Algicott Beach

At first the property owner, understandably, misunderstood. After all, when people made a sweeping gesture and said "I'd like to buy this," they meant one of the dining rooms at Vivian's Surf and Turf. When he was informed that this was not the case by the eccentric young man to which he was speaking, he then assumed that the young man meant the entire restaurant; that he wanted to rent it for a party he was having. This, too, was not the case, and he soon clarified his intentions.

"I meant I'd like to buy all of Algicott Beach. The boardwalk, all the stores, and everything within ten miles."

His reaction was unguarded. "You're joking," he laughed. "Who do you even think you are?"

The young man introduced himself as Craig Detwiler, scion of the Wonka-Detwiler fortune. As the property owner would later find out, his grandfather was - allegedly - none other than the candy magnate Willy Wonka. The old newspaper articles he found on the matter told of an affair between him and what was presumably Craig's grandmother. After his mysterious disappearance in 1974 the woman stepped forward, claiming her son was his heir; a paternity test proved it so, and thus the business and fortune went to them. Once the child was of age he proved to be a savvy investor in both dot-com industries during the early nineties as well as housing in the early aughts, cashing in his investments before their respective crashes. At the moment he was the seventeenth richest person on the planet and his son, Craig, possessed no small amount of wealth himself, which was going towards purchasing a positively massive amount of beachfront property.

"But why?" the landowner asked.

Craig looked off into the distance, visibly thinking before turning back to him with a confident expression. "Because large boys," he replied, "are the -best-."

*****

Eric hadn't seen pictures of Algicott Beach before its renovation, but upon arrival the changes made appeared to be quite expansive, both in the sense that there were a lot of them made and in the sense that many of the visitors were in various states of bigness. There were a surprising variety of men rolling, floating, or walking around, both under their own power and with the aid of others. There was a sort of comfort and openness to it that put him at ease; judging from the gate he had driven through far behind him, he recognized that privacy and discretion were of the utmost.

Even if a few of the floaters were hard to ignore.

As he and Simon exited the car, Simon let out an appreciative whistle. "Look at this place."

"I know," Eric replied. He slung a duffel bag over his shoulder before closing the door. "It's really..."

"Hot."

"I was going to say 'impressive,'" he began, heading for the cobblestone path, "but that works too."

As they walked up the path towards the beach proper they passed by another gentleman standing near several gas cylinders, who nodded at them. "Welcome to Algicott Beach. Care for a complimentary fill-up?"

Eric slowed to a stop as he looked at him. "So soon?"

"Some people want to get an early start," he replied with a shrug.

"Well, I don't." With a gesture to Simon he added, "but he does."

"What?" Simon asked, laughing.

"Oh, come on," he replied, taking him by the wrist and pulling him over. To the man he said, "it was the only thing he talked about on the way here."

"Okay, okay." With a playful roll of his eyes Simon pulled up the hem of his t-shirt, revealing his navel. "Fill 'er up."

The man removed the nozzle from its hook, tapping the handle to let off a burst of air before pressing it to Simon's navel and letting it stream into him. His abs lost definition almost instantly as his belly surged out, rising up into a high dome before beginning to bulge off his frame. Simon touched it with both hands, feeling the skin pull as it stretched larger.

"How is it?" the man asked.

"Unreal," Simon breathed. His clothing began to grow tight as his pecs rose off his frame and his thighs and ass swelled. As his midsection took on a more rounded shape the stitches in the legs of his shorts began to go, the sleeves of his pushed-up shirt following soon after. There was a growing resistance in his arms as they bulked up, and Simon found it harder to keep them bent until he finally relaxed, letting them be forced out to the sides as his limbs began to starfish. "Hey, I think my clothing is about to-"

There was a series of rips as his clothing was forced apart by his body, falling to the ground around him and leaving him in an overtaxed set of briefs, the elastic reaching its limits. A few seconds later there was a quiet series of snaps and it slipped free, leaving him completely nude. Simon blushed, waving his wide, stubby arms back and forth in a valiant yet futile attempt to cover up his erection, now far more swollen than normal from the air.

"Don't worry," the man said. "It happens to a lot of guys."

"Ruined clothes?"

"Oh. That too, sure. We've got clothing on sale. It's one size fits all."

"Does it include this size too?" Eric asked.

"This and larger," he replied. "There was a big lawsuit over the claim so the company was forced to double down on quality."

Eric gave Simon a pat on the back, causing a drum-like resonance. "You hear that? Larger than this."

