Size Play

[shrinking, multiple size differences]

Stan groaned as Tony, the masseuse, dug his fingers into his sore muscles. Tony’s thumb pressed into a knot behind his shoulder blade and Stan saw sparks and felt his face tingle. He grunted. Tony noticed.

“LOT of tension in here, Mr. Bracken,” Tony said.

“No shit,” Stan wheezed as he tried to breathe through Tony’s administrations.

“But work’s going good?” Tony asked.

He moaned as Tony’s fingers pinched at his thick, tight traps, then mustered up enough breath to respond: “Yeah, going good.”

Tony chuckled. “Isn’t it the middle of a work day for you?” he asked as he re-oiled his hands for another approach at Stan’s densely muscled back. Stan loved Tony’s massages, but hated his need for chit-chat, like a talkative uber driver or a dentist who asks a question once the drill dug into a tooth.

“We had a conference,” he replied. “Week-long thing, got cancelled as soon as my plane touched down. Covid.”

“Oh, wow!” Tony said. “So, paid week off then?”

“Yeah,” Stan replied. “Outside of some zoom meetings, I’m basically workless until next Monday.”

“I bet your boyfriend is going to be psyched when you get home early,” Tony said. “You two can finally have some quality time!”

Stan sighed. He hadn’t mentioned to Robbie that he was coming home early, looking forward to a few solo days in their house. Even if things had been going well with Robbie–a sentiment he hadn’t felt in almost a year now–Robbie was away for some powerlifting competition in Arizona. He wasn’t even competing, just heading out to support two of his clients who were.

Stan had queried Robbie about the hotel arrangements–he had his own hotel room, as did each of his clients, “...and they’re both straight anyway. This jealous detective bullshit is getting REALLY old.”--but he still didn’t feel great about his boyfriend leaving. He didn’t trust Robbie when he’d come home late from the gym; how could he trust him across the country?

“Looks like you’re losing weight, though!” Tony said cheerily. “Whatever diet you’re on really is knocking it out of the park! Anyway, our hour’s up.”

Stan thumbed out a few twenties as a tip and gathered his things. He glanced at his reflection in the glass door before he left the massage parlor. It wasn’t that long ago that his thick, burly body filled out that very same t-shirt to its edges. Now, it hung loosely, like he’d deflated. His professional life was overtaking his gym life, and his body was shedding the bulk he’d worked so hard to build.

Meanwhile, his boyfriend might be fucking around with some other guy who WAS still built like a brick shithouse. He wasn’t even sure if his relationship with Robbie was something he wanted to save, or if a big powerlifter body was what he wanted to look like. Back before he got his promotion, he had been so sure of who he was and what he wanted out of life. Now, a year in, he had no idea.

Maybe the pay increase hadn’t been worth it after all.

As he pulled into his driveway, Stan glanced at the lawn, covered with a smattering of fallen leaves. He kicked at them as he walked through them, enjoying the smell but curious why the lawn hadn’t been taken care of. Ted, their groundskeeper, had instructions to continue maintenance while they both were gone. He had a key. Where had he been?

Teddy answered just as he slid his key into the lock. “Oh, man, Mr. Bracken,” the college sophomore said. “I just thought… well, Mr. Danvers said you guys were going to be out of town, so I didn’t need to stop by.”

Stan shook his head. Why the hell would Robbie have said that? “Well, you think you could stop by tomorrow? The yard really needs your help.”

Stan didn’t even hear Robbie’s agreement. He hung the phone up without saying goodbye as he entered the house and saw a pair of gym shorts at the base of their stairs.

“Robbie?” he asked as he approached the garment, nudging it with his foot. He picked it up–it was sweaty, still warm, and he didn’t recognize it–and gave it a sniff. He knew Robbie’s smell; that wasn’t it. Further up the stairs he saw a cut-off shirt–Northeastern Powerlifting Champs. He remembered the meet he bought it for Robbie, and the day he cut off the sleeves for him.

