Clyde's Big Camshow

[shrinking, bodybuilders]

[this is MOST DEFINITELY a part 1.]

ZACK

When I got back from the bathroom, three muscular college-aged guys had gathered around Clyde, my gym partner. Clyde was doing lateral raises. At 6’5” tall, he was easily the tallest man in the gym. At 300 pounds of muscle, he was easily the biggest as well. Plus he was wearing a skin-tight stringer tank (which, to his defense, was still XXXL) and shorts that clung to his gargantuan ass. His deltoids bloomed as he got to the top of each rep, and he looked so wide he seemed to fill up the entire mirror behind the dumbbell rack.

I couldn’t tell if his audience was straight gym-guys wondering where they could get the good roids or thirsty gay guys just hoping a drop of Clyde’s sweat would hit them. Or maybe they were neither, just eager to get past the big freak to the dumbbell rack. He was as big as the three of them squashed together, but the beauty of his physique was that his frame could hold all that size. Unlike superheavyweights who waddled around, barely able to wipe their own ass or clap their hands around their massive pecs, big Clyde seemed to have space for all his big bulging muscles, like he was just an average-sized beefcake who got enlarged to giant proportions.

“Excuse me, guys,” I said, nowhere near big enough to distract them from the spectacle that was Clyde forcing out five extra reps as the sweat spot down the crack of his ass got darker and wider.

“You know him?” asked the shortest of the three. He had a mohawk and pretty sizable pecs.

“Yeah, he’s my lifting partner,” I said.

“Boyfriend?” asked the tallest, a shaven-headed guy with a dumpster ass.

“No, we’re just friends,” I interjected, my auto-response whenever Clyde and I were in public.

“No, does HE have a boyfriend,” repeated Dumpster-ass.

“No, but I don’t know if you’re…”

Clyde had finished his set, setting down the 45 lb dumbbells and turning to greet his entourage. “What’s up, boys?” he said with a smile, strutting forward.

“H-how did you get so big?” asked the third of the trio, a redhead with a tremendously thick neck.

“I eat a TON, lift a TON, and…” Clyde winked. “...FUCK a ton. That third one really helps keep the testosterone high.” He threw a thick arm up, putting his hand behind his head. This was one of his moves, to flash some pec, lat, and the thick tuft of brown hair in his deep armpit (which was at face-level for most people). It looked casual when he did it, but never failed to capture attention–even mine.

“What’s your instagram?” asked Dumpster-ass. Clyde chuckled.

“It’s Supersizedclyde–all one word,” he said, “but if you want the REALLY spicy stuff, you’ll have to check out my Onlycams.”

“YOU HAVE AN ONLYCAMS?!” all three blurted out in unison.

“Same name. Great stuff. Catch you guys later!” He bounced his pecs as he sauntered past them. Their eyes were locked on him with laser focus until we left.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Clyde asked as we walked back to my car.

“It’s just… YOU,” I said. “Your whole… ‘thing’ is really impressive.”

“My THING?” Clyde said. He grabbed the sizable bulge in his shorts and gave it a squeeze. “It is impressive, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you ever turn all that off?”

“Turn what off?” he said as he squeezed into the passenger seat. “Holy shit,” he said, sniffing his armpit. “Wow, I’m throwing up some POTENT brew right now!”

I went to roll down the windows but he slapped my hand away.

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “Take a deep breath. Enjoy the stench, Zack!”

I sighed as I started the car, adjusting my shorts so Clyde couldn’t see that I’d started to throw a bone. “Y’know, this can be REALLY confusing to some people,” I said. “Your exhibitionist streak can really send some mixed signals to some people.”

“Mixed signals about what?” He genuinely didn’t get what I mean–and his innocence just furthered my crush on him.

We’d begun shaking our after-lift protein in tandem as I pulled onto the freeway. “Some people might think you wanted to fuck, is all.”

“Well, I DO want to fuck,” he said, chugging his shaker down in one. “Pretty much all the time. And people like me. And I like that people like me. It’s a pretty great system, man. I’m a happy guy!”

He smiled and winked as he looked down at his phone. “Oh, WOW,” he said. “50 new subscribers to my Onlycams.”

“I still can’t believe you have an Onlycams,” I said. This was a lie; I’d actually subscribed, telling myself that I wanted, as his friend, to make sure he wasn’t posting anything he would regret later. (This was also a lie; I’d jerked it twice to videos of him flexing and wagging his hard cock around, although I wished some of his goofy personality would come through his videos more. Clearly, judging by his success, I was the only one with that note.)