"I feel big enough as it is." He was certainly round enough, Simon thought, looking like a flesh-toned balloon but for the curves of his backside and belly and his rapidly-disappearing limbs. As he felt his hands and feet sink in, shins and forearms somehow beginning to touch his ankles and wrists the man removed the nozzle, and he felt the gas shift a bit as his skin let out a series of quiet creaks. As Eric circled around him, looking him over, Simon felt a warmth in his cheeks despite himself, knowing that he was fully on display for both him and anyone who cared to be watching. He was full but not uncomfortably so, except for perhaps a needy stiffness in certain parts that Eric clearly noticed.

"So do I just roll him away?" Eric asked.

The man nodded. "Roll, carry, whatever you two are okay with." Leaning in he lowered his voice to a whisper, adding, "...and the place is built with a lot of cul-de-sacs. For privacy."

Eric nodded before moving both hands over Simon's body, rolling him onto his back. He gently pushed him along the path, eyes focused on an alcove between buildings in the distance. He doubted their room had a door wide enough, so he had to let out some of the "pressure," after all.

*****

While biology and genetics are hard sciences, they are by no means immune to chance. Darren had three other siblings, all girls, and while his mother was blessed with callipygian beauty, only Darren inherited her figure, much to everyone's surprise. Himself included; buying clothing that fit was a problem that grew worse in the years following puberty, as pants with waistlines that could accomodate his hips and ass looked more like bell bottoms on him. His growth eventually tapered off during his last year of college, leaving him with an ass that overflowed the average student desk chair and a custom tailor that he knew on a first-name basis.

Algicott Beach was the first time he was able to buy clothing off the rack and expect it to fit, which was a positively revelatory occasion. He settled on a comfortable set of booty shorts, changing into them at the store and wearing them out onto the boardwalk. Despite the sights on display he still recieved his fair share of attention, but he didn't really mind too much.

As he walked by a kiosk with free pumps, however, a thought crossed his mind that hadn't been there before: What if he was... bigger? Not permanently, of course - he was forced out of his way enough as it was by his figure - but maybe for a little bit, just to see what it would be like. So with some aid from the attendant, he took a pump with a nozzle that was both suggestive and left nothing to the imagination, and went behind the kiosk and out of sight of passers-by. The nozzle was snug but not painful, and after adjusting things for a bit he had the hose coming up between his cheeks and looping around his side atop one hip, the pump securely in his grasp. Figuring he had passed the point of no return long ago, Darren drew the handle out before pushing it back in again.

There was a painless sense of pressure, of something weightless but with volume, that quickly dissapated as the fabric of his shorts pulled and shifted across his skin. He followed the first with a few more slow pumps, glancing to either side of himself and watching in rapt attention as his hips and ass grew. He paused, turning his backside towards a nearby mirror, noting that there was a bit more momentum in his motion; what once overflowed a single seat would now easily take up two. Shifting his weight from foot to foot he noticed a bit more bulk in his legs as well, and a turn towards his reflection confirmed that not only were his thighs notably thicker, his shins were as well, giving his limbs a conical taper.

Darren continued pumping, a faint wobbling and rippling sensation spreading across his skin. He once thought he was merely getting wider, but upon noticing the change in his angle on the surroundings he realized that he was getting taller as well: Everything above his waist was untouched, but beneath that his body was growing thicker and wider. Compared to some of the men he had seen, however, he was still mobile, perhaps surprisingly so.

When he stepped out onto the boardwalk again he had gained over a yard in height, eyes level with the roofs and awnings of nearby buildings. His booty shorts still fit perfectly, but that was not to say that his figure was even remotely like what it was when he first put them on: Ordinary sneakers and normal-looking ankles flared out to trunk-like proportions, leading up to a set of hips and an ass that would not just overflow a couch but serve as one unto itself.

This was proven when he walked by a low balcony and two Hispanic young men - twins - boarded him - there was really no other word for it - taking a seat on either side of his torso. He glanced to either side, and it took Darren a few seconds to fully comprehend that despite looking as if they were seated on a bed of some sort, that it was -him-, his body, bouncing and shaking beneath them as he moved. "Oh," he said, taken aback. "Hello."

"Hi," the one on his left said. "I'm Elias."

"I'm Lucas," the one on the right added.

"You know," Elias said with a smile, "you really stick out in a crowd."

"Mostly to the sides and back."

"Well," Darren said, "I didn't like being the center of attention before, but it's starting to grow on me."

The twins exchanged a sly look. "I guess you should be careful," Elias said, patting Darren's widened backside. "You don't want it getting crowded up here."

"I'm not worried." He punctuated his statement by pulling out the handle of the pump and pressing it in again. "I can always make more room."

*****

Even when he was an impressionable young teenager with binders full of drawings of anime characters, Tobias always felt that the harem trope was over-indulgent fantasy. The idea that people would, en masse, throw themselves at the feet of someone they mutually found attractive was purely projection on the writers' parts, especially since so many of them had so little in the way of redeeming qualities. Transparent escapism, and nothing more.

