Mammoth Marathoner

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“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Brock. I thought you would be sick of losing by now?” came a laugh. Brock whirled around from securing his bike to a chain link fence. His  hazel eyes narrowed to glaring slits as he saw his taunter was none other than Andre. Andre and Brock had been doing marathons for years and the young men were bitter rivals. It frustrated Brock to no end that he hadn’t yet managed to defeat the dark haired French Andre that moved like a cheetah.

“You’ll be the one losing this year.” Sneered back Brock, a smug smile spreading across his face revealing his perfect teeth. “You say that every year.” Mocked Andre who waved Brock off with a laugh before walking over towards the start of the racecourse. Brock had dieted and trained like he’d never done before yet it still hadn’t been enough. Though his body was tanned and taut with muscle, which the ladies loved, he wanted a victory more than anything. One night, trawling the web, Brock had found his answer. A new running gel that advertised it could make a runner lighter. Brock didn’t understand the exact science, something about the gel making gasses in the body that in turn made him lighter, which in turn would make him faster. It cost him a fortune but if it worked it’d be worth it.

Turning back to his bike, Brock reached into his black backpack and removed the silver, tinfoil tube. “This better work.” Brock grumbled to himself, ripping off the lid and squeezing the gel contents into his mouth. With a satisfied grin he downed the gel. It even tasted good, which was a pleasant surprise to him. Adjusting the white sweat band that held back his shoulder length, dirty blonde hair, Brock was satisfied he was ready. Heading over to the starting area, Brock’s eyes focussed on Andre’s dark head. He was determined to soar past Andre and leave him eating his dust.

When the starting siren sounded to the race, it was the usual jostle and weaving as runners worked to get to their desired pace. The marathon wasn’t the hardest Brock thought, as he’d done it before. Most of the course was fairly level with only a few inclines as the course wove its way out of the city into a nature reserve, then back into the city to complete the loop. With each slap of his long joggers on the pavement, Brock’s mouth twinged with a smile as he was so certain he couldn’t lose.

As the race went on, the runners begun to spread further apart, with the leaders breaking away from the pack. Andre risked looking over his shoulder and smirked back at Brock who to his surprise returned the smirk. Andre frowned as he realized Brock was in fact closing the gap between them. Brock couldn’t keep the smirk off his face, his strong, clean shaven chin jutted upwards smugly as he felt amazing. Not only from how light he felt, as it felt like he had to make no effort to get his limbs to move and he was surging with energy. The strange, experimental gel had been a worthwhile investment Brock had thought to himself as for the first time ever he passed Andre on the course. Andre stared in disbelief, looking at the back of Brock and his neon green singlet, his sinewy back muscles rippling beneath the airy fabric.

Running felt near effortless to Brock as he continued to put more and more distance between himself and the others. He loved the view of them disappearing from his view as he entered the park, he had such a lead. He’d have let out a laugh or a cheer if he hadn’t been worried about wrecking his breathing rhythm. Turning another bend in the course, Brock relaxed, being all alone as there weren’t even spectators around this part of the course. It was a cloudy but nice day. The breeze on his skin felt nice as he continued to pump his long, strong legs onwards. Brock did notice though that his shirt was feeling airier than usual. It felt as if it was riding up, which was odd as he’d been careful with his training not to get bulky as that would slow him down.

Looking down, Brock was shocked to find his once flat, rock hard abs were blowing outwards. What the fuck, Brock mentally cursed confused as he watched his belly bloat further. Raking his brain, Brock puzzled what could be causing such a bloat then he remembered the gel. There had been a fine print on the silver, squeezable tube ‘Warning: Gel can cause bloating’. Remembering the warning, Brock’s panic begun to subside. If a bit of bloat was part of the price to pay to beat Andre for once he didn’t care.

Undeterred, Brock continued his run, thinking only of the finish line and trying not to let his bulging belly distract him. However, Brock’s belly didn’t stay at a bit of a bloat. He felt his shirt riding higher, becoming tauter, the waist bands of his shorts sagging as they were pushed down by his belly. I’m looking pregnant, Brock thought mortified as he watched his stomach continue to swell. He also wondered when this ‘bloating’ caused by the gel was going to stop, as Brock doubted he’d be able to avoid any awkward questions if he continued to blow up. Though Brock did acknowledge with some joy that he was moving even faster.

However, Brock’s speed was soon being compromised as he realized other parts of him were swelling. His shorts were hugging his lightly haired legs and rising. He could see his arms thickening. Am I having some kind of allergic reaction, Brock thought to himself, his focus breaking from the course ahead of him to his changing body. Looking around Brock was glad no one was about, and he still had a vast lead on the other runners. Brock winced as even his shoes felt tight. Just keep going, get to the finish line then see a doctor, Brock mentally urged himself. Even with the bloat Brock felt so light, he felt like his feet were barely touching the ground as he ran. This was in fact the case as with one stride, Brock realized when his foot came down it didn’t touch ground.

