Mr. O-blimpia

Mr. O-blimpia

               Some people theorized that Kai Greene was behind what happened at the Olympia. Barred from competing this year, he certainly had the motive, and maybe some of the chemists at his supplement company could’ve cooked up the bizarre chemical. But after extensive investigations, police said that there was no evidence Kai was behind it. What they did know was that the chemical was gaseous, fed into the arena through the vents through the whole competition, finally reaching a dangerous concentration just before they revealed the top 10.

               People watched, anticipating the winners of that year’s competition, when the chemical suddenly had a visible effect. Cameras were right on Dennis Wolf when it affected him. His whole body flexed at once, but the shocked look in his eyes suggested that wasn’t an intentional display of his physique. All of a sudden, Dennis’ body began to compress, slowly getting shorter without losing any of its mass. He looked around in a panic as his fellow competitors seemed to grow around him.

               Dexter Jackson was the next. People couldn’t believe what they were seeing as the big bodybuilder’s height reduced, the rest of his dense musculature compressed into a now-shrunken frame.

               In seconds, every bodybuilder onstage was suddenly sinking toward the floor. When the changes stopped, ten men stood on stage, all around three feet tall but with every ounce of muscle still on them. They waddled around on stumped legs, tried to wave their arms, now rendered useless by their incredible thickness. Their posing trunks struggled to contain the new girth of their bulges, which bobbed and wobbled provocatively as they stumbled around on their new stumpy legs. Big Ramy got it the worst, compressed into a little meat blimp, a panicked wiggling of his fingers the only thing he could move as he slowly tipped backward and landed on his back, immobile like an upended turtle.

               The audience was silent at first, until the changes spread to them. Suddenly, every man in the room with any performance enhancing drug residue in his system felt the effects of the gas filling the arena. Big, massive bodybuilders suddenly found themselves compressed into chunky little meatplugs, limbs so thick they could barely bend. Gargantuan powerlifters squealed with their new helium-high voices as they found themselves cut down to the height of children, immobilized by their own bulk.

               Onstage, a cartoonishly proportioned Phil Heath struggled to get out of the view of the cameras. Every second of his frustrated waddle off the stage was captured, however, and went viral the next day, blasted across every sports website in existence. Pictures of Flex Lewis, squashed down to mini-fridge size, being airlifted to the hospital, his body almost a perfectly muscular sphere, giant traps and a mammoth upper chest nearly swallowing up his entire face.

               They ventilated the arena immediately, but the gaseous chemical had already done its damage. They estimated thousands of men were affected, now the height of children with bodies so thick they were considered disabled. None of them could bend their arms enough to grab a steering wheel, or even climb into a normal vehicle. The tops of most counters were now off-limits to these dwarfed musclemen, and shelves were completely out of the question. Regular-sized men regarded the squished-down musclemen with mockery and disdain. They had nothing to fear from these little guys now. All that muscle, but one good shove to the head and they’d fall to the ground and squirm like a beetle.

               Months later, neither a culprit nor a cure found, they revealed the top 10 standings and awarded a blimped-out mini Phil Heath with the title of Mr. Olympia. As he accepted it from the man twice his height, wobbling on his unsteady legs, he started to thank God and his fans when a figure stepped out from the crowd.

               “Looking thick there, Phil, but you sound like a damned chipmunk.” It was Kai, and while security approached him, Phil squeaked out that it was fine. Phil’s eyes went wide as he stared up… up… up at Kai, who had never seemed so massive to him before. “Congrats,” said Kai, holding out a hand. Phil wobbled, awkwardly contorting himself to meet the outstretched hand without toppling over.

Tuck Wants a Loan

People could tell, Rob knew. He had clients to train, he still had a workout to get in himself (if it even mattered, now), so he was stuck there at Global Gym. He had a reputation at Global as the biggest bodybuilder in a gym full of heavy competitors. He was also known as one of the most approachable guys in the gym, imposing in stature but by all means a gentle giant. He had a number of fans in the gym’s clientele, as well as the gym’s owner Clem and his idolizing son Terry. Everybody cheered when he got his pro card the previous year, all in agreement that there wasn’t a more deserving athlete around. Rob was used to having all eyes on him. But after what Tuck had done to him that day, those eyes made his veins cold.

                               Between clients Rob eyed the scale outside the locker room. He’d been avoiding it all day, terrified of what it was going to tell him. He tried to let his eyes, the way his body felt, be enough, but he had to know. He hopped on the scale and looked down: 240. That morning, when he’d weighed himself after getting out of bed, he’d been 284. He’d walked in the gym that size. And then, standing in the locker room, he heard the shrill laugh of his least favorite “client” and turned around to see skinny, tattooed little Tuck in his usual tight wife-beater and cargo shorts, cracking his knuckles and looking Rob up and down with a look that always made the big bodybuilder shiver.

               “…just a little bit?” Rob said, side-eyeing Tuck, wishing he could get away from the little guy who was inching closer to him. “…just for a little while?”

               “Big fella!” Tuck said with a laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t like having me around. Yeah just a little, yeah just for a little bit.”

               Rob looked around quickly to make sure no one was around when it happened (Tuck probably didn’t even care—he didn’t care about much) and then Tuck, wiggling his fingers wildly, reached out and poked him. He felt a sudden chill, and just like that, the size drained right out of Rob and into Tuck (forty-four pounds, he would find out later). His shorts fell to the ground and his tank top hung down like a dress without the rest of his bulk to fill it out. By all accounts he was still a big man, but nowhere near the massive size he’d been a moment before.

               Tuck looked like a heavy-weight prize fighter with all of the extra mass, and he’d even got taller. He shadow-boxed a bit, flexed his new muscles while Rob sadly examined his own diminished form. Tuck gave him a shove (he stumbled forward, not expecting the sudden force and his own lack of mass) and then took off.

               Rob had clothes he kept in the bottom of his gym bag for the times that Tuck “borrowed” from him; they were his old workout clothes from several years before, back before he’d gained the mass that made him a terror to the superheavyweights onstage. He remembered being that size and feeling big, but going back to it was too much. What was worse, the smaller shorts and t-shirt still looked baggy on him. Rob was used to stretching XXXLs to the limit, and he couldn’t even fill out an XL. Tuck had taken more that day than ever before. There was nothing Rob could do to fight it. Tuck had all the power. He had to play nice and wait until Tuck was done playing around with his mass, until he decided to give it back. That feeling of weakness was almost too much for Rob to bear.

               “What’s up big man?” said Leon, a big powerlifter and Rob’s occasional lifting partner, taking a break from his heavy squats. Leon used to say Rob was the only guy big enough to spot him. Rob nodded back as they passed each other, terribly aware of the difference in their sizes. Rob hadn’t felt that small next to somebody in awhile.

               Later on his client Carlos turned to him during posing practice, while holding a front double bi, and smirked in his direction. “Hey, Big Rob, my guns are looking big as yours, no?” Carlos took a step toward him to compare. Rob backed away and swatted at him.

               “In your dreams, buddy,” he said. “You’re good. Hit the locker room.”

               Meanwhile across the gym, Tuck was curling a loaded barbell with sloppy form, showing off for a few spandex-clad ladies doing lunges nearby. Girls had always been the core of Tuck’s objectives in stealing size from him, Rob noticed.

               At the end of the day, Rob paced around the locker room, a little panicked. He hadn’t seen Tuck in a couple of hours, and after searching the entire gym Rob couldn’t find him.

               “Oh, hey Rob,” Clem said, walking through the gym about to lock up. “I didn’t know you were still here. I can leave you the keys if you still want to work out.”

               Rob felt a pit in his stomach. What if Tuck took off this time? It would take years to build all that size back, if Tuck’s power even allowed that possibility. “Uh… Thanks, Clem, I think I’m gonna hang out here for a bit if you don’t mind.”

               Clem smiled and tossed Rob the keys. “You in a heavy cut phase or something?” Clem said, looking him up and down. “You look like you dropped some pounds.”

               “I’ll be bulked back up again soon enough,” Rob said, praying that was the truth.

               Tuck strode in with a loose swagger over an hour later. Rob would’ve knocked the kid out if he wasn’t so terrified of the kid.

               “Sorry, Bobby,” Tuck said, scratching his crotch. “I was plowing this chick out in the parking lot just now. She could not get enough of this!” he said, gesturing to his physique. “Oh, man, what’d you think I wasn’t coming back? Bobby, you wound me, buddy. You really wound me.”

               Rob shrugged and feigned a smile. “Naw, I knew you were coming back.”

