That balloon

by RdyRoger   

Using a magic balloon to blow yourself up bigger is great, but blowing up other people can be even more fun.

I found a balloon laying around high school in of a desk drawer. It was blue, nondescript, looked new, so I of course blew it up. Not all the way, about halfway.

Then I let the air out.

See, the thing is I read that story, so I whispered, you know, “make my junk bigger,” and I blew into the balloon about halfway and then said, “release!” like in the story.

I was feeling the pressure in my crotch ‘cause I was being turned on by the thought of the fantasy, but I stuck the balloon in my shirt pocket and headed to the gym after class. I met Ron there. He went to another school.

We worked out together. He was slender, a few inches taller than I was, hung like a horse, and slightly balding. Really sweet friend. But we were just acquaintances. So, I pulled on my gym shorts, did the full sweaty workout, which went well, and then I got back to the locker room, grabbed a towel, headed to the shower, and… ummm…

I pulled down my underwear, just regular gay-guy briefs, and I blinked. My junk looked twice as big. I blinked again. Still twice as big or maybe bigger! I climbed into the shower and washed my eyes and dried them with the towel hanging outside and looked down. Still the same more than twice as big package. I was now, magically, giving Ron a run for his money. Horse hung. Not bull hung, or monster hung, but still. Happens every day, right? I almost staggered or fainted or something. I could feel the water pounding down my chest and cascading over my much bigger junk.

I looked again, and it was as big as ever—I mean, as big as I thought I’d seen. No illusion. So how? I reached down and touched my cock and a thrill shot through my cock and balls and chest. Whoops. No playing with Mr Happy in the shower if I didn’t want a full-on raging hardon. I reached under and felt my visibly larger scrotum, which was bigger than a baseball, swollen with the biggest, ripest balls I’d ever seen. I pulled my scrotum forward and pushed aside my cock to get a full view. But shoving my meat aside drew my attention back to it, especially the way I was super wide at the base…

Ahem. I had been distracted, and a few guys of course walked by and glanced and did a double-take, holy-fuck flash of jealousy I-wanna-date-this-guy reaction. So of course it was whispered about as I soaped my hair, face, chest, abs… pubes… cock… balls… whew. The heft. They were actually heavy! I heard Tommy say he’d just gotten an eyeful of my swinging junk and it reminded him of a wrecking ball! And Henry laughed and said that my cock must be 8 inches soft—how fucking big did that thing get when it was hard!! And Todd said, it isn’t the length it’s the thickness and he said I always gets stopped at the grocery store because they think I’m smuggling a Coors tall beer can out of the store! That set off gales of laughter. Tommy said, “That must be so fucking hot to be so big!” And Todd said, “I don’t know… that’s a heavy burden to have to carry!”

I didn’t know what I was thinking, I was mostly flattered, a bit turned on, but I thought they were a bit callous. I dismissed it though. Yesterday I was jealous of Ron. I was reeling. How? I started to feel my cock chub up and that meant it grew two inches longer in two second and it wasn’t even close to hard. Better think of something else….

So I was thinking about this and what it meant and what had happened and was it something I ate or … that damn balloon? Was there really magic in the world? Fuck. It was in my locker. I quick-rinsed and as I was drying myself, actually my junk, and Ron walked by and gaped. He didn’t seem to believe it impossible as I did, he just seemed to have just discovered something he never knew. He looked at me and glanced down. Maybe he was a bit bigger than I was, now—longer anyways. But I know he wasn’t someone who was used to finding someone of his size class running around.

So I wrapped the towel around my slender body with a big cock bulge pushing under the cotton, and walked to the locker. Carrying my underwear now I had no support so I really felt the junk swinging and swaying and bobbing and smacking around. Never had that sorta problem before! Ha. No wonder I’d felt my junk getting more sweaty than normal doing the workout. I just thought it was tight shorts.

So I opened the locker and there was the balloon in my shirt. I looked around. No one in this aisle. I said, “grow my junk!” and I blew into the balloon a few more breaths. Then two more. For luck you know. I was wearing the towel still and I saw, felt, the bulge expand with size and weight. I almost let go and whispered, “release!” and let the air out and shoved it in my shirt pocket and got dressed. Forget horse-hung. I was definitely monster-hung now. When I dropped the towel I was a bit shocked. I was a lot bigger. 12½” swinging easy. I pulled up some rayon red boxer briefs I carried that I hadn’t worn because the fabric was slippery and slipped down. Now, with my big junk, it was pulled tight and held in place and frankly completely obscene. Of course the silk like feel of the briefs pulling and rubbing my junk threatened to make my cock grow to full mast any second!

I pulled up my jeans, they were loose fitting and a bit too long, but even so the bulge I had was quite fantastic.

I was still alone so I looked in the mirror, said, “make me taller”, and blew into the balloon. Sure enough I slid skyward about 4 inches. Where before my jeans had been too long, now they were too short but I looked great so fuck it you know?

I looked at myself in the mirror. “Grow my muscles,” I said. I blew into the balloon. pssst. I watched my pecs and lats and delts expand, my arms blew up a bit, and my quads tightened the denim. So then I added more because it was free you know? I swole up until I had real pecs and big biceps and massive triceps… I was big in all the right places. My formerly loose shirt was now tight and sexy.

I thought of what else to change after i released the air, and I thought about Ron. Hmm. I didn’t wanna be mean. But something he’d enjoy…

I said, “Grow Ron’s cock even thicker,” and I blew into the balloon about 4 breaths. “Release!” I thought and let go. I heard the door swing open and put the balloon in the shirt pocket and started to try and button my now very tight, show-off-my-muscles shirt. Threads were popping on my stretch fabric shirt.

