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During the summer, surviving without an air conditioner can be challenging. These units act like life savers and ensure you do not suffer from high heat levels. But what about the times when you are not at home. What should the AC do at these times? Should you leave the central AC unit on and compromise with the energy bills or risk stepping into a boiling house after a long day? Well, at these times, striking a balance is necessary. While the ideal temperature setting can differ from person to person, setting to setting, and unit to unit, finding the balance is not impossible. For more information, read the article! All you should know about AC temperature settings when away 1. Saving money: While it is enticing to keep your air conditioning running at the minimum temperature at all times to ensure comfort, it means forcing your unit to work extra hard. Also, this can mean high energy bills. When you are not at home, there is no reason to run your AC at full blast, as it can mean

Wayne sat down in his seat backstage. They were about to call him on. Pondering the nature of his candidacy, he considered what really influenced them to send him the invitation. He hadn’t heard of this show before, and no one he knew had either. But when he Google’d it, he found that it was one of the top rated game shows ever. Supposedly, everyone went home with something “bigger than they had entered with.” Whatever that meant. When he had received the invitation, he had found it shoved partially under his doormat, almost as if someone had tried to make it so only he would find it. Wayne lived in the middle of the American Midwest too, corn and soybeans being his only neighbors. Who would trek all the way out to the boonies to give him this? It didn’t even have a return address, just the address listed for him to go to in the letter. Opening the letter revealed what appeared to be a ticket: on it was a big “Congratulations!” and the information of when the show would be filming. Wayne showed his two roommates, Paul and Chris, who instantly researched the show. The three were struggling to pay their rent this month due to Wayne losing his part time job. After some consideration, he decided to show up for the show. Wayne was no one special. He was 5’11, had a fairly-built skinny-ish build due to his wrestling training, had brown hair and brown eyes, and a darker skin complexion. His Hispanic heritage was probably the only unique thing about him. His grandparents had immigrated from Guatamala to the United States. He was a first generation college student and was grateful for the opportunities afforded to him in America that his older family wasn’t able to have. So, here he was. When he had arrived in his nice button down plaid shirt, orange khaki pants, and brown boat shoes, they had taken him directly to backstage and asked him to wait. That was four hours ago. Wayne actually fell asleep during this time, despite the load noises echoing from the hall. He could hear the crowd going wild, but he could also hear the actual gameplay: it was some kind of trivia. Whoever was playing kept getting the answer wrong because there were several long strings of error sounds indicating incorrect questions. Finally, he had had enough waiting. Wayne got up from his seat and walked toward the ramp that led onstage. “Hey! Wait there! It’s not your turn yet!” Wayne turned around to the voice, seeing that it was a security guard. He reluctantly rolled his eyes and returned to his seat. It took another fifteen minutes for Wayne to finally be moved on stage. The security team came and escorted him to the stage, but something caught his eye before he went on. From the other side of the backstage hall, he saw the previous contestant coming off. He appeared to be another guy his age. His curly, dirty blond hair covered his face as he put his hands up to it, trying to hide his emotions. He was clearly in hysterics. Wayne, trying to be rational, assumed that he had just really wanted to win. But something about him seemed off: he couldn’t get a good look at it because he was being rushed to the stage so quickly, but something about the guy’s body didn’t appear right to Wayne. He looked like he was almost having trouble walking. The guards placed Wayne in front of a curtain, told him good luck, then scampered off again. They didn’t even give Wayne time for a good deep breath; the curtain was instantly pulled and a bright light shone directly into his eyes. Cheers erupted in front of him, and as his eyes adjusted to the light, Wayne found himself in a grand concert hall filled with thousands of people. He slowly walked out and gave an awkward wave. Being a nobody from a town of nobodies, it was overwhelming for Wayne to see so many people in one place. The host, a young gentleman with brown spiked hair and a tuxedo, took Wayne’s hand with a smile and led him to a set of chairs. They sat down and the host motioned for the audience to applaud for Wayne, who blushed. When the applause ceased, the host began talking. “Welcome to Inflate My Score! I’m sure you’ve definitely never heard of us.” The audience laughed as if they had heard that joke a thousand times. “I’m Ian Wentworth, the host for this show, welcome Wayne!” He put his hand out for a handshake, which Wayne gladly returned. “Thank you, Ian. May I ask what I’m doing here?” Wayne said. The audience laughed again, this time genuinely. Ian gave a quick giggle and a nod. “Of course, of course. We have selected one hundred random Americans to take part in this show, each one having the possibility to