Reset

By Aardvark (https://aardvarkia.tumblr.com/post/155259728597/reset)

“It’s ridiculous! It’s absolutely ridiculous!”

Caleb felt a blush rising in his cheeks as he listened to his mom rant to some poor soul on the other end of the phone. He’d lost count of how many people she’d talked to at this point…it had to be seven or eight. Caleb understood why she was mad. Their internet had been out for nearly a month – he was mad about it too! He hadn’t been able to play a video game online for weeks. Their next-door neighbors were nice enough to give them their wifi password, but his mom wouldn’t let him game because it would use too much of their bandwidth. The neighbors’ internet was only for schoolwork or light usage, that was the rule. No streaming allowed.

So, yes, Caleb was mad about the internet situation. But his mom was always yelling at whatever customer service rep she talked to, and Caleb knew that wasn’t the way to go about it. He was tired of her asking to speak to the manager and then to the manager’s manager – not just in this situation, but wherever. She sent food back at restaurants, complained to retail employees about prices, freaked out at the doctor’s office when she had to wait more than fifteen minutes. She lived her life in a state of permanent dissatisfaction, and Caleb was over it. He bumped up the volume on his game and tried to drown out his mom’s braying with gunfire.

“And the fact that I haven’t even been given a bill credit-”

BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM

“-it’s robbery is what it is, you’re robbing your customers-“

BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM

“And then I’m offered a service appointment in two weeks, TWO WEEKS, while I’m paying for nothing-”

BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM

“CALEB!” she bellowed down the hall.

Caleb snapped to attention. “Yeah?”

“Turn that down!”

Caleb begrudgingly reduced the volume, forcing him to listen to the conversation again.

“What I want is someone who will come TODAY and fix the problem TODAY, otherwise I’m canceling!’

Caleb reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a handful of potato chips. Their crunching made it impossible to hear his mom, so he chewed them as long as possible and swallowed with a contented gulp. Fragments of greasy Lays rained down over the front of his t-shirt, and Caleb brushed them free without looking away from his game. It was only when he felt one big piece stuck to his front that he looked down to pick it off, before realizing it wasn’t a chip at all. In fact, at first, Caleb didn’t know what it was – it was under his t-shirt, not on top of it, and it had the size and shape of a thimble. It was only when he pulled on it and heard himself grunt with pain that he realized it was his nipple.

“Huh?” Caleb looked over and saw an identical shape on the other side of his chest. His nipples had somehow puffed up to the size of gumdrops, several times larger than he had ever seen them before. It wasn’t just that they could be seen through his shirt – they were so huge that they actually pushed the tee up, like a couple of miniature tents.

Caleb’s mind raced. This was the first time he’d worn this t-shirt. It was just some cheap Wal-Mart find he’d bought when he was grocery shopping with his mom (he’d found it while she was complaining to an employee about the lack of crisp lettuce). It was white, with Pikachu on the front, and something about the fabric or the ironed-on Pikachu graphic must have been irritating his nipples. That had to be it. Except his nipples didn’t feel irritated. They were just…huge. And they weren’t pointing straight ahead like they usually did, but down and to the side, aiming toward Caleb’s elbows.

Caleb sat up straight and puffed his chest out to analyze just how big his nipples looked pressed up inside his shirt, but at the same moment, a big dust bunny floated down from the ceiling and landed in his lap. He brushed it from his lap before getting a flashback of his last visit to the barbershop, and how the hair had rained down over the cutting smock…Caleb instinctively reached up and touched his hairline.

There was nothing there.

He gasped in horror and put both hands above his forehead. Bare skin…another inch back, more bare skin…finally he felt hair at the very top of his head, but it was all thin and short, not the usual voluminous helmet he was used to. Caleb frantically patted his scalp, feeling his mostly-bald crown and the short bristles that ran around the sides of his head in a semi-circle.

