The Singlet, Part 2

By the time Oliver made it back to his workplace, he was out of breath. He may have had the body of a cross-country runner, but he didn’t have the stamina that went along with it since he never exercised. The little man leaned against the elevator wall as it climbed to the 10th floor, and then slinked into his office and locked the door behind him.

Oliver took the singlet he had purchased out of the bag and held it up in front of him. Even though he had been making clothes and working in the fashion industry for many years, this extraordinary piece excited him more than anything else had in a long time. It was special and mysterious, and he very much wanted to try it on despite it being many sizes too big.

“I know it won’t fit,” thought Oliver. “But I’m dying to see what it looks like on me.”

He began undressing and carefully laid his size-small clothes on the back of the chair next to his desk, and then slipped the singlet on to his body. Unsurprisingly, it was what could euphemistically be called ‘roomy’ on his skinny frame, but it wasn’t sagging to the floor like he thought it would be.

Oliver padded over to the full-length mirror he had next to his design table and checked out his reflection. Yes, he was a short and slender man wearing a much-too-big singlet made for a strongman, but he still liked what he saw. “Wow, this thing is so amazing. I cannot even imagine how huge the original owner used to be. He must have worked out…a lot!”

As he thought about the previous wearer of the singlet, Oliver’s musings began to morph into something different…more like memories. It wasn’t just that he was thinking about bench presses and curls and leg presses, but he was remembering himself doing them. How much he pushed himself, how challenging they were, and how much he would sweat during the workouts. He thought about how much he liked to check out his pumped muscles in the gym mirrors, and how he adjusted his routines to achieve maximum growth.

“But I’ve never worked out…or have I? I must have gone to the gym…maybe just to check out other guys? No, I was *there* to pump iron…I just forgot.”

He also thought about all the food he ate to get so big. All those steaks, and chicken breasts, and pulled pork sandwiches. Oliver could almost taste the meat in his mouth as he sucked down high protein meals to feed his growing muscles. 

“Goddamn,” he thought. “I’ve always been a big eater. I need the fuel to keep growing this body.”

A shimmer came over the office walls which Oliver might have detected if he hadn’t been so busy checking himself out in the mirror. Ever so slightly, the details of the room begin to change…the space became a little larger, the desk became bigger, and a few dumbbells appeared in the corner.

Oliver began to flex while wearing his new singlet, and as he did so, he thought he looked like he had added some muscle. “Oh yeah,” he said, sounding a little like the Kool-Aid man blasting through a wall. “Look at those pythons.”

His body was indeed growing…from 5’6” to 5”8” and then 5”10”. From 130 pounds to 170 to 210. Oliver no longer resembled a cross country runner, but rather looked more like a baseball player. His arms, once only 11 inches around, now peaked at 16 and had a small vein snaking across the top. He could feel himself getting stronger, and he continued to remember his previous workouts. But they were no longer something he did long ago…they were recent trips to the gym he had made last month, last week…and one even yesterday.

He reached down and adjusted his package, as it was getting a little tight in the crotch, and it was itching as well. Actually, more like tingling. It was growing, too, and not just with an erection. It used to only be a few inches when soft, but now it was closer to 7. And then 8. And then 9.

The room began to shimmer more brightly now. Again, if Oliver hadn’t been transfixed on his body, he would have noticed other changes going on. The office grew even larger, the few dumbbells in the corner changed into a full weight set, and the design table morphed into a small kitchen setup with a mini-fridge filled ready-make protein shakes.

Oliver turned his attention to his pecs, which looked fuller and heavier with deep muscle cleavage that hung over his tight 8-pack. He began to bounce his pecs up and down, and he reached under the singlet straps to feel the bulging muscles with his calloused hands. They were hard as stone and incredibly heavy; he had been accused of getting pec implants when he was younger, but Oliver had just been blessed with good genes and learned how to take advantage of his gifts.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunted. “All the guys dig my chest. Everybody wants to touch these magnificent muscle tits.”

He was now 6’2” inches tall and weighed in at 250 pounds. Oliver had gone from baseball player to football tight end. The once-loose singlet was now hanging properly on his much-improved physique, but it still had some room left for growth. Oliver couldn’t remember what had attracted him to the garment at first…and then he couldn’t even remember how long he had it. He didn’t recall ever getting excited about clothing design, but knew he was in the clothing business. What was his job again?

But that train of thought was quickly forgotten as Oliver continued to explore the rest of his body. His eyes turned downward to his legs, which seemed to be growing longer and thicker with each passing second. They may have been saplings a few minutes earlier, but now they resembled sequoias – wide, strong, and unmatched by the others. Oliver’s cock got a little harder and longer as he pictured himself doing squats with 600 pounds, 800 pounds, and even 1000 pounds, and how he had set records during his time at the University Strongman Club. And how some of the other members were so jealous…but, well, all of them definitely appreciated his size and strength and were willing to do anything to be close to him.