win BIG. How would you like to win big, Wayne?” Wayne smiled mischievously. “I would love to,” he said. “I just lost my job actually, and I’m looking for the funds to cover rent and other incoming expenses. I’m also a college student, so I need something to repay my student loans with.” Ian grinned. “Can we get a round of applause for Wayne?” The crowd cheered, hooped and hollered. “Now, let’s begin, Wayne.” Ian got up and walked over to the other side of the stage. There, a giant light wall stood as the background, and two podiums facing each other just in front of it. The light wall looked like a giant bullseye, except it had several hundred rings, each only having the width of one very small bulb. Ian took one podium and motioned for Wayne to take the other, which he did. “The game is played in rounds, each lasting two minutes. In those two minutes, you will attempt to answer as many trivia questions as you can. Each correct answer wins you 100 dollars and you move to the next outside ring on the wall. Lets demonstrate.” He pulled out a piece of white card stock, which he read carefully: “Two plus two equals?” Wayne laughed; what an easy question. “Four,” he said with a smile. The light wall changed so that the next outside circle of lights lit up. “Look at that, your score is already inflating!” Ian said. He pointed to another part of the wall, a set of digits that said “$100.” “Now, each time you give a wrong answer, you lose $200 and two rings on the light wall. But don’t fret! You’ll still get those inflated earnings, just in a separate, more liquidated form. You’ll find out, you’ll love it!” Wayne simply shrugged this off. He was a decent student; he would just try to get nothing wrong. He had confidence in himself like he always did with wrestling. Ian faced the audience, giving a welcoming gesture, then back to Wayne. “Now, Wayne, are you ready to,” he said, briefly interrupting himself to face again toward that audience. On each hand wave, the audience said the words: “INFLATE! YOUR! SCORE!” The smile on Wayne’s face reached almost to both of his ears. He was hopeful: he needed this extra cash to help him with his current financial troubles. Whatever Ian meant about still getting the winnings when he missed questions wasn’t of any concern to him. Why should it be? He’s still winning in the end, right? Wayne gave a big nod to Ian, who began to start the game. The first two minute round was an absolute breeze; Wayne knew the answers to every question, and each of them were at most grade school level difficulty. The questions were simple mathematical equations (he was offered pencil and paper), history questions, and even some pop culture. By the end of the round, Wayne had already racked up $1000 and ten rings on the light wall. Wayne was feeling like he was on top of the world. All he had to do was look at his earnings to hype himself up. What luck did he have to suddenly be able to win $1000 out of the blue? This was like a lottery he didn’t buy a ticket for! He geared himself up for another round of questions, but still expecting them to be harder than the last round. Rounds two and three were only a little more difficult, and by the end of the third round, Wayne had amassed $3600 as his total. He hadn’t missed a single question, and he still felt the wave of confidence and motivation he did after the first round. But all that was about to change. “Alright, Wayne, you ready to start the fourth round? I can tell you that you’d better gear yourself up for a good time!” Ian remarked. Wayne nodded. Ian began the clock. “What is the atomic element group with seven valance electrons called?” Wayne’s mind grounded to a halt. What the hell? He wasn’t a chemistry student; he had no idea what the answer was! The crowd began to laugh at Wayne’s extended pause. He stumbled for an answer, fumbling his hands. He soon remembered that he only had two minutes per round, and needed to answer more questions. It felt like half his time was up already. “Uh… Metals!” He said, trying to give an educated guess. He didn’t even remember what the periodic table looked like. Ian tried to hide a smile. “I’m sorry that’s not correct,” he said, and continued with the questions. Wayne answered the rest very carefully, being cautious not lose any more of his money. There was only one more question that tripped him up and landed him in the wrong, but by the end he had answered seven questions total. That left him with a total of $3700, only a hundred more than his last. Wayne began to sweat. He couldn’t break his composure so early in this game! He had to keep his focus and dig deep into his mind to find the answers to these questions. Not only did he depend on it, his roommates did too. At this point, Wayne felt a new feeling: but he didn’t yet register it in his mind. His khaki pants that fit him a little loosely began to feel a little snug. Wayne, trying to keep his mind on the quiz, absentmindedly adjusted his pants and pulled them up from the belt loops. The result was something worse; he could feel his underwear pushing deeper into his rear end, creating a wedgie. He didn’t want to fix a wedgie on live TV and embarrass himself. But with each passing second, it became more annoying and almost unbearable. He quickly sidelined himself, facing the crowd and the lights, and reached back to relieve himself. He desperately pulled the underwear from within, finding that it really had little space to go in his tight khakis. Wayne noticed this tightness now. He felt like he had little space to move back there, but it couldn’t have just been his clothes shrinking in the wash, right? They