Unfortunately for Anthony, the dorms were as far away as possible from where his Philosophy class was usually held. He jogged across the wide campus, hoping to not be too horribly late. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd have been late to this particular class. Anthony had never been a morning person, and would often compound the problem by staying up too late playing video games with Chris. Luckily, he was still in good shape, so he was able to keep a steady jog the whole way.
As he entered the proper building and turned into the correct hall, he glanced at a wall clock. With a small bit of pride, he saw that he was going to be right on time. Not bad for a late start. Honestly, he didn't mind missing much of the professor's droning tone. It was a two hour lecture. Two hours he could spend sleeping. Everything they covered was in the book anyway. If he wasn't graded on his attendance he probably would never have bothered to show up to class in the first place.
Anthony's heart sank when he approached the lecture hall, seeing nothing but a darkened room through the hall window. Either the class had been cancelled, which Anthony sincerely hoped, or it had been moved.
He whipped out his phone and quickly opened his email app, cursing himself for not checking it earlier. Indeed there was an email that the professor had sent to the class last night. The lecture had been moved to a different room.
"Fuck!"
The room it had been moved to was just about as close to the dorms as you could get, nearly as far as possible from where Anthony was standing at that moment. He briefly considered giving up and just going back to the dorm and sleeping for the rest of the day. But, no, he really couldn't afford to totally miss any more of the lectures.
He sighed and rested against the wall for a bit. He was surprisingly winded from his jog across campus. Hell, he was going to be late enough to only get partial attendance anyway, he was going to take his time getting there.
Instead of jogging, Anthony merely sped-walked to where the class had been moved to. Perhaps he was more out of shape than he'd realized, but he'd worked up quite a sweat from his jog before. It felt like his shirt was sticking to his chest and stomach. Also, he found himself tugging at the waist of his jeans, as they felt like there were constraining him.
Whatever. He just hoped the rest of the day would go smoother than this.
As he neared the second lecture hall, he checked the time on his phone. He'd left the dorms 15 minutes ago, and was 10 minutes late to class. Great.
As he entered, Anthony saw the professor, a balding man in his fifties, stop mid-sentence, interrupted by Anthony's entrance. Anthony nodded sheepishly and quickly made his way to the back of the lecture hall. There, he spied Mae, another student who he shared several classes with.
As he plopped into the seat next to here, he tried to ignore her disapproving expression.
"There you are," she whispered. One advantage of being at the back of a large lecture hall was you could get away with the occasional whispered conversation. "I thought I was going to have email you a copy of my notes. Again."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm here," he whispered back. "It's not my fault the professor moved the fucking classroom. He should have to email us a lot sooner that the night before."
Mae shook her head. "Or, you could just check your email when you get up in the morning, like everybody else." Her teasing disapproval turned to concern. "Are you alright, Anthony? You look tired."
Anthony quickly, but quietly, pulled out his notebook and pen while trying to avoid the uncomfortable tightness of his pants. He must've grabbed a pair of Chris's by accident. It wouldn't have been the first time. "It's morning. Of course I'm tired."
Mae frowned, glancing him over. "I mean, more than usual." She waved her hand as if to shoo the topic away. "Nevermind. Here, you can borrow my notes for the parts you missed."
"Thanks."
As he quickly copied Mae's immaculate notes into his own notebook, using a scribbled scrawl he doubted he'd every be able to read later, he noticed the back of his arm. He'd never been super smooth before, but he swore the hair on the back of his hand and leading up his forearm looked thicker than before. The dark hairs seemed to have multiplied in darkness, thickness, and number than from what he could remember. He was only 19. Maybe he was still maturing and was just now noticing the last bits of puberty filtering through his system. His dad was a pretty hairy guy, it made sense that Anthony would gain at least some of that.
Mae poked him in the shoulder with her pencil. "Are you done with my notes, yet?"
Anthony realized he'd been preoccupied with his arm hair and had stopped copying her notes. He sighed and handed her back her notebook. "Thanks. I'll copy the rest later."
As the lecture droned on and on, Anthony only felt more and more discomfort. It was almost as if his jeans were tightening. Not only that, but his shirt was also staring to feel weird, like it was clinging to him in weird spots on his torso. He squirmed, wishing for the class to take a short break so he could go to the bathroom and adjust himself. He glanced at a wall-mounted clock, noting with dread that only about 15 or so minutes had passed since he'd gotten there. The class still had another hour and a half to go! And maybe another half hour until they would take a short break.
Anthony fidgeted in his seat, fighting the urge to unbutton his jean right then and there, just to release some of the pressure. But it would be supper embarrassing if Mae noticed.
Anthony felt a twinge of pain. Okay, that did it, the pants were officially too tight. He didn't care who saw. He started to reach down slowly to stealthily unto the button. His hands immediately brushed against his stomach. He looked down, seeing his moderately sized belly.
But Anthony knew that wasn't possible. He was in excellent shape. There was no way that was his. But he saw his shirt pulled across the rounded shape, just beginning to get to the point of being a bit too small. He prodded it, feeling the soft flesh underneath. He pulled his shirt up, seeing the rounded fleshy form with a generous coating of dark hair, much more than Anthony remembered having before. His belly and love hands bulged over the waist of the jeans, which were now at least 2, maybe three sizes to small for his swollen waistline.
Anthony also caught sight of the backs of his hands. The hair covering them seemed to have thickened slightly. But what caught his attention was the flesh beneath the hair. Before he could easily discern the bones and tendons leading from the knuckles of his fingers to the bones of his wrists. But now the backs of his hands looked puffy and swollen. He wiggled his fingers and the motion of the shapes below the skin was only just visible.
"Fuck..." Anthony muttered, perhaps a little louder than he'd meant to.
Mae looked up from her notes, where her attention had be focused for the past 15 minutes, and up at Anthony. Her eyes widened. "Anthony? Are you okay?"
Anthony turned to her, bewildered, for once at a loss for words.
Mae, sensing a problem, immediately hoped out of her chair. She grabbed Anthony by the shoulders and began to guide him out of his chair. "Come on, let's get you out of here."
She quickly guided him out of the room and past the perplexed professor. "Sorry professor. I think Anthony's having an allergic reaction to something. I'm going to get him some help."
They were quickly out in the hall, with Mae guiding him toward the doctor's office.
"How are you feeling? Short of breath? Nauseated?"
Anthony pulled himself out of her grasp. "Hold it! Hold it, hold it. Just wait one fucking second."
Mae gave a grunt of exasperation. "No, we're not waiting. You're obviously having a reaction to something. You're all bloated and-"
"Fat."
"What?"
Anthony shook the beginner's belly he now sported. "I got fat." He frowned and attempted to recollect his thoughts. "Listen, I don't know why or how, but I'm just... fatter. Maybe." He pried his phone from his too-tight jeans pocket and turned on the front facing camera.
His face looked rounder, more filled-out. He also saw what appeared to be the beginnings of a second chin, just beginning to droop out from behind his original one. He then noticed he looked different. Older, perhaps. His features seemed more defined, despite the added softness. He could spot faint lines in his forehead and around his mouth, as well as under his eyes. Not wonder Mae had thought he'd looked tired.
Mae shook her head. "What? No, people don't just get fat out of the blue. We need to get you to a doctor. You look sick."
There was a sudden popping and tearing sound and the button fastening Anthony's pants popped off and the zipper tore, giving Anthony's advancing waist more room, and giving Anthony much relief.
Little did the pair know, that back at Anthony's dorm room, the timer still had 30 minutes to go before his transformation into a 45 year old suburban dad was complete.