“How many of them did I fuck?” he asked himself. “I’m sure everyone got their chance.”

A final burst of shimmering occurred across the room, changing the clothes he had laid across the chair (which increased in size and cost), the size of the chair itself (which could now hold a much bigger man), and the size of the mirror widened to accommodate a much bigger person.

As the shimmering continued, everything else about Oliver also got bigger. His neck became thick like a heavyweight wrestler, his traps and lats got thick, his cock became think like a beer can, and even his name changed to Thick. He was no longer Oliver Thimp but Oliver Thick, and those who knew him well often referred to him as All Over Thick because of the outrageous size of his entire body. Through sheer determination, grit, and a desire to grow grow grow, he had turned into an incredible specimen of muscularity standing 6’7” tall and weighing 320 pounds. He completely stretched out the singlet he was wearing, which now fit him tightly across all the bulges on his body. He had massive 26-inch biceps, a 60-inch chest, and 38-inch legs. He was the strongest man in the city, maybe even in the state, and he was the CEO of Thick Sportswear, a very successful company that manufactured workout clothes for serious athletes.

Oliver finally turned his attention away from the mirror and walked back over to wear he had set down his clothes. As much as he wanted to spend the whole day admiring his muscles, he had a company to run and needed to get ready for a meeting. The big big big man put his tailored suit on over his singlet, along with his shoes and socks, and then headed for the office door. He unlocked it, ducked under the jamb, and entered the bullpen where his sales and admin teams worked. The place was a hive of activity, which made Oliver smile. He was not only making money with every sale, but he was also getting the highest quality workout wear to other big men.

Before his appointment could arrive, however, Oliver was hit from the side by one of his employees, Braxton Willis, who wasn’t watching where he was going. He was instead looking down at a handful of cookies he had taken from the break room.

“Oof, sorry, boss. I didn’t see you there,” said Braxton with a full mouth. The cookies in his hand had smashed up against Oliver’s rock-hard triceps, broken apart, and crumbled to the floor.

“Fuck, Braxton. What were you thinking?”

“I really am sorry, Oliver. I was just getting a snack.”

In the new reality, Braxton was no longer the muscular asshole he had been previously; he was still 6’3”, but now weighed 290 very soft, flabby pounds. He had started off as a company model thanks to his natural leanness during his younger years, but once his metabolism slowed, the weight piled on to his body and face, and he had to switch to a desk job in the office.

Oliver looked down at Braxton – the man’s shirt was way too tight for his engorged torso, with big moobs and a big belly that threatened to rip through the buttons, and his arms looked like sausages stuffed into the sleeves. 

“I think the last thing you need is more cookies, Braxton. Good Lord, you’ve gotten so fat.”

“I’ve been working out, I promise. I’m gonna lose the weight real soon,” replied Braxton.

“I don’t believe you, chubs. When men work out, they look like me…not you. They develop big arms, big chest, and tight abs…and you don’t seem to have any of those things,” said Oliver as he grabbed the flab roll hanging over Braxton’s belt. “Look at this jelly belly…you must have put on at least 10 pounds in the past month. And these love handles…fuck me, they’re so big and jiggly. You’re just a fuckin’ mess.”

Braxton didn’t know how to respond, so he instinctively leaned forward to try to hide the size of his gut.

Oliver continued by paraphrasing something he had heard before, but he couldn’t quite remember where. “Your body is pathetic. Why do I let you work for my fitness company when you don’t even work out? I bet even if you did do some curls, it would be with 2-pound dumbbells and you’d spend the whole time whining about how heavy they are. It’s just fuckin’ embarrassing you come in here showing off your laziness and gluttony – I mean you were gobbling down those cookies so fast you didn’t even see me, the biggest guy in the office.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t,” replied Oliver. He let go of Braxton’s flab, reach up to the fat man’s collar, and tore his shirt down the front as if it were made of paper, which caused all of lard to surge forward. “Go find yourself a proper fitting shirt, and then clean up the cookie crumbs on the floor. Pronto!”

Braxton scurried away, and Oliver turned back to the rest of the room. He could see the elevator doors open in the foyer, and his 1:00pm meeting appointment stepped out. It was Rawson Masters from Thick Nutrition – the two men were going to negotiate that afternoon to see if they could agree on some sort of collaboration between their two companies. They had met previously in the boardroom with other executives from their respective firms, but today they’d be going at it one-on-one.