Brandon Twice
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Antoine's Amplifying Abdomen (2)
🕑 Added 2023-12-16 19:30:23 +0000 UTC[This is a very fictionalized version of a pro-bodybuilder meant as a riff on the actual guy, in no way meant to represent him accurately.]
After he parked his truck outside his doctor’s office, Antoine tapped out a text to his powerlifter friend Roy, who had a competition that day: “Show them who’s boss buddy!” Roy, just like the handful of others present the day of “the incident,” was significantly heavier now, and despite some of the affected athletes’ hopes, the extra poundage wasn’t translating to a strength boost as well. Still, Antoine had urged Roy to stay motivated.
“We may be gaining weight, but if we quit the things that make us who we are,” Antoine had told Roy, giving the formerly stocky, thickly built man–now much rounder and softer, despite retaining all of his muscle underneath–a peptalk a week before the competition, “then that’s when we REALLY lose. The TRUE measure of a man,” Antoine had said, standing up tall and throwing his muscular chest (and inadvertently his protruding belly) forward, “is in how hard he fights, NOT much he weighs.”
He’d hoped he’d sold the words as a time-tested proverb, but the truth was he was making it up on the spot. They were what he needed to hear himself, as the future of his bodybuilding career hung in the balance.
Roy responded with a thumbs-up on the text only seconds after it was sent. Antoine sighed, truly hoping for the best for his friend, and hopped out of his car. He winced as the impact made his knees glow red-hot. It had been two weeks since the incident and he still wasn’t accustomed to the extra poundage he was lugging around. Just squeezing his big belly beneath the steering wheel was a chore.
The added mass was unlike any bulking phase he’d ever been through since his career had started. While his weight had already climbed ten pounds above his heaviest offseason shape, his composition was all wrong. Usually, upping his caloric intake to add mass resulted in his muscles seeming to fill out more. His definition would smooth out, but his muscles would thicken, taking up space.
The extra bodyweight he’d gained since “the incident” was all soft, though, piling on over his muscles. His normally chiseled face was chubby with heavy cheeks. His arms and legs looked like tubes of meat where they’d rippled with definition before. Plus, his gut had swollen out in front of him, making him look like he was pregnant! His ass was no better. That morning, he had turned too quickly and knocked a lamp off a table with his wide caboose. When he reached back, instead of feeling his rock hard glutes, his hands sank into pillowy warmth.
A glance at his reflection in the window and he found his shirt had ridden up above his navel again. He anxiously tugged it down, hoping the doctor would have something helpful to say.
“Hop up on the scale, let’s see how you measure up," Dr. Chivers said. Antoine approached the scale anxiously, despite the fact that he knew what it was going to say. Weighing himself–something that, in his career, had been as commonplace as putting on his socks–had begun causing an emotional maelstrom as of late.
Antoine grunted as he stepped up, his thighs so thick it was hard to keep both on the scale. “Good lord!” Dr. Chivers said, clapping his hands together. “340 pounds! That’s easily the biggest you’ve ever been.” He pulled out his phone, taking a step back to fit all of the heavyset bodybuilder’s frame in the shot. “Would you mind if I, y’know, photographed this? Just to document. This is truly amazing.”
Antoine, wearing only a brand-new pair of underwear that had showed up that morning (along with the rest of the wardrobe he had rush-ordered, two sizes larger than he usually wore), clenched his fists and bit his lip. The plain-white briefs (the only thing his size that would ship the next day) made him look like a sumo wrestler. “Yeah, actually I do kind of mind,” he said.
The doctor shrugged and sighed but put his phone away. “Still, a 40 pound gain in two weeks is impressive,” he said. “That’s gotta be some kind of bulking record amongst you big guys though, right?.”
“Not the right kind of bulking,” Antoine said through gritted teeth as he thumped his round belly. It jiggled like a waterbed. The fact that the doctor was offering him amazement (when what Antoine needed was answers) made him feel even more hopeless.
“Honestly, I don’t think this is anything to worry about,” Dr. Chivers said, clapping a hand to his head. “With what you’ve done with your physique up until now, it was only a matter of time before your body just sort of… gave out. Human beings weren’t meant to get as big as you do, and the strain on your system was bound to cause something to fail. We’ll get your thyroid tested, that’s most likely what it is.”
The doctor gestured to the table. Antoine approached it, grunted, and hopped onto it, embarrassed at how out of breath he was from hoisting himself up two inches. With the doctor’s help, he removed his sweatshirt. Chivers placed a stethoscope on Antoine’s chest and asked him to breathe. Antoine stared down at his bare torso; he could still see his massive, powerfully developed pec muscles, but now a sack of soft tissue hung off it. Moob, he thought to himself with a shudder.
“Have you seen any of the other guys?” Antoine asked as Dr. Chivers moved a stethoscope around his sagging pecs.