Stan followed the trail of hastily discarded gym clothes–some of which were Robbie’s, while the unfamiliar items belonged to someone who wore size XXXL–to the bedroom. The door was open just a crack. He heard nothing but his heart pounding.

Stan clenched his fists and steeled himself. This is what he had wanted: evidence! And he was about to kick the door open and catch Robbie in the act. He could ditch Robbie and move on with his life, shed the pit in his stomach which was swallowing all his joy, and maybe find someone new! But there was a part of him that was still in love with Robbie despite everything. He knew that once that bedroom door was open, that part would die.

All at once he kicked the door open, but there was no one in the room. The bed was in disarray, more clothes strewn about, but no large men. He opened the bathroom door and felt the humidity of a recent shower. He saw a hand-swipe down the foggy mirror, the two discarded towels on the ground. Where the hell had Robbie gotten too?

As he searched the bedroom, he found a couple of small bottles on the bureau. They were unmarked, one red and one blue. Stan assumed they must have been lube or poppers. Then he found a wallet on their dresser. He took a deep breath before opening it to see the face of the guilty party: a bodybuilder from their gym. He went by the name JT, one of those freaks who ate every 70 minutes and constantly measured his bodyfat but still hovered around 300 pounds. Stan recalled a conversation he’d had with Robbie about guys like JT, who got so uselessly huge. “They can’t bench as much as us,” Stan had said, “can’t outlift us, spend all day taking pills and measuring their food… who would want a life like that?”

Robbie had laughed, joking about how JT was probably some “dickless roidfreak”--probably just to throw Stan off the trail. Had they been fucking then? Stan wondered. Or maybe sometime after, during one of Robbie’s late gym sessions, he’d gotten a glimpse of what JT had tucked in his shiny purple trunks he paraded around in and decided he liked it better than what Stan had to offer.

Stan collapsed down on the bed, feeling not only defeated but deprived of the catharsis of catching Robbie in a situation he couldn’t lie his way out of. Then he heard something–a squeak, muffled by the covers. He looked around, surprised. He saw a section of their comforter wriggling. He shivered at the idea of a rodent in their house. There was a finite amount of bad news he was able to process that day, and a rat might put him over the edge.

He yanked back the covers, expecting to see wriggling vermin. What he saw, he couldn’t believe easily: a tiny little tan man, scurrying on hands and knees to get back underneath the comforter. “What the fuck…” Stan said out loud, dropping down low. He thought it might be some sort of toy at first, but it was too realistic. There was a miniaturized human, bulging with muscles at only four-inches tall, struggling to escape him. Stan yanked the covers back more and slapped a hand down on the little guy, who squeaked in response. He felt warm, lumpy flesh, felt the little guy’s muscles flexing in his grip.

He felt nauseated as his hand curled around… whatever it was. He pulled it close to his face and took a look. It was JT, swallowed by Stan’s fist up to his shoulders, his bulging body struggling to fight his way out of the tightly enclosed fingers.

“What… the fuck…” Stan said. He’d never seen JT looking so terrified, so helpless. The blonde bodybuilder always strutted around like he was doing the room a favor for showing up. It struck Stan instantly that one gentle squeeze and JT was pulp in his hands.

“Lemme go!” JT squeaked. “Please… just… put me down. You’re hurting me!” Gone was JT’s powerful booming voice, now a high-pitched squeak. He was BEGGING! Stan felt his dick twitch, his nipples tingling.

Stan stood, holding JT close to his face. “The FUCK are you doing in my house?” Stan said. JT winced. Poor guy was so small, Stan’s voice had to be like an explosion to him.

“I… I…”

“You lie to me, I squash you against the wall,” Stan barked, charged by the power he felt.

“Robbie!” JT chirped. “Robbie did this… it was his idea. He invited me over, he gave me the stuff…”

Stan looked around. What “stuff”? “Where is Robbie?” Stan said, looking around.