Ron came in and said “hey” like super casual you know, but checking out my basket, and he pulled off his towel. Whoops. Yeah, his cock was not longer but was definitely like twice as thick. Super fat now. Hoped he liked it. He was looking at me though so I don’t think he looked at himself. So he asked me out on a date. Of course I said yes.

So we had coffee. Except there was a line so we didn’t. We walked to his apartment and he was wrapping his arm around my shoulders (feeling my deltoids) while he was complimenting my gains.

When we got there I saw that he had a simple place, but with a king-sized bed… and he was stripping and I was stripping and he was helping me undress and I was helping him with pulling his baggy, saggy boxer briefs down to his ankles and admiring his fat cock. He was already half hard and already even fatter for that and yet he was totally into exposing my junk.

Okay, so I overdid it. I didn’t realize how adding on the extra breaths at the locker would add so much. My scrotum was now like a giant softball and my cock dangled about 12 inches anyways and was about as thick as Ron’s.

Ron got off on mutual jerking off and comparing junk, and I was one of only four guys ever that were bigger than him that he’d met. There was a lot of “jerk that big cock”, “come on you hung fucker”, that kinda stuff. Seemed that worked out okay. When I became erect, damn I had a magnificent cock. 15” and probably 8” in circumference!

I came a lot more than before, like a couple tablespoons almost. Ron also shot a lot but his cum was thin and almost clear mine was creamy and thick.

After two times getting off Ron was sated and he wanted me to go. No big deal. I knew he’d be back. We’d had fun.

So I made sure the balloon was in my pocket, went home, and ignored the renter and locked my bedroom door and stripped. It was way early. So I thought about what fun I wanted. I looked in the full length mirror and used the balloon. “Make me older.” up to 23 or so. Now I can walk into clubs!

“Make me taller”, I said, and that added 3 more inches I was now about 6’4” tall. “Add more muscle development” and psssst. Now I was a bodybuilder with 22-inch arms and pecs the size of 25-pound weight plates each. I measured. Ha.

What else, I thought? “Make me more handsome.” That helped quite bit. I tried something else. “Make me able to cum a lot more, and more often, and better orgasms,” I said, and I blew that up about halfway. It didn’t feel much different, so I blew the balloon pretty full and thought, “Release!”

Then I dressed in whatever shorts I had that would fit, and pulled on a too-big muscle tee from some gym promotion that was now a too-small muscle tee … and then I looked in the mirror, and I did look damn good, and I blew just two more breaths of size into my junk because I was so much taller now, you know? Okay, it was three. I stood there, looking amazing in the mirror, and blew three long breaths. psssssssst! each one made my crotch bulge bigger and hang lower. “Release!” Then I thought maybe I’d overdone it, you know, but whatever! I knew Ron liked it big!!

Then I thought about Ron and thought, “Grow Ron’s junk,” and blew up three big breaths. And then I thought about his balls and said “Grow his balls and how much he cums and how often and better orgasms too!” I blew in three breaths and said release.

I hid the balloon around my neck on a string pouch, since I was worried about my wallet being stolen. I went to the Gold Lode and sat in a dark corner with a drink and my magic balloon and changed people’s lives for the better. People I knew who were deserving, you know, or a cute couple. Wait until they got home and found out they had more hair on their chests and junk twice as big and muscle bear muscles!!

About then my phone rang. Ron wanted me to come over. I was horny so I went. Turns out he knew it was magic and I was responsible and I couldn’t deny it cause I was 60 pounds heavier than earlier. Which he thought was fucking awesome, by the way.

Also he’d been in the bathroom jerking off in the mirror at his new muscles when earlier his cock had lengthened three inches while he was holding his cock in his hand jerking! Not to mention seconds later when his balls grew swollen with size and mass. He showed me his junk. It was super hot and super big and he loved it.

So I was cautious, thinking he’d want the balloon, but he didn’t even want to try the balloon in case it ruined the magic. He asked me to make him taller. 6’7” made him happy. And he did want that Mr Olympia vibe going on, so I obliged him, and a bit more, and gave him back a full head of hair, and made him a jock athlete—with a giant jock, ha, and then I also made him more handsome. He didn’t know that part but why not?

We stripped and jerked off and then we both discovered we came about 4 or 5 tablespoons which was messy but hot. And we did that for about an hour, like five times. I was bigger, not just longer but fatter and my balls were heavier and I was swinging about 14” soft because I was way more hung. Because, yes, I was greedy. But Ron, he posed in skimpy lycra fucking hot and he did have a really big cock of almost 12” and because of me really big balls.

So he asked, “Let me be bigger. Let me be biggest for a while.”

Well, that sounded hot. He was wearing red lycra all stretched with his block and tackle and I blew his up until the lycra was almost bursting. So now he was biggest in height, muscle and size of his junk.

No, he wasn’t evil. He took me for a spin that was a giant thank you! I figured out more stuff about the balloon, like how you could use it to be super versatile. We both enjoyed that.

Then he wanted is to flip so I’d be the bigger one, but not shrink him so I grew to over 7 feet tall and with super muscle-morphed muscles and a 16-inch hard cock and each of my balls was like a giant lemon hanging there.

So I dominated him and he begged me to add more hair to my body… so I became a giant hirsute muscle man. He was begging, “More! more!” as I added hair to my chest. We fucked and fucked. Then the balloon popped while we were a making his feet bigger. I’d already grown mine.

Whoops! We stayed the same. I can’t go back to high school like this!

Ron likewise was worried. But the magic covered for us—we had always been as we had become. Our friends just… adjusted.

