Lyon Bridge has recently finished orientation at his local wizardly school. After receiving his first wand, he is eager to start casting spells, but things quickly go awry when he discovers he may have a small problem with pronunciation, and this problem may or may not lead to him casting spells with effects polar opposite of his intentions...

This is my first submission here and I'm still trying to get a handle on the ropes of writing, so there may be a few awkward sections here and there. Comments/criticisms are much appreciated.

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“Bridge. Lyon Bridge.”

The receptionist scanned her finger across the page, repeating the name to herself in a low mumble until she found his name on the extensive list of newly-initiated mages. “I assume you attended the orientation?” she inquired. Lyon showed her his orange wristband and the wolf nodded, disappearing under the white plastic table. She reappeared with a small plastic bag, handing it to the giddy lion. Searching through it, the lion found a few objects of interest, most notably a blue, silky robe and a black wand with a white tip.

“Congratulations on beginning your journey in wizardry!” she said with a half-hearted, almost sarcastic tone. As soon as the lion made his way out of the long line of students, she abandoned her cheerful facade and grumpily asked the next student for his name.

Lyon could sense her pessimism through her mask, but he wasn’t one to succumb to other’s sour moods. In fact, he practically bounced his way to his next stop, his enthusiasm not waned in the slightest. Besides, when faced with something as life-changing and exciting as becoming a mage – especially if it’s what Lyon’s wanted for half a decade – it was near impossible to be gloomy.

Unlike the line to get his goodie bag, which extended outside and wrapped around a quarter of the school, this one was pleasantly short. After a few aspiring mages in front of him made their way out of the line, Lyon was face-to-face with the head wizard of the school. With a long, grey beard, a crumbing patch of hair, and a washed out blue robe, he was the textbook definition of a stereotypical wizard, and judging by his wide smile, he was likely just as maniacal.

“Ah, another upcoming wizard!” he greeted with so much enthusiasm it almost made Lyon forget he likely had to say this hundreds of time today. His jittery hand motions and perky tone communicated earnestness with a tinge of old-person adorableness, which certainly left a better impression than the bored receptionist. “My name is Pyrex, head master of our wonderful school. Tell me what your name is, aspiring mage.”

He returned the wizard’s warm smile, his bushy tail swinging wildly behind him. “Lyon. Lyon Bridge.”

The head wizard let out a hearty laugh. “A lion named ‘Lyon’, eh? That’s quite a playful name.” Lyon nodded, not letting on how many peers at secondary school would make great efforts to point that out a lot, and not necessarily in playful ways.

“Anyways,” the wizard continued as his laugh died down. “I’m very delighted to have more mages in this wonderful town, and I’m sure you’ll fit in perfectly fine! First of all,” he said as he reached across the table and grabbed a few papers off a couple of stacks and handed them to Lyon. “This is the boring stuff. Rules, guidelines, procedures, etc. As long as you don’t purposefully hurt someone, you shouldn’t have to worry too much about breaking any of them.” Lyon bobbed in acknowledgment and placed the papers with the other goodies in his bag.

“Secondly, while you should be set to go out and get casting, there are a few tips to go over and a few myths to debunk. Number 1: There isn’t any fancy vocabulary or outdated Latin you’ll need to learn to cast spells. In fact, most spell casting is more or less like wish casting, except you don’t have to preface everything with ‘I wish’ of course.” Lyon blinked a few times, but otherwise it wasn’t too unusual that movies would try to over-complicate the process of spell casting.

“Number 2: You don’t...” his voice trailed out at the end as a wandering mage bumped into him. The mage apologized to him and went on his way, allowing the wizard to resume his speech. “...HAVE to rhyme spells all the time. It’s mostly just for fun.” Lyon had a bit more difficulty wrapping this rule around his head. So wizards imposed this arbitrary rule to always rhyme spells just for the heck of it? A bit frustrating, but it definitely wasn’t deal breaking.