“So when you FINALLY settle down,” I said, pulling onto Clyde’s street. “...how are you going to explain to the man-of-your-dreams that you jerk it to an audience?”

“C’mon, bro!” Clyde said, shoving me so hard my face smacked my window. “Whoops, sorry ‘bout that.” He massaged my shoulder and gave me a squeeze as an act of contrition. “Anyway, what I was gonna say was… the “man-of-my-dreams” would be ROCK HARD at the idea of me working this big cock to an audience. And the fact that he’d get it all to himself? That, right there, would be my selling point: ‘I’ll turn off the cams for you.’” He hopped out of the car, sauntering around to the driver’s side where he dropped to one knee and flexed his biceps for me, giving the left one a kiss.

“We lifting tomorrow?” I asked, trying to pretend like I wasn’t transfixed by the image of this clydesdale of a man showing off his mass for me.

“Only if you don’t mind going late,” he said, hopping to his feet. “I actually got a call from some guy who wants to meet with me about a business opportunity.”

“Clyde,” I said, suddenly panicked. “Please, tell me you are NOT going to become a gigolo!”

He laughed. “Nah, doesn’t interest me. But this guy says he likes my ‘content’ and wants to sign me up with his company. I’m probably gonna turn him down, but I want to hear the offer anyway.”

For a moment, the idea of Clyde–who already had a hundred thousand Instagram followers and was recognized nearly everywhere we went–becoming a megastar made my gut cold. It was hard enough trying to figure out why he would want to hang out with me in the first place. I’d always imagined I was one Hollywood deal away from getting dumped as his buddy.

But as I watched him walk into his apartment–or rather, watched his MASSIVE ass shaking back and forth with each step–I reminded myself that, above all of his other traits, Clyde was a good man. It was part of his “too-good-to-be-true” package.

(And, as a subscriber to his Onlycams, I can tell you firsthand: his package certainly IS too good to be true!)

In his doorway, he squatted down and melted into gibberish at the sight of his French bulldog, Tanner. He scooped up his plump dog and squished him against his face, then whirled around to face me. “Hey, Zack! THIS GUY, right HERE,” he said, shaking the brindle-coated little guy, “THIS is the man of my dreams! And he LOVES my Onlycams!”

And in that exact moment I realized I was in love with him.

ELDYN

I expected him to be bigger than he seemed from his videos, and yet when I heard the knock on my office door and Steiner let him in, I was blown away. My office doorway was just filled with hard masculine meat, all topped with an adorable bearded face.

I’d seen muscle guys before, of course–it was my profession–but most of them look like they’ve been stuffed with muscle, swollen out beyond their physical capacity. Clyde’s frame was so large, all that mass just seemed to belong there, naturally, as if a 6’5” 300 pound man was a typical sight.

He walked in, confidently, and I reflected on the comparison between Steiner, my former-professional-wrestler-turned-security-guard, and the cute-as-a-button shaved sasquatch striding through my door. Steiner came to Clyde’s shoulder and, despite the musculature I know he’d worked so hard to build, looked positively dainty in comparison. I had to bring it up.

“You make my security guard look puny!” I stood to shake his hand–even that was gargantuan, his thick fingers swallowing up mine.

He shrugged and smiled. “Yeah, I’m pretty big.” He turned to Steiner. “You are too, though!” He gave Steiner a fist-bump. I know the friendly gesture only served to irritate Steiner even more (which would make what happened later all the sweeter for all of us). Clyde had a seat and I poured him a glass of water. He downed it in two sizable gulps, then set it on the arm of his chair.

I admired his outfit: a blue polo shirt that fit nicely everywhere except his sleeves (which were squeezed to their limits) and stylish jeans. Somehow, the lovable brute looked even larger fully clothed than he had in any of the naked flexing videos on his site. “What size clothes are those?”

“Shirt is 3XL,” Clyde said, digging a finger under the polo collar to illustrate its tightness. “Jeans are you-don’t-want-to-know.”

“Can’t shop in a store I’m guessing.”

“Hell no. Shopping is a nightmare. I have to specially order everything.”

“Probably cheaper to just walk around naked.”

Clyde smiled. “Well, in a jockstrap, but yeah.”

He hadn’t flinched once. “You’re very… laid back,” I commented. “Comfortable in your own skin. A lot of you big guys spend all your time trying to show off, but you…”

He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to prove.”

“Can’t imagine you would, at your size.”

He smiled, looking around my office. “This is really nice.”

