Not the Swole We Wanted
Request from @paleopotato19 : I'm craving either ex jock Caspar or ex jock Claude. Maybe both of them influencing each other to bulk and it all goes a little pear shaped.
Sorry for the wait! I strayed past my self imposed word limit again, although it's not as long as the last one. (For other readers, the requester did not mean to imply they wanted the subjects to grow pear shaped. which is why they don't in my writing.)
Summary: Claude and Caspar are roomies and buddies. They’ve fallen behind on their work out routines and want a quick and easy way to bulk back up. They resort a dubious product that come the day after consumption, causes them to grow suddenly and exponentially.
Claude drops his dumbells and complains. “Ugh, this sucks! Why can’t this be easier.”
“You’ve been complaining about this for the past week.” Caspar sighs. “I get it, working out is hard work. But it doesn’t mean you have to try destroying our floor!”
Half a year ago, Claude and Caspar had a rather unpleasant start of the year. Both got hit with a terrible stomach bug that persisted for two weeks. The extended period of inaction and ruined appetites caused them to start losing muscle mass. When their bodies recovered, they sought to return to their old routines. But their wills had not been so fortunate and they failed.
Caspar who was more inclined to athleticism, had finally got out of his slump a few weeks ago. His body is still toned and athletic. But he is still far less beefy than he was before. Which is painfully disheartening.
Claude wasn’t as lucky. He was never that fond of hard exercise and bulking up with muscle. Previously, his body was only toned and slim. So, he lazed around far more often and ate to much junk food. A cute fluffy layer of flab pads his abdomen and he retired his skinny jeans and know his belt is buckled in a couple of holes out.
Claude’s phone pings with a message. He grins and chuckles, “It looks like we won’t have to worry about the grind much longer.”
Caspar gives Claude a disappointed glare, “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I’ll going to grab the goods. Be right back!” Claude darts for the door while Caspar is left alone to pick up the exercise equipment.
In a few minutes, Claude returns with a small carboard box devoid of any labeling. “Wow that sure looks trustworthy.” Caspar snarks.
Claude attempts to persuade Caspar. “I know this looks sketchy. But I’ve ordered from these guys before and they’ve never let me down.” Claude takes the box into the kitchen and cuts open the box with a knife. He takes out two glass vials from within. They are filled with a translucent lavender liquid.
“I didn’t take you for the kind of guy to fall for essential oil schemes.”
Claude feigns a laugh. “Haha. This isn’t some pseudoscience b.s. These little potions are the result of arcane research.”
Caspar rests his face in his palms and groans, “You’ve lost it.”
“You can keep being a masochist. But I’m going to get jacked over night! Only by chugging this!” Claude boasts. He pulls out a sheet of paper from the box and skims over it. He scrunches his brow, “Well, apparently I have to fast too.”
“If this does work, people are going to start asking questions when they see you.”
Claude clears his throat, “Ok, I’m getting ahead of myself. This is just a test sample that only lasts 48 hours. The real deal requires you take it like a prescription.”
“Huh, really?”
“So now you’re interested.”
Caspar scoffs, “I just find it odd that some nutjobs dealing in dark magic hand out test samples.”
Claude chuckles, “If you changed your mind. You can take the second vial if you need too.”
Caspar sighs, “I’ll think about it.”
He did think about it, and decided to consult Linhardt about the matter. His friend said he was familiar with the concoction and the supplier Claude purchased it from. Linhardt said that consumers found their results satisfactory, and that the potions were exceptionally pricy.
At dinner, Caspar approaches Claude. He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, “Linhardt said the potions are legit. And that you paid a small fortune from them.”
Claude blushes, “Ah, that’s… not a problem. But you should really try this with me.”
Caspar relents with a smile, “Alright.”
Claude pumps his fist. “Great!” He pulls out the slip of paper again. “The instructions said we should take them two hours after a meal and then fast for the next ten hours if we want it to work right. Water is ok, just no food.”
“What happens if we screw it up? Linhardt didn’t know the answer when I asked him.”
Claude takes another look, “The instructions just say we won’t see the desired growth... So, I guess it won’t make us that big?”
Caspar laughs, “That’s all? Sounds easy.”
“Yep!” Claude gives his iconic wink, “And once the test is done, I’ll have them send the real deal.”
“Cool!”
With their decision set in stone, the two wait out the necessary time after dinner before ingesting the mildly bitter potions. Then, they attempt to wait until the morning. However, both of the men make an hour. Claude was the first one to screw up; at 10pm he snuck into their kitchen and grabbed a couple of brownies from the freezer. “It won’t be too much of a problem if I have just a little bit, right?” he assured himself, thus sealing his fate. Caspar was the second one to err; at 11pm he went and grabbed a few slices of cheese from the fridge. “I should be fine if I have just a little snack. Besides, cheese has protein in it so it shouldn’t mess me up too much right?” and he too had brought misfortune upon himself.