“And for number 3: Don’t feel like you have to cast the spells everyone is casting. In fact, most wizards suck at casting fireballs and creating invisibility cloaks, and this frustration causes them to quit early in their journey. If in doubt, cast what you’re passionate about. That way, even if it doesn’t come out perfect, you’ll at least be enjoying yourself. They say the spells that come most naturally to you are the ones you’re most likely to perfect, so feel free to experiment until you find your passion. That’s all I have to say, unless you have any questions for me specifically?”

Lyon had a million questions floating around in his mind, but he found it much more exciting to find out the answers for himself rather than be lectured about them. “No, I think I’ll be fine.”

The wizard chuckled, rubbing the fur on Lyon’s head. “That’s what I hoped to hear. Well then, explore around, get a feel of the place, cast a few basic spells, then come back around here in a week when courses start to begin refining your skills. I will be awaiting your return.”

Lyon waved back as he swerved his way through the sea of mages and exited through the double doors of the building. Reciting the wizard’s tips in his mind – speak in plain English, always rhyme, and cast what you’re passionate about – he diverged from the town square and made his way towards the nearby forest. He figured messing up his first spells in the privacy of the forest was better than out in public. Plus, there was something about the forest that appealed to Lyon, likely a combination of its relaxing nature and spaciousness.

After five minutes of wandering, Lyon lost himself in the natural beauties of the forest, neglecting his initial intention for coming here in the first place. When he finally snapped out of his bliss, he forgot where he was for a split second. Looking over his left shoulder, he noticed the town wall – a hundred feet tall to prevent the land-bound monsters from leaping over and extending horizontally as far as his eye could see – looked like a molehill from his position, which certainly didn’t spell good news for the mage.

All of the sudden, Lyon’s vision was consumed by a figure that loomed inches from his face, startling Lyon to such a degree he fell on his back and scrambled backwards, letting the goodie bag in his hand fall a few feet away from him. The creature was best comparable to a modern day pterodactyl. With a foot long jaw, a hundred jagged teeth, and wings that span the length of a truck, its appearance was enough to intimidate a seasoned warrior, and Lyon hasn’t even taken his first class as a mage. Lyon cowered, moments away from surrendering to the fearsome beast, before he remembered his wand was just a leap away.

He rolled behind the creature, narrowly missing a snap of its jaws, then grabbed the bag he dropped with his spare fingers. With the large bird’s mouth trapped in the ground and a wand in his hand, Lyon quickly assessed his options. He could try to kill it, but not only was he unsure if a spell casted by an untrained mage would be strong enough to take on a creature this size, he considered the repercussions that could come if he was successful. For all Lyon knew, he was trespassing on this creature’s property, meaning it had every right to lunge towards him. In that case, killing it would likely break some sort of wizard code, ending Lyon’s wizardly journey before it even began. Watching the creature as it pried its jaws from the ground, Lyon realized he needed to find an alternate solution and fast.

Trying to kill it would turn out terribly, but what if he casted a spell on himself instead? He figured it shouldn’t be too hard to make himself a little faster; after all, athletes do it all the time with steroids, and those are only slightly magical. Figuring his time was limited, he channeled in his limited experience with rap and frantically stuttered his first spell.

“Obey your caster and make me faster!” Lyon grimaced at his own spell; rhyming in a split second was a lot harder than fiction made it out to be. He figured he would feel a tingling in his feet as it became super-charged with magic, so he was a bit puzzled when he felt a rumbling in his stomach instead. He thought it was just a side effect of the spell until he saw his shirt was slowing sliding up his expanding stomach. At this point, the attacking creature stopped dead in its tracks, preferring to observe the lion’s expansion over killing him instantly.

Then it hit Lyon: in his hurry to cast the spell, his mouth skipped over the hiss sound, transforming “faster” into “fatter”. His very first spell, and he messed it up by mispronouncing a crucial word. He would have been embarrassed enough by the fluke, but judging by how doughy he looked already, he would have a lot more to be embarrassed about soon enough.

As fat started to pile on his body, spreading to his posterior and limbs, he ended up feeling more lethargic than he would if he just ran away like a normal being. Instead, he had to look on in horror as his stomach protruded inch by inch, his clothes straining to hold his expanding form. Meanwhile, his pursuer looked on in curiosity; over time, the creature’s blank face started to form a mild smile.