I glanced around at the stark white walls and the garish geometric furniture. “Meh. This is all just temporary. We’re experiencing quite a bit of growth, so I’ll be upgrading to more suitable office space soon enough.”

Clyde smiled. He cocked his head to the side. “I guess I’m curious why you called me in here.” The smile never left his face.

“Your content is impressive,” I said, leaning back in my chair. I put both hands behind my head. “You’ve built quite a following in a short amount of time. I’d imagine it’s very lucrative.”

Clyde nodded enthusiastically. He had a level of innocence that I admired. There was no artifice in his presentation of himself. “People seem to like these quite a bit,” he said, flexing his arms (which seemed to double in size when he did so).

“Jesus,” Steiner muttered. I could tell he was as threatened as he was titillated. I shot him a glance and his eyes fell to the floor.

“I’m sure they do,” I said. “Which is why we’d like to sign you to our team. You’d fit right in with our other sponsored models.”

Clyde cleared his throat. “With all due respect, I’m doing pretty well on my own, and it’s nice being able to be my own boss. What would I gain from joining with you?”

I tapped a button on my desk. A moment later, Jerrod walked in. He was built like a circus strongman with a barrel chest and cartoonishly overdeveloped arms. The big man’s eyes lit up as he rose to greet the newcomer. Jerrod, eye-level with Clyde’s big pecs (and protruding nipples) seemed just as excited, although I had asked him to play it cool.

“This is one of our top models,” I said as I momentarily lost their attention to each other. I cleared my throat and Jerrod pulled his hand back, standing by the wall with his arms crossed. “Jerrod, show our future model here exactly what you have going on.”

Jerrod stripped off his t-shirt to reveal his beefy hairy pecs and tattoos across his torso. Of all of our models, he resembled Clyde’s “type” the most, from what I could learn from my research before he arrived.

“Oh, I can, too, if you want–” Clyde said, his hands darting to his polo, ready to yank it up.

“That won’t be necessary,” I interrupted. “We’ve all seen what you have to offer. I wanted you to see what WE had to offer. If you’re interested, I can start you and Jerrod on a collaboration campaign. Do you top or bottom?”

“I, uh…” For the first moment, I watched the giant man’s confidence falter. “I’m mostly a top, just because… a lot of guys can’t really penetrate THIS…” He stood and slapped his hands on his glutes to illustrate his point.

“Ah, I see,” I said. “Jerrod probably can’t either. But he’s quite a spirited bottom.” At that pointed nudge, Jerrod looked away and sighed. “But we can explore all sorts of scenarios with you two. Tag teams, muscle worship sessions, or just filming the two of you working out.”

“How many models do you have?” Clyde asked.

“Two and four,” I said, inwardly cringing at my slip.

“That’s an odd way to say six,” Clyde shot back with a smile.

“It sure was,” I added. “But with you as our seventh, I guarantee we’ll all be rolling in profit, as soon as we add your subscribers to our already avid viewership…”

“And all I have to do is, what? Give you a cut of what I make?”

“We’ll take a percentage of your income, plus we’ll assume creative control of all of your content.”

Clyde rose to his feet. “Thank you for the offer, sir, but I’m going to pass. I’m doing fine on my own and I want to be able to quit this whenever I want.”

He turned to shake Steiner’s hand, then turned to Jerrod. “But if you ever want to collab–like, off-camera I mean… seriously, shoot me a DM. Would love to get sweaty with you.”

I stared at the width of his back as he shamelessly flirted with Jerrod right in front of me. Good god, did he fill a room! The other two men with us were massive hulks, but Clyde was still gargantuan in comparison.

That was the last time in his life he ever would be.

I took the small plastic gun from my top drawer and switched it on. The spiral “barrel” glowed silently. “I believe I misspoke. I’m not asking you to join our team. I’m telling you that you will. You’ll be joining the four, rather than the two.”

Clyde turned to me, confused. “What do you–”

He never got a chance to see the gun. In a blink, he seemed to vanish. The room seemed suddenly empty, only the spicy scent of his cologne and his appealing musk hanging in the air signified that he’d ever been there. In reality, he was still with us, but I had to stand from my seat and lean over my desk to see him. Now six inches tall, he stared up, wide-eyed, and started slowly back away.

“Steiner, will you–” I began.

“Got him,” Steiner said, grabbing the empty glass and turning it upside down to trap our new acquisition. “Damnit, I wish you’d used the slow setting. I would have loved to watch him shrink down little by little.”