I was back in that classroom and after class I searched every inch of the place. I was about to give up when I found an old cellophane bag of balloons in the supply closet … about twenty. I grabbed them.

I had one blue balloon in my hand, and I thought… I didn’t know what, but I needed to test. I looked down the hallway—perfect! Jack was there, an unfortunate kid because he was so short and wimpy but always very nice to me.

“Grow Jack big and tall and muscled and—uhhh—hung and handsome and—make him a surfer dude stud!”

I blew into the balloon. It expanded. For a second I thought I was failing when I heard fabric tearing. Jack’s shirt had torn off of him! I kept blowing and blowing! psssst! His basket was full and his shorts were no longer loose. They were filling up with his growing quads. He’d dropped his books. I was so excited I kept blowing!

He didn’t see or hear me because I was way down the hallway. So maybe I overdid it. I stopped when I realised he was as tall as the lockers. I wasn’t that tall myself!

Jack’s his shorts had split up the seams and he looked like a long-haired Captain America with even bigger muscles and… Fuck, his cock. Even from 65 feet away I could see it swinging. “Release!” I thought, and let out the air. Then I thought, “Make Jack a super hot gay lover who can go as long as he wants!” psssst. Five giant breaths. “Release!” and then I tucked away the new balloon, checked to make sure the extras were secure in my pocket, and walked down the hall where Jack had just tied his jacket around his waist as a modesty issue. The closer I got the bigger he looked.

“Hey Jack, I see you hit a big growth spurt!”

“Yeah I gotta get home and get some clothes…” he said distractedly. He was confused, but it seemed he was accepting this impossible thing. So this is why magic went unnoticed!

“Yours won’t fit but come home with me and I will loan you some that will.”

“Would you? thanks!”

We walked in silence a bit, and he was almost comical—he was so meek, but such a beast. “Did you get everything you wanted in your growth spurt?” I asked him.

“And more!” he laughed. Something was bothering him. “Hey, you know I used to date girls right?” He glanced down at me. He was three inches taller.

“Sure!”

“Well, now I feel like I really want to date guys. Was coming out hard for you?”

“Not too bad. If you want to talk…”

“Yes thanks!”

We got to my house and we tromped upstairs. In my bedroom I’d made the mirror bigger, and Jack was checking himself out. He didn’t seem shy at all suddenly.

“You wanna go for a swim or something?” I asked.

Jack looked around a bit. He dropped his jacket from around his waist. He was comparably hung to me. “Or something…” Jack said.

Fuck, he was sexy.

I walked over to him and he pulled my shirt off over my head and I unbuckled my jeans and kicked off my shoes. I glanced down. My cock was already swelling, with a huge chubby, and Jack’s was almost hard.

“Please kiss me… I want you to kiss me!” And I did… and then he said, “I want you to kiss me… my cock…!” and I dropped to my knees and inhaled his cock, as much as could fit. I played with him then stood and took him to the bed and we tumbled naturally to 69 and I coaxed his thick cock even bigger. He was really handsome and hot.

“You are such a beast!” he said. I know he meant… well, my height and huge muscles and my giant cock and stupendous balls and my hairy arms and legs and chest. “So fucking hot!”

I’ll be darned if he didn’t grow another inch longer in my mouth before he shot. He was sexy like a porn star wet dream. I flexed my quads and that made him shoot… giant swollen muscle!

When I unloaded on him, he was so turned on because I was such a supershooter!

He was a really good lover. He was awesome.

Time passed, though, and I had some unhappy experiences.

I was tired of changing people—or rather, people asking me to change them. Tommy was one of the guys I told no to, but I felt bad, not because he was black, but because he was skinny and short. Maybe I was being mean but I was just tired of people asking for something and then blowing me off.

But I noticed that of all the people who said they would come help around my house, Tommy was the only one to help me with a ladder and cleaning gutters. With his help it went quickly, and we had time to dig in the garden before going for a swim. He hadn’t said anything about muscles, although a couple of times I think I impressed him lifting and moving boulders.

So he told me I should come play basketball with him and some friends, and I asked if they were okay with me being mixed hispanic/white, and he assured me they were cool.

I thought up a game for myself. I wanted to help Tommy because he helped me, so I pulled out the balloon when I went into the house for a second. I looked out the window and Tommy was raking the leaves, sweating in his shorts. We were going swimming after so he could kick off his shoes and I think his swimsuit was under his shorts. If not, I had plenty he could borrow.

“Make Tommy taller!” I said and blew into the balloon one breath. Outside he almost staggered for a sec but he just kept raking. I brought out lemonade and he was careful to say thank you. I could tell he really meant it.

When he stood next to me, I was so tall anyways he didn’t notice his height growth. But it was maybe 4”, he’d barely reached my pecs in height, now he was staring straight at my nipples. But like I said, he was so much smaller than me that I know he didn’t notice. If anyone else had been around, he would have noticed growing from 5’6” tall to about 5’10” tall.

So here was the game, anytime Tommy said please or thank you or helped that day, I would give him one breath in the balloon for each time. If he complimented me on something that was not my muscles or body, I’d give him one breath in the balloon. If he asked me about anything I was interested in, one breath in the balloon.

“So I seem to be getting in the hang of this,” Tommy said as he swung the pickaxe and I troweled the ground behind him, breaking up loose clods of dirt. With his longer arms it was easier for him.

“You sure are!” I said. “Be careful with that pickaxe!” Like most guys he wanted the cool tool even though I was the obvious one to swing something like that with my giant muscles.

“Thanks!” said Tommy, “I had no idea you were into gardening though. How did that start?”