That was his freshman high school year. By his senior graduation he had grown several inches, put on several pounds of muscle, his acne had cleared up entirely, and he had exchanged his glasses for a pair with frames that looked better on him. He was practically a different person, one that had not escaped the notice of his classmates as his senior year he was the target of no fewer than nineteen propositions, eight of which were male students who came out to him as gay or "I'm not gay, but."

As for college, several jokes were made about "summa cum laude," the details of which can be left to one's imagination.

Now, in what was a solo visit to Algicott Beach, he had acquired no fewer than four followers in the span of a day and a half, the most recent one when he was walking along the shore in wetsuit shorts and a windbreaker without a shirt. Upon reflection, that last one may have partly been his fault.

"It's a great day and all," the new arrival said, "but why don't we head inside for a bit?"

"I already -was- inside," Tobias replied. "This is the first time I've been out all day."

"I can confirm this," one of Tobias' hangers-on added. "We had a late night."

"...and an early morning," the second said.

"Okay, well-" The new arrival gestured to the rest. "-you guys can wait outside the room, then."

The third frowned as he moved around towards Tobias, a gesture he clearly recognized as possessive in nature. "There's enough of him to go around, you know."

Tobias held his hands to his sides in an expression of disbelief. "There really isn't. Even three people is kind of pushing it."

Something cold and cylindrical, damp with condensation, was placed in Tobias' hand. He glanced down at it, his head turning to either side before spotting a man with an open cooler giving him an okay sign with one hand as he walked away. Giving it another look it bore the name of "La Pompa Grande", featuring a cartoonishly bulgy silhouette and a notable lack of labels aside from Wonka-Detwiler logo. Figuring that no harm could come of consuming sparsely-marked Wonka products handed to him by a complete stranger, he popped the tab and drank. It was heavily carbonated and citrus-like in flavor, but not overly so, and he finished in a matter of moments, lobbing it into a distant garbage can with an underhanded throw.

No sooner did he do that than Tobias felt something bubble up from his gut, and he muffled a quiet burp with the back of his hand. If nothing else that only seemed to make his sudden gassiness worse - not painful, but at least more intense - and he belched loudly as his gut gurgled, his four companions taking a step back in surprise as he suddenly shot up a foot. Tobias looked between them and made a move to speak asking what just happened when another belch rolled out of him, punctuating another fit of growth that was followed only a matter of seconds later by yet another.

They looked on as he let out a constant stream of carbonation-induced burps, each of them causing him to grow a bit more. Not just taller, but rounder, his features being softened by curves and plumped up by whatever gas was filling all parts of his body, reaching even his now-chubby cheeks. Some were growing faster than others, as Tobias had a pronounced paunch to his gut by the time the others came up to his knees. His shorts, meanwhile, were filling up dramatically, contours of the fabric putting his oversized length on display as his package pressed against the inside of his legs in its growth.

For his part Tobias was surprised but not unpleasantly so, trying to reduce the noise to a bare minimum by covering his mouth. Having gained and continuing to gain several yards and rounding out in semi-public wasn't a problem - he certainly wasn't alone in that regard - but as his scale gradually grew more comparable to the nearby motel he started to worry that the attention would get him more admirers. As his stomach rumbled loudly and bulged out he began to worry; a single ear-splitting belch erupted from him and he shot up another story in the process, but after that whatever was inside him had quieted down and run its course.

The other four appeared to be up to mid-shin to him, but it was hard to tell as his stance had widened somewhat. He clumsily eased himself to the ground, noting that he felt lighter despite being larger in more than one sense, taking a seat on the sand and stretching his legs out at an angle. Pressing his stomach in and craning his neck up he could see a bulge like two weather balloons side by side with an endowment long and thick enough to easily crush a car. He pressed both hands into either side of his package, finding it firm yet still pleasingly soft.

One of his harem pointed. "Okay," he said, "*now* there's enough to go around."

*****

From his penthouse office Craig Detwiler watched the visitors go about their days. This, he thought, was one of the best ideas he had ever had.

Behind him he heard a rap on the doorframe and he turned his head, only managing to move it a few degrees; it was more done out of reflex than any ability to see or move. "Was there anything you needed, Craig?" His personal assistant.

"Well." Craig flapped his hands and feet. "What I thought I'd do was lie here as a huge berry boy until someone came along and fucked me so hard that juice spilled out of every hole."

"That may take a while." The assistant unbuckled his belt. "Shall I cancel your appointments?"

"Cancel them?" He laughed. "Why did you think I -made- them?"