“This isn’t a free show for you,” I said, snapping my fingers. Steiner brought me the overturned glass with his hand underneath to keep Clyde safely inside. I motioned for him to set it on my desk, then turned to Jerrod, who was sulking against the wall. “Put your shirt back on and get the fuck out of here,” I said. “Clearly you weren’t a sweet enough honey pot to get him to join willingly.” He headed for the door with his head down, his shirt in his hands.

I glared at Steiner, who was still hovering over my desk (or more specifically, the glass he’d just set there). I waved him away as I hit another button. “Mr. Genesee, please bring in all the new legal documents for our new acquisition.”

It was finally time for me to turn my attention to Clyde. I lowered myself to his level and peered through the glass. He was still clothed, as I’d made sure the gun would shrink his garments with him. “Those ‘special-order’ clothes don’t look so big anymore, eh? I bet there are some doll collectors who might want to purchase them.” He had his hands against the walls of his glass prison, peering out, but as my hand approached he backed up suddenly.

As the glass lifted away, Clyde fell to his knees, clearly overcome with how huge the room suddenly seemed to him. I saw him taking a few steps backward, so I slammed my fist down next to him. The force knocked him off his feet. He scurried away from the–to him–giant fist, but the fingers of my other hand poked him hard in the chest, pinning him in place. Even at his miniscule size, his pecs were still satisfyingly plump.

“I want you to stay still, understand?” I said firmly. I was sure it had been a long time since Clyde felt this helpless. “If you tumble off the edge of the desk, it’ll be a far greater loss for you than for me. I can easily clean you up with a tissue.”

Mr. Genesee entered with a tablet in his hand. He adjusted his ill-fitting tie, smoothed down his rumbled dress shirt, and set the tablet next to Clyde, where it no-doubt seemed larger than a movie screen to the doll-sized man. “Hello Mr. Gibson, I’m Danforth Genesee, legal consultant for Mr. Quints. I’d just like you to affirm, right now, that you’re of sound mind and willingly consenting to the agreement placed before you.”

I held up a hand, then lowered my face down for Clyde to see. “Listen, little buddy,” I said gently. “Let me be very clear with you. This situation you’re in COULD be temporary. It’s simply to make sure you comply with the very lucrative deal I’m setting forth. I may have misrepresented this situation before, because you actually DO have a choice in this deal. You can agree to perform under contract with us, and we’ll all make a lot of money… and we’ll use forced perspective so no one actually knows what size you are! They’ll still think you’re your big stud-sized self. We won’t tell anyone that you’ll be sleeping in a cigar box!”

Clyde just blinked silently as I spoke. His tiny body still filled out his clothing like a musclebound demigod, only now I could squash him easily in one hand.

“Or,” I said, placing the shrink gun on the desk, the barrel aimed directly at him. “...I could give you another shot with this. If you started at 6’5” tall, and the first shot reduced you to six inches… what do you think a second shot at the same intensity would leave you?”

Mr. Genesee did some calculations, drawing in the air with his fingers, before blurting out, “Approximately .47 inches.”

“Less than half an inch,” I chuckled. “Things may be difficult for you now, but imagine being THAT small. And don’t think I’d keep you! No, I’d just sweep you off the desk with my sleeve. You might survive the fall–less than half an inch, you’d be so light you might float on a breeze–but what would you do next? So it’s up to you: perform for our team, willingly, or end up at the bottom of the cleaning team’s dustbuster bag.”

Clyde finally spoke in his now pathetic, chirpy voice: “W-what… what would you want me to do?”

“Same things you’re doing now! Jerking off on camera, flex shows with the other models. No sex scenes unless you absolutely want it. But trust me, when you meet the other models… I’m sure you’ll be interested. And you’ll get to keep a portion of the money you make. Or…” I switched on the shrink gun. The barrel lit up. Clyde started scooting backwards but I planted a hand behind him to hold him in place.

“O-okay,” Clyde said. He slowly rose to his feet, still wary of the skyscraper-sized men looming over him. “I’ll do it.”

“Great!” Mr. Genesee said. “We’ll just sign these papers and get you started right away.”

ZACK

I made it a point to visit Clyde’s house every day at noon, just before I went to the gym, and then at 7 PM, after work, to feed and walk Tanner. “You’re lucky I work from home,” I told him when he called me.

“You can just stay at my place if you want,” he said. “Keep the place tidy, pick up the mail… go through my jockstraps if you want!”