That was two breaths right there. “My grandmother always had a small garden, and grew tomatoes and fruit trees, so I learned from her. I do it because it helps me remember her. Of course I have to do it on an industrial scale!”

“Yeah, but you’re always thinking about everyone else. I heard you at lunch telling Ron you were gonna gift all the extra fruit and vegetables to everyone.”

I started to say something but right then he stopped, and had to gasp and catch his breath. “I need a break for a minute,” said Tommy.

“I’ll get us more lemonade,” I said.

“Thank you, thank you! I could use it!”

I ran inside, before he could say thank you again and ruin the game too fast. Ha. I owed him five breaths. I took out the balloon and looked out the window, he was leaning on a gatepost, and I said, “Make Tommy taller!” and I blew in one breath. I could see it hit him, and his arms angled down more because of how much taller he’d grown.

The next breath was definitely gonna be muscles, because even though he was taller and stronger he was skinny as a rail and so I said, “Grow Tommy’s muscles,” and blew in two breaths. Pssst. He looked about the same, really, just not so emaciated. Pssst. The second breath gave him some minor pec development and his lats expanded, probably because he was swinging the pickaxe, and he wouldn’t even see that because he couldn’t see a mirror. His abs looked a bit less sunken and his arms weren’t quite the sticks they’d been.

“Make Tommy more hung!” And I blew in (ahem) a pretty big breath. I could see it from where I was, he definitely had a bulge where before had been only air. Not that it was anything substantial like it was super obvious. I remembered suddenly someone at school making a joke about black people being hung, and I knew Tommy wasn’t at all, you know, and he’d taken it good natured and made a joke himself and said, “I wish that were true!”

So I blew in another big breath, not as crazy as the one I’d just done, but enough to really give Tommy a bulge in his shorts. While I was looking, he reached down and kinda scratched himself in the groin, like the fabric was pinching or something. something settled lower in his shorts, and he left himself alone. hmmm. I wondered suddenly if Tommy had speedos, because if he did and this went on, he would definitely notice because speedos though stretchy were tight and … obvious.

Hah Ha. I was really having fun.

I ran out and handed Tommy his refilled glass. “I think that was your glass,” I said.

“Doesn’t really matter with someone I’ve kissed before does it?” he teased. Wow. He was definitely taller but still a lot shorter than I was. Now his eyes were staring kinda at the centre of my giant pecs. He liked the view. His shoulders had some muscle too, as did his legs, but he was wearing shorts and was lean so it wasn’t super obvious.

“Ha ha I thought you forgot about all that!” I said to Tommy. He’d been like the second guy I’d kissed, ever.

“I could never forget kissing you!” he said.

Well, that was a compliment. I blushed a bit. I’d actually kinda forgot about it a bit, because I’d liked Tommy a super lot, but he’d been so small and skinny he just wasn’t what attracted me. It wasn’t his failing, it was mine.

“Hey, let’s finish up and get into the pool before one o’clock!”

“Okay,” I said, and we worked silently for a while.

“Thanks for your friendship, it means a lot to me,” said Tommy suddenly. That was worth another breath in the balloon!

“Likewise!” I said.

“Besides now I can plant my own tomatoes and compete with you at the state fair!”

“Ha! good luck!” I said, “Mine will always be bigger and juicier.”

Holy crap what did I just say? But Tommy laughed. He coulda been hurt but he just wasn’t that kinda guy.

“Uh, yeah,” said Tommy, “I know!”

And then we both laughed like idiots for 30 seconds or so. It was just how I was with Tommy. “You really make me laugh,” said Tommy, “Thank you! I needed a good laugh today.” That was another breath… three I thought, imagining what it would do to Tommy. If I waited until he was in the pool, he would not notice for a while. Awesome. Then I frowned, catching up to what he’d said.

“Wait a minute,” I said, “What’s going on?”

“My parents have money troubles, you know,” Tommy said, embarrassed.

“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you know!” I said.

“I know, we just might have to move.”

I didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Then I realised, “You have money problems and you still came to help me this morning?”

“I said I would. Besides I needed to see a friend,” said Tommy. That was definitely another breath… four at least, I thought.

“Did you think about getting a job?” I asked.

“Can’t with school, my Dad said no. Besides the jobs pay nothing, with the minimum wage. And I’m not exactly the stockboy type!”

He was referring to his small stature. Sure, it would be harder for him to get work if he wasn’t big and strong. I mean, it shouldn’t be that way but it was.

“Maybe you’ll hit a growth spurt!” I said.

“Thanks, but no.”

“You could,” I said, and I owed him five breaths now.

“I know what you’re thinking, but I would rather be your friend than be like Joe or Sam… besides, my Dad will figure it out. He always does.”

Joe and Sam were two classmates who heard about the magic I could do. So they pretended to be really nice to me, I mean, which is fine and all, but I’d expanded their muscles and height and junk for them, until they were like 6’3” tall and 230 pounds and had 10-inch dicks. Then they basically dropped me like a rock. No calls, no anything, even in the high school hallways they just said, “Oh, hey,” like it was an embarrassment that I reminded them they weren’t always big guys.

I was glad I didn’t make them bigger. I was gonna, and also improve their looks and sex life, but they didn’t know about any of that stuff, so they got all they thought they could and I’m not even sure they said thank you… Maybe I was starting to understand why I was refusing to blow people up, with muscle I mean, but Tommy was an exception.

I wasn’t mean enough to shrink Joe and Sam, they hadn’t done anything mean to anyone I knew about they just weren’t my friends and I accepted that. Sucks though.

“Hey, wake-up sleepy head!” Tommy said. “You do think deep thoughts!”