Startled, Brock looked down to see he had begun to float off the ground. The action causing him to pitch forward until he was parallel with the ground he was leaving behind. “No, no, no, no this can’t be happening.” Brock grunted between pants. Pinwheeling his arms as if he was swimming, Brock tried to propel himself back to the ground, but as his arms pinwheeled he felt them rub his sides. With each pass of his arms he realized they weren’t just rubbing into his sides they were smacking into them. Looking back Brock was horrified to see the growing globe that was his middle. His back was now entirely round, the rippling muscles gone. His long thrashing legs, barely making an appearance beyond his widening circumference.

Focusing on the ground below him, Brock decided to change stroke. Switching to breaststroke, Brock tried to propel himself back down, the movements becoming more cumbersome as his limbs continued to thicken. Looking about himself once more, Brock realized his restricted movements weren’t just because of his growing bulk but because his middle was slowing enveloping his limbs. “Oh fuck!” Brock grunted, as his clothing begun to strangle his swelling, increasingly globular body. Wide eyed, Brock looked around watching the trunks of the tall trees that lined the track passing him by. Tilting his head up, Brock looked at the approaching canopy and open sky. He also felt as his shoulder length hair begun to be pushed up by his ballooning shoulders, joining his chest in the slow encroach of enveloping his neck.

Brock thrashed wildly, desperately, as much as he could with his conical limbs. His arms were already absorbed up to where his elbows were and after a series of snaps, then whoomp his legs were absorbed up to his knees. The tattered remains of his shorts and briefs fluttering down to the ground he was leaving further and further behind. “Somebody! Anybody! Help!” cried Brock discarding his pride as he continued to swell and swell. His long-suffering singlet shredded, unable to stretch any further over the colossal curvature of Brock’s body. It’s tattered remains fluttering down to the ground joining his shorts.

As Brock continued to rise, he continued to swell, his feet and hands soon left flapping helplessly at the sides of his ballooning spherical form. “Somebody help me!” Brock cried again and again hoping some one would hear him or see his swollen body. However, he’d created such a lead not even Andre had caught up to where he’d lifted off. Brock’s panic climbed further as he floated higher and grew wider. He was beginning to the clear the tree tops as he felt his neck become completely absorbed into the enormous orb he’d become. He couldn’t even see around his sides anymore. “Somebod-“ Brock started to cry out again, before his mouth was forced shut his prominent chin pressing into his growing body. Wide eyed Brock looked around as his head continued to sink into his body. He could feel his feet being pushed backwards as they were sucked inwards, his hands grasping at the mounds about them as they became the centre of divots in the near perfectly, fleshy circle. Brock could’ve taken some relief that with the size he’d distended to and the height he’d reached no one would’ve recognized his nakedness. His impressive member slowly disappearing further into a divot the bigger Brock continued to swell. All Brock could do was moan and wince as he floated higher and grew wider leaving the tree tops behind. He was starting to feel very full as the gas welling up on him didn’t seem to be slowing down anytime soon.

Andre, turning a bend soon passed under the shadow of Brock’s ballooning body. However, he didn’t notice Brock. Andre was so focused on what was ahead of him, he hadn’t noticed the growing globe floating higher up above the tree tops, its shadow on the ground or the shreds of Brock’s running cloths that had scattered at the sides of the track. Furious and helpless, Brock watched as Andre took the lead in the race. It made rage roil up inside him. Only it wasn’t just his emotions becoming roiled as the gasses within him continued to surge. Brock groaned as he felt his hands, his feet stretch further away from his centre while sinking deeper. He could feel how tight he was and how huge he was still getting. Higher, and higher Brock floated. His handsome face completely hidden by the divot it had sunken into. I should’ve given the gel to Andre, Brock thought, smiling at the thought of Andre having blown up into a huge balloon instead of him. He fantasized about finding him and rolling Andre into the trees, to watch as his fair skinned, equally toned body morphed into a giant ball. Its sides sweeping out into all directions until it pressed too hard into a tree and he popped. Popped like an overfilled balloon which made Brock smile. As he passed hot air balloon size he had not considered until that point how overblown he had become. Wide eyed, Brock became all too aware how his swelling was accompanied by shuddering, but surely someone would see his huge body and send a helicopter or something to investigate. Perhaps if it hadn’t been a cloudy day, maybe someone would’ve sent a helicopter, however as huge and light as Brock had become he’d soon floated up into the clouds.

Up amongst the clouds, the pressure inside Brock grew even greater as he begun to swell even more rapidly. The pressure continued to mount and mount, each swollen moment feeling like he couldn’t stretch any further only for it to continue, for him to swell further. High up out of view the giant, groaning, growing globe that was Brock rapidly surged in one shuddering moment before it became a whine. Helpless and wide-eyed Brock knew that sound. Balloons made that sound when overstretched and about to pop. He wanted to thrash, to cry out but all he could do was continue to float and swell. Totally immobilized as a result of his attempt at cheating. It was then the once handsome, lean, marathon runner turned unrecognizable, oversized blimp surged one last time then popped. Runners and spectators looked up at the cloudy sky hearing the enormous rumbling boom wondering whether that was thunder, hoping that it wasn’t about to start raining.

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