               “I suppose you want to go back to normal,” Tuck said. Rob bit his lip and clenched his fists. “Man, you are such a big baby sometimes, Bobby. You’re lucky I love you.” Then he flicked Rob right in the forehead.

               Rob’s mass returned in an instant, and he felt a sudden pain all over as he burst through his clothes. They fell to tatters and Rob stood there, massive and naked, his posture finally relaxing after a brutal day. Tuck burst into riotous laughter at the sight of the giant man exploding out of his clothes.

               “Bobby, you are ridiculous, buddy!” said Tuck, once again five feet and a hundred pounds. He walked out of the locker room and Rob patted himself down, thankful to be himself again.

                 That was all Rob heard of Tuck for awhile. Usually he could count on a visit from Tuck every month, whenever the little guy was itching for girls at the gym, but several months passed and Rob was relieved to find that Tuck didn’t come around. His career started turning up, as well: he got a huge sponsorship deal, a photoshoot with Flex magazine, and Clem asked him to be the face of Global gym.

The first day it was unveiled, Rob looked humbly at the larger-than-life size poster of himself, twenty-feet tall, outside Global gym. He couldn’t believe where his hard work had taken him, and he couldn’t have asked for a better place to do work. Terry, Clem’s beefy son, greeted Rob at the door.

“Your picture looks awesome!” Terry said with stars in his eyes.

“Thanks Terry,” Rob said warmly. “One of these days you’re gonna be up there.”

“There’s Big Hollywood!” Leon said and punched him in the shoulder.

All eyes in the gym were on Rob. He couldn’t feel prouder, until he walked into the locker room and saw Tuck standing there.

“Bobby! You’re a big deal now, aren’t ya!” Tuck said, arms crossed, a sly grin on his face. “Aw, Bobby, you always clench up when you see me. If I didn’t know better I’d think you weren’t happy to have me around!”

Rob looked around quickly to make sure the locker room was clear. “Uh… Tuck, I… what do you… doing?”

Tuck smiled. “Relax, big Bobby.” He pulled out a wad of cash. “This time we’re gonna train. Regular. Big man teaches little guy how to lift weights. Deal?” He extended a hand.

Rob, relieved, shook it. “Finally want to start adding some mass of your own, huh?” Tuck handed over the cash. “Look, Tuck, if you’re really serious, I can take over your diet, your supplementation… Hell, I can get you juice if you want it. Just say the word, buddy.”

Tuck started stripping out of his clothes, stood there naked, a little awkwardly close to Rob. “See, thing is, Bobby, there’s this chick out there right now who will blow your MIND. Huge tits, ass like heaven, body that looks like it was built to fuck… Man, she’s got me DROOLING, Bobby, but she’s only into massive guys. Like big giant freaks your size.”

Rob grinned as he put his gym bag in the locker. “Don’t worry, Tuck. I won’t steal her from you.”

Tuck, still naked, bounced his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m not worried about that one bit, big Bobby.” Then he grabbed a handful of Rob’s big back.

It hit Rob hard this time, like needles everywhere. His body compressed so fast everything was a blur, and he found himself stumbling around, his arms and legs suddenly tangled up. His head ached for a moment, and he felt like he was going to throw up… then the vertigo passed and he looked around, shocked at how much bigger the locker room had gotten.

His tank top and compression tights were tented around him, and as he stood he watched his whole body slide through the neck hole. His body—that couldn’t be his body! Still tan, but tiny all over, a size he’d never been even in adolescence: shoulders, arms, legs, chest, all so narrow and bony. Even his dick was tiny now, and he put one tiny hand down to block it. He felt exhausted, and like he was moving in slow motion. Then he noticed the huge shadow cast over him.

“Fuck YEAH!” roared a low, bovine voice. The sudden eruption scared Rob so much he tumbled over, his little heart pounding rapidly at the sight before him: Tuck was ENORMOUS, every part of him bloated with massive muscle, skill covered in tattoos which made the presentation all the more intimidating. Tuck aggressively hit a crab shot and grinned at the mirror—Rob had never seen anybody so big! Terrified, he scrambled backwards, eager to get away from the giant man stomping and flexing and growling.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tuck said, tossing his old wife-beater and shorts at Rob. “You agreed to a training session. Only it’s gonna be me showing YOU how to move weights, little man! Get dressed little guy. I’m gonna borrow your old clothes—seeing as you couldn’t use them for anything but a circus tent!” Tuck gave his now-massive cock a swing. “Hopefully I can fit all this in there,” he laughed as he pulled on Rob’s clothes, which fit like skin. “Let’s go little guy.”

Rob felt like he was going to be sick as he walked out on the floor. He had to take two steps just to keep up with giant Tuck’s long stride. All eyes were on them—or rather, they were on the massive tattooed beast Tuck had become. Rob was shaking. He was terrified that someone would recognize him, but as he walked out, he realized nobody was even looking at him. That was almost worse.

“Grab some dumbbells, little man,” Tuck barked. “Time to do some curls.” He crossed his arms and smirked down his chest at Rob.

Rob headed over to the weight rack—how much would he be able to lift? He looked toward the smaller weights. He reached for the 20s, but a young guy—a guy who had asked for Rob’s autograph and some lifting advice the day before—elbowed him out of the way and grabbed them himself. Rob grabbed the 15s and walked over to Tuck, who tilted his chin at him.

“What are you waiting for? Curl!” Tuck growled.

Rob strained. He couldn’t believe he could get his arms to bend. “I… I can’t…” he said quietly, shocked at how soft and high-pitched his voice was now.

Tuck laughed and slapped his knee. “Are you serious? You can’t even curl those?” He walked over and grabbed some 80s. “Lemme show how to curl, little guy!” His form was sloppy but his massive physique still impressed everybody around. Tuck winked at a blonde fitness model nearby. Her name was Catherine, Rob knew; she did only go for monsters. She’d been flirting with him a lot that week, and he’d thought about giving her his number.

“Go get some water,” Tuck said, racking his dumbbells and heading over to Catherine.

Rob was stunned by the height of the water fountain, which was now at about eye-level to him. He stood on his tiptoes to reach it, barely getting water in his mouth. He turned around and ran into what felt like a brick wall—it was Leon, who looked GIGANTIC to Rob now.

“Watch where you’re going,” Leon said politely, yanking little Rob to his feet with one hand.

Rob glanced across the weight room and saw beastly Tuck, now making his pecs dance while he chatted with Catherine. He had a little time, he figured, so he quickly headed to the locker room.

               His gym bag felt massive to him as he fished it out of his locker—it was bigger than he was now! He had to text his clients and reschedule before they showed up. As he struggled with the zippers, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That doesn’t belong to you, sir!”

               A strong hand yanked little Rob away from the bag, and another yanked the bag away from him. It was Terry, who was now twice the size of Rob. Terry gave little Rob a shove. “Theft is grounds for termination of membership.”

               “I-I wasn’t stealing!” Rob pleaded. “I was just… I thought it was mine.”

               “What’s your membership number?” Terry asked with an eyebrow raised.

               “0-1-6-1-1,” Rob blurted out, suddenly realizing Terry had no doubt memorized his number.

               “Uh-uh,” Terry said, grabbing Rob forcefully. “You’re outta here.”

               Rob begged him to stop, told him he could explain (even though he had no idea what he would say) but still Terry very easily dragged little Rob to the door while everyone in the gym stared at the scene.

               “My coach!” Rob begged, pointing at Tuck, who was too wrapped up in Catherine’s admiration of his giant body to notice. “He’ll explain!”

               “Nope,” said Terry, shoving Rob hard. “Beat it, or I’m calling the cops, reporting you for theft and trespassing.”

               Flat on his back outside Global Gym, Rob stared up at the giant image of himself at full-size and burst into tears. It was too much. He looked up and saw Terry on the phone inside and quickly pulled himself to his feet and walked to his car. He tried the locked doors, realizing that his keys were inside, in a bag that belonged to someone he didn’t look like anymore. He walked around to the opposite side of the car and crouched down as it began to rain. Everything would be fine, he told himself—as soon as Tuck set things back to normal, everything would be fine.

               Hours later he saw Tuck strutting from the gym, holding Catherine’s hand. Rob stood up and sprinted for the two—but they were on Tuck’s crotch rocket before he could get there. Tuck sped away, never even acknowledging little Rob, stood there in shock, wondering if he was ever going to see Tuck again.

Angel doesn't strike me as the kind of guy I'd normally get wet over being taken down a peg (he's not exactly the cocksure meathead I like to watch lose everything) but this kind of transformation is hot as hell.