were only tight in that region after all; the pants barely hugged his thighs and were pretty loose around his ankles. Maybe he just pulled a thread in that region and tightened them up a little too much there. Unfortunately for Wayne, Ian noticed the wedgie fix. “You feeling ok, Wayne? I hope you’re not feeling too big for your britches!” The crowd roared with laughter. Wayne ceded a small blush and smile, and began to laugh it off too. “I said I needed the money. I haven’t bought clothes for myself in a while, and I’ve grown a lot of muscle since then from working out for wrestling,” he lied. In truth, he felt like he was wearing bell bottom jeans, with the ankles so loose and the tops a little tight. With that, Ian started the next round. Wayne felt ready, or ready enough to allow himself to not know some of the answers. The first two questions required a bit of thinking: Wayne dug deep into his mind and was rewarded with $100 for each. However, the third question put the pressure back on him. Ian asked in a monotone voice: “What is the formula for the surface area of sphere?” Wayne blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Four-thirds pi times radius cubed!” As soon as he finished the words, he was quickly reminded of his pants. It was as if they had gotten a bit smaller again. He looked over at the light wall and watched a ring disappear from the outside. “Are you making my pants smaller or something?” Wayne joked, moving his hands back to his butt to feel the khakis. His smile instantly turned into a mix of confusion and fear. He had expected to feel his normal rear end enclosed by a smaller pair of the same pants, but he found just the opposite: his normal pants becoming strained to contain two larger cheeks. Wayne was throughly surprised. This was NOT his ass. He worked day in and day out in the weight room with his wrestling squad to get a nice, toned set of glutes. Whatever these things were, they were completely different. They were pillowy, soft, and almost as big as his hand. Nothing like the cut glutes he had prepared. “Answer?” said a voice, and Wayne looked up to see Ian staring him dead in the eyes. “I need an answer,” Ian said again, Wayne still with his hands on his butt as he regained knowledge of his surroundings. “Um… uh… I don’t know, I didn’t hear the question,” Wayne said. With that, Wayne’s worst fear was confirmed true. Hands still holding his ass, he felt it literally grow and expand. He was in shock, immediately turning his head to see it as his hands cradled the newly inflated mass on his backside. It wasn’t much, but if he kept getting questions wrong, this would add up. But Wayne had no time to ask, he had to answer more questions instead. He knocked out two more questions before the two minute round ended, on which he abruptly confronted Ian. “Hey! Are you doing this? My ass just fucking grew! What do you think you’re doing? Look at this!” Wayne turned himself to show his rear to Ian and the crowd. It was too late before Wayne realized his mistake. The camera zoomed in on his butt, getting a good view of its size. It was still a humane size, but just barely. You could tell that his khakis were straining to contain the inflation. The buttons on the rear pockets pointed to the sky, highlighting the curve that his ass had taken. It was perky, very noticeable, and, for the moment, actually highlighted Wayne’s athletic figure quite well, despite his desire for a cut rear end. The camera made sure not to miss how susceptible it already was to jiggling; though small, it was there and Wayne felt it down to his core. The crowd began to laugh, and Wayne quickly turned back around to hide himself. Just as when he realized what was happening to his ass, he finally realized the purpose of the game show. “Inflate My Score!” expanded a little more than just his pocket, but his ass too. Every question he got wrong, he received the “special earnings,” which was a little bit of growth to his butt. The audience could watch his ass inflate in real time when he messed up the questions. He gripped his soft and delicate cheeks, unsure of what to do. His emotions were a mix of confusion, anger, and fear. How the hell were they doing this to him? How were they allowed to do this? Was it going to stop? The questions flooded his mind. Ian snapped his fingers and Wayne felt his ass inflate within his hands. His pants began to groan from the stretching, making an audible noise that sounded like a painful cry. It stopped after a few seconds, but that little growth spurt of ass sent Wayne into another bout of amazement. The khakis could only take so much more of this, trying to hold his growing rear end fighting for more and more room within. “That’s for dropping the f-bomb on live TV!” Ian said cheerfully. He laughed and motioned for the audience to applause, which they did. After it ended, he again took the microphone. “So, Wayne, how are you liking your new bubble butt? In my opinion, that’s a score if I ever saw one! An inflated one at that!” Ian’s laughed turned almost maniacal. He quickly caught himself and almost instantly returned to his normal demeanor. Wayne scowled under his breath. He looked like someone had photoshopped him to give him an excessive amount of curve on his backside. In that regard, it wasn’t exactly round; it just jutted out uncomfortably from Wayne’s figure. An idea popped into Wayne’s head: what if he answered NO questions? That way, he wouldn’t lose what he already had earned, and his ass wouldn’t grow anymore because he wouldn’t be answering anything wrong either. He settled on this new plan and gave