SQUISH, Part 1

"Someone has taken his love of shrink rays too far!"

A patron asked if I was doing anything for a "Halloween"-style story, so I wrote this little Scream-like parody. It features shrinking, big burly athletes, and SQUASHING (which I acknowledge isn't a usual theme in my stories), so CW: this is a shrinking horror story!

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Max walked cautiously toward his apartment door with his fingers threaded through five grocery bags (per hand). The load itself wasn’t heavy, but he could feel the plastic handles starting to stretch. “C’mon, dammit, c’mon,” he willed, hoping he could at least get to his kitchen before they broke. He used his foot to kick the door handle down, cursing himself that the door was locked. “Dammit, thought I left this thing open…” he cursed. He fumed as he realized he was going to have to set down his grocery haul and fish out his keys. He fished them out, gave them a jingle, and opened the door.

He paused as he opened the door; there was a loud clatter behind him. He turned around and examined the dark street he lived on. He around his car, to the neighbor’s lawns. “Hello?” he called. No response. “Must have been the wind or… something…” he said, adjusting his backwards baseball cap.

With his groceries on the counter, he started to unpack them. “Pizza rolls would be KILLER,” he said, twisting the oven knobs to start the preheat. His phone, on the adjacent counter, vibrated, buzzing two inches toward the edge. He turned to reach for it, suddenly noticing a shadowy figure at his door.

“Jesus!” he called out, grabbing a knife from the cutlery block out of impulse. The shadowy figure knocked. He approached the kitchen door, squinting, unable to make out whoever it was. “Hello? Who’s there?” he called. The figure just banged again. He took a deep breath, grabbed the door and threw it open.

“Holy shit!” both he, and the man standing there, exclaimed. It was Dr. Langenkamp, his next door neighbor. The portly older gentleman backed away from the brandished knife.

“Don’t… don’t hurt me!” Dr. Langenkamp said. He still wore his bowtie and vest, the same outfit he’d given lectures in all day. His mustache twitched with anxiety.

Max sighed, slamming the knife down on the counter. “I’m not gonna hurt you, dude. You just scared the shit out of me.”

Dr. Langenkamp paused, collected himself, and approached the door again. “I think everyone is on edge, what with all the disappearances and all…”

Max nodded. “Yeah, so maybe don’t go banging on people’s doors late at night,” he suggested. “Do you need something?”

“I just wanted to tell you that your door was unlocked earlier! That really isn’t safe,” Dr. Langenkamp said. “I locked it for you.”

Suddenly a loud barking came from beyond the fence, on Dr. Langenkamp’s property. Both men spun around in surprise. Dr. Langenkamp rolled his eyes. “Oh, Kane, you quiet down!” he shouted. “Sorry about that. Kane’s really antsy to go on a walk, which I’m not so eager to do knowing that people have been disappearing all over town lately…”

Max shook his head. “Why were you checking my door anyway?”

Dr. Langenkamp grinned. “Oh, when you came home with your laundry earlier today, some of it fell out of the basket. I was just bringing it in for you.” He gestured to the counter behind Max, on which a plastic baggy containing several pairs of Max’s boxers sat. “Didn’t want them getting all filthy and all.”

“Well, thank you,” he said, irritated. His phone vibrated again. He turned toward it, wondering why his visitor wasn’t leaving. “Anyway, have a good night, doc.”

“Is that boyfriend of yours coming over later?” the doctor said, adjusting his glasses. “I just worry about you being all alone in your house. I have Kane to protect me, but…”

Max smiled. “I’m a pretty big dude,” he said, gesturing toward his stocky rugby-built physique. “It’d take someone pretty massive to scare me. But yeah, he is coming over later.”

“Good,” Dr. Langenkamp said with a smile. His tongue darted out of his mouth in a way that made Max uncomfortable. Kane barked again. “Well, I’d better get to walking that old mutt! Have a good night.”

Max smiled as the doctor left. He locked the door behind him. Just for safety’s sake, he locked the windows too. His phone vibrated once again.

Two missed calls–which both came up “Unknown number”–and a text from Chet, his boyfriend: “You home?”

“Yep, waiting for you,” Max texted back. He checked his voicemail. Whoever called from the blocked number didn’t leave a message.

“Alone?”