Normally I like the victims to have a shadow of an idea of what they used to be (it makes the transformation that much more delicious) but it's interesting to imagine Angel changing, unaware of anything being wrong, while everyone else reacts to the new him.

And boy would folks react. I'd love to see the new Angel in some super-tiny pink tank top and booty shorts, grinding up on some big orc-looking demon's lap.

Angel the Twink (requested by Anonymous)

My stories probably aren't going to have many pics to accompany them. Some tumblr's are awesome about that. absqrst is a damned genius with pairing pics with his stories. I'd imagine he spends a lot of time sifting through pics he might use in the future, or sometimes sees a pic that sparks an idea and just writes right from that. Either way, his killer photos match up perfectly with his great stories, every time. worldofsize makes his own art (does he ever!), so his pics always perfectly match his stories. At every new post my eyes perk up at the sexy pic, and then my feeling's doubled once I've read the story beneath. I lack both of those skills. It sucks, because I love to have pics with the perverted little stories that get my gears spinning. But I'm not a visual artist, so I can't make my own, and I always have a hard time finding the right pic to match the action of my stories. (Also, some pics slap a leash on the creative process, limiting me to match what's portrayed; I'm not a fan of that.) So most of my work will probably just be text. Take for example this pic of Gronk. I tried to find a pic that matched my last story but there's not a lot kicking around (and I just lazily Google image searched his name, so I didn't really look that hard). I found some decent pics that might have worked (for example, one of him in boxer briefs) but I wanted something to emphasize his physical size. He's 6'6", something that's only obvious when he stands next to average-sized folks. And when you spend all day looking at pics of overblown bodybuilders and powerlifting behemoths, the "big" bar gets raised pretty high. So I picked this pic of Gronk because his muscles look big in it. It jerked my chain the most. That way if you don't know who he is, now you have an idea. And even if you do, it's always nice for the brain to have something to fall back on so the bloodflow can go where it's most needed while you crank one out. Generally, I like my football players to be big beefy buffalo. "If your weight doesn't start with a 3, keep walking," I often joke (pfft, as if I'd be kicking NFL players out of my bed if they didn't meet my ridiculous standards). But Gronk is incredibly sexy--physically huge, an unbelievable athlete, and an irrepressibly confident demeanor. If I could do it, he'd be a perfect candidate for miniaturization. I'd love to see him bullied by average joes (there was no room for it in that last story although I really wanted it), or beat up by skinny high school kids. The more tender part of me would like to see a reduced Gronk, now terrified of a much larger and more threatening world, clinging to me for protection. Imagine if his reliance on me for security grew into a much deeper emotional attachment. Imagine if whatever magic made him small faded away while little Gronk and I were exploring those feelings physically. It'd be something else to close my eyes while shrunken Gronk sucked me off, only to open my eyes to see him full-sized again but unaware, still sucking my dick like it contained the antidote. Or to be gently pounding pipsqueak Gronk's little ass, only to have him suddenly grow back into his massive body, to find myself suddenly riding that big bronco who was still as into it as a bitch in heat. Oh man. Gronk. God love ya buddy.