“Mmmo-” His game controller clattered to the floor as he leapt up to his feet, but then his hands flew up over his head as the ceiling hurtled toward him. For a millisecond, Caleb thought he was weightless and floating, pulled upward without his consent…like his chest was a hot air balloon. Because that’s what it kind of looked like to Caleb, all of a sudden. His entire torso was rounding out in front of him, bulging in bizarre directions, stretching his t-shirt to and fro, rendering Pikachu all but unrecognizable on the front of it. Caleb tried to look down to make sure he was actually on the ground, but he couldn’t see over his chest, so he just stomped his socked feet against the hardwood floor to confirm. His head swam. He was viewing the living room from eight inches higher than he usually did, and it made him horribly dizzy. He could barely stand. His lanky legs wobbled, and he reached out to steady himself against the arm of the sofa, but suddenly his arm lurched away from him with such force that he thought it had detached from his body. It hadn’t, but he looked down to see an odd curve jutting from his side – was that a muscle in his back? – that was so big it didn’t allow Caleb’s arm to lie flat against the side of his body. There was one on the other side of his body too, forcing his arms to jut out at 45 degree angles.

He felt the elastic of his athletic shorts straining, and looked down to see the hem of his t-shirt starting to roll up over his stomach. “N-no-“ he gasped, sucking in a deep breath to prevent the growth. Mercifully, his stomach went flat again – until Caleb had to breathe, and when he did so, out swelled an impressive belly, shoving the front of his shorts down and the hem of his tee up as it grew increasingly prominent in size and width. Caleb tried desperately to flatten out his stomach again, but it was no use. Every time he breathed it got bigger. It looked like he’d swallowed a globe, but most confusingly, his belly was solid as a rock, and lined with abdominals that bulged like bricks against his skin. He tugged and tugged at the hem of his shirt to cover his muscle gut, then pulled on his shorts to hike them higher - and thankfully, they were adjusting a little, even as he felt his waistline swelling.

“Cmon,” he grunted, giving his shorts a mighty tug, and he felt the elastic snap, allowing him to pull them up to the middle of his huge belly. A large golden buckle gleamed up at him, and Caleb patted around his expanding midsection to find his athletic shorts now sported belt loops. The shorts had barely reached mid-thigh thanks to his increase in height, but now the leg openings brushed against his knees, then his calves, until finally they had grown down to his feet – not athletic shorts at all, but a pair of long tan pants. He was fiddling with his new brown belt (he didn’t like how it was buckled so high, pulling his pants above his protruding bellybutton) when his fingers brushed against something plastic, and he noticed his t-shirt was now sporting a row of buttons down the center. Caleb ran his hands up over his muscle gut and felt the new pockets over his chest, then up further just in time to feel the points of a sturdy, stiff shirt collar burst out around his neck. He looked down as Pikachu vanished, leaving him wearing a simple blue short-sleeved button-down work shirt, instead of a fun graphic tee.

And then, on the left side above the buttoned front pocket, a small rectangle pushed out of the poplin as a white patch formed, on which was embroidered “Caleb” in dark blue thread.

“That’s not the problem,” he heard his mom hiss from the kitchen. “The problem is that your company is not providing the service I am PAYING for-”

The flatscreen TV had gone dark thanks to Caleb leaving it on pause for too long. Its black surface became mirror-like with no picture to display, leaving Caleb staring at his growing midsection. He turned to the side and looked at his ball gut in profile, then gasped when he saw his butt growing in behind him: just as prominent, just as round, and twice as wide, the pockets of his pants folding up underneath his massive, jiggling ass cheeks. He felt the khaki wedge up between his crack, but he couldn’t reach back to pick it out – his arms couldn’t move like that anymore because of his lats. “Please,” he grunted, trying as hard as he could, until his arms spasmed and he felt them starting to tremble. “No no no-”

The baggy short sleeves of his work shirt quickly grew tight over his biceps. Caleb shook his arms desperately, but they wouldn’t stop growing, swelling up big and thick as they pushed muscle up into his shoulders and down into his hands. What they lost in definition, they gained back in mass, until V-splits had appeared on the outside of his sleeves to accommodate the bloated monsters Caleb called his arms. He gulped as he felt his long, lanky neck squash itself downward into oblivion, causing his open shirt collar to move up as his neck was consumed by his shoulders, leaving the collar points even with his chin instead of his collarbone. His traps bulged and shoved the collar up even a bit higher, the fold now nearly touching his earlobes. His yoke was beastly and so thick he could barely swivel his head; when he heard his mom talking in the kitchen, he had to turn his whole body instead of being able to just look back over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t coming.