the signal that it was time to begin the new round. Ian dove directly into the first question. Sounding more triumphant, he gave the query. “What American Civil War general led his famous march to the sea?” Wayne even knew that answer, but he kept his mouth shut. It was his symbol of defiance. He wouldn’t have some random guy who invited him on a TV show dictate his life, and also the size of his ass. “Answer?” Ian asked. He locked eyes with Wayne, who was staring intently back. He knew instantly that he wasn’t going to receive anything. “Fine then. We can sit here until the round is over.” The two minutes passed, each second held by silence. Not even the crowd said a word. Ian was the first to speak when the buzzer finally rang. He spoke comically. “It seems big boy over here has decided to ignore the rules! According to the Inflate My Score handbook, the contestant must answer at least five questions in each two minute round. Any question with a failure to be answered will be marked as…” he clapped his hands once, dramatically. “WRONG!” Wayne was startled as his ass started to expand, slowly engulfing the final open spaces in his pants. Except this time, it didn’t stop after a brief moment. This was his punishment for five incorrect answers. His khakis creaked and groaned as they began to stretch to their maximum. His ass ballooned outward, pushing further and further against the khakis. It began to round out, to look spherical, to appear unnatural and disproportionate to Wayne’s frame. It was almost revealing how much ass you could see with the pants, they were so stretched and fit so close to Wayne’s inflated rear. By the end, Wayne looked like he had two volleyballs stuck in his khakis, so tight that you can’t get them out. Wayne was frozen in place during the entire process. The sensation of his butt inflating was one he had never experienced until today: but he couldn’t say he hated it. Truly, deep down, he found that the feeling of his ass pushing up against his pants, trying to be free from the khaki prison, was actually a feeling that he enjoyed. The tightness was something that turned him on. But he would never tell anyone that. Maybe he didn’t have to. Looking down at himself, Wayne found that his cock had gone semi-hard during the inflation. It wouldn’t have been as noticeable if his pants were normal, but they were pulled in the opposite direction due to the size of his ass, and an outline of his dick was only slightly visible. Of course, he thought, right here in front of all these people. Sexual feelings are the only ones humans can’t truly disguise. Especially men. Wayne was scared to even take a step. He felt like the khakis were going to rip at any second, caused by any sort of movement. Instead, he stood there to be the laughing stock of the audience and to be a subject for the cameras, who had caught the inflation all on video for the world to see. He carefully reached a hand back to his ass to feel it. It still felt like a cushion, and as he lightly squeezed it, it very easily took the shape of his hand. He playfully pushed the cheeks together for enjoyment, at the expense of his cock jumping in its khaki confinement. “Oh, what a nice pair we have here! It’s not even done, and this is one of the finest looking butts we’ve had on this show!” Ian said, followed with a crowd cheer. He then did the unthinkable: he ran up to Wayne, wound up his arm, and gave his left cheek an enormous smack. The impact reverberated what seemed like infinitely through Wayne’s cheeks. A storm of jiggles and wiggles rumbled through Wayne’s ass, bouncing them up, down, left and right. This was the breaking point for the poor khakis. Shaken by the slap, the khakis ripped wholly down the center, revealing a supremely stretched pair of smiley boxers beneath them. The khakis dropped to the ground, leaving Wayne standing on stage with just his boxers, his volleyball size buttcheeks, and an extremely red face. The smile on the boxers was distorted from the size of Wayne’s ass. “Wow! Look at that. Wayne here’s always in a good mood, even when his ass has grown three times the size! He must love it!” Ian then began to walk to the other side of the stage, looking into the moving camera as he walked. “We’ve got a lot planned for both Wayne and you at home, right after the break. So stay tuned! Inflate My Score is going nowhere!” The crowd went wild as the cameras zoomed away from the stage. Ian quickly began barking orders. “I need the contestant offstage and to a dressing room. NOW! Movers! I need my set reorganized. Please move…” Before Wayne even realized what was happening, a woman in black took his hand and led him to backstage. She was practically running, and it was hard for Wayne to keep up with the new weight he carried. The constant movement of his behind threatened his balance. Not only that, the inflated nature of his ass, grown in such a tight condition, made his cheeks chafe with one another as he moved. The result was an uncomfortable motion of running that he had never experienced, nor did he ever want to experience. His dick flopped around in his boxers, not fully restricted like it was in the khakis. He could hear some kind of slapping: he wasn’t sure if it was his booty clapping with his movements, or if it was his cock forcefully hitting his thighs with each stride. He was partially hard, after all. The woman Wayne was following finally reached a small room, and motioned him inside. “Everything you need is already there. Please put on everything and wait here until we come get you again.” She slammed the door on her way out. Wayne took a second to