-
Caspar woke early in the morning feeling invigorated, if a bit heavier. He yawns and begins to sit up… when he feels his body squish into itself. “Shit, that’s not good.” He braces himself with both arms and completes the motion. Upon reaching an upright seated position, Caspar observes his changed body. A round and soft belly protrudes from his waist and sags into his now meaty and plump lap. His pecs lack the square definition he sought, and instead resemble a small pair of puffy tits. While his head is careened downward for observation, he can feel his lardy neck bunch up between his chin and collar.
Despite the shocking outcome, Caspar does not panic or shout. Instead, he simply sighs, “Figures it would blow up in my face like this.” Caspar than sets out to get out of bed. In spite of his body’s prodigious widening, he did not feel exceptionally burdened by the fat. He kicks his girthy legs over the side of the bed and stands onto the ground.
Then, he realizes the boxers he wore to bed last night are in tatters. Caspar sighs again and tears the remaining rags off his engorged body. He delicately caresses and examines his naked body with his bare hands. His ass is now a plump bubble butt. Beneath his belly, a layer of fat pads his groin. Even his arms have soft fat surrounding his strong biceps. “I guess this is what I get for not following instructions.”
He stretches his body and flexes his arms. Caspar chuckles, “At least I did seem to get a good amount of muscle underneath it all!” His stomach grumbles. “Ugh, I don’t want Claude to see that I screwed up so bad…” His stomach roars with hunger. “But I can’t ignore this monster.” Caspar hits up his wardrobe. He pulls out a jock strap, which he finds to be a bit of a tight fit. He digs further in to find something else he can use to dress himself. He retrieves a set of hand me downs from his enormous friend (in the muscular and height sense) Raphael. It’s only a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, but it will suffice.
He departs from his room, and finds that Claude has not yet gotten up yet. “Maybe I can avoid him… Nah.” Caspar walks to Claude’s door and knocks on it. “Wake up! It’s time to get a load of your new brawny body!”
Claude answers from the other side of the door, “M-morning Caspar! I’m… uh… still getting used to the changes so it will be a minute!” Claude’s façade of confidence is broken by the hesitation and uncertainty in his voice.
Caspar grins and shouts tauntingly, “Did you screw up and eat while we were supposed to be fasting?! Hahaha, well if it makes you feel any better, so did I.”
He can hear Claude’s sigh of relief. “At least I’m not the only one… be right there in a moment.” When Claude leaves the room and they see one another, Claude gasps in shock and Caspar snorts.
In contrast to Caspar, Claude’s overnight growth had turned him into a waddling and wobbling giant. His stomach is an expansive apron of lard with a thick under hang covering his lap. His love handles look to be as big and heavy as Caspar’s stomach and stick out nearly as far. He has three shelves of fat squished together on his sides; starting with the love handles on bottom, his droopy side boobs on top, and a bundle of additional fat caught between the two. His chest is covered with voluminous breasts with puffy nipples and expanded areolae. His hips and thighs are engorged, smashed together, and decorated with vivid stretch marks and dimply cellulite. The bulbous fat accumulated over his quadriceps has started to sag over his knees. His arms are inflated with fat like the wings of a life jacket and force his arms to rest at an angle from his body. A plump ring of fat surrounds his neck and his second chin protrudes from out past his natural jaw line. His cheeks are round and swollen despite their present state of emptiness.
Claude’s face is burned red and he wears a pitiful frown. “Why the fuck are you smaller than me!” he nearly cries.
Caspar can barely hold back his schadenfreude derived glee and as his words fluctuate like laughter. “Holy shit you fucked up bad!”
“This isn’t fair! What did you do different than me!”
“I dunno. I ate some cheese slices. What about you?”
Claude mumbles, “I might have eaten a couple of the brownies I kept in the freezer…”
Caspar finally breaks and begins hollering with laughter. He slaps his hands on the sides of Claudes immense and gelatinous gut sending ripples across the surface. “No wonder you’re such a fat ass!”
Claude smacks Caspar’s hands away and pouts. “Stupid potions. Stupid conceptual rules.” He walks away from Caspar towards the kitchen, giving him a good look at his ass. He had settled with a pair of briefs to cover himself, but they are riddled with massive holes that his fatty flesh oozes out of. His ass cheeks are two massive couch cushions made of dimply formless fat. Lard has even begun to overtake his back and sag from his shoulder blades.
Caspar whistles, “Damn look at all that ass! Feel like letting me take a smack at that!?”
Without looking Claude barks back, “Fuck off!” Claude begins to succumb to the burden of his girth and sweats and pants. He walks to their couch and falls into place, landing with a thud and a heart shaking crack. Claude hides his face behind his hands and whimpers.
Despite the damage to their property, Caspar keeps his cool. He walks up behind the couch and hugs Claude from behind. He grasps Claude’s breasts and squeezes them like a stress toy. Claude can’t help but moan. “Well, well, well. Seems like it isn’t all bad. In fact, this could be fun.”
Before Claude can refute, his stomach rumbles like an earthquake. “Please… I’m so hungry,” he begs.
“Alright I’ll get our breakfast ready.” He enters the kitchen and takes out the carton of eggs and package of bacon.
“Can you… can you make some waffles too?”
Caspar laughs and lovingly rubs his own round gut. “Sure, thing big guy.”