Ten-Year pt. 2

I wrote this story about seven years ago. There's a part one but it's long and uneventful. Essentially, the main character heads back to his high-school reunion (to which many of his classmates didn't show) and runs into Craig, a big juice-monkey football player who's gotten even more massive since high-school. Using the power of a red marble he brought, he shrinks Craig down in the bathroom and makes plans to leave with his new little pet before anyone notices. -------- I got to work, quickly fishing the red marble out of the back pocket of Craig’s pants. I puffed some hot breath on it. The red light faded and I slipped it back in the bag with the others. I picked up his shirt, carefully folding it and setting it aside. Craig, now six inches tall and fumbling around his own underwear, looked up at me, squeaking at me with his new, tiny voice. It was always very unsettling for the little ones to see me handling their things as soon as they shrunk out of them. I liked it. It was symbolic that was they used to think was theirs was now mine. What they used to control, I now controlled, even if it was a shirt. I reached toward him, which always threw the little guys into a shock as they watched my giant hand approach. He struggled to get out of his red boxer briefs (which I wish I’d seen him wear, to be honest), but I laughed. Where was he going to go, down a pant-leg? Out the fly? I caught him easily, and the feeling of his huge round muscles in my hand almost incapacitated me. His body was so hard, but so warm, all of the hardness pulsing and flexing in my grip. I sat there, enjoying the sensation, altering the tightness of my grip as he struggled, before I realized I had a job to do. Craig was big--emphasis on was--but I was bigger. His thick ‘roided out body still looked unbelievable, but he only weighed an ounce or two now. I tightened up my grip quickly, so much that I shocked him, I think, leaving only his head exposed. I didn’t want to hurt him, only to remind him who wore the “Boss” hat. I picked up his boxer briefs and held them to my face, inhaling deeply. They were still warm, still a little moist from his casual perspiration, still emanating a thick pungent odor that I readily drank in. It smelled vaguely of cologne, and sweat, and something else, perhaps his own pheromones I guessed. I made sure he could see me huffing on his cock-holster, casually glancing over to him to see his reaction. It was always so funny to me to see a big alpha male like Craig here reduced to helplessness and forced to submit to thing he opposed down to his very core. Clearly taking his undies hostage was something that struck a nerve with him. But big beef heads like Craig always took a little while to adjust to their new size. Guys like Craig always regarded their power as something innate, something that was a part of them, but it was truly only their size and stature that gave them this power. Surely their muscles were strong, and their great bulk gave them the ability to throw people around if they got their way, but take away that size and strength and they were left with no way to deal with things they didn’t like. Craig was reacting typically, threatening me and throwing his weight around, but now he couldn’t throw a sandwich around unless he struggled for a little while. It always took time for that to hit home. I watched him spout off obscenities, using his bulging, freaky little meatstack arms to try to pry my fist open, but it all just made me laugh. His high-pitched voice made his “threatening tone” sound so comical, I didn’t know if I was going to laugh or blow my load right there. But I didn’t have time for that. A quick shake of my fist stopped his tirade, and kept him quiet. He just sat there, still angry but shocked that such a tiny gesture to me had inflicted so much force upon him. I hadn’t knocked all of the dissension out of him, but it was enough for the moment. “Listen up, Craig,” I said, “we’re leaving the reunion early. We’re going back to my hotel room and then everything will make sense. You can go quiet, and make life easy on yourself, and trust me, I’ll reward your cooperation. Or you can fight this kicking in screaming and trust me, if you do, you’ll regret it within the hour. Understand?” He just sat there, trying to absorb my words, which to him were loud and booming. Looking at his shiny bald head sticking out of my fist, I couldn’t help myself, just reached up with a finger and stroked his smooth head. It was so warm and soft! My cock jumped, but I realized that if Craig was going to have any room to ride out of here without being noticed, I was going to have to keep my big dog down. I slid into the stall, unzipping my pants. I was wearing two pairs of tight boxer briefs, a habit I’d gotten into. It seemed silly, and I couldn’t explain it to just anybody, but if you throw an angry little muscle head directly on your cock and he wants to pitch a fit, he’s got your most tender parts there at his disposal. Sure, when I’d first tried it, I’d never really worried about a six-inch man, even one as built as most of the guy who caught my interest. But teeth, tiny fingernails and even their fists could do some damage. Up to a point, it’s really arousing, but after that, it got painful and I didn’t like to let a little guy know that he could cause me pain before I’ve knocked the fight out of him. I pulled open the waistband on the outer pair and dropped Craig in. He screamed as he fell, his now chipmunkesque voice filling the air until he fell against the cushion of my balls behind the inner pair of boxer briefs. I watched him struggle to stand up, taking in what was around him before I let the waistband snap back against my belly. I quickly pulled my pants back up, tucked my shirt in and buckled my belt. I could feel Craig moving around, and the sensations made me giddy. I wanted to play with him right there! But I had to calm down. This entire scene was as sloppy as it gets. There were a lot of witnesses, I did no research, and I hadn’t yet planned how I was going to cover my tracks. This wasn’t the time to get sloppy because my tiny beefstack was tickling my dick. Leaving the stall, I folded up Craig’s pants and opened up the cupboard below the sink. It was full of cleaning supplies, and I just yanked them out, stuffed Craig’s stuff behind it, and put it all back. I could swing back later in the evening to ditch them properly, but I didn’ t want to throw them in the trash like an amateur. Thinking quickly I fished his wallet out and put it in my pocket. If somebody found these clothes, better that they didn’t know who they belonged to (although the size might give it away, I conjectured). I had to thank my good fortune that nobody’d needed the bathroom the entire time I’d taken Craig down. I looked around the reunion and it was packed. I saw Chris wave at my from across the room, probably needing a hand with something, probably some responsibility I shirked. I saw Mandy at the bar, arguing with the bartender. I saw my old posse sitting miserably around their table, arms folded. More than half of our class, which was four hundred people when we graduated, was here, and now I had to make it to the door without arousing suspicion. I just kept looking down, acting like I felt nauseous, and most people left me alone. When people spoke up, I pretended not to hear them. When I got to the door, Ella grabbed my arm and smiled. “Leaving so soon?” “Geez,” I said, putting a hand to my forehead, “I need to swing to my hotel room really quickly. I forgot my medication. I’ll be right back though, promise. Spread the word.” Ella smiled and I headed up the door. As soon as I got into the driver’s seat of my car, I relaxed. Craig was screaming, and I could feel the high vibrations. It felt so good! I could’ve sat there forever getting a mini-hummer, but I had to get out. My cell phone rang--it was Chris. I silenced it and put the car in gear. I’d be right back with a silly medical explanation. They could all wait. I had to deal with Craig first. * * * My hotel was quiet as I pulled in and headed to my room. Craig sure had some stamina, still fighting away in my pants, and I hoped I was maintaining a natural stride as I walked down the hall. I couldn’t get the key in the door fast enough, and when it was finally opened I ran in, locked it with the chain and the deadbolt, and pulled the shades. Then, off came my pants. I looked down, grinning at the bulge that was jiggling and rustling around. I reached down and gently touched it. The bulge froze, then started raging with twice as much energy. “Craig,” I said loudly, and he stopped. I pulled open the outer pair and reached in, pulling out my prize. I held him up to my face. He clumsily backed away to my fingertips, freezing as he looked behind him to the mile drop to the floor. I just studied him, his every detail. So many times I’d had to just imagine what this looked like, imagine his huge muscles, the deep cleft of his hairless armpit, the way his big pecs jiggled when he moved, the power and masculinity that just emanated from his cock… I couldn’t restrain myself, and just leaned forward and planted a kiss on his chest. The warmth of his hard muscle against my lips made me want to do it again, but he had an expression on his face like I’d just sneezed or puked on him. I shook my head. “So many times I thought about you, Craig,” I said, putting him gently on the hotel bed. “I wanted you so badly. You were frightening. The bigger you got, the angrier you were.” I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped it off, tossing it aside. I knelt before him in just my underclothes. I wondered if he was using the same adjectives to describe me at that moment as I’d used so many times to describe him. “I used to wonder if inside, you didn’t want to be so big and strong anymore. You didn’t want people to be intimidated and afraid. Deep down, you wanted someone to hold you, to be strong for you.” I lay down on the bed, the weight-shift causing Craig to tumble backward and start bouncing down the depression toward me. I gently stopped him with my hand and lifted him up to my face. “I wanted someone to be strong for me, Craig, and I used to fantasize that you were that person. I would care for you, you would be strong for me, and in turn, I would be strong for you, and you would care for me. No one ever had to know, Craig. It would’ve been perfect.” I was casually rubbing my fingertips against him as he struggled to get away. I held him fast with the other hand, dreamily remembering the things I used to think about Craig in high school. “Listen to me!” I said, smirking. “I sound like a lunatic.” I sat up, taking back my power. “Listen, Craig, I’m not crazy here. I know you’re not gay and that’s cool with me. Whatever. I need to make one thing really clear.” I leaned in close. I could tell that a lot was going through his mind, and when my tone sounded conversational, he wasn’t listening. He was just desperately trying to think of a way to escape. This next message needed to stick, though, so I got in so that my nose barely grazed his chest. “This isn’t revenge. This isn’t a score I needed to settle. I didn’t shrink you and kidnap you because you were mean to me in high school or because you lived a life I thought I deserved or whatever. I’m not going to dress it up like that. This is lust, pure and simple. I thought you were hot when my hormones were just starting to fire off. You got a lot hotter, lemme tell ya, you ‘roidhead freak--not that I’m judging you for using steroids. I’m happy you did, you little beast you.” I reached my tongue out and gently grazed it against his belly. He twitched like it’d been a lit match. I grinned. “I need to show you something. Well, things, really.” I left him on my bed and walked away, keeping my eyes on him. I couldn’t have him running away and getting lost under the bed or anything, and I know the moment I broke eye contact he was going to try something. On the other side of the room, draped in shadow, was a long green blanket hanging over something long and boxy. I smiled at him as I casually moved a section of the blanket aside, reached in, and pulled out a jar. I kept my hands around the jar, not wanting to ruin the surprise until I had it right next to my little beefhead. “Craig, do you remember Aaron Kelman?” I set the jar next to him. Inside the jar, which looked greasy and distorted because of what I’d coated the interior of the jar with, stood a little Aaron Kelman, furiously rubbing his cock, balls and nipples against the glass. Craig stared, dumbfounded, as he saw little Aaron grinding, rubbing and moaning, his voice sounding like it was played at high speed as he smut-talked himself, grinding and begging to be fucked over and over. “Fuck me…” he begged in his chipmunk voice. “Fuck me, so hard, please… Please fill me up, please please fuck me… fuck me so hard, oh please…” Craig stood in shock, watching his football buddy who looked like he was a dog in heat. Aaron played football in college, then dropped out. He did a few cycles of ‘roids, did some modeling, then joined the military. During his time in Iraq he hit the ‘roids hard, coming back huge and solid with his beautiful face as the cherry on top. He also came back as cocky and mean-spirited as ever. I