As Timothy frantically considered his options, the bedsprings continued to protest the young man's growth. Suddenly, the bed collapsed beneath Timothy's incredible--and exponentially increasing--weight. The failure of the bedframe settled it for Tim--he wasn't going to do anything to interfere with his unexpected growth spurt. The pros far outweighed the cons. He was going to enjoy this.
Still sitting on top of his demolished bed, Timothy leaned against the wall and examined his expanding body. His examination was unhindered by clothing, which had been torn to shreds during the early stages of his growth. Tim appeared to be maintaining his original proportions, thankfully. His self-examination was interrupted by the dull thud of his head hitting the bedroom ceiling. A smile plastered itself across Timothy's face. The thought of out-growing his own house was exciting in and of itself, but the stimulus of actually doing so was a sensation he had never even come close to experiencing before.
The concert of groans from the floorboards and second-floor load-bearing timbers reached a crescendo before the entire floor collapsed, depositing Timothy's now sixteen feet-tall body, along with a torrential downpouring of debris, down into the first story of his house. Timothy wasn't even dazed. He examined the splintered wood that surrounded him and laughed at the realization that he hadn't even suffered a scratch. Hearing a hollow groan from above, Timothy looked up to see his dresser teetering on the edge of the sagging remains of the second floor. The dresser fell over the brink, grazing Timothy's shoulder but inflicted no damage; in fact Timothy, who was still growing steadily, had barely felt it. Timothy picked up the damaged dresser, which had landed in his lap, and examined it. It weighed next to nothing! Timothy felt as though he were holding a model made of balsa wood. Obeying an impulse, Timothy slowly crushed the dresser in his growing hand. The wood surrendered instantly to the pressure, and articles of Timothy's clothing oozed out between his fingers. The sensations of this new power were indescribable.
Timothy stretched out his legs, sending them both through the sheet rock and plaster of the living room wall. The sounds of destruction from the adjoining rooms--his left leg had gone into the dining room, his right leg the kitchen--sent Timothy into a state of near ecstacy. He re-examined his growing form, and estimated that he was growing past the twenty foot mark. Were he to stand up now, it would only be a matter of minutes before his head broke through the roof. The growing colossus again began to weigh options. If the growth wore off, his house would still be somewhat important. Timothy might be able to fit through his front door if he wriggled out carefully. But maybe not, and definitely not if he hesitated any longer. Besides, the idea of remaining inside the confines of his house-toy for as long as was physically possible was very tempting. What would give this growing giant the most pleasure?