you are going to try your hardest to bulk up, to get huge. And you will. Feeling your appetite growing each day along with your muscles, you will eat more and more to provide fuel for your expanding frame, each day you mass piling up on your body, maybe even growing a little taller to support all the new weight. You will find eating tons of food easy, and fun, as much fun as going to the gym and working out, pumping up your swelling muscles. That's right, eating more everyday, working out hard, you will never be full. Feeling your clothes grow tighter and tigher and you swell up with bulky size. In fact, as you eat more and more, you realize you do not like the full, cut look of a bodybuilder, or the football bros you wanna be. In fact, as you grow bigger and bigger, eat more and more, you relate more to the big guys on powerlifting team. Looking at their meaty arms, guts, and rears stretch their uniforms, wanting to be large and strong like them, eating enough for two of them. You want to outgrow them, become massive, each day wanting more and more to bulk out to the extreme. You will become massive. You will not recall what was said to you now as you begin to wake up."



Josh hears a soft "wake up" his eyes fluttering open. He sits up, propping his skinny body up by the arms. He looks at Ryan. "That's it?" He says. "That's it," Ryan says, getting up. "Good luck, big man. I hope to see you soon." Josh gets up, shaking Ryan's hand. He leaves discourage, heading back to his dorm. That's it, huh? He thinks as he walks up the steps to his dorm, entering the dark space. His roomate, Joe, a hulking 6'2 240 pound wrestler, must still be at practice. Another cruel joke, Josh thought, pairing me with him. He feels his stomach growl. Must be all this walking around. Josh wanders to his fridge, pulling out some pasta and chicken he had leftover from his previously attempted binge. His stomach rumbles again. Hmm, cold chicken and pasta won't be that bad, he thinks, unable to wait. He sits down in his chair, scooping up pasta and chicken with a large fork. Chew. Chew. Chew. BURPPPPP. Josh is almost in a trance as he shovels in the food, almost as if filling a hole that can't be filled. BURPPPPPP. He looks down to see the container empty. His stomach growls again. He gets up, moving to the fridge. Luckily, Joe has some containers of food in there as well. I'm sure he won't mind, Josh thinks. He's always eating my food. Josh pulls out two more containers. He sits back down, immediately digging into the food. Chew. Chew. Chew. BURPPPPPPPPP. His normally flat stomach distending a little from the meal. In another 15 minutes, the food is gone. He rubs his stomach. Fuck, Josh thinks, I'm really hungry today, this never happens. Looking around the room, he spies Joe's weight gain powder. He smiles. A little desert? Josh within minutes is pouring some powder into a large glass of whole milk, mixing it until thick. CHUG. CHUG. CHUG. Not missing a drop as he gulps it down, his bloated belly pressing into his jeans button. BELCHHHHHHHH. Finally somewhat satisfied, he assees the damage. The table is covered with empty containers, and as he hold the empty glass in his hand he smiles. I dunno what's come over me, but this was great! He thinks, patting his belly, and moving off to bed.



As he slips into the bed, stripping to his boxers, he thinks to himself: Fuck, I could probably still eat a little more.



To be Continued.