“WTF? Course I’m alone.” He paused, then added, “Actually, Doc. Lang. was here bugging me before. Old perv is still horny for me. He was returning some underwear of mine he found. What a creep!”

The oven beeped loudly. He opened a package of pizza rolls and put them on a foil-wrapped tray. Another text from Chet: “What are you cooking?”

Max smiled. “Aw, big bear needs food after football practice?” He followed it with a bear emoji, a flexing arm emoji, and a slice of pizza. “Don’t worry, I’ll feed my big guy up nice and full. Super horny for you BTW.” He added an eggplant emoji and a fire emoji.

His phone rang. “Unknown number” again.

“Fucking blocked number keeps calling me,” he texted back to Chet.

“Answer it,” Chet responded.

He shrugged. Why not? “Hello?”

“H-hello,” said a deep, gravelly voice.

“Yeah?” Max added.

“Who is this?”

“Somebody wondering why the fuck you’re hiding your number,” Max said. He grabbed a beer from his fridge and clicked it open. “Lemme guess: my car warranty is expired…”

“You’re funny,” the voice said. “No, I’m not calling about your car warranty.”

“So you’re just wasting my time?” Max asked, sipping his beer. He walked into the living room, turning on the TV. Some old monster movie–Kurt Russell and some spider-thing in the snow–that he rolled his eyes at. How old was this movie? Effects look like shit!

“Well, are you busy doing something?” the voice asked. “I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

“As a matter of fact…” Max began.

“You sound big,” the voice added.

“Oh, do I?” Max said with a grin. “What exactly does ‘big’ sound like?”

“Y’know how when a guy works out… I mean, you can just HEAR that he has muscles? You can hear it in his voice.”

“You think I work out?” Max said, licking his lips. The voice was pretty sexy. He checked his phone; no response texts from Chet. He could entertain this for a bit.

“Yeah,” the voice snapped back. “I’m betting you just CAME from the gym. You’re one of those guys, hunh?”

Max chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I just fucking CRUSHED a chest workout and my pecs are swole as FUCK.”

“See?” the voice hissed back. “That’s totally something a big dude would say. I bet you’re HUGE, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Max said, taking another swig of his beer. “How big are you?”

“Guess,” the voice hissed.

“Let me guess… You’re 5’5” but you tell everyone you’re 5’9”. I bet girls are PISSED when you show up to dates.” He clicked through channels on his television: that old 90s show about the five orphans, some Schwarzeneggar movie with Tom Arnold. “Am I close?”

“A lot of people tell me I seem HUGE,” the voice said. It seemed to be deeper. Whoever this was, he suddenly seemed more confident. It made Max shiver for some reason.

“Oh, I bet you’re a real giant,” Max said.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” the voice asked.

Max paused. He cocked his head to the side. “Nope.”

“So? How big are you?”

“Fucking HUGE,” Max said. “So big the ground shakes when I walk. I gotta turn sideways to get through doors. I just pick up cows and squeeze the milk out of them and swallow them whole! I real honest fucking giant.”

“You’re not that big,” the voice snapped. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

Max finished his beer. He set it on the coffee table and rose to go back to the kitchen. “I just got bored with this. See ya later, big man.”

“Better check your pizza rolls,” the voice said back.

Max froze. He spun around. The kitchen smelled strongly of garlicky sauce and cheese. “What did you just say?” he asked. He walked back into the kitchen, peering out the windows. He checked the lock on the front door.

“Did something scare you?” asked the voice.

“Why did you say pizza rolls?” Max asked.

“Did I guess correctly?” the voice asked.

“Why do you always answer a question with a question?” Max asked. He peered into the dark hallway leading away from the kitchen, taking a deep breath before switching the light on. He opened the coat closet door and immediately pounded a fist in–but hit nothing but hanging sweatshirts.

“I’m inquisitive,” said the voice.

“Yeah, and I’m impatient,” Max snapped back. “Trust me, if you think you can scare me, you’re in over your head.”

Max’s phone vibrated. He was getting an incoming video call–from Chet.

“I’d take that video call if I were you,” the voice said with a snicker. “Because your big football player boyfriend is about to be WAY in over his head!”

Max shivered. He headed back into the kitchen, looked outside again, then answered the video call.

It was Chet, clearly, but he was shirtless and facing away. Max would recognize that wide, muscular back anywhere though. He saw the big bulky traps sloping forward, Chet’s head bobbing gently. Whoever was holding the phone was behind him for some reason…

“Chet? Babe, what’s going on?”

