After a few seconds of deliberation, Timothy decided to see what would happen if just one of his fingers made contact with just one of the divots. He extended his mighty index finger towards the small box, aiming arbitrarily at the right divot, and did the deed.
A tingling sensation raced through Tim's mammoth frame. Soon Tim could feel himself growing again, only this time the growth sped along all axes. The giant held his fingers up in front of him, and watched as they steadily became more and more puffy and stubby. He was getting beefier, fatter! This was awesome!
As the seconds passed Tim sat transfixed by the sight of his fingernails receding behind invading flesh. His reverie was disturbed only by a crescendo of unprecedented popping sounds from behind him. Without even investigating, Timothy was able to ascertain that it was the sound of wood, aluminum and vinyl, of stressed-to-failure slats of siding. Timothy's inflating back was orchestrating the relentless displacement of the entire side wall of the structure. A new kind of self-satisfied glee swept over Tim then, and he indulged in every drop.
He watched as his stomach grew more and more disdended. There was no cellulite, just lots and lots of TIM. The sixteen-foot tall young man smiled as his gut crushed the furniture that his first growth spurt hadn't. He roared with laughter as his stomach broke out all the windows on the front of the house, then took down the entire front wall. He couldn't even see his legs anymore, but Timothy assumed that they were getting just as fat as the rest of him. Was he immobile? Did he care? At this rate, he could grow to anywhere he might want to go.