Was that a compliment? I decided it was. That was six breaths. We had just about finished with the garden except for the seeds, I went in the house to get them, and more lemonade!

But of course I watched from the window and said, “Make Tommy taller!” and blew in two breaths. Psssst!!! I saw him just standing there like a goof, lost in his own thought, and he was four inches taller. Psssst.

And then he was taller again about 6’10” tall now, now he was a tall lean handsome man.

But I still had stuff to do. “Grow Tommy’s junk—make his cock fat and long and his balls really big and sexy-looking!” I know that sounds like a weird wish but those qualities can be measured so they work with the balloon. Pssssssst. I blew in a breath, and Tommy turned around to the house like looking for me. I could see his basket sticking out in profile pretty big. Psssssst. I blew in again. and I saw his bulge profile just stick out, the whole package of his junk extending like another inch or two, and then slide just an inch lower and kinda almost bounce.

So far he hadn’t noticed. I said, “Grow Tommy’s muscles!” and blew in only one breath. I could see his pecs and upper arms and quads swell. He stretched.

I had one more breath I owed him. But should it be muscle, or cock size, or…I had it. “Make Tommy a supershooter and let him have a lot of orgasms and they are super pleasurable for him and his partner cause he’s a great lover!” I blew in one big breath. “Release” I said and went back out.

“I found the seeds, they were on the sofa,” I fibbed, but Tommy took a long drink and wasn’t thinking about anything but quenching his thirst.

“Hey, you can be like a male model for summer drinks, Tommy!” I laughed.

He ignored me. But he looked a bit like something was on his mind. I didn’t know what. I scattered the seeds and he helped, and on our knees together you couldn’t see how much taller Tommy was. He kept glancing at my giant biceps and shoulders, and then his gaze would travel to my groin where down on my hands and knees sowing seeds my junk hung way down, stretching the lycra I was wearing under my cargo shorts. I mean way way down. But Tommy didn’t even look at himself!!

I could see Tommy’s bulge in his own cargo shorts start to swell. “He’s turned on…” I realised. I’d raised his libido and now I was the only available target for his immediate affection. He kinda brushed against me more than he needed to standing up, our triceps rubbing across each other. I hoped he’d be able to control his libido or I’d have to fix it for him!

When we were done I stood up first and he stood up, and he was now up to where he’d look almost at my Adam’s apple. I stepped up on a convenient garden path step so I was still way taller and he was still staring at my pecs. Hey they can be distracting!

“Thanks for inviting me for a swim,” said Tommy.

“Well, you did all this work.”

“Well, thanks anyway. I didn’t do it for the swim, I did it for you.”

That was two breaths right there. He turned and looked at me and then had to look up at me, you know, like usual, even people who knew me were sometimes startled, especially if we stood close. So him standing right next to me and me on the higher step and he turned around and his nose was 6 inches from the middle of my pectoral muscles… actually right like if you drew a line at nipple height, that’s where his eyes were staring and his whole field of view was full of giant me. So of course he still felt smaller.

“I sure needed the exercise,” said Tommy, “I feel great! Thanks!”

“Go ahead and swim a few laps I’ll put away the glasses and extra seeds.”

“Okay, thanks!”

That was four breaths. And Tommy wasn’t even trying. He was just nice and polite and cared about his friends. I was gonna make sure it showed.

He kicked off his work shoes and just pulled off the socks in one swoop pull and then stood up, unbuckled his cargo shorts, dropped them. He was wearing navy blue lycra stretch swim briefs. Normally they’d model tight his body and his small bulge which was sexy in its own way, but not my thing so much.

The lycra pouch was now very full with his giant sized new genitals. How big exactly was he though? and was I about to find out? but he didn’t even look at himself, I guess who would with a four-inch cock or so, right? I mean, I looked at myself a lot more now that I was a muscle beast with a monster cock. You notice I didn’t shrink myself. Just couldn’t do it. Of course it would be much easier in life not being 7’3” tall, but I wanted this to be me.

But Tommy now had what looked like 8 inches soft and fat stuffed in the lycra wrapped over testicles the size of—well, they were really big. Oranges, I guess. Or giant lemons. And he had no idea! Ha hah ha!

He jumped in the pool and made a bigger than usual splash. When he surfaced he called, “Hey can you make sure my phone charger is plugged, that thing always glitches!”

“Sure thing!”

“Thanks!”

“Swim your laps, Tom Daley!”

“Tom Daley is a diver, not a swimmer!”

“Okay, Mark Spitz. I stand corrected!”

So now I owed him five, no six breaths. Asking a friend for help when you needed a hand even something small was considerate, you know, because if your friends didn’t make you feel needed that was not a good feeling. Tommy probably thought digging up my garden and cleaning rain gutters was equivalent to me checking his phone charging.

I picked up the supplies and entered the house to clean up. But I set that aside and took out the balloon. It looked okay. Not worn or anything. I hoped this one would last.

“Grow Tommy taller!” I said and I blew in two breaths.

Psssst. Psssst. He was in the water so I couldn’t really see. Was it a lot?

Now he should be about 7’6” tall. Great for the basketball game. That was gonna blow my mind seeing him pounding down the court. He’d been 5’6” tall. Now he was two feet taller in just an hour or so!

“Grow Tommy’s muscles,” I said and I blew in three big breaths. Did it seem he was wider in the water? His back looked swollen with new muscle. The wake from his gliding through the water seemed bigger and more turbulent, too.

“Grow Tommy’s junk huge fun sized black man stereotype awesome!” I said. I blew in the biggest breath I could. “Release!”