catch up with himself. So much has happened in short two minute rounds that it was hard to comprehend. His butt had been a normal size not too long ago. The room Wayne was put in had mirrors for walls. Wayne looked at his ass from every angle, even briefly taking off his boxers to see it bare. Each cheek was completely round, smooth, and larger than he had expected. They were a little sore from the growth, but when Wayne tried to massage them, his cock woke up, so he decided he could do without. On the far wall was a black wardrobe, large enough to be a gate to Narnia if it really wanted to be. Plastered on the front of it was a note signed by Ian. “Hey Wayne,” it said. “Try this on. You’ll feel like more of a natural if you’re wearing your natural clothes!” Opening the wardrobe, Wayne found himself dumbstruck. There was a singular hanger holding two articles of clothing. It was his college wrestling singlet, colored white with green highlights and advertising their mascot, the Knights, on the front, and a jock strap. Wayne’s heart sank. He was supposed to wear this thing on stage in front of millions of people? Isn’t that too revealing for live TV? And how the hell was he supposed to even fit into this thing, given the ginormous size of his ass? He wouldn’t even know where to start to put it on. And forget about the jock strap too. That thing would be torn to shreds. Wayne reluctantly took the jock strap and loosened it to it’s greatest possible size. Luckily, he found that he could loosen it more than he normally could when he was actually wrestling. Stepping into the strap, he felt the fabric slowly snug up to the bottom of his cheeks, putting into perspective how much they already jutted out past his frame. He could only tighten it a little after putting it on. If it were to grow any more, the strap couldn’t hold much of it. The feeling of the jock strap cupping his ass, despite his wishes, felt surprisingly comfortable. There was something about tightness that Wayne seemed to love, but he wouldn’t tell that to anyone. And just like before, he wouldn’t really have to, as he could see the front part of the strap moving around below, trying to account for his cock’s arousal. He sighed and pulled out the actual wrestler singlet, checking it for authenticity. From what he could see, it was HIS singlet, the one he wore in his matches. How the hell could they get their hands on it? Did they modify it for the big changes he had acquired? He carefully maneuvered his legs through the top, feeling the spandex coat his skin just like how he remembered. Wayne found out the hard way that it was still the same size. He didn’t even have it halfway on before he felt resistance in the rear. With a large amount of struggling, he managed to pull the strained spandex up over his ass at the expense of having the spandex strain on his shoulders. That was the expense of having a onesie. He could hear the spandex groaning as it tried to stretch to contain his new, disproportionate body. It wasn’t long after that that the woman came back to get him. She stifled a gasp when she saw him; perhaps she had never seen a contestant’s rear end that swollen before. Without saying anything, she held the door open and motioned Wayne to head back toward the stage. He walked this time. The feeling of the stretched spandex rubbing against his expanded ass with each and every step made him almost want to stop walking in order to avoid any unwanted reactions. The only thing he could do at that moment was ignore it and move on. But how could he ignore that feeling, especially when the singlet continued to get swallowed by his ass with each step? Just like on the stage, he didn’t want to reach back and relieve himself, especially when he knew that the next step he took after that would only reset the issue. Finally reaching the stage, Wayne parked himself and his volleyball cheeks on the railing. He could feel the metal bar pressing horizontally into his ass and playfully bounced himself on and off the bar until he realized what he was doing. Thoughts of hate and dread filled his mind. He couldn’t allow himself to get used to it and live like this. He had to stand up for himself somehow. An attendant came along and began to position Wayne in a place where the curtain would be pulled open. She maneuvered him to the center of the stage, and then turned him to face the side of the stage. When he realized that the woman was fixing him so that his side profile was most visible, he had to speak up. “Ma’am, I’m not doing that.” He turned himself back to face the curtain, but the woman silently insisted that he turn to the side so the crowd could see the growth sprouting from his rear end. Finally, she had had enough. She grabbed Wayne’s face like a grandma would, clutching his two cheeks between her thumb and her pointer finger. “Do it, or your little incident here will get more out of control,” she said, releasing Wayne’s face and walking away. Clearly she was annoyed. Wayne, feeling foolishly defiant despite his circumstances, didn’t care, however. As soon as she rounded the corner, Wayne repositioned himself to face the curtain. He instantly regretted it. He could feel the sensation begin again in his ass, an indescribable feeling that felt like an inaudible grumble. Wayne quickly gripped his butt, futilely pushing his hands inward to stop the swelling. It was no use. Wayne’s ass slowly grew larger in his wrestling singlet, pressing harder against the spandex, becoming more round and defined. Wayne could feel the crack between his cheeks widen as they expanded. The singlet only exacerbated that