ran into him, realized nothing had changed, and decided I should do something about it. His present state was the result of the pink marble. “I had to cover the glass in Vaseline,” I told Craig, who was frozen in disbelief, “because if not he’d rub his nipples and his cock so hard that they’d rip right off. He wouldn’t stop then, either. He never stops. He just gets hornier and hornier and hornier. He’s never satisfied. He can’t even think of anything anymore. I can only get him to swallow food if he’s getting fucked and someone’s sucking his dick.” Aaron, having opened his eyes for just a moment, saw Craig through the bleary glass. Immediately, his body shock and he started humping at the glass. “Please… please!” he begged me, “please let me fuck him! Let him fuck me please let me fuck him let him fuck me he can fuck me so hard I swear oh god oh god I wanna fuck so bad so so so bad!” I removed the top of the jar and reached in gingerly with my finger. Aaron immediately spun around, grinding his ass up in the air, struggling to meet with the descending appendage. Let me tell you, when a little ‘roidhead marine who looks like Aaron points his huge muscular ass at you, you really think about letting him have whatever he wants, but I’d seen that sight a bunch. Aaron was always doing that. “Now, now, Aaron!” I chided. “Last time you powerfucked my finger, you got hurt really badly.” I pulled my finger away and replaced the cover. Aaron shook with frustration, whimpering in his high-pitched squeaky whine, pressing himself against the glass near Craig once again. “What did…” began Craig, pausing to cover his mouth as his own puny pip-squeaky voice surprised him. “What did you do to him?” “Shrinking you isn’t the only thing I can do to you,” I said, picking up Aaron’s jar and Craig and then approaching the large rectangular object beneath the blanket. “I made Aaron horny forever,” I said to Craig, who I cradled in my right hand. He wasn’t fighting so much anymore. I think showing him Aaron blew his mind. I couldn’t wait to see how he’d react to what he was about to see. “His sense of touch is a thousand times more sensitive, and his balls and his dick send out impulses that override his brain. He can barely think, barely function. Even a gentle breeze feels like a hand job to him. Sweat running down his body is like a sensual massage. Ever piece of him just wants to fuck fuck fuck. Not too different from the old Aaron, hunh?” I grinned. “C’mon, Craig, you guys hung out. You know what I mean.” I set Aaron’s glass down, letting him writhe away, as I moved the blanket again and reached in. “Jared?” I called sternly, and then pulled my hand out. I presented a miniaturized Jared Steede. Like most athletes Jared had gone on to college and spent four years at the top level of athleticism. Then after graduation, the drop in activity level, even with frequent visits to the gym, caused a full-body bloat. Rarely did it ever look bad, from what I’d seen, and Jared was no different. His thick, wide wrestler body was just more full now. He had a round, smooth belly now, a chubby face, and a tiny layer of softness all over. It made his muscles look a lot bigger and fuller. It was a permanent “offseason” look now, and I liked it. So much, in fact, that I kept it forever when I decided to make him 6 inches tall. Jared was gently caressing my hand as I carefully held him up, stroking my fingers with his body. It wasn’t the feverish hungry hump that Aaron always did, but a loving embrace. If he were big enough, he would hug me and never let me go. “Hello little man,” I said proudly. He beamed as I addressed him, smiling back at me. “I’d missed you!” he yelled, his voice as high-pitched as Craig’s and Aaron’s. He rubbed his bulky butt up and down my palm and I thought about jerking off right there, but realized that Craig still needed to be broken in. “I brought you a new toy!” I said. Both Jared and I knew that this new toy was for me, though. The little wrestler looked down at the new arrival, nodding casually. “Craig!” Jared said. Craig didn’t respond, so he yelled it: “CRAIG!” The little juice monkey looked up with a start, shocked to hear his name in such a high voice. He couldn’t believe that there was more than one tiny man, let alone that one would be talking to him! I placed Jared down on the ground and he approached Craig cautiously. “I figured you’d end up here eventually,” Jared said. “I know what he likes!” This last part he said while pointing up at me, not turning in my direction though. “I know how you feel, it’s really shocking, but it’ll all get easier in a little bit.” Jared smiled and folded his arms. “Your old life is over, Craig. It’ll be hard if you refuse to let go, but you can really take advantage of this new life. It doesn’t have to be like this!” He banged his fist against Aaron’s jar, causing Aaron to break into another spasmodic fit. “He changes everyone again after he makes you small, and he lets you choose how you want to change. Just choose to be like me. It’s the easiest one, and I promise you, Craig, I love my life. I’ve never loved anything more. Honestly.” “Never loved anything more?” I asked, interrupting his conversation. He meekly looked up at me with sad eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it like that! Forgive me,” Jared said, his face breaking into a smile. “You’re my everything. You begin and end my day. I never lived until the day you took me.” “What the fuck did he do to you?” asked Craig, who I could tell was having a hard time holding things together. “I made him love me,” I said, my booming voice crashing down on them from above. “I just made it so that he loves me more than anything else.” I had just exposed Jared to the purple marble. “It’s wonderful!” Jared said. “I know that I wasn’t always like this, that he made me like this, but…” Jared started pacing, shaking his head. “I was never this happy in my life! That happiest moment I can remember wasn’t a tenth of what I feel every single day because of him! It’s unbelievable!” My heart used to swell whenever Jared broke into these speeches. I used to beam with pride, overwhelmed that something in this world actually loved me. It was all hollow speech now. I was glad he loved me, sure, but I didn’t feel it back. I never earned his love, and I knew that. It was nice to make him happy sometimes, but that was the end of the joy I took from Jared’s love. All my life I’d just wanted a man to love me, and unfortunately I had to shrink a man and force him to love me before I could hear those words. But I never forgot that he was forced to love me. It wasn’t a quality about me he’d grown attached to, and my presence hadn’t grown on him. He just loved me because I said so, and he’d love me no matter what kind of person I was, whether I deserved it or not. It was like getting first prize in a contest you didn’t enter. And still, Jared was the only man in the world who’d ever said those words to me. “He gives you a choice, Craig,” Jared said. He didn’t get too close to Craig, mostly because he had experience talking to newly shrunk little men before. The wrong move, invading Craig’s space, could send the little meatstack into a rage. Of course, I would never let harm come to Jared, but Jared new that my job was easier if Craig just stayed calm and listened. “Everyone gets used to the nakedness. Everyone gets used to the sex. It’s actually kind of nice after you get accustomed. But when he changes you, you can become like any one of us. But if you don’t choose, he chooses for you.” Craig shook his head. “Us? Like you and Aaron?” Craig squeaked. From my perspective, I was enjoying the light glinting off Craig’s smooth shaven head. I wanted to lick it again. In time, I reminded myself, I could lick it all I wanted. “There are more,” Jared said, gesturing to the blanket-shrouded box. “You know everyone already, but not how they are. You’ll see how they all are, and believe me, you want to choose to be like me. He’ll be the most important thing in your world, and he’ll take care of you. It’s unbelievable.” “Listen to you guys!” I interjected, getting impatient. “My own little chipmunk theater!” Craig sneered, but Jared turned around with a bashful grin, blushing. The poor little guy still wasn’t used to his tiny voice, and I’d embarrassed him. I did, however, like how his buttcheeks got all rosy when he blushed. “Okay,” I said, “next introduction. You ready Craig?” I moved the blanket aside. It was a giant empty aquarium I’d altered to fit my needs. On the left side was a bunch of exercise equipment--little weights I’d soldered together with a little weight bench, a screw set ranging from small to large to be used as dumbbells, and a big hamster wheel. On the right side were various rows of beds, some of different sizes, but most made for tiny six-inch men. In the middle were a number of men, and I was certain that Craig felt his knees growing weak as he started recognizing them. I introduced the first as quickly as I could. “Say hello, Zeb!” I said, reach to the center. Zeb was almost 8 inches tall, by far the tallest of the little men. He looked like in experiment in extreme musculature. Every one of his muscles had swelled and bloated until he was a nearly spherical man, his arms stuck straight out while his legs were splayed apart by his enormous quads. His head looked tiny atop this mountain of shiny bloated muscle, nestled between two giant traps and some massive shoulder muscles. I grinned at my work. Zeb was fun to play with. “Zeb here was so big and sexy I wanted to make him bigger and sexier,” I said, pulling him out of the aquarium. I tossed the blanket back over. I was a showman. I didn’t want Craig seeing the next acts until I was ready. “So I just inflated every single muscle on his body until it was so huge he couldn’t move.” Zeb never had much in the way of abs, usually a big soft belly, but when I inflated his muscles his abs had suddenly enlarged and pressed out into a huge roidgut. I loved it. All this because of the green marble. Zeb had become completely immobile, even unable to look down past his mammoth chest to see things that were right in front of him, like Craig. “Who…” groaned squeaky little Zeb, “who’s there? Who is it?” I reached forward and gently tilted Zeb’s body forward until I saw recognition. “Oh, man, Craig, he got you too?” “I get everyone I want,” I said to Zeb, working a pinky inside his inhumanly large ass. Zeb’s new body, like Aaron’s body was hyper-sensitive. Just by sprinkling water on him I could cause Zeb to orgasm, or by gently tickling his nipples with a q-tip. Since it took so little to overload his brain, I liked pushing his limits, seeing how much stimulation his giant over beefed body could handle. As my pinky dug away, his whole body started shaking. His cock and his balls had inflated with the rest of the body, just as I’d wanted, but they were now as useless as his other appendages. His balls just hung, overfull sacks, like grapefruits around his knees. I liked to gently blow between his legs, causing them to swing back and forth, as he moaned and begged for me to stop. Even that tiny bit of interaction was enough to cause mind-bending sexual stimulation. His big, full cock, which hung above his balls like a deflated spare tire, just twitched and shook while this was going on, burping up precum by the gallon. His cock was thicker than a beer can now, and almost three times as long as most of the other tiny guys’ cocks, but it never got hard, just bobbed and spat out thick white spunk. When he climaxed, his whole body was rocked, but since he could barely move, he just wiggled a bunch while buckets of cum spilled from his permanently flaccid cock as he creamed like a woman. I usually found tears streaming from his eyes afterward. I almost felt bad for him--almost. Picking him up, I placed him in the aquarium. “Jared, get Brian and Jesse to make Zeb cum,” I ordered, placing Jared back in the aquarium also. Jared nodded. I’d placed a mini-jungle gym and a number of rocks and sticks in the middle area, trying to fashion a play-room, but annoyingly it gave the littles many places to hide. Luckily, I had a way to deal with that. I watched Jared dart around, searching for Brian and Jesse, finally emerging from behind a large stone with the two of them. They knew they’d be paraded around at some point when I’d started removing my little men for display, so they were hiding. They’d learn their lesson soon enough. When I found them, Brian had become a cop and Jesse was working construction in the same town. Their close friendship was still strong. They’d each become even more massive than they’d been in high school, with the rigors of their jobs and regular lifting sessions packing on more muscle while a lack of a coach to make them run laps bloated them up with an extra layer of beef. But I made sure to take away that feeling of hugeness, of power, that each of them held. Jared dragged the two of them along easily. The standard base scale for my reduction worked where one foot turns to one inch. With Brian and Jesse, I’d made sure that one foot turned to half an inch with the yellow marble. In an aquarium full of tiny men around six inches, they felt even tinier, even more helpless. Most of the other men could easily overpower them, even if they