With a loud tear, Lyon’s shirt ripped open, exposing his large, orange gut and sagging moobs to his onlooker. His pants were the next to go, revealing his bright white underwear to the creature, who let out a faint giggle at the display. Fearing his shoes would suffer the same fate soon enough, he took initiative and tried to take his shoes off. Tried was the key word here, for as much as Lyon tugged and tugged, his feet were too fat to pop out of its bindings. An especially forceful tug left Lyon falling backwards on his pillowy ass; he let out an expletive as he made contact with the rough forest floor. The creature couldn’t keep its composure anymore; it let out a high-pitched, constant laugh, and it ended up falling on the ground too with how much its laughter overwhelmed it.

Lyon’s orange, chipmunk cheeks turned red and his mouth arched into a pronounced frown. He shed a tear when his feet painfully burst out of the shoe’s fabric. To add insult to injury, despite looking more like a sumo wrestler than a lion, he still wasn’t finished growing. At first, he remained on the ground simply because it was more convenient than standing back up. However, as six hundred pounds gave way to a half-ton, he feared he couldn’t stand up if he tried. Another gruesome half ton later, during which the creature was still laughing hysterically at Lyon’s mishaps, Lyon couldn’t even move his arms or legs, only twirl his wrists and ankles, a task that was becoming more difficult as the fat starting pulling his limbs inwards like quicksand.

When the tingling sensation vanished, Lyon was afraid to open his eyes to assess the damage done to his body. The moment he did, his expression was a mixture of shock, disgust, and misery. “No, no, no… This can’t be happening...” he whispered to himself. His stomach stuck out six feet in front of him and was tall enough to function as a bed for a teenager. He could just barely see his toes amidst the rolls of his belly and his tire of a neck didn’t provide enough mobility to allow him a wider range of vision. Worse of all, his naked, car-sized frame had an additional viewer.

After a full straight ten minutes of laughing, Lyon’s cessation of growth was enough to break the creature’s hysteria. “Oh man, you really messed up,” it chuckled, its deep, laid back accent enough to identify it as a male. “Look at you man, you look more like an elephant than a lion!”

Lyon wasn’t entertained by the teasing. “Alright, ‘man’, are you going to eat me or something? I’m immobile, and defenseless without my wand. Whatever you want to do with me, just get it over with, alright?”

The bird cocked its head. “Eat you? And keep this to myself? Nah, man. My friends would get a kick out of this. Besides, I can’t eat ALL of you, or else I’ll end up as fat as you!” He flew over to Lyon’s side – which lead to Lion realizing he was nearly as wide as the bird, further dimming his blush – and picked up a black, cylindrical stick with his talons. “Here’s your wand back. Pull a rabbit out of hat or something,” he said as he placed the object between Lyon’s fingers. “Maybe you’ll make yourself even fatter while I’m gone.” He chuckled at the thought and squeezed Lyon’s cheeks before flying back the way he came, presumably to get his herd.

When the bird vanished from Lyon’s sight, he had to take a few seconds to blink in disbelief. Was the bird really that stupid to give Lyon the exact tool he needed to get himself out of his situation? Lyon smirked at his good luck. As he experimented with various rhymes, he told himself to never venture too far from civilization and to be careful with pronunciations so this would never happen again. Lyon grew a little frustrated when he failed to come up with a catchy rhyme, but shook his head; he was the only one who would have to hear his embarrassing rhyme, and the bird could be back with his friends any minute.

“Skip the dinner and make me thinner!” he boomed, albeit with a bit of shame at his piss-poor writing. He felt a similar tinge in his stomach, and it took a few seconds to sink in that it felt a bit too familiar. Mumbling parts of the phrase to himself again, he realized he made yet another syllabic error. “Make me ‘thicker’!? Really!?” he berated himself. Soon enough, he saw his stomach taking up more of the forest floor and felt his buttocks push back against the nearby tree.

