Throwing Weight

It was the first time I'd seen my school bully in a long while, but there he was at the gym throwing fists at a punching bag. There was no way he could recognize me. I had turned into a completely different person, no longer going by my first name, but there he was acting cocky as ever, being the loudest person there with his huge ego. Despite still throwing his weight around as a huge muscle beast, I saw the slightest spare tire around his waist. The extra fat slowly brought an idea to my head that would be the massive payback he deserved.

I decided to pick up boxing too, starting to use the punching bags in the gym around the same time he'd be there too. It wasn't long before we became workout buds, on the same equipment constantly and egging each other on. Finally I approached him one day with a pair of modified workout headphones in hand- Ones that I never used but thought he could do better with. I got to see him start wearing them every workout, leaving me waiting for the subliminal messages I programmed in to take hold.

It didn't take long for them to start taking effect. I watched his eyes dim as he wore them, his swings weaker and weaker as if his arms were growing heavy. It wasn't long before his mouth was open, the slightest bit of drool leaking from it as his gaze grew hungry, the thought of food consuming his mind. Almost all his workouts started cutting short, leaving the gym with his stomach growling and headed to the nearest fast food available. That was when the weight started piling on his body.

His spare tire started to grow larger and larger, his body quickly growing soft as the layer of extra padding consumed the rest of his body. He'd walk into the gym lumbering under the new weight. His body barely fit into any of his workout gear, the bottom of his shirts rising higher and higher until his stomach was constantly exposed. His wardrobe was reduced to a single pair of sweat shorts that just fit over his fat ass, his last shirt stretched to its limits and giving way to the massive belly that had just started peeking from under it.

He no longer had a chance at hiding his second chin with the shape of his beard. His tits had grown huge, shaking with each of his labored punches, his body a fat sack of lard that he could hardly move as easily as before. I had seen in his eyes his resolve weaken with each pound he gained. Coming to the gym now just further destroyed him since each time he'd give in to the craving of fat greasy food that had turned him into a pig.

He had no more energy, his muscles having wasted away, not enough willpower to fight his cravings. When I stopped seeing him in the gym I started to swing by the nearby fast-food joint, finding he had picked up the habit of going there in place of his workout. It was finally over, turned into the pig he was always meant to be.