I ran outside and stripped off my muscle tee. I wore a giant muscle t which didn’t even really cover my nipples well, with my big muscles sticking out. I kicked off my shoes and wrestled off my socks and then dropped my cargo shorts. Tommy wasn’t looking at himself. He was only looking at me. I smirked. I could not help it. It was not a selfish or mean smirk, it was an “oh yeah you been looking at my bulge swaying in my cargo shorts like crazy waiting for me to strip down to lycra” smirk with some “I appreciate your kind attention” to match.

I was so massive I wore black swim briefs, but that really did nothing to hide my size or where anything was, and I bought them cheap cause I wore them out so as I stood there in the bright sun and looked down at myself the sunlight went right through the black lycra and a lot of it bounced back out, it being so stretched in the weave, so you could literally see my skin through the swim briefs. Tommy looked. He didn’t stare. But boy did he look. I jumped in, trying not to splash too much water out of the pool. The water felt great. I swam a lap, and back, and my eyes were open, and I could see even underwater Tommy’s basket was huge. Not like mine, which was a result of being carried away, but he must have 11 inches soft stuffed in there, fat as a beer can and wrapped over testicles the size of very very very large oranges. Hell, they were grapefruits!! I think the magic made his underwear stretchier or something. Seriously.

I surfaced.

That water felt good. Tommy was looking at me, oblivious. I was something to look at, so that was understandable. I might be a man mountain but he was a bodybuilder fan wet dream XXXL.

I started to say something, Tommy held up his finger to stop me, and said, “Hang on a second, I gotta pee, thanks!” That was another breath I owed him. As he climbed out of the pool leaping to the deck with ease, he walked to the door of the outside bathroom. He turned to me again and just said, “Thanks again for the invite.” He sorta noticed the door being small but just ducked inside.

I already had the balloon in my hand from the bag around my neck and said, “Grow Tommy huge muscles!” And blew in two breaths and said “Release” just super fast. I could see his whole musculature swelling gigantic cause the door was still swinging open…

Inside the toilet, I could picture Tommy was just looking down to fumble with his speedos wondering why they were so tight. He was disoriented and he had to peer over his pectorals, he didn’t even understand what had happened.

Outside, I heard, “YeaaaahhhhhHHH!!!!”

I don’t know if it was scared and excited or all of that. After he was done peeing he came out. He was pointing at me. “You!” He tried to look stern but his face stretched into a handsome grin. Those pearly white teeth he had!

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. That last two breaths had blown him into Mr Olympia territory, if Mr. Olympia had an 11 inch tall beer can and two grapefruits shoved in his shorts.

Well, he was happy I wanted to kiss him and made me promise to get lunch on Monday. We fucked around, jerked off, oral, no anal. Summer stuff you know. I explained his family would think he always was big and had a growth spurt. So, I have to say he was taller than I was me, and as I mentioned super heavyweight bodybuilder muscle perfect and all that.

When he was leaving we both realised I’d forgotten to check if his phone was charging. I knew that was to least two breaths of apology I owed him.

Well, he was tall enough for the NBA, so that was great. And he was hung enough for … well… he was huge. So, I decided more muscle would help him at work. “Grow Tommy’s muscles!” I said, and I looked out the front window. He was walking home, wearing his cargo shorts which were probably the only thing he had that would fit him, and he would need new shoes no doubt. So he was this huge smoothly muscled black man.

“Grow Tommy’s muscles!” I said, and blew in two big breaths. Psssssssssst. His torso, he was about 30 feet from the house, swelled with more power and size.

Psssssssst. His lats and upper arms ballooned hugely, and his legs filled the formerly loose cargo shorts tight, they were bunched up to the top of his legs by the muscles.

“What the hell,” I said, “Grow him superhero big muscles.” I blew another big long breath into the balloon. Pssssssssssst! His muscles grew gargantuan, only manageable by his huge height. “Release!” His shorts tore away, but he was still wearing the lycra, navy blue, and he turned and waved to my house, and gave me a thumbs up sign.

“I think that was a thank you,” I said, “Grow his junk even bigger.” I blew one giant breath. Now he was still watching my house, maybe 80 feet away or even 100, and I could see his junk swelling all the way from the front window. His whole package was pendulous, and as I watched it slipped down swaying, overloaded with mass, but still holding by the straps. “Release!” I said. As he turned to walk away, I swear his package in profile stuck out like 6 inches. Maybe 8 inches. What an ass on that man. wow.

It sure was nice of him to help me clean the rain gutters.

On Monday, I went to high school, or as some wiseacres said, Huge School, and I was wearing jeans and a very XXXXXL blue t shirt, not too bright, and my custom-made shoes. I saw Tommy and I waved, and he smiled and waved and cupped his hands and said, “Lunch!”

I yelled back, “Yes!”

So we sat together at lunch. There was a picnic bench they’d set with detached benches so the big guys could sit together. Today was only me and Tommy.

“So how was Sunday?”

“It was great I went around the neighbourhood and did a bunch of chores for money—moved engine blocks, towed out an old truck so the tow guys would take it away, cleared out some garages, etc. I made enough so my Dad could make rent, and he didn’t yell at me.”

“I think you’ll find most people won’t yell at you anymore!” I said wryly.

“Oh my Dad will if I screw up. He will let me know and I don’t even want to think about getting my mother mad.” He looked down. “He said he was proud of me.”

So I changed the subject to Marvel movie number whatever and I said to Tommy, “There is one downside.”

“What?”

“Superhero movies aren’t quite as interesting when you could snap the actors in two. Our biceps are three times more massive than Thor’s, at least!”

“Not Tony Stark! And not Black Panther!” So that started a who could beat up who if superheroes were real argument. Really fun.