problem. Even as much as it widened, the tight singlet still pressed his enlarged cheeks together in a most uncomfortable way. Any movement worsened the chafing, and Wayne couldn’t decide if he should stop the growing or stop the chafing. For the first time, Wayne could feel his ass growing outwards to the sides as it longingly searched for more room to take up. However, his hips failed to widen in sync with his butt, so the sides of it could be seen from a front view. As all these changes were occurring, the black curtain was pulled. A bright light blinded Wayne briefly as cheers sounded from the area in front of him. The cheers quickly transitioned to laughter; Wayne still had his hands on his backside trying to quell expansion. Fumbling around trying to stop it had returned Wayne’s position to the side profile that the assistant had previously wanted. Frozen in fear, Wayne had not realized the inflation had stopped and still had his hands on his ass. Ian appeared from the side of the stage and took a bow. The crowd cheered and hollered, and when they were done, he made his way over to Wayne. Wayne himself had still not moved. His face had turned a bright red that was illuminated further by the lights on the stage. As Ian approached, Wayne looked down, not wanting to make eye contact. Ian began to whisper in his ear: “feeling too big for your britches now?” Ian then took Wayne from the shoulders and spun him so that his ass was facing the crowd. He had to take him from the side to avoid getting uncomfortably close from the back. From the rear, the audience could see his whole butt: every curve, bend, and square inch taken up under that poor singlet. It highlighted roundness of his bloated cheeks perfectly. If that wasn’t bad enough, Ian had more planned to show the audience the depth to which Wayne had inflated. He squatted down so that Wayne’s ass was eye level and plunged his hands in to his cheeks, squeezing them. Wayne flinched and almost jumped into the air. The increased size and containment of his butt had seemingly made it extra sensitive. But that wasn’t the only thing that flinched; his cock, becoming more and more confined within the singlet with every extra inch his ass grew, moved with every squeeze and shake Ian sent rattling through Wayne’s enlarged rear end. It almost felt like torture: the pleasurable kind. Wayne couldn’t believe that his body was doing this to him. After what felt like hours, Ian finally stopped. He had gripped, rubbed, and throughly played with Wayne’s ass as if he had done it before multiple times. Wayne’s cock struggled beneath the jock strap and the singlet. The episode had triggered a full hard-on, something he had been trying to avoid. “You wanna turn around now, Wayne?” Ian said jokingly. “We haven’t even gotten to the next part of the show! Surely you could have held out longer than that!” The crowd roared with laughter as Wayne reluctantly turned to face it, revealing the growing problem he had on his front side. It was clearly visible due to the stretch of the singlet, and the very tip was slightly darkened from a spot of wetness. Wayne’s face was bright red and covered with a concerned look. In all that had happened, Wayne hadn’t even noticed the new stage layout. In the center now stood a giant table, and on top of it, a wheel. The wheel was separated like a pie, with many different zones. It was like Wheel of Fortune. Separate boards covered each space on the wheel so that whatever was underneath couldn’t be seen. “Right this way, Wayne, stand right here.” Ian said, motioning for Wayne to move to his designated place. He reluctantly agreed, and carefully waddled his way to the spot in a way to avoid the most friction between his two swollen masses. Not only were they sensitive from the growth, but they were forced to rub together in the singlet. At a normal size, this wouldn’t had been a problem; but his ass protruded out so much from his frame, creating two round globes that had no choice but to clash. Every step Wayne took was taken with a great deal of caution for this purpose. Finally reaching his spot, Ian went directly into the rules of the game. “Listen up Wayne! In one of these spots on this giant wheel is a gold star. Spin and land on that, and it’s game over and you get to go home. The other spaces on this wheel include numbers 1-10, indicating the level of ‘earnings’ you shall receive.” Wayne knew what that meant. His nightmare clearly wasn’t over. “Other spaces are surprises! Each round, you will spin the wheel, and there will be an unlimited number of rounds until you land on the gold star. Are YOU ready to play….” Ian turned to the audience, holding out his hands in the air. “Wheel! Go! Bigger!” Wayne’s hope was slowly slipping away. He really didn’t have a choice, did he? Any attempt to be defiant would only end worse for him. He weakly nodded his head and spun the wheel, hoping to get the star in his first spin. As the wheel slowed and stopped, Wayne carefully reached over to grab the board, going slowly to prevent any damage from occurring on his backside. With it firmly in his grasp, he turned it over to reveal the number 3. How instantaneous it was caught him off guard. As if it had no time to lose, his butt began to push outward, inflating at a moderate pace. The singlet began to groan as it was stretched even further, it’s white color making everything more and more revealing. He tried to keep his hands off of it in order to make it less sensitive. Just the feeling of his butt filling up was enough. Almost as suddenly as it began, it stopped. “What a shame! Only a 3. We can definitely