Antoine's Amplifying Abdomen (Patreon)

[I'm writing two stories about a gym curse that affects a number of people at a gym; this version features a weight-gain curse! They start the same but will go in wildly different directions... obviously!]

Antoine still had twelve weeks to go before his competition, but on his second check-in with his coach, he was already thinking about quitting. The photos still looked impressive: he seemed more massive than ever, his muscles pumped up as if they’d been inflated with air. His size was stunning, and had this been the height of his offseason bulking phase he and his coach would have been ecstatic.

He had gained thirty pounds in a week, something that would have been a shock during a growth phase, let alone after two weeks of restricted diet and twice-daily hour-long cardio sessions.

At first, he’d just noticed a tightness in his clothing. His abs weren’t quite as noticeable (although he attributed it to holding a little extra water). His tank tops, already used to squeezing around his 300 pound bulked-up body, were almost painfully tight, rising an inch above his waistline. No matter how hard he tried to hold it in, his belly bowed out like he was three months pregnant.

There was no denying that something was happening to him. His thumb hovered over the “send” button before finally pressing it. Hugh, his coach, would not let this sudden weight-gain go without comment, and Antoine didn’t have a good explanation.

His bed creaked loudly as he climbed into and out of it. His size XXXL-sized clothes all fit extra snug, with a stitch popping here and there as he moved. The posing trunks he’d squeezed on for his progress photos were so tight they dug deeply into his ass. He’d had to use scissors to get them off.

“The fuck?” came Hugh’s reply. “These old pics?”

Antoine winced. He had to face what was going on; there was no use hiding it. “Those are from this morning,” he tapped back.

“What the hell happened?” Hugh texted back. Antoine sighed deeply, yanking his shirt down his gut. One week before, he’d weighed 300 pounds.

*

Antoine got to the gym thirty minutes early for his 9 AM client, Wayne. He’d worn his largest sweatshirt hoping to obscure the weight gain, but he cringed as he saw his reflection in his car windows: it just accentuated how round and full his torso was. His sweats were so tight he walked with a waddle, careful not to burst out of them. They clung tightly to his wide-built thighs (his junk on display as a prominent bulge up front). He cringed as he remembered that these were his “bulking sweats,” purposely oversized for when he was gaining, and yet he was at their upper limits now.

As he approached the door, he tried to relax. Those who didn’t know he was actually trying to shed weight would just see a bodybuilder packing on size. During his gaining seasons, he had accrued a bit of a fan-club amongst the gym members, all eager to see just how big he would get.

“Figured I’d postpone the show,” he practiced as he approached. “You know me, I fucking love the bulk! Had to stay huge.”

At the front desk, Antoine froze when he saw Mark, the Global Gym manager. Mark was a well-built, broad-shouldered former bodybuilder who stayed in shape–”Gotta be ready for that underwear photoshoot!” he used to joke when guys would comment how big and ripped he maintained his physique. That morning, the blue polo with the Global Gym logo embroidered on the left chest looked stuffed to capacity. Mark’s normally chiseled face looked plump, his ripped, veiny forearms soft and bloated. He was still an impressively muscular man, but all of his shreds were gone.

The two stared at each other for a full minute. “Holy shit,” they finally both said in tandem.

“You’re… so, it’s…” Mark began, anxiously fidgeting with a clipboard, unable to look at the puffed-up pro-athlete in front of him.

“Yeah,” Antoine said, unable to form it into words. He’d explained all he could to Hugh before: “I gained a ton of weight, I don’t know why, I don’t know when it will stop.” Clearly he wasn’t going through it alone.

“Morning, gentlemen!” said a deep voice with an arrogant tone. Antoine whirled around (his gut brushing against the desk as he turned) to watch Clark Wainwright walk through the door, a smarmy grin on his face. Antoine’s fists doubled up, his instinct to knock out that blonde punk spiking at the sight of him.

“Easy, Antoine,” Mark said, reaching out a hand to steady Antoine’s shoulder. “His dad owns the place.”

“Antoine! Looking HUGE, as usual!” Clark said, putting a pointed emphasis on the word “huge” as he leaned back to look at Antoine’s backside, which was so wide and thick it looked like someone could rest a full water bottle atop it..

“Morning, Clark,” Mark said with a sigh. “Your dad was by earlier. He wanted to make sure we stocked the flavor of energy drink you liked…”

“Good,” Clark said with a smile. “Uh, Mark, your shirt’s looking a little snug there. You look like you’re retaining a little water, too! That’s not exactly the image we want at the front desk at Global Gym. My dad isn't paying you to look sloppy, my man!”

Mark nervously yanked at his shirt as if he could stretch it inta proper alignment. “Yeah, got it,” he said with an exhausted tone. “Your dad mentioned that too. We’re getting new polos in… it’ll be taken care of right away.”

“I hope so,” Clark said. He turned to Antoine. “And you, Meat-man… I suppose we won’t have any more issues like the other day?”

Antoine opened his mouth to bark back, but an idea suddenly occurred to him. He furrowed his brow. “Wait a minute…” he said, starting to piece things together.

“We won’t,” Mark said. “Your dad and I talked about the issue. The other day was just a misunderstanding. Won’t happen again.”

“I should hope not!” Clark said with a wink, strutting by to head toward the treadmills. He whistled at a young woman squatting as he passed.

“Antoine,” Mark said, leaning across the desk. “His dad wasn’t messing around. He doesn’t even want to keep this place as a gym. If he had his way, he’d level it and make it a parking garage. But his son likes to come here, so…”

“He fucking did it,” Antoine said as two men walked in behind them.

“Jeez, Antoine’s bigger than ever!” one of them commented.

“Dude’s so massive he’s gonna explode!” said the other.

Antoine smiled and nodded at them, then turned back to Mark. “He’s doing this to us!”

Mark scoffed. “I mean… he’s a pain in the ass, and his dad’s rich, but…”

“Look, last week, I told him I’d pound him in the face,” Antoine said in a hushed voice. “And you sided with me. Now, look at us!” Antoine gestured between himself and the well-built gym manager. “This is crazy, but… he’s making us bigger somehow!”

Antoine and Mark stared across the busy gym floor at Clark, who catcalled passing women from his elliptical. Antoine’s first impulse was to march across the gym, yank Clark’s scrawny ass from the machine, and slap him around until he learned some respect–just as he’d done the week before–but if Clark had somehow made Mark and Antoine gain weight, what else was he capable of?