worked together. As Jared pulled the teeny men along, their big bellies jiggling as they tried to pull free, Jared sternly said, “If you don’t do what I say he’s going to put you in the jar with Aaron for a whole day.” I grinned. I hadn’t said that, but it was a great idea and I was proud of Jared for having thought of it. Aaron could easily do whatever he wanted to the little men, and they’d just have to go along. Facing that thought, Brian and Jesse slowly approached Zeb’s ridiculously over inflated body and started rubbing him down. “Not like that, boys,” I yelled in at them. “Get into it! I want Zeb to be swimming in his own cum!” Zeb sat there, his head shaking furiously, begging me to stop. “No no no no please no no no please don’t let them no please no!” “Sorry, Zebby,” I said, reaching in and giving him a poke in the chest with my finger. He fell slowly, like a tree, slamming down hard. Brian and Jesse ran like scared rabbits when he fell, then slowly approached again. Zeb’s cock flopped straight up in the air, hooking over at the end. Brian and Jesse jumped right on top of his body, Brian massaging Zeb’s pecs while Jesse came in tickling his toes and massaging his feet. Zeb’s tiny voice squeaked over and over as he squealed in ecstasy and agony, his cock pumping out liquid as the two tinier men went to town on his body. Knowing that I was watching, the two of them were doing their best. It wasn’t really that bad for them, since all they had to do was get Zeb to cum a couple of times, drive him into a real frenzy, and then they got out scot free. They were still getting over the “ickiness” of touch another naked man in his most sensitive areas, but each time they did the deed they looked a little less revolted, approached it more as a task they needed to accomplish than something they were being forced to do. I looked down at Craig, enjoying his reaction. He was frozen, just staring at the scene before him, wincing occasionally. He kept glancing up at me. I guessed he was waiting for his chance to make a break for it, or trying to figure out how I could do this to so many people. It was easy, I wanted to tell him. After awhile, you forget that you’re kidnapping, brainwashing and in some cases borderline-raping innocent young men whose only crime was being big and athletic. They had jobs, girlfriends, and families that missed them. I made sure never to grab anyone who was married or had kids, but they still all had people who wondered where they were on birthdays and holidays. Maybe some had pets that never got fed again. Thoughts like that wouldn’t have allowed me to do what I’d done. It was best to just think of it like this: all of their old lives had ended, and when their new lives began, it was as new people altogether. I looked back in the aquarium and took a look at Zeb getting worked over. I suddenly noticed that I couldn’t find Jared. “Jared?” I called. He normally came right to me, but then I realized where he was: busy digging Shawn out from the shadows. I’d run into Shawn at a bar two states away. It was entirely random, and another sign that I was fated to own these men, just like the accident that put the marbles in my possession. His car had broken down and he was waiting for a tow-truck, having a beer while he waited. I remembered sitting next to him, realizing that the built stud in the next seat was the guy I’d gone starry-eyed over in high school a dozen times. He had a short crew-cut, beautiful blue eyes, and he wore a flannel shirt that he filled out very nicely. I kept glancing at the back of the stool, watching his jeans-covered ass popping out behind him, wondering if I could slip a marble in his back pocket. I started conversation, asking him where he went to high school. Then I asked him if he knew my brother. He said he didn‘t recall the name. I asked him if he wanted another beer. He said no, got up, and walked away without another word. He would’ve just walked out of my life forever if I hadn’t slipped the red marble into his jeans. And then, when I took him home, I hit him with the orange marble. He was about the same height as Brian, three inches, but he had retained every bit of his mass as when he was six inches tall. It was like I’d taken a single finger and pressed down on his head, packing his mass into half as much height. He couldn’t move much, not nearly as immobile as Zeb but still hindered by his mass. His arms bounced up and down as he waddled around, his pecs popping out in cartoonish mounds in front of him, his ass doing the same thing behind him. “Now get to work!” Jared said, and Shawn joined Brian and Jesse on Zeb’s body, which was starting to get seriously coated in Zeb’s seed. Zeb big bloated cock was pouring out precum like a garden hose as it bobbed up and down, and Zeb’s face kept alternating between moments of unbelievable pain and overwhelming ecstasy. Shawn awkwardly climbed up onto Zeb’s big bloated body. Shawn’s smooshed little stature prevented him from any intricate movements. Gone were the days of being a four-sport athlete. His body was just for show now. Brian and Jesse didn’t stop what they were doing, but took note of Shawn’s rounded bulk as he tried to maintain balance on Zeb’s solid roidgut. I’d noticed animosity between them before, and I figured it was jealousy. They were all about the same height, but all of the little men regarded Brian and Jesse as tiny, while Shawn’s mass usually put him higher up on the hierarchy. As a perfect example, Jared had dragged Brian and Jesse, paying their protests no mind, while he’d merely coerced Shawn. I wasn’t concerned at all. They were all tiny little toys to me, and they all did what I told when I told them or they’d be punished. It was interesting to watch the three half-heights regard each other Shawn just looked more massive, Brian and Jesse more puny. It must’ve been an overwhelming role reversal for all of them. Brian and Jesse had gone to tickling and licking Zeb’s armpits (which were not only easily accessible with his arms splayed out straight, but also so deep they were actually an enjoyable chore to properly penetrate). Brian noticed Shawn, motioned to Jesse, and then headed up Zeb’s chest. Big ol’ Zeb started sobbing, thankful for a break in the physical stimulation. Brian headed up behind Shawn, ready to knock him down King of the Mountain style, but Shawn suddenly turned, his (relatively) huge fist grabbed Brian by the neck and held him up in the air. Brian kicked and yelped. Jesse tried to scramble up from the other side, but Jared came around the corner. “He’s watching, you know, and I don’t think he’s happy,” Jared said. “He could put all three of you in Aaron’s jar if you wanted.” The three grew silent, and then Shawn gently placed Brian back on the unsteady ground of Zeb’s chest. “Back to work,” he said, and the three of them continued their rubdown of poor old Zeb. I casually reached my hand in and stroked Shawn’s bulbous chest, making his pec meat jiggle. He just stood there while I looked down at him, licking my lips. “Lookin’ good Shawn!” I said, rubbing his head gently. Shawn always suffered his indignities quietly. The important part, though, was that Brian and Jesse saw the display, and I could see them fuming about it. I liked to keep things interesting. “Getting any ideas yet?” I asked Craig, who had collapsed to his knees. “We’re not done yet, just so you know. I have a few more to show you, and then it’s your turn to pick. You can be any of these things, or you let me choose. Trust me, I have more up my sleeve than what you see here, too, so keep that in mind.” I noticed someone huddled in the back corner of the aquarium, so I decided to take him out to show him off. Reaching back quickly, I snatched Chris Legassie from the corner, holding him up for Craig to see. Chris looked terrified, more than the others did when I grabbed them, and with good reason. Awhile ago I’d been at a party thrown by a wealthy friend of mine. It was an uppity mixer, bottles of Grey Goose and cases of Red Bull everywhere and an air of self-importance surrounding everyone. I was drunk, smoking a cigarette on the deck, when I overheard a loud conversation about a guy slurring a story. I overheard the phrase “Spaulding High” and immediately spun around. “Did you go to Spaulding?” I asked, drunk and having a hard time making out who it was. “Yeah, he said, did you?” “Class of 1998!” I said. “Class of 1999,” he replied. “That’s weird, I don’t recognize you.” “Well, I’ve changed a lot,” I said, “and not that many people knew me while I was there.” He grinned, and looked around at the three women who’d been listening intently to his tale. At that moment I recognized him. It was Chris. We’d never spoken. I’d only seen him, knew of him through his status, and masturbated to thoughts of him and his huge lanky body numerous times. “Well, I don’t know, I guess not a lot of people knew me either,” he said to his female-entourage-of-three. “How would they? I was only All-State Basketball for three years, MVP for four years, and had pictures on 22 pages on the yearbook.” He laughed, as if his “ironic statement” was meant to be funny, and the idiot women around him laughed too. “Yeah, not many people knew me at all!” What a cocky dick, I thought, my ire rising. Who counts their yearbook pages and then throws that statistic into someone’s face? Had it been meant to make me feel bad or was it to make me impressed? I figured, through my drunken haze, that it was for the benefit of the three women who were basking in him. His cockiness was irritating, and, I’d established even through my dull wits, unwarranted. Who brags about high school, I thought? Who brags about the yearbook? I bet I’d just interrupted a long session of these woman fawning over Chris while he spouted off his accomplishments and spoke of his own excellence. I had no idea what he was up to in life, or even what he was doing at that party, but his attitude had burned me. I found Chris sleeping in his car early the next morning. At first, I wondered if he hadn’t in fact found a woman to bed with, but then I noticed the keys were in his hand. He was trying to get somewhere. The door was unlocked. The rest was easy. As I presented Chris to Craig, could feel my little basketball star trembling. Chris’ transformation was the most dramatic of all of them, and I couldn’t wait to show it off. I made sure Craig recognized Chris as I held him out. Even at this size, Chris’ body was long, almost seven inches. “Remember him? He was younger than we were,” I reminded. Craig just shook his head--not as a negative response, I guessed, but because he couldn’t take much more. I braced my forefinger against my thumb and thwacked Chris in the head. He cried out in surprise, but his head bounced right back. I did it again, and while Chris looked surprised and uncomfortable, he didn’t seem to be feeling any pain. I couldn’t wait to show off the rest. “Check it out, Craig,” I said, holding Chris around his legs and banged him against the hard floor a couple of times, holding him back up for Craig’s absorption. “He feels no pain. Sure, it doesn’t feel good getting slapped around like that, but he can’t be hurt. That’s why I don’t feel bad doing this.” I reached up and grabbed his right arm and yanked, and it stretched out until it was longer than his whole body was. Chris moaned, again, not in agony but in distress. His arm would stay like that for a little while before snapping back to normal. That‘s what I got from the brown marble. “He’s my own private clay-man. Isn’t he cool?” I said. Visually, Chris tended to be the most distressing of all my men, and I could see Craig’s bugeyes as he watched. Chris whimpered as his elongated arm weakly moved around, the fingers grabbing the air an inch above the floor, struggling to touch get a hand-hold. I grabbed his arm and guided it until the hand at the end of the cartoonish arm was grazing Craig’s face. Craig swiped the fingers away, backing up until his back hit the cold glass of the aquarium. He then turned around, shocked, and saw the scene of the three midgets crawling over big bloated Zeb, all covered in cum, and took a step back from that. He spun around and stared up at me, and I smiled. “Watch this,” I said, setting Chris on the floor and pulling a bag out from next to my bed. I pulled out a small rolling pin and Chris let out a high-pitched shriek. With a wicked grin I pressed down with the rolling pin, flattening out Chris’ feet until they looked like pennies on a railroad track. I kept rolling and rolling as Chris begged me to stop. It was almost a shame. His body was still long but strong, thick basketball muscles still as strong, if not stronger, than they’d been in high school. His dick arced up from his groin, and I smirked as I rolled over it. He squealed, and as I looked at the flattened out mess that used to be his pelvis, I saw that I couldn’t even make out what used to be his dick. I actually had a little remorse (for just a second) as I looked at his chiseled abs, and his muscular torso. It wasn’t as big or bulky as any of the other guys’, but it still looked really good… until I smooshed it into a formless, flat tan mass. I finally rolled over his face. His voice still came, although muffled. Looking at my flattened out man, who seemed to be all over the place