Exponential growth

Sitting on the park bench, Jerome adjusted his striped shirt for the hundredth time, the fabric creaking under the strain of his chest. It used to hang loose just a few weeks ago, but now it was stretched so tight that each breath seemed ready to tear it apart. Jerome rubbed his head sheepishly, his massive arms brushing against his thighs. Numbers were never his strong suit—he just wanted to look good at the gym.

It all started when he found a coin at the old wishing fountain downtown. The lady who ran the antique shop nearby told him it was special, so Jerome made the simplest wish he could think of: “I wish I could double my gym gains every week!” The first week, he noticed a small change. His biceps popped a little more, and his friends said his shoulders looked fuller. “Half a pound of muscle? Not bad,” he thought.

By the second week, it was a whole pound of gains. By week three, two pounds. Then four. Eight. Sixteen. Somewhere around the sixth week, things started to get…complicated. His shirts stopped fitting, his pants tore when he sat down too quickly, and people at the gym started staring—not just because he was big, but because he was huge. His gains had gone from steady progress to outrageous transformation overnight.

Jerome glanced down at his legs, now tree-trunk thick, barely contained by the custom shorts he’d bought just yesterday. His thighs jutted out so far that his knees were perpetually apart. His chest loomed in front of him like a shield, and his arms had become so thick that scratching the back of his head was a challenge. He was grateful for the extra strength—carrying groceries was a breeze now—but every step he took reminded him of how exponential growth worked.

“Man, if I gain 128 pounds this week, I’ll…” He paused, his brow furrowing. Math was still hard. A lot, he decided. He’d gain a lot. Maybe too much.

Jerome stood up, his massive frame casting a shadow over the bench, and tried to stretch. His shirt finally gave up, splitting down the middle with a loud riiiip. He sighed. “That’s the third one this week…”

People stared as he lumbered down the street, his hulking size impossible to ignore. Jerome didn’t mind, though. He might not have been great with numbers, but one thing was certain: he was never skipping leg day again.