The idea was tempting–too tempting. I had to make sure to maintain boundaries between my desire for my big buddy and his physical generosity, lest the definition of our friendship became too blurry. If I stayed at his place, I definitely WOULD huff from his underwear drawer, so why tempt myself?

“How long are you going to be gone for?” I had asked.

“I’m still not sure,” he said. “They have a bunch of stuff planned… but you’ll be the first to know.”

It had all been so abrupt–his flying out of the country with no warning, his phone call putting me in charge of his dog and his apartment. The strangest part was his reaction to my offer to video call so he could still see Tanner while he was gone.

“Y’know, just send me videos. I don’t know if I’ll be able to actually video call.”

This, from the steadfast himbo who loved his dog more than he loved strangers admiring his muscles, gave me pause. But he continued to post on his Onlycams. Of course, the tone of his content shifted drastically. Now he was set against stark white backdrops with weird lighting. He would do the usual oil-and-flex and jerk-and-flex videos, plus some where he did full workouts nude, his hard cock bouncing the whole time. While he was never exceptionally expressive before, he seemed even more mechanical now.

He was getting HUGE, though! It seemed ridiculous that my already-mammoth buddy could be actually adding size, but in one month he had a whole layer of solid beef on him. His neck looked thicker, his face blockier, and his torso was definitely swelling out. And his legs… good god! He had developed a bit of the “muscleman waddle” that his long limbs had, up until now, allowed him to avoid.

After five weeks of my daily visits to his house, I stood over Tanner, who grunted as he gobbled down his wet food, and walked over to Clyde’s computer. Hacking in would be a breeze for an IT professional of my caliber. It would be a breeze, especially from his personal laptop, to get into his Onlycams account. Then it would be a cinch to track where his posts were coming from, just to verify that he was, in fact, in whatever Italian city he claimed to be in.

His passwords had changed, thwarting my initial attempt. That, in and of itself, seemed suspicious: Clyde, of all people, was not at all interested in protecting his personal data. Without my influence, he wouldn’t have any virus protection software at all!

“You’re being creepy,” I asked myself as my fingers went to the keyboard again. “You’re violating privacy. This is the same as stealing his underwear.”

Tanner trotted out of the kitchen and snorted at my feet before lying down. He immediately started snoring.

“You miss your daddy, don’t you?” I asked. With a pit in my stomach, I tried a few trickier maneuvers. “Bingo,” I said when I got his password. “Fuck yeah!” I said when I managed to launch a bot to track his whereabouts based on his latest post.

“What… the fuck…” I said as I doublechecked the location.

The posts were coming from less than twenty miles away.

“Maybe,” I theorized aloud as I stroked the snoring Frenchie’s wrinkly face. “Maybe the company is located here, but they’re filming outside the country… maybe they’re doing the editing here, but filming the footage in Italy…”

Sure, I could come up with some theories to explain it all away. Or I could drive to the location after shutting down their whole security system with a virus. I could make THEM give me the “plausible explanation” that would allow me to walk away without crashing every fucking computer on their premises.

I decided I would sleep in Clyde’s bed that night, feed Tanner in the morning, and head to the spot immediately afterward. “This is stupid,” I said to Tanner, as if he could assure me I was acting irrationally because of my feelings for my friend. “I mean, what, is he stuck there against his will? Who, on this planet, is big enough to keep Clyde somewhere he doesn’t want to be?”

ELDYN

I would have paid Gunther a visit that morning anyway, even if he hadn’t sent me an oblique, panicked message. “Come by tomorrow,” he’d said. “We have issues.”

Gunther trained the models–and by that I mean he not only administers their exercise routines, supplementation and diet to keep them in peak shape for their camshows, but also he conditioned them to cope with their current situations. It was his job to keep them calm and cooperative. I’d hesitate to use the word “pliable”--consent is still a big issue for me, beyond the decision to make them action-figure sized, of course–but it’s important that we keep their rebelliousness to a minimum.

Gunther had a degree in psychology (which is why he became a personal trainer, he liked to say), and he put that to work motivating the models to follow direction. There’s nothing too brainwashy of course. His manipulations were more subtle; for example, Gunther initially established that Clyde had an affinity for Terry, a brawny, tattooed little brick of muscle who loved to do videos pressing the other, taller models overhead with ease. Gunther arranged for them to stay in the same aquarium for the first few weeks, but then switched Clyde to sleeping in one of the smaller dollhouses alone while Jonathon, a wide-built brute with long blonde hair and a loud crush on Terry, took over his spot. The jealousy and suspicion kept them from getting too comfortable with each other, allowing Gunther to exert more control over them.