His body became so bloated with fat he started to expand in height as well, allowing him to see further out in the forest, catching glimpses of forest animals who stood shocked for a few seconds before frantically blitzing in the opposite direction of his growth. It didn’t take long for the tree behind him to fall – thankfully away from him – allowing his buttocks to crush the newly exposed stump. If Lyon was embarrassed before, he was utterly humiliated now. Not only had he failed two spells, in remarkably similar ways nonetheless, both of them caused him to blimp with fat, making his failures public to anyone passing by.

Thankfully, he didn’t see anyone he knew cross by his path, and the growth spurt didn’t last much longer than the first one. He went from the size of a medium-sized car to an industrial truck faster then he could drive to his local buffet. If his hands and legs had any hope of movement, it was completely vanquished at this point. He couldn’t even wiggle his fat toes and his right hand was indefinitely clasped on his wand, which thankfully didn’t require any movement to operate.

He huffed, a bullish frown replacing his look of dismay. Lyon was determined to cease this vicious cycle of growth; he would have to put all of his might into perfecting his next spell. He was too frustrated to come up with a Grammy winning rhyme and quite literally spouted the first thing that came to his mind. “I won’t holler, just make me smaller!” Wait – did he really say “taller” instead of “smaller”? And since his legs were beached, the only way to get taller was to put on even more…

Mid-thought, Lyon head a low rumbling that became all too familiar with the young lion. He groaned as his body pulsed once again, feet upon feet of fat slowly pushing the boundaries of his figure farther and farther. He knocked down even more trees and outsized even more industrial vehicles. He felt anchored by dozens of tons of fat, growing agitated as his body parts became more indistinguishable from one another. He passes 25 feet, 30 feet, 40 feet in diameter as his body continued to bloat and consume more land area.

When the tingling sensation halted, Lyon’s body was scarily huge. Spanning a diameter of 50 feet, with butt cheeks that could crush cars and a gut that could house a kitchen, he was more identifiable as an orange blob of lard than a living being. He felt incredibly hopeless, half-wishing the wand would fall from his hand so he couldn’t make things even worse. To be fair, at this point, all putting on weight would do make it more likely for someone to notice him, which might attract someone who could actually help him out. No – it couldn’t possibly get worse from here.

That was, until he heard a series of wing flaps that sounded more like the jets of an airplane. “Guys, look!” called out a familiar voice, who was barely able to breathe with how hard he was laughing. “He actually did make himself fatter. Now there’s even MORE food for our herd!” The flock of birds, five in total, erupted in a laughing frenzy, causing a tinge of red to reappear on Lyon’s cheeks. The distant predators flew closer and closer, and soon Lyon could see the fine details on their face. Licking their lips in-between bursts of laughter, they were eager to make this house-sized lion their next meal.

Fortunately, a loud roar wiped the smiles off the birds’ faces, causing them to turn their heads towards the noise. Once they did, their laughter quickly faded, their cheerful smiles replaced by worried frowns. Lyon couldn’t see anything behind him anymore, but judging by how quickly they blitzed away, Lyon guessed whatever scared them away was even more threatening than they were. He heard a slow but loud and powerful flapping, and soon his supposed savior flew into his field of vision.

Lyon realized the flock’s reaction wasn’t exaggerated in the slightest. The emerald-toned dragon had a wingspan that rivaled Lyon’s own girth and a height that was at least twice that. Its arms and chest were bulging with muscles, and his gut, while protruding, was tightly packed and showed off his rock-hard abs. Additionally, his tail was so quick and sharp it looked like it could knock down a building with a quick flick, and his sturdy legs could easily crush an elephant. His jawline was strong and lined with plenty of razor-like teeth and the fire that blew out of his nostrils from mere breathing burned the surrounding leaves and branches to a crisp.

Naturally, the dragon complemented his bone-shivering appearance by performing the least fear-provoking action Lyon could imagine: he laughed. It wasn’t even a taunting laugh or a short chuckle; he was nearly as hysterical as the birds, clutching his gut with his talons as he closed his eyes and craned his head towards the ground. The simple act of flying was starting to become a nuance for him as he found himself descending towards the ground, at a rocky pace nonetheless. While Lyon felt he should be grateful the dragon was so easily distracted, he felt shameful that a creature as notorious as a dragon found Lyon’s status so pitiful even he couldn’t keep a straight face.