get Wayne here some more!” Ian yelled into the microphone, the crowd returning his enthusiasm. He motioned for Wayne to turn the wheel. Wayne reluctantly spun it again, afraid that he had failed to read some fine print in a contract that prevented him from not doing so. He watched the wheel slowly halt, determining his next fate. He grabbed the board when it stopped. On the board was not a number but a sentence: “Congrats! You’ve won a beach vacation!” Wayne looked visibly confused. There was no way they would just give him something like that after all that had happened. Ian took the board from him to show the audience. “Winner winner chicken dinner! Wayne here has won a trip to the beach!” As if on cue, a trap door opened on the other side of the stage, and a small beach setting rose up from below. It included a small pool of water not even half a foot deep, several beach chairs and an umbrella on some sand, and a beach volleyball set up. Lights from the top of the stage shone brightly on the scene to mimic sunshine. Ian took Wayne’s hand and dragged him across the stage to the scene at a speed faster than Wayne was expecting. With each step, Wayne felt like he was more trying to stay on his feet than walk; the voluptuous swollen cheeks he begrudgingly called his own threatened his stability. In order to keep himself upright, he transitioned to a full waddle, almost having to squat in order to widen his stance and make himself more stable. But even if he wasn’t going to fall, he could still feel his ass shaking and quaking vigorously with any step he took, no matter how careful. By the time they reached the beach, Wayne was sweating. It took a lot of energy to move that large of a mass, especially with the combined resistance of the jock strap and the singlet. “What a wonderful beach here! We’ve got everything we need here to have fun,” Ian exclaimed. “I’m not having any fun at all. I’m going to get a lawyer if you don’t end this! Hell, I’ll get one anyway! Wayne replied. The crowd went almost silent. The smug, malicious look appeared on Ian’s face, signaling his mischievous intentions. “Wayne, Wayne, Wayne.” He said, stifling a laugh. You know what we forgot to bring to the beach?” “A speedo? You gonna put me in a bikini next?” Wayne retorted, instantly regretting putting that idea in Ian’s mind. “No, no. We forgot our beach balls! How can we have fun on the beach without those?” The growing sensation instantly returned to Wayne’s rear, making it feel more full than it already was. Like a beach ball being blown up, Wayne’s ass inflated larger and larger. Every new square inch taken up by his ass stretched his singlet more and more. But how big was it going to get? Beach balls came in many different sizes. Not knowing the depth to which he would expand terrified Wayne. He tried again to put his hands on his ass to try and futilely stop it, but he found his hands couldn’t even reach around them anymore. The audience was loving every second of the show. Cameras focused on his rear and some microphone picking up the sound of his wrestling singlet struggling to contain Wayne’s inflation broadcasted the sound throughout the auditorium. Wayne felt more embarrassed than he had been for the entire night. As his cheeks continued to fill painfully slowly, Ian circled around to Wayne’s rear. Wayne was too scared to move for fear ripping anything. He could feel the jockstrap struggling to stay intact deep within his crack, which was becoming wider and wider. Ian simply bounced Wayne’s ass from the top, showing the audience the beach ball size and qualities it now had. The feeling of his butt moving up and down while growing, almost feeling disconnected from the rest of his body made Wayne feel euphoric. “That’s enough! We don’t want our beach balls too large here. How are you enjoying your vacation so far, Wayne?” Ian asked. The growth stopped abruptly. Wayne couldn’t even speak; the tightness on his rear was stimulating him too much. His dick, clearly visible in the white singlet, struggled to get up in the singlet. “He’s loving it! But now it’s time to go back to the wheel. Lets go!” Ian walked back to the game wheel as the beach scene slowly descended back below the stage. Legs wide, Wayne hobbled back over to the wheel, having to take small but heavy steps. He felt like he was carrying the weight of the world behind him. His hips were aching, his legs were tired, he felt exhausted. But he had to spin the wheel. Wayne spun the wheel again, having to move his whole body, including his cheeks, to do so. He silently prayed for that gold star, his release from this nightmare. He watched with dismay as the wheel slowed and he picked up the board in front of him. On it was not a number, but another sentence: “Free Massage!” A groan escaped him, louder than the ones his singlet were producing. How much longer would he have to endure this? His butt could take no massage, it would only be torture to him. “Congrats Wayne! You’ve won another thing! This time, you’ll be receiving a massage from a special guest,” Ian exclaimed. Where the beach had been, the trapdoor of the stage opened once again to reveal a man and a strange chair rising from the ground. The man was dressed in a black suit and tie, and Wayne questioned his expertise. The chair was even more strange. Of course, normal chairs wouldn’t fit him anymore, so this chair featured two giant holes in the bottom of it where Wayne would have to place his rear. Other than that, it looked like a barber chair with a step beneath it to raise the chair to a desired height. Dread filled Wayne’s mind as he made his sorry way