“So you ARE able to send a tech today!” he heard her say triumphantly.

His giant shoulders were vibrating with growth, sending shakes down through his back, which was rounding out like a turtle shell, forcing his shirt to tighten all over. Giant slabs of muscle were stretching out across the acreage of his back, hanging down like sides of beef around his spine. They pulled him up straight and tall, heaving his big gut out and nearly snapping his belt buckle. His toes burst through his shoes as his feet grew to size 15, big enough to support his massive frame. He tried to look down but couldn’t see over his belly, so instead he looked at his name badge, which had come back to life: the ‘b’ in his name was rotating clockwise, looking more like a ‘p’ now, until the threads at the top of the letter vanished and it became a ‘y’: ‘Caley.’ Sounded like a girl’s name. Caley didn’t like it. He wasn’t a girl.

In solidarity with this declaration, a new adornment started to sprout above Caley’s upper lip. He wriggled his nostrils and blew hot air down over the growing whiskers, twisting his mouth up to keep the itching at bay. He’d always thought he’d look cool with a mustache, he just thought he’d grow one on his own time, not be forced to. Caley’s trim, tidy mustache filled in nicely, then suddenly exploded, fluffing walrus-like over his mouth as it stretched past the corners of his lips. The waterfall of whiskers reached down to his lower lip, causing more hair to sprout out below his mouth. The goatee squared up around Caley’s chin as it grew as bushy as his mustache, and the whiskers kept appearing, giving his walrus/goatee combo impressive depth and thickness. He squatted down and looked at his reflection in the TV screen, noticing that his eyebrows were growing bushy and thick too, losing their arch to shift into big rectangles of dark hair. Then he saw his patch changing again, the ‘l’ squishing downward into an ‘r’. ‘Carey.’

Carey stood up, taking a few experimental steps around the room. His enormous frame struggled to hold up his bulk even so. His thighs had grown as big and as thick as his ass, making him swing them side to side, and his belly shifted with each step, making gravity unpredictable.

“I want your best tech,” he heard his mom say.

Carey’s fat, puffy nipples rose up into the air on their own accord. He grunted. The next button down from his collar snapped open.

“Someone who’ll know the problem just by looking at it.”

The boy looked down at his chest as it swelled. And swelled. And swelled. His nipples guided the giant sacks of muscle outward over his belly, pulling open another button as he grew the biggest pair of muscled tits ever seen on a man. They sagged from the immense weight of all the muscle crammed into them, resting on top of Carey’s huge muscle gut. Looking down at them – their size, their shape – gave him the oddest combination of shock, admiration, and pride. They stuck out so far and so high that the pockets and badges were nearly parallel to the ceiling, as if on a tabletop. A ‘v’ had wedged its way onto the name patch, which now read ‘Carvey.’

“And I want him here now.”

Carvey snorted and gave an angry tug to his tight work shirt. Another button came loose, exposing most of his mattress-sized chest. It was continuing to grow in all directions, including upward, the pillows of muscle nearly high enough for him to rest his chin on. Carvey grimaced and drew his massive shoulders back, puffed out his chest, sneered, then chuckled as a fleece’s worth of chest hair exploded out of him, fluffing out like a sweater through his open shirt buttons. His underarms filled in with so much fur that it poked out of his damp sleeves, with big itchy pelts coating his beefy arms. He sat down on the arm of the couch and rubbed his butt back and forth on it to relieve the itching caused by his body hair growth. The downy fur spread to his front, down his thighs, up his stomach and even over his shoulders, but it was most thick at the front of his underwear, where his cock nearly vanished inside the forest of hair. But only for a moment, before his balls swelled up like tangerines and an enormous shaft stretched out in front of him, bobbing upward to press against the under-curve of his ball gut.