compared to his size before, I started tidily rolling, starting with the smooshed areas that used to be called feet. Then I rolled up his “legs,” continuing up, tighter and tighter, until I had a tight tube, about four inches wide and about one inch thick. I tossed it into the aquarium, where it bounced a couple of times and then rolled away. “He’ll go back to normal,” I said to Craig with a wink. “In a few hours. Until then, he has to be a human roll-up. Can you imagine how that feels? Being rolled in on yourself? Being unable to move? What would your eyes and ears be picking up? What about your skin? What kind of sensations…” I nudged Craig with a finger. “Depending on how things go, you can either ask him… or you’ll find out first-hand.” Eager to get the introductions over with, I leaned into the aquarium and shouted, “Brock, Josh, present yourselves now!” The two little hotties came running out of opposite ends of the aquarium, each hiding under a large branch. For a moment, I wondered why they were alone, but then I realized that they probably figured they could hide below the radar if they separated. I couldn’t imagine it had been easy for either of them. I imagined being huddled in the darkness, praying none of the other tiny men would sell you out, purposely staying away from the one being in the world you wanted to be near more than any other. As they stood there, at attention, each of them looked heartbroken, not only having been rabbited out of hiding (quite easily, and they should’ve expected that, to be honest) but also to be near each other but not having permission yet to touch each other. “All right, boys, show me how much you missed each other,” I said, motioning for Craig to watch. Brock and Josh ran to each other, collapsing into each other’s arms. It was really hot, actually, watching those naked muscles collapse together. Brock was taller, but Josh was beefier, and the latter seemed to be lifting Brock off the ground as he embraced him. I watched as their mouths crazily lapped at each other, arms going wild, fingers pressing deeply into flesh, hips grinding together. I envied them, never having been touched like that by anyone, even to a lesser degree. Jared “loved” me, but he could never pick me up in his arms like I’d always needed. Brock and Josh hadn’t been in love when I’d run into them again. From what I could gather, they were each working sales jobs in different companies in the same city. Brock had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and Josh was a career bachelor. The two would meet after work, go to the gym, then go out for some beers and sometimes, some pussy. They had quite the life, and had a lot ahead of them. I envied their bachelor status. It was how I’d always envisioned my life would’ve been had I been born straight. It had almost been too difficult for me to watch. To prove a point, I leaned in and said, “Brock!” I had his attention, I knew, but he still had to carry out my prior order. “Brock, you are now in love with Shawn. You love him more than you’ve ever loved anyone in the whole world. Your body aches without him. You need him now, more than you even need to breathe.” Brock’s high-pitched squeak came out long and drawn out, like a moan. Both hands went up to Josh’s face, stopping him. He shook his head, looking away from Josh to the muscle packed midget on top of Mount Zeb. I watched both Brock and Josh’s faces contort in pain and confusion. Brock pushed Josh away, staggering toward Zeb, desperate to climb up to be with Shawn. “Brock, no!” cried Josh. “Please! I need you! Please don’t leave me!” Brock shook his head. “Shut up! You know you don’t mean that! Get away from me!” Tears came from both of their eyes. “Anything I say,” I said, tapping Craig to remind him that this wasn’t a dream, but very real, “becomes real to them. Every command that I utter becomes their reality. They follow whatever I say, believe whatever I command. You can, too, if you want.” It was all the effect of the blue marble. Brock had scaled Zeb and was trying to get his arms around Shawn, begging him to kiss him. Shawn had fought back, his little stocky arms pushing Brock away. Both of their squeaky voices were shouting, and I couldn’t clearly make out what they were saying. I didn’t care. Josh, on the ground, had fallen to his knees, hysterically sobbing. “BROCK! JOSH!” I yelled, and they both turned up to me. “Front and center! Stand at attention!” The both ran forward and stared up at me, their faces full of fear. I liked that. “As soon as I put you into his jar,” I said, a smirk across my face, “I want you two to do everything in your power to try to satisfy Aaron.” The two tiny faces went pale. “You won’t get tired until I tell you.” I could actually see them shivering from where I stood. I reached down and lifted them up, grabbing Aaron’s jar and plopping them in. Aaron was on them like a starved animal (which he was) and Brock and Josh got right into it. Immediately Aaron was plowing Josh’s ass, who got right into it, furiously fucking right back. Brock got behind Aaron without hesitation and just started pounding away, his fingers tweaking Aaron’s nipples. Aaron went back and forth from kissing Brock to kissing Josh. They three immediately become one big undulating mass. I set it next to Craig with a grin. He backed away, horrified. The sounds coming from the jar sounded like a gay bathhouse with a helium leak. “Now it’s time,” I said. I reached into the backpack and pulled an empty jar forth. Craig looked at the mass of gay sex in the greasy jar and then at the empty one coming down at him. He started to run but I easily snatched him up, holding him about an inch from my face. I grinned. He swung out with his meaty fists, and I just shook my head. It felt so great to hold him under his inhuman lats, appreciating the massiveness of his back, the strong tapers down to his thick waist. “Do you get it yet?” I said calmly. “I can do whatever I want to you. The more you fight, the worse it’ll be. Don’t hold onto your pride, because I’m just going to take that away from you anyway. You can make it easy, or you can make it hard. Look around, Craig, and choose your new life. What will it be? Choose which one of your old buddies you want to be like… or I’ll choose for you. And I have tricks up my sleeve you have seen yet.” Craig looked down at the scene around him. It probably looked to him like an obscene amusement park, his view from the top of the ferris wheel. Brian, Jesse and Shawn were still over-pumping poor Zeb, who sat there squealing for them to, “Stop!” and “Keep going!” and “Please! Please! Pleease!” In the jar, Brock and Josh were trying to match Aaron’s sexual intensity, but falling short. None of them would even begin to fatigue until I said the word. Chris didn’t even look human anymore, more like a rolled up piece of bologna, rolling around helplessly near Jared, who stared up at me longingly. “Time’s up, Craig,” I said, giving him a gentle shake. “Take your pick.” He turned to me, sat there silently for a moment, before his eyes finally lit up. He’d made a decision. His head reared back and then cocked forward. I could barely hear the sound of it, but only knew that he’d spit at me because of his facial expressions, and because I’d been spit at by a tiny man before. I rolled my eyes. “You idiot,” I said. “That bit of spit couldn’t have been more than a few molecules. Do you really think that was going to be worth it? That tiny act of disrespect versus what it just cost you?” I plunked him unceremoniously in the empty jar and stood up to get the marbles. I noticed Jared sitting quietly in the aquarium, watching me leave with a pained look on his face. I rolled my eyes--only after I knew he couldn’t see--and considered changing what I’d done to him. I knew he was sitting there, wanting so badly to be close to me but terrified to ask. I wondered what that was like, that desire for approval, the fear of being rejected, the overwhelming reward when the object of your affection gives you tenderness and attention. I’d never had that before, and probably never would. Jared would always love me, whenever I wanted, even when I didn’t want it. I couldn’t ever do anything wrong in his eyes, and it almost made his adoration feel disposable. I almost resented it at times. Jared was the first I shrank. I didn’t give him the choice, just made him love me. I thought it would be enough, but it wasn’t. I shrank others, telling them about the wonderful and horrible things I could do to them, and gave each the choice. Every single one of my tiny men chose nothing, telling me to fuck myself or spitting at me, cursing my name or attacking me in some way. I could never understand it. When faced with some really terrible looking scenarios, or the option of just being in love with me, they rejected me, forced me to choose on my own. To me, I thought that the purple marble was the easy way out, but none of the tiny men did. Apparently, being in love with me was just as bad as any of the other possibilities. I pulled out the velvet bag and fished around, pulling out the white marble. A quick breath and it lit up, glowing brightly. I dropped it into the jar. It bounced twice before resting several feet (to him) from Craig. He looked at it in horror. “Not sure if you’ve been paying attention,” I asked, “but the white marble doesn’t do any of the things that I already showed you, but it’s one I think fits you perfectly.” Back in the aquarium, Jared (the only little man unoccupied) had come over to the wall to watch the show. He pressed his face up against the cold glass. Feeling a little pity, and knowing it was what he wanted, I snatched him up and held him in my hand as it happened. He snuggled down into my fist as he watched. Craig tried to scramble up the smooth glass, but his bulky but just wasn’t agile enough to make any headway (and since he wasn’t Spiderman, he wasn’t going anywhere). The white marble sat there glowing and Craig shielded his eyes from it. What an idiot. “It doesn’t have to touch you, and you don’t have to look at it,” I said, watching my new little meat monkey struggle. “Look, you can’t get away with this. If I wanted, I could just make it touch you like this.” I tilted the jar and the white marble rolled to him. He tried to get away and I tipped it more. It rolled between his gigantic thighs. He couldn’t find any foothold to right himself, but he still struggled away. As the white marble glowed away, Craig’s struggle, the determination on his face, became spotty and intermittent. He kept having moments of confusion, where I’m sure he forgot what was going on, or where he was. I set the jar down and he stumbled around, disoriented, but the fight in him was dying. Finally, he just stopped moving. His face looked blank, emotionless, and his gigantic meaty shoulders just started rising and falling casually. He looked almost relaxed as he slowly eyeballed his body, from his feet up through his gigantic thighs, past his big masculine cock and up his overwhelmingly powerful torso. He started flexing his biceps casually, examining his own meaty forearms as if it were the first time he’d discovered them. His body seemed to droop and sag a bit, going forward, as his forearms and fists grew bigger and more solid. His spine seemed to reshape and his posture slid forward until he was almost resting on his knuckles. His whole body hadn’t changed much, but he had devolved slightly, having a distinct apelike quality to his body as much as being an overdeveloped meatstack of a man. I smiled, realizing the work was done. Craig seemed happy like that. His mind had been wiped totally clean, and his body made into a (relatively) gigantic bulky Neanderthal (which, to be honest, didn’t require much change). Craig’s brains were now located mostly in his huge muscles, but also in his big cock. He’d live to flex, fuck, and overpower the other little men. To be honest, I thought, Craig was getting out of this pretty easy. Chris was going to be horrified. I wondered if some of them would beg to feel the white marble. I reached down and went to grab Craig’s new body. He grabbed onto my fingers with his powerful hands. I was impressed with their strength, and as I lifted him out I started to get a boner just watching the arrogance of a six-inch tall caveman looking at me, sizing me up. With a smirk, I put him into the aquarium. I put Jared in next to him. Craig grunted, and Jared smiled, looking Craig up and down. Craig’s pecs bounced one at a time, over and over, and then he started flexing his biceps. Jared smiled, looked back up at me, and then Craig pounced, immediately mounting poor Jared. Luckily my little wrestler seemed to almost enjoy it after the initial surprise wore off. Jared wasn’t accustomed to being “taken down” like that, but Craig was WAY out of his weight class. I took a deep breath and pulled out my cell phone--eleven missed calls. I shook my head. I’d forgotten all about the reunion! I still had to go back and make sure my trail was covered, that nobody would connect Craig’s disappearance with me. On the other hand, how could I leave the scene in front of me? I started unbuckling my shirt, speeding up as my eager erection expanded. “Well, boys,” I said to the whole lot of them, “looks like we’re having our own little reunion.”