“Oh, they’ve all got their own doctors,” Chivers said as he made notes on his clipboard, “and we’re all just waiting for tests to come back in. Weight gain like this isn’t something to get too worked up about, but I will need a list of the supplements and drugs you’re taking. We’re wondering if this issue can’t be resolved by keeping needles out of you for a few months, letting your hormonal system reach its own balance again.”
“Weight gain ‘like this’?,” Antoine asked, his head cocked to the side. “All us guys are athletes. Two of us are pros! And you don’t see anything weird about us blowing up with fat in two weeks?”
Chivers shrugged. “I’ve seen your weight fluctuate in the offseason before.”
“It’s not my fucking offseason!” Antoine barked. His belly kept jiggling seconds after the explosion. Antoine took a deep breath as the doctor made some notes on his clipboard. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is just… I don’t feel like you’re taking us seriously.”
“It’s been two weeks,” Chivers said. “You’re on a cocktail of chemicals that would kill a clydesdale. I’ve seen amazing things happen with your physique, and right now, this is just another amazing thing. And all the other guys… well, maybe they saw YOU putting on the pounds and thought you made it look good? Or maybe it’s like sympathy weight during a pregnancy…”
“I’m not fucking pregnant, man,” Antoine said. “How big do we all have to get before people really start to look into this?”
Chivers shrugged again. “I’m here to rule out biological factors. So I’ll be taking blood and urine samples and then it’s just a matter of testing. After we’ve ruled out the impossible, we’ll be left with the answer. That’s how this works.”
“Unless the answer is something you’re not looking for,” Antoine said, spitting when he talked.
“Like what?” Chivers said. “If you have a theory, I’m willing to hear it.”
“This guy, Clark, did something…” Antoine began, but even as the words left his mouth, he lost faith in them. It sounded too ridiculous, despite all that had gone on.
“Did something?” Dr. Chivers said, handing Antoine a plastic cup. “Like ‘drugged you’ or something? Pretty lofty accusation, but I’ll humor it until we get your tests back in. If there’s some chemical present in your system, I’ll find it and we’ll get rid of it. It’s that easy.”
Antoine’s stomach groaned loudly. The doctor smiled, then casually reached down and stroked the bodybuilder’s big gut. Despite himself, Antoine let out a soft moan, then looked away, red-faced, doing everything in his power to not get hard in his tighty-whiteys.
*
Antoine waited in the gym parking lot as a crowd of college-aged guys in tank tops milled around the front door. He waited anxiously for them to disperse, cursing as they wasted time on their phones and exhaling huge clouds of vape smoke. They were all skinny dudes, guys he recognized from times they’d asked for a selfie or his autograph or tips on how to get huge.
Antoine had dealt with the questions from friends (“Whoa, impromptu bulking season?” or “I thought you had a competition coming up?”). It was the unfamiliars–those who had watched him from afar in awe, or jealousy, knowing that he was a champion athlete and abig name in bodybuilding–he was worried about. The day before, two young amateur bodybuilders asked for a picture with him. Later that evening, he saw the picture circulating social media with the caption, “When the bulk goes WAY too far!”
“You can deal with people talking badly about you,” Antoine said to his plump-faced reflection. “This is nothing new. You’re a pro-bodybuilder. Get out there and act like it!”
Just before he opened his door, he glanced out the window and saw a huge bodybuilder get out of his car. It was Leo Schulz, a 22-year old freak who had just moved into town. 6’3” tall and 280 pounds, the guy was an absolute MONSTER. Every time he’d asked Antoine’s advice, or to work in on a set, there had been a hunger in his eyes. Antoine knew the look well: a younger athlete seeing him as the competition, using it to fuel his own growth in hopes that one day Leo would overtake Antoine and surpass him.
“I’m still bigger,” Antoine mumbled to himself as Leo sauntered by, but when Leo glanced in his direction, he tried to squash himself lower in his truck. His enormous gut, wedged underneath the steering wheel, prevented it. Antoine waved back weakly. Leo just gave him a head-nod before the young athletes by the door mobbed him for selfies and, no doubt, gym advice.
“Fuck this,” Antoine said, starting his engine and pulling out. “Just need a new spot to train for a bit. Mix things up.” Even as he said the words, he felt a stone in his stomach. “Change of scenery is always good,” he said, trying to convince himself that he was fleeing the gym out of anything but his own fears about his bloating physique.
As he passed by other gyms in the area, he muttered to himself reasons why he decided not to stop. “Too many ‘influencers,’” he said, and then, “Fucking hate the equipment there.” Soon, he found himself in a mall parking lot looking at a Fitness 360, one of those chain health clubs that catered to a clientele that would have been intimidated by a 300 pound hulk stomping around wielding hundred-pound dumbbells while they hulked out of their clothes.
Right next to the Fitness 360 was a Big and Tall store. “Talk about convenience,” Antoine said, walking out of the store minutes later in a 5XL sweatshirt with a big hood he pulled over his face to obscure his identity. “There we go,” he said, walking up to the front door. “No way anyone will recognize me now.”