“Young wizard, I’ve seen you furred creatures perform plenty of foolish and bizarre actions, but this one takes the cake for me.” His voice was booming and mean-spirited, which would have been intimidating if he wasn’t so preoccupied with laughing his ass off. “I don’t know what benefit you hoped to gain from turning yourself into a storage room of fat, but…” He stopped speaking mid-sentence, unable to hold back yet another hearty laugh. At this point, even the dragon realized the effect his inappropriate outbursts were having on his reputation, and it only took him five seconds to regain his composure.

“You probably think I’m a lunatic, but I assure you, I’ll become your worst nightmare soon enough.” While his voice was more sharp and serious, he noticed the lion wasn’t even shocked enough to gasp. He decided he needed to step it up a notch, puffing up his chest and raising the volume of his voice. “I’m sure you’ll not be so nonchalant when I start roasting you like a fine pig. I won’t eat all of you of course – what a terrible fate it would be to end up like you – but I’m sure some of my comrades would be happy to finish you up. And you’ll have to sit there helplessly as you get roasted and eaten alive, crying out in pain the entire time!”

Lyon’s eyes widened when he remembered he wasn’t as helpless as the dragon let on. Shaking the right portion of his body slightly, he confirmed the wand was still lodged in his fingers, but this knowledge only produced brief relief for the lion. If he didn’t think he could take on a flimsy bird, what spell could he possibly use to defeat a creature this size? Absolutely none, because the only spells he worked on thus far involved blimping himself to ludicrous sizes, which needless to say won’t even aid him in killing a fly. Besides, any spell he casted would just make him bigger with his luck, and there couldn’t possibly be any benefit in that… right?

As the dragon took in a large puff of air, so large that it caused his belly to expand into a blimp-like shape, Lyon quickly decided he had no other option. If fate wanted him to become bigger, then he was going to have to embrace it, and perhaps intentionally making himself bigger would have unforeseeable benefits. With a deep breath and a bit of last-minute improvisation, he mixed his previous spells in one huge cauldron of fattening chaos. “Wand, obey your caster and make me fatter! I’ll embrace the dinner to make me thicker! I’ll holler if it’ll make me taller!”

He spoke these phrases with the tongue of an elderly mage, and while Lyon would normally be impressed at how naturally those words rolled off his tongue, he was half-hoping he would mess up so badly he’ll actually become thinner, but that was a fleeting dream anyways. As soon as he sounded the last syllable, a rumbling could be felt within a hundred foot radius of the massive pile of lard. The dragon, taken aback, chocked on his own fire. Coughing furiously, he retreated to the nearby river to relinquish his parched throat. Lyon was now the only witness to the consequences of his super spell concoction.

Expanding at a speed of several feet per second, his stomach quickly made crumbs of the nearby environment while his buttocks began spreading towards the forest’s entrance. Out and out he grew, and he soon reached a diameter of 100 feet. Despite doubling his size, his quaking and grumbling body showed no signs of settling down and he soon became three times his former size. Lyon remembered the town wall from before, which wasn’t too far away from his gargantuan butt, though it was out of his control whether or not he bumped into it. He created this beast of a spell without any idea of its effects or longevity, so he’ll have to embrace any consequences that came with it.

Over time, however, Lyon found the consequences weren’t as negative as he presumed they would be. Constantly expanding once terrified Lyon, but he discovered trampling thousands of square feet of forest land came with its own thrill, a thrill that wasn’t any less exciting than leveling up or getting stronger in general. Not being able to move once worried Lyon, but being weighed down by thousands of tons of lard proved to be a testament to just how massive he was. Messing up spell after spell once annoyed Lyon, but he began to realize it was more fate than anything. He was destined as a wizard to become impossibly obese, for what benefit he still wasn’t sure, but if that’s what his body wanted, he would just have to accept and embrace it.