“In the bed still!” JT said. “He’s… a lot smaller than me…”

Stan heard the buzz of a leafblower outside. He glanced outside to see Ted, already getting to work. With his free hand, he yanked the curtains closed before leering over the bed, scanning for his boyfriend.

“How much smaller?” Stan said. This was crazy, of course, but a human being who used to tower over him was now smaller than his cock, so there was no use standing around in disbelief.

“A lot smaller,” JT said. “Put me down. I have to find him! I dropped him when you sat on the bed.”

Stan’s dick jerked again, this time at the idea of JT, as small as he was, holding Robbie, which meant that his cheating lover had to be the size of a dust mite. He tossed JT carelessly down on the bed, then watched as the naked little bodybuilder crawled around searching, his hyper-developed limbs limiting his mobility.

As JT looked, Stan did the same. He considered the idea that he’d crushed Robbie without even knowing it. That was too much for him to process, of course; he refused to believe it, continuing to look.

“BABE!” JT called out, snatching up something that Stan couldn’t even see. The use of the pet name made the hair on his neck stand up. “I-I got him!” JT said, holding up his own fist. Stan leaned in, then walked to the chest of drawers next to the closet. He pulled a magnifying glass from a drawer and returned to the bed, dropping down.

He could barely believe it, but there was Robbie in JT’s hand, just as small to him as JT was to Stan. He stood on JT’s palm waving his thick limbs wildly. Even if he’d tried to talk, there was no way the formerly mountainous powerlifter could be heard by any full-sized human. How could anybody even BE that small?

“How the fuck did this happen?” Stan asked. Then he jabbed JT in the chest with a chubby finger. “Speak up, little man.”

“Th-the oils! On the nightstand!” JT said. “Robbie got them online, black market stuff. The blue one makes you small, the red one neutralizes it.”

Stan stared down at them, hand on his hips, taking in just how big a shadow he cast on the cheating couple.

“Just bring over the red bottle! One drop should turn us both back to normal.”

Stan walked to the table and lifted the tiny bottle. Next to it were two wineglasses with a bit of blue residue at the bottom. Clearly they had mixed their little potion with some chardonnay. He lifted one and walked over to the bed. “Do you have to drink it?” Stan asked, swishing around what was left in the glass. “Or could you just…” He tilted the glass, allowing the two drops at the bottom to drop down on JT’s head.

JT shrieked and tried to back away, but Stan’s hand held him in place. In just a moment, the powerfully built (but comically tiny) man’s body started to get smaller, his bulging frame dwindling away. Good god, he used to be such an impressive specimen! Now he was shrinking down to smaller than a toe.

Through it all, he continued to cradle Robbie like he was a pet lizard, shielding him from the solution. When it was done, the four-inch man was smaller than three inches. “Jesus, this stuff is powerful!” Stan said aloud, flipping the wineglass and slapping it down over the two tiny men. “That should hold you in place until I figure out what I want to do with you…”

Stan headed to the bathroom to piss. “Damn,” he thought. “Should have brought those two with me. I’d love to unload this on them!” He tried to figure out exactly what the attraction of this shrinking business could be. Was this some sort of secret fetish Robbie and JT shared? In their relationship, Robbie had always demanded to be the top, always dominant in the bedroom. Why would he want to be a tiny speck in the hands of a doll-sized man?

Before he was done peeing, he heard the sound of glass shattering from the bedroom. He snapped from his reverie and rushed out to find the wine glass in pieces along the floor. The tiny men were gone. Gently, he lifted the blankets and searched them to no avail. Then he dropped to his hands and knees and scanned under the bed. They were so small, they could be anywhere! Most likely, they would want to get back to the red bottle on the dresser, he thought. He snatched it up and put it on top of the bureau, an impossible height for the little men to reach. Then he dropped down again and scanned the carpet, stepping carefully.