For the first month, I had been quite satisfied with Clyde’s performances. His ability to put on muscle under Gunther’s tutelage was even more impressive than I’d originally expected. The amount of beef packed onto his body made him look like quite the musclebull, with more room to grow as well. However, I was shocked he hadn’t agreed to one-on-one videos with any of the other models. I had expected Clyde, with his voracious sexual appetites, to make the rounds quite easily.

The boys were all in training when I entered Gunther’s office. Their gymnasium was the size of a fishtank. We’d had to 3D print all of the equipment, but without any point of reference, the little guys looked like they were all full-sized and at a regular gym (that is–until Gunther stepped in front of the light, casting a shadow that drenched the little rodents in darkness).

“What’s the issue?” I asked as I gazed into the tank. Most of them still tensed up when they saw me. I used to hate that, wishing I could be adored, but now the fact that my presence makes their buttholes pucker… well, it makes MY butthole pucker too.

“In private,” Gunther said, motioning to the back of the room where he lowered his voice. “We have a mini-mutiny on our hands.”

“Pun intended?” I said with a grin. Gunther didn’t smile.

“None of them want to work with Clyde. He makes them look too small.”

“What about Terry? I thought you said they were sweet on each other?”

“They are, but Terry had a relationship with Jonathon before Clyde showed up, and he’s staying loyal to him,” Gunther said. “Good god, the fucking DRAMA of these little bugs…”

“I pay you to deal with these things,” I said, pulling my shirt aside to reveal the shrink gun tucked into the waistband of my pants. It was important to remind my subordinates that they were all one large mistake away from getting squashed under my shoe.

“Look, I can get a lot out of these little shits, but even though they’re all tiny, their egos are still huge… Fucking actors, y’know?”

I sighed, then approached their gym-quarium. Clyde was on a bench, pressing what appeared to be quite a lot of weight (proportionally, that is; it would have easily fit in my hand). The other models were lined up, watching him, whispering to each other.

“He does that,” Gunther said, pointing to Clyde. “He doesn’t argue with them or snap back when they try to bully him. He just does stuff to quietly outperform them… or he tries to turn them on. He’s usually successful with either, and BOTH piss them off quite a bunch.”

From my vantage point above them, the little musclebound men all looked around the same size, but when I leaned in to inspect more closely, it was clear that Clyde had a serious advantage over the others. Terry had been by far the shortest when he was full-sized, with prettyboy Wayne just a smidge above him, but Jonathon had been lording his height over the others since the beginning. Blaise, the last one to arrive before Clyde, had been nearly as tall as Jonathon (and twice as beefy), but he submitted to the dominant Thor-lookalike almost immediately.

Clyde was messing up the pecking order and it was messing with my business.

“Easy solution,” I said, making some adjustments on the shrink gun. As I pointed it into the aquarium, I saw pure terror on the little mini-man stable as each of them imagined being shrunk to the size of dust mites. Clyde, still pressing away, was entirely unaware that he was my target.

“How much weight is he pushing?” I asked. “Proportionally, I mean.”

Gunther shrugged. “I… don’t really know the conversion rate or anything. But it’s more than the other guys have ever done, that’s for sure. And I think he’s up around 30 reps now!”

I pulled the trigger. At first, there was no visible reaction. Then Clyde’s vigorous presses started to slow. His feet lifted off the ground, his body starting to compress in on itself. He yelped as the weight came down hard, pinning him to the bench. Terry ran to his aid first, with the other models trailing behind.

The sound of the “massive weight” hitting the rack again made a pathetic sounding little “TINK!” I chuckled as I saw Terry help his former roommate off the bench.

Standing at full height, Clyde was staring into Terry’s ample pecs. He was still as muscular as ever, still maintaining his proportions, but he had lost over two inches in height. Clyde stepped back, looking UP at all the models now staring down at him, their arms folded, smirks appearing on all of their faces.

“Remember what you said back when we first met?” I said to Clyde, who was still staring at his just-under-four-inch-tall body, then up at the now-behemoths surrounding him. “That your ass was far too big for you to bottom? Do you think that will still be a problem?”

I smiled as I walked away, stroking the shrinking gun in my pocket. “I want them all sleeping together, every night,” I said to Gunther.

“Yeah, but won’t that–”

“You lost control of the situation,” I said as I opened the door. “You’re now just their gym teacher. I make all the other decisions. Understood?”

He nodded–of course, because he didn’t want to end up in the aquarium next to his little charges.