to the chair, feeling he had no more say in the matter. His life was already ruined. He couldn’t even fit through the door of his house anymore, why should he have to pay rent? When Wayne reached the chair, he turned around to Ian to woefully voice his concerns. “Why are you doing this? Haven’t you done enough?” Ian just laughed. “It’s all for fun and games! And you’re the game. Take a seat, Wayne.” Wayne felt a strong pair of hands grip his waist, and turned his head to see the man in the suit behind him, dragging him to the chair. As he placed Wayne in the seat, Wayne felt his ass fit through the holes, making the tightness even worse. Without wasting anytime, the man stepped continuously on the chair step, raising Wayne into the air. Each small burst into the air reverberated in his vulnerable, exposed cheeks. It finally stopped when Wayne had gone about 5 feet in the air, giving the man a view of his cheeks just below his eye level. Wayne felt almost as though he was on a throne. It started right away. The man started to knead his ass like dough, rubbing it, grabbing it, running his hand down his crack, and more. Wayne felt each and every motion. It was torture: sexual torture. With each small touch of Wayne’s ass, he felt his cock harden within the confines of the singlet. It desperately tried to escape its spandex prison, wriggling around helplessly. He tried to restrain himself, but the man going to town on his ass was too much. He resisted as much as he could before he couldn’t anymore. His head flew back and the front of his singlet became wet and sticky. The crowd roared with laughter as Wayne sat there incredibly embarrassed. There was only one other thought going through his head: he had to get revenge. The thought was immediately disrupted by his senses returning, and finding that the massage had not ended. The man in the suit continued to display the pillow-like qualities of Wayne’s bubble butt. Finally, Ian intervened. “That’s enough. Bring him down,” he said, and the man pressed on the chair step to bring Wayne down from his throne. Ian walked over to Wayne, patted his head, and looked down. “Seems like we have a pretty sticky situation here!” The crowd laughed, and the man in the suit pushed Wayne up out of the chair from the bottom, thrusting his hands deep into each cheek. The force was so large that Wayne almost fell on his face after forgetting how much weight he now had to control. “I’m not doing this anymore. You’ve abused me long enough.” Wayne said, his voice almost giving out near the end. He sounded weak, frail, exhausted, but Ian didn’t care. Wayne felt a presence behind him, and looked there to see the man in the suit standing directly behind his rear. His front began to touch Wayne’s ass, forcing Wayne to move back to the wheel. As he moved closer, the man began to get more assertive, pressing himself deeper into Wayne’s ass to get Wayne to move. He room the liberty of gripping Wayne’s ass and pushing him forward. After what seemed like forever, they reached the wheel. In one hopeless last attempt, Wayne prayed to see that gold star appear on whatever board he picked up. He tried to spin the wheel, but his strength was fading. There was an easy fix to that. The man in the suit grabbed Wayne’s hand, placed it on the wheel, and spun it with a force that nearly knocked Wayne over. He attempted to regain his balance as he watched the wheel spin faster than he could have ever made it spin. His tired eyes watched it go round and round for what seemed like ages. When it finally stopped, Wayne shakily picked up the board. The contents left him frozen. Wayne dropped the board. As it rattled on the ground, the cameras picked up not a gold star, but a number. It was a 10. “NO! STOP! PLEASE!” Wayne desperately yelled. But by then, it had already begun. Without any reservations, his ass pushed outward further in all directions. The two giant, round mounds protruded even more from his frame, becoming larger with each passing second. The bigger they got, the deeper his crack became, pushed together and made more prevalent by the wrestling singlet holding his ass hostage. Well, that was no longer the case. In a series of violent and disruptive sounds, Wayne heard the wrestling singlet finally tear. The cold air hitting his warm and overworked behind gave him a strange sense of relief. He felt the tightness gradually lessen as his ass expanded, tearing more and more of the singlet right down the middle. It was splitting in two directions and making his crack fully visible to the crowd. But it didn’t stop there. The inflation refused to cease this time. Wayne began to hunch over forwards to avoid weight of his ass pulling him backward. He cursed gravity as he hunched over and revealed more of his butt. The only thing beneath the singlet was the jock strap, which was painfully tucked down in his crack, so low that nobody could see it. Finally, his butt stopped growing. Wayne was breathing heavily and sweating; he could break the record for biggest weight squat. He reached back, feeling the fruit of his labor. His ass was now the size of two yoga balls. He pushed a finger into his bare ass, finding that it went deeper and deeper into the pillowy muscle with each increase in pressure. How the hell was he supposed to go anywhere with this mass? His life was ruined. He was nothing but a plaything now, only to be used for others’ enjoyment. He couldn’t get a normal job, but from what he had heard, people pay big money for sexual pleasures. Ian came up and sat on the wheel in front of Wayne, admiring his handiwork. “So, Wayne. How about another spin?”