For just one moment, he wondered what it would be like to just stomp his foot down and end the two shrunken men with one splat. He could ditch their clothes, ditch the mysterious bottles, and move on. But did they deserve it?

“Fuck,” Stan said, shaking his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fucking MURDER?” he mused aloud. “The fuck is wrong with me?” He had to find the little men, and soon. “C’mon, you guys,” he said, clicking on the flashlight on his phone to search under the bed. “I’ll give you your red bottle! Just come out before I squish you…”

“Mr. Bracken?”

Stan’s head jerked off as Ted poked his head into the room. “Ted, I’m, uh… kinda busy…”

“Mr. Bracken I’m really sorry, but the leaf-blower ran out of charge and I can’t find the power cord,” Ted said. “You need any help in here?”

Stan felt his blood pressure spike for a moment. “Ted, can you do me a favor?” he said, trying to keep a calm and even tone. “Next time you follow a trail of clothing to my bedroom, could you at least KNOCK before coming in?”

The curly-haired college student’s face blushed. “Oh, god, JEEZ,” he said, slamming the door shut. From the other side, he called, “God, I’m so sorry Mr. Bracken! I’ll, uh… go check downstairs.”

Stan paused. He couldn’t find JT and Robbie. They were just too small and there were too many hiding places. He glanced at the blue bottle on the nightstand. An idea popped in his head. He opened the door and called Ted’s name. “Hey Ted? How would you like to make some quick money?”

Ted blinked as he took in the story. Stan felt foolish as the details of the magic shrinking potions and the tiny muscular men came out of his mouth. Shockingly, Ted just nodded, smiling.

“So, you want me to… take a sip of that blue stuff?” Ted took a step into the bedroom toward the nightstand. Stan grabbed his shoulder.

“Careful where you step,” he said. “They could be around here anywhere.”

Ted’s posture shifted. He stepped lightly, examining the floor as he went. “Are you saying Mr. Danvers and that big dude he’s always hanging around with are in here, but they’re little?” he said.

Stan grumbled at the knowledge that other people knew that Robbie and JT were spending time together. He grabbed Ted’s wrist as he lifted the little bottle.

“Be VERY careful,” Stan said. “I saw one drop do quite a lot, so let’s start there.” He plucked the cork from the top of the bottle and let a single drop fall onto Ted’s hand. The 20-year old’s swimmer’s build started to collapse in on itself nearly instantly. He gasped as his clothes slid down his shrinking body, his pants falling to the floor, belt still buckled. He looked up at Stan as his shirt fell like a tent around him. Then it all stopped.

“Am I… am I small enough?” he said, his voice higher-pitched. Ted looked to be about three feet tall now, but still proportioned the same way. Stan was impressed with the size of Ted’s dick–which was tiny now, but at full size would have to have been a good 9-incher.

“Maybe a little more,” Stan said, tipping out a bit more of the formula. He yanked Ted’s polo shirt away as he shrunk into it more, watching the young man dwindle down until he stood, about six inches tall, amidst his bunched up boxer shorts. He looked up, eyes and jaw wide open. “Perfect,” Stan said.

“Mr. Bracken, you’re fucking HUGE!” Ted marveled, his own cock starting to stir. “Good GOD! I mean, you were big before, but… wow!”

Stan felt his own dick jerk at the idea of the tiny groundskeeper getting turned on by his size, but they had a task ahead of him. “Just… just start looking for JT and Robbie. You’re about twice JT’s size, so his muscles will be no match for you.”

Ted chuckled, beating his lean chest with his hands. “Hear that big guys? You’re no match for me!” He ran under the bed eagerly.

“Whoa, chill out!” Stan cautioned. “You don’t want to scare them! We gotta find them.” And if we don’t, he suddenly mused, maybe Ted and I can have fun with these little potions ourselves. Maybe he could grow Ted back to normal size, then shrink him down to half-height? Ted had always seemed to have a crush on a both Stan and Robbie–his eyes lit up at muscular men–maybe he’d like to explore Stan’s building-sized body? Or maybe he’d like to scale it like a mountain. The idea had Stan’s balls tingling. He’d never considered this before, but now he couldn’t let the idea go.