The phone slowly panned out. Max felt sick as he realized CHet was naked, his legs bound at the ankles by clear tape. As the camera panned even further back, Max saw his boyfriend standing at the edge of some large hole, surrounded by a white platform…

The camera panned further. It looked like Chet was standing on some… giant toilet? A black-gloved hand came into frame. Somehow–it had to be video editing or something–the hand was bigger than Chet was!

One of the gloved fingers roughly nudged the bound football lineman, turning his powerfully built body toward the camera. Max saw that Chet’s arms were bound by the same clear tape, with more over his mouth. He looked bruised. He was shaking. Max had never seen Chet looking so defenseless before.

“This isn’t fucking real,” Max said.

“Oh, it’s ABSOLUTELY real,” the voice said. “We’re gonna play a little game, you and I. And if you answer my questions correctly, I’ll let you keep your big tough boyfriend. He’ll have to live in an aquarium, and he’ll be smaller than your cock, but just think how obedient he’ll be!”

Max’s heart pounded. Chet was trying to say something, but his mouth was muffled by tape–still, the sounds he made were high-pitched squeaks, not the deep booming voice his 300 pound boyfriend usually spoke with.

“But if you get the questions wrong, poor Chet’s going to take a little dip… and going down the drain!”

“This isn’t real,” Max repeated again, wishing that to be true. “This isn’t FUCKING real!” The huge hand came into frame again and the giant finger flicked Chet against his head. He raised his arms–arms that Max had seen press over 400 pounds with ease–but the big hand was too much for him. It knocked him down. The bulky lineman fell down, rolled toward the edge of the toilet seat–but caught himself just before he tumbled in. He struggled to his feet. “What… what questions?” Max asked.

“How tall is Chet right now?”

Max’s heart pounded. “Wh-what? What the fuck?”

“Time’s running out for your dear boyfriend,” teased the voice.

“You sick fuck, how the fuck… I mean, he’s normally 6’5”--”

“He clearly isn’t now, is he?” threatened the voice. “Better guess soon!”

“I-I… What am I supposed to do, guess?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” the voice said with a sinister laugh. “He’s exactly the same size as his cock used to be.”

Max blinked. “You sick sonuvabitch, what the fuck are you…” He headed toward the front door–he should get help, shouldn’t he?--then backed away. Where would he go? Who would he call? Chet’s face winced as the formerly tough-guy silently pleaded for Max’s help.

“Remember that big cock? That big thing going down your throat, jamming up your ass… you probably know his cock better than he does, don’t you?”

Max almost sobbed. Of course he did–but it’s not like he ever measured it! The truth was, Chet didn’t have the biggest dick (made to look even smaller between his massive thighs). He certainly knew how to use what he had, though.

“5 and a half!” Max blurted out. “5 and a half inches!”

Max heard the whir of a zipper. A cockhead appeared in frame. “Sorry, but that’s the wrong answer.”

“You motherfucker!” Max said, tears forming in his eyes. How was this happening? This wasn’t possible!

“Chet’s dick is only four inches long… did he lie and add an inch to make him look like a BIG man? Too bad… he’s not so big now, is he?”

A stream of piss burst forth, hitting little Chet with the force of a fire house. He was blasted off his feet, plummeting down into the depths of the toilet. Damn, flailing in the water he looked even smaller! Max shook as he refused to believe what he was singing. With his arms and legs bound, Chet was having trouble swimming.

“Fuck!” Max shouted. “You fucking asshole, don’t you dare!” The camera panned around. It turned toward a face wearing a hockey mask. “Who the fuck are you?” Max laughed as the creepy voice came from behind the mask.

“Aw, do you want to save this puny little bug?” the masked man said. “Don’t you wish you knew where we were so you could rush in and pluck him out?” The view panned around again, focused on the coughing, sputtering man in the toilet. But as it panned, Max had noticed a quick flash of the surrounding bathroom. He saw the shower curtain–neon blue and bright orange waves.

It was his shower curtain.

“You gotta be fucking shitting me…” Max pitched the phone at the ground and sprinted down his hallway. “CHET!” he shouted. “CHET, I’m coming, buddy!”