“So did you ever think about blowing up Chris Evans as Captain America?”

“Blowing him, yes, blowing him up, no. That would ruin his career and I don’t know how much the magic can hide us if everyone is paying attention. Right now, we’re just some big guys and people are impressed but they don’t see how improbable it is.”

He picked up his chocolate milk carton. “Here’s to improbability,” he said, and we toasted to it.

Ron returned from his trip a few days later. He saw that I’d blown up Tommy and Jack. He didn’t seem jealous about it. He was on par with Tommy in size with bigger muscles but Jack was tallest at 7’7” tall. I had texted Ron a few times so he knew what to expect.

A week went by and I said to Ron, “I want to blow somebody up.”

“With muscle I hope.”

“Yes with muscle and big cock and balls and tall and handsome…”

I stared off imagining it.

“But who?” I said. “I don’t wanna blow up some dick who turns out to be a jerk or pushes people around.”

“Right…” said Ron. “Just need to find a nascent Billy Batson/Clark Kent sorta guy waiting for lightning to strike…”

We looked around. Hmm.

Suddenly I spotted a ginger head sticking out in the lunch crowd.

“John Sailor!” I said. It was his name but I never asked how his family got the name, seems kinda obvious. But John was a really kind person. He was always picking up stray cats and finding them homes and rescuing injured birds. He was not a good-looking guy. Not at all. So mostly his friends were animals. Suddenly I felt really bad. I shoulda been a better friend.

“Can you do it?” asked Ron. “And I thought you wanted people to forget about this…”

It was drifting out of people’s minds… funny that.

“I’d have to do a complete makeover, and I can do it a bit every day to help smooth it out! And if he hates it, we can just stop, you know?”

“So what are you gonna start with??” asked Ron.

See, John was scrawny and I think had a twisted right foot he was born with but it got corrected but he still limped a bit if you watched. He’d been hazed badly by the other kids. I even stood by when I was a little guy and watched him get pushed around and I did nothing! I felt guilty. Really guilty.

“First thing is his health, right?” I snuck out the balloon even in the crowded lunchroom, no one noticed, besides, no one was gonna tease me about having a balloon! “Control how fit and healthy John Sailor is!” I blew into the empty balloon. It was pretty easy for me, seeing as how I had lungs like steam furnace bellows since I’d grown. I just blew and blew until the balloon was really full. “Release!” I said. The air hissed out, and I put away the balloon.

We both contrived to walk by John’s table and stop and ask him how he was doing. I noticed his acne was gone and his skin had no blemishes at all. “I was feeling kinda low but I ate lunch and now I suddenly have a lot of energy!” said John. “I feel like I could run around the school ten times.”

He looked like he was really thinking about doing it, when he said, “You guys should stop by my house. I rescued an owl with an injured wing. I have it in a cage. The vet said he should heal up in two weeks or so!”

So we did. John showed us his back yard, which was like a zoo. He had chickens and a rooster and a goat even, and in the house he had two cats named Lulu and Chicken and a golden Labrador named Winston who spent a lot of time sniffing his now healthy owner. He seemed happy.

So I said that John should come swimming and he could bring Winston sometime but he just said, “I don’t think I’d fit in at a gay pool party too well…”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” I said, even though it was exactly like that. “I thought you were gay though? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask,” I said really fast. What a jerk I was.

“I’m just not a male model athlete bodybuilder guy! I’ve accepted who I am, and that’s okay.” He rubbed the scruff of Winstons’ neck, and the dog moaned in pleasure.

That was it. “Do you remember that I can make people grow big?” I said. I was giving away the game but this kid was breaking my heart.

“I had a dream about that…” said John. “If only it were true.”

Well, we headed out. I just decided to continue. The next day at lunch I waved to John and asked him to sit with Ron and me, but he said no thanks, another day. I knew it was because he was thinking about how awkward he would look sitting at a table with two guys who were bigger than linebackers!

But I snuck out the balloon, while Ron watched, and said, “Control how much John Sailor is a male model athlete bodybuilder!” That was exactly what John said he wasn’t yesterday.

I blew in one breath. Psssssst. Nothing much looked different.

I blew in a second, bigger breath. Pssssssssssst. I could see Ron’s shirt was suddenly tight as a drum on him. I blew in a third breath, psssssssssssssst. This one ripped off his shirt, he was only wearing a white cotton muscle tee under his now destroyed button-down shirt. I couldn’t tell for sure but I think his pants were holding together.

He was a runt before, as I said, but male models are 6’1”-6’3” tall—I looked it up. Don’t judge me.

So now he was definitely taller. 5’2” Ron was a handsome enough guy now, especially considering he was muscled like a bantamweight boxer and he was about 5’7” tall.

People paid more attention to him in the hallways that afternoon. “Looking good, John!” I heard a guy call out. John blushed. He was wearing his-too small white cotton muscle tee and nothing else. In English he was told to wear a button down shirt or at least a regular tee shirt tomorrow. He got yelled at for sprinting down the hallway, but he didn’t care, because he didn’t used to be able to run without a limping gate. His right leg wouldn’t lift fast enough before, but I fixed that for him.

“Just wait until tomorrow!” I thought.

I asked John in the morning if he’d done anything last night. He said he almost went out but decided to stay home and keep Owlie company. (That was the owl’s name.)

I told Ron what he said about going out. “I wonder if he is turning into a male model athlete bodybuilder party boy!” said Ron.

“Hmmmm,” I said intelligently. “Well, nothing wrong with going out. Or modelling, or bodybuilding, when you think about it.”

“No that’s true,” said Ron, stealing a french fry.