As Ted searched, Stan got to work cleaning up Robbie and JT’s discarded clothes. He carefully folded them as he collected them, putting them in a pile. It gave him time to think of what his next steps would be: he didn’t necessarily need to restore the two men back to normal size right away. There was an aquarium in the garage; maybe they could be kept in there for awhile until they’d sufficiently paid for running around behind Stan’s back?

“How’s the search going in there?” Stan called into the bedroom.

“I found them, but they’re slippery little buggers!” Ted’s tiny voice called back. “I’ll have them for you soon, though. I’ve got them cornered!”

Stan paused at the sight of a framed photo on their bureau: he and Robbie, back when they had first started dating, Robbie flexing triumphantly while Stan wrapped him in his bulky arms and kissed his chest passionately. His heart ached at the sight of their young love. Maybe I’ll toss that photo in the aquarium? he thought. Make him stare at a picture of himself that’s thirty times bigger, remind him just how SMALL he is!

With the aquarium in his arms, he trudged back into the room, setting it on the bureau. “Perfect,” he said. Maybe if he dug around Robbie’s toolbox, he could put together some nuts and bolts for JT to use as dumbbells so his precious physique didn’t decay as he paid his penance as a terrarium pet. He chuckled at the idea of Robbie lifting grains of sand like they were atlas stones.

Stan returned to the bed and crouched down. “How are things going, Ted?”

Ted suddenly emerged from under the bed, dragging JT by the arm. “Got them!” he said. It startled Stan so much he jumped, his back striking the nightstand next to him. He heard the tinkling of glass and felt a few drops of something hitting his scalp.

“Wait… what the…” Stan said as he rose up, examining the blue residue on his fingers after rubbing the wetness in his hair. He stared, horrified, at the blue bottle tilted on its side, spilling its contents. He barely had time to react as he felt a tingling throughout his whole body.

Stan took a step back, his foot slipping from his shoe. His shirt seemed to be expanding, the sleeves stretching down past his hands as his pants fell down. The room shot up around him as he tried to maintain his balance despite the feeling of falling with his feel still planted on the floor. A moment later, the man found sinking into his shirt, staring up at the ceiling through the neck hole in his shirt. He stumbled as the shirt came crashing down on him. He could see light at its edge but it seemed to be getting further away as he crawled toward it. The whole time, he heard a high-pitched screech. It took him a full minute to realize it was the sound of his own voice yelling as his body continued to dwindle down to nothing.

A HUGE foot nudged the edge of Stan’s impossibly huge shirt away. He was blinded by light. With his eyes shielded, he stared up–at a JT, who towered over him, and Ted, who towered over JT. Nothing else looked familiar. The world around him may have been an alien planet; he didn’t even recognize the clothes he’d just shrunken out of, now just colorful mountains and rippling caves.

“He’s fucking TINY!” Ted’s voice boomed so loud Stan had to cover his ears. “You! Muscles! Grab him!” Ted ordered. JT reached down with his free hand and snatched Stan up. Stan couldn’t believe the power shift; he was now helpless in the palm of a man he could’ve crushed minutes before.

JT placed his palms together. Stan’s heart leapt as he saw Robbie. He wanted to run out to his lover, to find comfort in his big arms, but he knew he would find no warmth there now. As Robbie walked toward him, Stan shivered as he realized that his eyeline was even with the bottom of Robbie’s pec. They had once been the exact same height, but now Robbie was two heads taller.

“Well, what the fuck are we going to do now?” Robbie said, stroking his cock as he examined Stan’s burly, hairy body. He looked up at JT, who looked up at Ted.

“Where’s the red bottle?” JT demanded, giving his hand a vigorous shake.

“I put it…” Stan didn’t want to say it out loud. He just pointed up.