Shortly after this revelation, the vibrations in Lyon’s body started to dwindle to a stop. For the first time, Lyon felt disappointed by the premature end, but when he felt his butt press up against a brick wall, he snapped back to reality, realizing he was likely mere inches from tearing down the town barriers. While the town was unharmed, it wouldn’t be long before someone notices the 300 foot wide mountain of orange fat in the middle of the forest, which Lyon was honestly glad for.

Lyon’s smile faded when he saw the dragon slowly rise from the ground; it seemed like this was another fate he couldn’t avoid. Smoke steamed from the dragon’s nostrils and it’s mouth formed an angry, growling frown, but as soon as he got a good look at Lyon, his face formed a look of surprise. A split second later, he was howling in laughter, once again finding himself descending towards the ground in an attempt to readjust himself. The ground in this case was Lyon’s stomach, the collision between it and the dragon creating a ripple that sent small waves across his entire body. Lyon admitted the wobbling was fairly pleasurable, even if it was more appropriate for him to be terrified given the scenario.

The dragon took a while to regain his breath. “I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to be this great dragon and all, but, I mean, you made yourself even FATTER.” He couldn’t help breaking into another fit of laughter. This time, Lyon didn’t bother being angry or embarrassed. While the dragon’s laughter died down, Lyon gleaned back on the brief amount of joy he derived from this peculiar situation, preferring to spend his last moments in an optimistic state of mind. “Alright, alright. I guess it’s time to make you my dinner.”

Drawing a deep breath, once again bloating his stomach considerably, the dragon released a blast of fire that could vanquish a patch of trees in seconds. At over a thousand degrees Fahrenheit, it could in theory easily burn a nice chunk of fat from the immobile lion. When the large cloud of black faded away and the flames dwindled to mere firecrackers, the dragon’s eyes went wide. Looking down, Lion was surprised at how intact his body was; in fact, not a single part of fat seemed scorched, not one inch of fat showing signs of even a slight burn.

Frustrated, the dragon took an even deeper breath, created an even larger ball of flames and smoke, but still not a scratch was done to Lyon’s body. The dragon tried a few more times with the same disappointing results. Exhausted and panting, he suddenly figured out what was causing him so much trouble. “It’s your fat!” he exclaimed. “You’re so fat your endurance must be through the roof. I can’t even make a nice steak out of you!” Mulling it over, Lyon has seen larger fellows take a few more punches then their smaller counterparts. Of course, with him being thousands of times bigger than even the largest of mages, it would make sense to have his health bar comparable to the toughest of bosses, which could take days to fight through.

“Forget it!” he yelled, anger building in the dragon once again. “I’ll find some weaker chump to eat. I’m too hungry to wear you down!” Just like that, the dragon turned around and flew off into the distance.

Lyon heavily sighed, glad to narrowly escape death. As his heartbeat started to settle down and the anxiety of almost being eaten waned, he allowed himself to laugh. Looking back at it, Lyon could positively say this was the most enthralling day of his life. The very same day he acquired his robe and wand, he also discovered his talent as a wizard, even if it was fairly outlandish, and it even has a useful role in combat. Lyon could already picture himself playing a pivotal role in his future party: a support member would cast a luring spell on him, and while the monsters waste their time fighting through Lyon’s boundless endurance, his teammates would wear them down with offensive spells.

The image of countless of powerful dragons casting spell after spell on a mansion-sized lard-bloated wizard to no avail brought a chuckle to Lyon, but a frown quickly formed on his face. Would he really want to be remembered as a giant pile of fat, good only for bait? At the very least, he would want to be at a manageable enough size where he could be easily rolled if he needed to move. As it stands, there weren’t even cranes big enough to fit his entire frame let alone carry his millions of pounds of fat. He knew by now he couldn’t just wish himself skinny, but if he struck a compromise, settling on a smaller but still by all means gigantic size, his body would appreciate his gesture and reward him appropriately. Confident his plan would work, he unbashfully whipped up another lazy spell. “All right, body. I’m not shouting, just make me the size of a mountain.” Wait, he meant “fountain”, not “mountain”! As his stomach once again shook intensely, Lyon feared he was in for his greatest growth yet.