The scene at lunch was normal but I was anxious. I don’t know why. Ron was hanging with me—he wouldn’t miss it for the world, and John was having lunch with some people but they took off and he was alone reading his textbook.

“My perfect chance!” I said to Ron. I took the balloon and said, “Control how much John is a male model athlete bodybuilder.” Then I blew in one big breath. Psssssssst.

He looked up a second, confused, took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and kept reading… without needing his glasses. His shirt was formerly a bit voluminous, I think he took an XL from his older brother (he was adopted). Now it looked tighter, and I could see his biceps were bulging as he was leaning on his elbows reading.

I blew in another breath. Pssssssssssst. John squirmed in his seat as his formerly loose fit jeans were grabbing him everywhere because of his muscle.

I blew in another breath. Pssssssssssssssssst. John’s shirt ripped off of him, as the biceps splits the arms, and his lats tore through the seams. John was now wearing another muscle t under his shirt. This was too small on him but bigger than yesterday’s. I looked at Ron. “Come on,” he said, egging me on. So I blew in a fourth breath.

Psssssssssssst. His jeans tore off. People whistled and applauded. He ended up in English class wearing his muscle t, his way too tight gym shorts, and the teacher looked at this hot 6’2” tall male model athlete bodybuilder lounging with his legs up, his feet crossed and resting on the desk next to his. The teacher just swallowed whatever he was gonna say.

I walked with John after school. “How’s the owl?” I asked.

He brightened up. I could see he was still getting used to his transformation. “Much better. I’m gonna hit the gym and get home right after that. Then maybe hit a club… it’s under 21 night at Johnny’s.”

Well, I did make him a bodybuilder. And some other stuff. “What are you working today?”

“Chest, traps, abs, triceps. Wanna come?”

“Sure!” I said so we went to the gym.

It’s amazing how much muscle pump you can get from a hard workout, and then discover it wasn’t a pump at all. John was on fire, and his muscles were really growing for real. I had a similar experience and I didn’t really need more muscle but I knew Ron would like it.

So I watched John explode with more muscle, he powered through heavy sets and felt so awesome he did a full body workout legs included!

He was full of energy. Guess I made him healthy.

So then I cheated. We went to the showers and I got the most attention but people also stared at the more normal sized John. I knew he was going out, and in the showers, I saw… Well, he could use some help. Maybe I was high on muscle endorphins but I grabbed the balloon, ran into a stall, whispered, “Grow John Sailor’s junk and make it giant and make him a supershooter and he can come a lot as often as he wants and his orgasms are amazing for himself and his partners… and his cock is fat too and his balls big low hangers.” I blew into the balloon until it was full.

“Release!” I said and walked out to find John trying to fit his now monster junk in regular guy underwear. I tossed him a clean extra pair of Lycra—bright red, running shorts. He pulled them on. That was obscene. Ha.

“Wear those to the club tonight!” I said.

“I will if you will!” said John. I have a reputation for taking a challenge.

“See you at nine!” I said.

Johnny’s was the local gay dance club. Exactly like all the others. We couldn’t get drinks but they let in the bodybuilders for free!

We had a fizzy water and talked. True to his word, John Sailor was wearing those red lycra stretch running shorts. As was I. We both got a lot of looks but since we were together and it was too early for the drunks, they left us alone.

“It’s so weird,” said John.

“What?”

“I’ve never been here before but it feels so familiar.”

We finished our drinks and stood up. There was a decent dance beat going, and we were both wearing red stretch stringer muscle tees but we stripped those off so our bodies were bare from the waist up. I folded and tucked my shirt into my side waistband. It was so thin and flimsy it just didn’t even bother me at all. John followed my lead.

I was suddenly asking myself, “Why am I working out with John? Why am I going to bars and dancing with John?”

I looked at him in the crazy rainbow dance lights. He looked great. I was still 13 inches taller than him, and I was much more muscled proportionally… but…

“I wish I was muscled like you!” said John.

“Really?” I asked, loudly to hear over the dance beat.

“It would be a dream come true to be the biggest bodybuilder in my height and weight class…”

I split off to hit the toilet and a swarm of twinks descended on John. I laughed.

I went in, locked the door, took the balloon out of my pouch, and said, “Grow Johnny’s muscles!” And I blew in until it was full. “Release,” I said.

I went back out the music was going but no one was dancing. John—he was gigantic. but I’d said Johnny’s. The club was Johnny’s. So… everyone, the twinks, the bears, the jock bods… they’d all put on a lot of muscle. The bigger they’d started the bigger they grew. But the littlest guy there put on 30 pounds.

I started to feel weird. Everyone was busy looking at themselves and their dates and I realized I was in Johnny’s. And I was huge. So suddenly—whatever brake had been there, it was released, and I grew and grew and grew muscle. I really didn’t know what big was until that night at Johnny’s.

John was happy. He kissed me goodnight. Ron and I had turned into to friends with benefits when we got horny. John, though, was a major muscle fetish man. And now he was big and I was even bigger than big. He swooned a bit. I caught him.

I carried him into my room. Think we walked home? No, well I did. He came with me. John kept feeling my insane pecs and biceps and triceps and Delts and Lats and anything else he could get his hands on!

I stripped him naked. Well, someone hit this guy with a monster hung stick. Oh that was me. He was erect, about 14” long—beautiful. He was a male model head to toe.

And then I slowly stripped myself naked for him. He was appreciative. He worshipped me, then wanted me to dominate him, and I did. Then I jerked myself off and he did too and we shot on each other but I kept shooting and he loved it. He was almost thrashing around he was so turned on, and I forgot about the balloon for a while.

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