A balding man greeted him at the front desk. “Welcome! First time at a gym? We have a free trial for fitness newcomers!”
Antoine smiled. There was something refreshing about the question, a total removal from the way men at gyms usually treated him, that felt comforting. “Y’know what? It IS my first day at a gym,” he said, both of his hands going to his big gut with a smile.
“Great! Come on in and we’ll get you signed up. I’m Blaine. I’m here to get you started on your fitness journey?” He warmly gestured Antoine over to a desk. “Just have a seat and we’ll get your trial membership going.”
Antoine had a seat, cringing at the bright orange and pink color scheme the entire gym had. There was no sound of banging weights, no loud grunting, no wannabe-superstars filming their “fitness content” while flexing out of their skin-tight tank tops. He saw some nice people in gym clothes that fully covered their bodies casually going about low-intensity workouts. For the first time since “the change” had begun, he felt comfortable, at home, like people weren’t pointing to the “former muscleman” who was gaining weight out of control.
“So, let’s just get the paperwork in order…” Blaine began, but as he handed a pen across the table, Antoine heard a loud creak. The bodybuilder looked around, confused by the sound, before the chair beneath him crashed to the ground, all four legs snapped off.
“Fuck,” Antoine said. More embarrassing than the fall was the fact that his huge gut and wide ass were getting in the way of him getting back on his feet. “Fuck, it’s just 40 pounds,” he mumbled. “Why the fuck is this so hard to manage?”
Blaine came around the desk with a patient smile, offering a hand to help Antoine up. Sadly, the small man barely got Antoine moving.
“It’s okay,” Antoine grunted, starting to roll over. “I’m actually… pretty strong…” When he finally got his weight underneath him, he rose up, embarrassed to feel a heavy sheen of sweat developing over his body.
“Well, that there was a great workout in itself!” Blaine said, clapping a supportive hand on Antoine’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get your assessment started.”
Something about Blaine’s positivity kept Antoine from heading straight for the door after his loud destruction of furniture. Before Antoine knew it, he was standing on a treadmill going half a mile an hour, casually walking as Blaine told him how great he was doing.
“I think I can go a little faster,” Antoine said, his hand heading for the treadmill’s control panel.
“Let’s do a little at a time,” Blaine said. “Just think: if you give one percent more each week, imagine how different things will be in a whole year! You can give one percent, right?”
Antoine sighed. Blaine’s congratulations for doing so little actually seemed like a balm for his wounded psyche; clearly this weight gain was taking its toll on the athlete. As much as Antoine wanted to believe he was operating below his level, however, he couldn’t avoid the growing dampness under his arms and between his thighs. His palms were getting moist. He reached up and wiped some moisture from his forehead. Even this pitiful level of cardio was taxing him with this extra weight weighing him down!
“Great job, buddy,” he said, gesturing Antoine toward the dumbbell rack. Antoine’s hands went for the 40-pound set (which, to him, would have been light even for a warmup) but Blaine pressed pink 5-pound hand weights into his palms. “Now when you curl this, you want to make sure you take it slow and controlled. Form is key! Just make sure you FEEL IT in your biceps.”
Antoine smiled and shrugged. Blaine seemed like a nice guy, and this was the kindest he had been treated since his body had begun blowing up. “You got it,” Antoine said.
“Wow! Your arms are already pretty big,” Blaine said. “You must have great genetics!”
Before Antoine could respond, a loud fart squeaked out. Blaine’s smile never wavered. “Excuse me,” Antoine said sheepishly.
“Keep going, big man! You’re doing great!”
Antoine breathed a sigh of relief. He had no idea how badly he was craving a place where he didn’t feel judged! He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist, accidentally knocking his hood down. A few reps later, he heard the sound of a phone’s camera snapping.
“Hey guys! No photography allowed in the gym,” Blaine said, wagging his finger. The middle-aged man with his phone in his hand just shrugged.
“That guy’s like a big-time bodybuilder!” he said, pointing at Antoine. “Look, check it out!” He pulled up competition photos of Antoine, holding them up as proof. “And he’s curling tiny weights like a little kid!”
“I think you have the wrong guy,” Antoine said, throwing his hands up. “That guy’s… clearly not me.” He gave his belly a jostle as if it proved his point.
“Sir, please, you know the rules,” Blaine said, lightly tapping his feet (clearly the most aggression he was capable of).
The man left and Antoine continued the ludicrously easy workout. But an hour later, as Antoine showered himself off in his home, he heard his phone vibrate. He cringed when he saw the notifications on his social media starting to pile up. When he tapped one, he saw his own chubby face grinning wildly while he curled tiny plastic dumbbells.
Until then, he had been able to keep news of his weight gain out of the public view. But now, it was common knowledge that he was blowing up. This was going to seriously impact his career–if it wasn’t over already.