Carvey grunted lewdly and felt his underwear moisten. He eased up off the couch and began lumbering around the room, his thick black boots making the walls shake. His gray eyes surveyed the area from behind the narrowed slits of his eyelids, and he finally noticed a modem perched on a small table close to the TV.

“Fuckin’ piece of shit,” he grunted to himself in a guttural bass, squatting his mountainous frame down as he itched at his chest and goosed his pecs. He didn’t know how to fix this shit. “I’m just a kid and somethin’ weird happened,” he said, wiping his brow with a cloth he’d found in his pants pocket. The fabric filled with so much sweat it could’ve been wrung out like a washcloth. “Need to tell her I ain’t no big fuckin’ muscle bull,” he said, pawing at his crotch. His shirt buttons nearly burst over his big gut with each of his labored movements. He picked up the modem and turned it over in his meaty paws. “Not a big nasty-ass daddy,” he chuckled to himself. “Big fuckin’ nasty shit muscle daddy…” He ran his tongue over his walrus mustache, savoring the flavor of his lunch and cigars that remained in the long whiskers.

Not knowing what else to do, the brute raised the modem up and smashed it against the table. It broke immediately. He did it again and splinters of plastic fell over table. “Big-ass papa bear gonna fuck ya,” he rumbled, crushing the modem against the table over and over like a child playing with blocks. “Bend over and do as yer told…” The cheap device broke apart like an eggshell, and inside of it was a smaller, brand new modem. “Nasty fuckin’ hot as shit muscle bear!” Carvey angrily brushed all the old plastic fragments off the table, expelled hot air from his nostrils down over his mustache, and as he plugged the new unit into the wall, felt his cock release inside his underwear, soaking the insides of his thighs with cum.

The man sat in the squat for a few moments, relishing the moist warmth and the way his hairy chin rested on his immense chest. Then he stood up and lumbered over to where the rude woman was still on the phone. He didn’t wanna say anything, so he just stood there, damp with sweat, his mountainous frame filling the whole hallway, and waited for her to notice him.

“Oh!” she said in a surprised voice, hanging up the phone immediately. Her eyes locked onto his chest – hairy, wet, mostly bare – and then flicked up to his cragged, goateed face. “Is it fixed?” she squeaked.

“Fixed,” he grunted. “Sign here.” He thrust a clipboard out at her.

“Do you mind if I test it out? We’ve been having a lot of problems with it and I want to be sure while you’re here-”

“Sure,” he mumbled. There was a long pause, and he added a “ma’am” far too late. He was trying to be nice.

“Phone’s connected,” she said, hardly able to believe it. “You really did fix it!”

“Yeah,” he said, a bit incredulous as to why he’d been doubted.

“Thank you! I’m going to tell them Harvey is the best tech they have on staff.”

Harvey managed what was about as close to a smile as his face could approximate. “Thanks.”

“How did you figure it out?”

“Been doin’ this job for more’n 25 years, I’ve seen a lot of sh…stuff.”

“You must get really hot working…?” she said, her eyes going back down to Harvey’s chest sweater covering every inch of his cinderblock pecs.

“Just like it open,” he rumbled, taking the clipboard back after she signed it. “Have a good day.” He squeezed through the small kitchen door and lumbered out to his truck. He could feel her staring at his huge back and ass straining at his clothes. He couldn’t really blame her.

Big Harv patted his front pocket and pulled out a pre-cut cigar, clenching it between his teeth as he got his service truck started. He had a long day of work, but these babies always made it a little bit better.

He fired up the cigar, puffed some smoke in his face and savored the woodsy musk. He loved his reflection in his rearview mirror – that grizzled, wrinkly face with eyes sharp as steel and smoke pouring out under his mustache. An arm as big as a small man’s waist curled up next to his face, exposing the huge sweat stain under his sleeve. “Fuckin’ jacked cigar daddy…hehe…nasty as shit…” A little more cum shot into his briefs as he reversed out of the driveway and roared down the road.