He ran up the stairs to the second floor, his heart nearly bursting when he saw the bathroom light on. He grabbed the door and threw it open, bursting in. He dove for the toilet… but there was nothing in it. He felt warm piss all over the seat. Chet’s phone was next to the sink. But the toilet was empty.

“Fuck…” Max said, plunging his hand into the cold water, reaching up the pipe. He couldn’t feel anything… but then again, the tank wasn’t refilling. The toilet hadn’t been recently flushed. He stood up, backing away. “Fuck… was it all fake?” He turned, catching a glimpse of his sweaty, muscular body in the mirror. He took a step backward.

He barely heard the high-pitched squeaking behind him as his foot came down. He felt a warm squish under his foot. “What the…” He lifted up his foot to see a pulpy mess underneath. “What the fuck?!” he cried. There was no way… no way! He grabbed a towel to wipe off the mess, horrified at the idea of what he had just done. A flash hit him–that of tiny Chet, overjoyed to see his tiny boyfriend coming to save him at last, so small he wasn’t even noticed as the foot came down…

The shower curtain suddenly flung open and a figure in dark coveralls and a hockey mask leapt toward Max. He dove out of the bathroom, his foot slipping with the mess under his heel. He turned to face the attacker, then balled up his fists. “You sonuvabitch!” he shouted, squaring up his shoulders. This guy, whoever he was, was a scrawny fuck! “I’m gonna fucking destroy you!” He leapt at the intruder.

“The only thing you’re destroying today…” said the creepy figure, producing a small plastic gun with a spiraling barrel, “is your relationship.” A wave of purple light blasted from the gun. It hit Chet with so much force it repelled his attack, knocking him back into the hallway. He lay on the ground, checking himself for visible wounds. When he realized he was okay, he jumped to his feet, ready to beat the shit out of this creep in his house.

His pants fell down. His hat fell over his head. “What the fuck?” he said, tossing his hat away. His clothes were too big–and getting bigger! His shirt sleeves seemed to be growing away from him. He stepped out of his shoes, suddenly realizing that the intruder was taller than he was–and still getting taller!

The intruder lunged at him, but Max turned and dove down the steps. Each step seemed to get higher and higher. Before he was all the way down them, he felt his sweaty shirt collapse down over him like a tent. He had to climb out the neck hole; when he did, he looked down at the next step. It was a twenty-foot drop! He had to hang over the edge before dropping down.

He could hear the thunderous steps of the intruder coming at him–good god, he was ENORMOUS! His gloved hands snatched out. Max dove again, now naked, and ran as fast as he could down the hallway. It seemed like it was a mile long! The front door was getting farther and farther away. Each of the intruder’s steps felt like an earthquake, but Max’s muscular body was no stranger to sprinting.

The huge hand coming down at him nearly grabbed him several times, but Max rolled out of the way. The kitchen–now unfathomably cavernous–was filling with smoke, the fire alarm going off now. His only hope for escape was to crawl under the front door. He dove under it just as the gloved hand snatched at him… and his naked body slid right underneath.

Outside, he realized he must have stopped shrinking. The step down off the porch was a long fall that made his knees throb, but he kept running. That giant maniac was behind him. As he ran up his walk, he tried not to look at the blades of grass towering over him. How small had he gotten? He felt like he was running forever.

Out on the sidewalk, he saw a building-sized man approaching him. “Oh, shit…” he said aloud, shocked at the chirrupy squeak his voice had become. The guy was like a skyscraper bounding toward him–it was Dr. Langenkamp!

“Help me!” Max said, waving his arms wildly. The doctor just kept walking. Max heard a loud snarl and spun around, terrified to see Kane, the doctor’s dog, looming over him. The creature–bigger than a jet to the tiny athlete–barked at him. The sound was so loud, Max thought his head might explode. He threw his hands over his ears, falling to his knees. Kane leaned in, sniffing the naked man a bit, before slurping him up.

Max’s cries went quiet almost immediately.

“What is that you’ve got there?” Dr. Langenkamp said as his dog swallowed whatever he had found. “Dammit, Kane, you’re going to have diarrhea if you keep eating bugs off the ground!” The doctor paused as he realized he could hear the fire alarm coming from Max’s apartment. “Good god!” he said, pulling out his phone as he approached. “Oh god, I hope Max is okay!” The door was still locked, smoke coming from the oven. He dialed 911 as Kane barked at the sound of the alarm.