What Yanks My Crank

In the late 90s, on a dialup modem connecting to a fairly uncharted internet, I stumbled upon the story "Big Time" by Ty Blair, and it fired me up forever to love stories about big-guys-made-little.

At the time I didn't even know people jerked off to stories. Pics of Bob Paris in Perfettowear were the apex of my masturbation fodder, and the internet had just one-upped the steady consumption of Flex Magazines that had me burning through bottles of hand-lotion. I've been entranced by big guys of all types since I was a little guy, following my brother and his football buddies around as an annoying little satellite to the huge linemen. What I read in that story woke up something deep, deep down that I never knew I was into.

If you haven't read it (find it; it's worth it), it's about a bodybuilder whose muscles and size are stolen by a skinny little guy. The bodybuilder becomes scrawny and helpless, and the skinny guy becomes a cocky beast who abuses his little victim. I practically drooled at this scenario (my dick literally did, and then some) and couldn't wait to find more things just like this.

From there I ventured out and found a lot of cool erotic fetish fiction in the same vein. There was a ton of muscle growth, a lot of cookie cutter "nerd becomes a huge god" stories and then a smattering of really profound, sensuously detailed stories that revved me up good, but that didn't hit me in the same way. I later found macrophilia and really dug that, too, but again, it was different.

Muscle growth was fine enough because I loved muscular bodies (and with fetishes I often find more is always better--hsmusclboy and gbmorphs are great examples of that) and the accompanying power and cockiness. With macrophilia, small men became giants and big guys became small and helpless, all of which got me starry-eyed and furiously cranking, but even though a tiny bodybuilder was smaller than a dick, he still looked like a bodybuilder, despite the altered relation to his surroundings. I could never get over the idea of those big muscles, the feeling of taking up imposing amounts of space and of heavy things feeling light enough to carry, being taken away from a guy who had defined himself by them. I loved that they would still have to go through somewhat normal lives treated like strangers by their closest friends--or even better, recognized in their reduced states in a way that highlighted their new weakness--but now without the power they'd worked so hard to collect. All that is a long-winded wordy way of driving at what this tumblr's about: big guys put in weakened situations. Muscle theft is my number one fetish. I also love macrophilia, especially when it's a big cocky guy put into the reduced state. Animal transformations get me going too, when a strong sexy guy suddenly finds himself in the clumsy, dependent body of a farm animal or something small and helpless. Inanimate transformations also get me going. Through all of these, it's usually best (although done successfully otherwise, many times) if the big guy retains his own mind, either horrified by the change or aware that the new state isn't right, that he used to be big and strong and there was nothing he could do to get back there.

I've got tons of my own stories I'll feed in little by little, but I'd also like to showcase some of the stories that have rung my bell so hard it's cracked, by guys like absqrst and worldofsize. There are going to be a LOT of football players in my tales. I can't help it; there's nothing sexier than those big, powerful bodies in those pants and pads put into situations of weakness or helplessness. It's my drug. Lastly, I'm open to featuring stories that fit in this umbrella. Only requirement: you gotta make me cum. If it fires me off, I'll share it.

Let's have a ball. There's only one rule: the bigger they are, the more they gotta squirm.