Squashed

[6 word request: Flex Lewis Muscle Compacted Three Feet]

The grand opening event of the Dragon’s Lair Gym in Las Vegas was a resounding success, and Flex Lewis, the new gym’s proud owner, couldn’t have been more pleased. He was thrilled to see all the media coverage and his friends in the bodybuilding community turning out in such large numbers. He nodded at Jay Cutler as he passed by. Phil Heath fist-bumped him.

“Gym’s amazing,” said Canadian bodybuilder Antoine Vaillant. “Really nice work, Flex.”

Flex shrugged his massive Olympia-winning shoulders. “Thanks, man. Appreciate the support.”

Flex tried not to cringe as he saw Craig Golias lumbering toward him. The 330 pound mammoth grinned wildly as he noticed Flex, carelessly shoving the crowd aside with his wide body as he thundered toward the little Welsh bodybuilder.

“Flex, buddy guy! This new gym is OFF THE CHARTS!” he said, grabbing Flex and lifting him off the ground. Flex couldn’t believe Craig was picking him up like he was a pet.

“Dammit!” Flex said, using his powerful arms to break Craig’s hold on him. “Get off me, Craig! I mean it!”

Craig put the 5’5” bodybuilder down on the ground gently, then patted his head. Flex swatted Craig’s big hand away. “It’s just… I’m a whole foot taller than you, and you’re just so cute!” Craig coochie-cooed Flex’s face and the angry former Mr. Olympia spun around and started stomping away.

“Flex! Dude!” Craig called after him as Flex stormed off. “I just think you’re my favorite teeny-tiny bodybuilder! Really, you should be the IFBB’s mascot!”

Flex smiled at several people reaching out to connect with him, but he continued on his beeline to the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and locked it, needing a minute away from the bodybuilding community and--more importantly--the dozens of cameras.

Flex couldn’t believe Craig would act so disrespectfully in public like that. Flex knew that Craig was just a big oaf, that he was so huge no one ever dared to tell him he was out of line, but Flex really deserved more respect than that.

“Fucking mascot,” Flex spat as he stared into the mirror. As a youth he’d been teased about his height, but not since he’d gotten into bodybuilding. Despite his short stature, his 240 award-winning pounds of muscle were impressive enough that even taller men described him as “big.”

He paused to take a piss, but as yanked down the front of his shorts, he felt a chill. He shivered, then shivered harder--was he having muscle spasms? Before he could figure out what the strange sensation pulsing through his body was, he watched the urinal before him starting to rise.

It wasn’t just the urinal; Flex looked around and watched the tiled walls, the Dragon’s Lair logo painted on the wall in front of him, even the sink across the room starting to rise. He felt nauseous as his gazed sank down to the pipe beneath the urinal.

But as his height sank down, the rest of his body hadn’t seem to lose size at all. In fact, as he sank down, he was also spreading out--thickening greatly as all his mass compressed. He stumbled backwards on impossibly thick legs and looked around. He couldn’t even see his short, thick cock beyond the depth of his now-gargantuan pecs.

He quickly zipped his pants up and spun around. The handle to the door was so high now! He estimated he had to be about three feet tall. He knew he should be panicking over this, but for some reason… he felt calm. His mind knew this was all wrong, but something about this squashed down, thick body seemed… like it had always been like that.

Out of the bathroom, he waddled out into the crowd of his new gym, surprised that he was looking up at all the crotches of the muscular men around him. He couldn’t even see their faces, just their bouncing, sweaty bulges stuffed into their tight gym shorts. Someone reached down and patted him on the head.

“Who--who’s that?” Flex said, shocked by his squeaky high-pitched voice. He couldn’t see past all the pecs and broad shoulders above him!

SUddenly, powerful hands grabbed him and hoisted him up. “Geez, Flex, you’re dense as FUCK!” Craig Golias said, chucking as he set Flex down on a nearby weight bench.

“Damnit, Craig, put me down!” Flex said. He’s meant to sound angry, but it came out playfully. What the hell was wrong with him? he wondered. He should have been running for a phone and calling a doctor, not acting like being a squished down fireplug was a normal thing!

“Flex, c’mon buddy… I want to get a workout with a Mr. Olympia! Let’s get lifting!” Craig said, clapping his hands together like an idiot child.

“Okay, okay,” Flex said, hopping off the bench. He was shocked at how far away the ground was for his stumpy little legs!

Still struggling to roll his bloated quads around he other, he headed for a nearby set of dumbbells. He had to reach up to grab them, but he lifted the 80s with ease.

“Those dumbbells are as big as you are!” Craig hollered.

Flex ignored the comment and started curling. He could only lift the dumbbells a few inches before his swollen biceps got in the way. It suddenly dawned on him that all this piled-up muscle was going to get in the way. With arms this short and wide, and pecs this massive, he would probably only be able to bench press a few inches!

Flex let out a high-pitched squeak as he felt Craig’s massive paw grabbing hold of his t-shirt. Craig curled little Flex, dumbbells and all, several times before dropping him back on the ground. Flex’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as he heard cameras snapping all around him. Why weren’t these people surprised to see him like this?

A moment after he thought of the question, he noticed a poster on the wall. It was a photo of Flex winning a contest, standing next to a trophy that was almost as tall as he was. A few feet away was another photo of Flex in a posedown against bodybuilders who towered over them, his squat body only coming up to their bulges.

He had always been like this. He suddenly remembered years of being known as the “tiniest bodybuilder in the IFBB” and winning the Mr. Olympia despite being unable to grab things higher than four feet off the ground. He was like the IFBB’s adorable little mascot, despite his efforts to seem intimidating and aggressive.

“Hey, Flex, you should say your name a lot, like Pikachu,” Craig said as Flex walked--which now was more like shuffling his weight back and forth between his feet--toward a cable pulldown machine.

Flex stared up at the hanging bar, a few feet above his head. He reached up and tried to jump, but his dense little musclebod couldn’t get more than a few inches off the ground.

“Allow me,” Craig said, but rather than just pulling the bar down to Flex, he grabbed the little Welshman by the waist and lifted him up so he could grab it himself. Then he let Flex hang from the bar a bit before pulling him down to the seat. Meanwhile, cameras flashed away.

When the workout was over, Flex headed for the showers, furious that Craig was still following him.

“Just leave me alone so I can shower for a bit, please!” Flex demanded. But when he walked into the shower, he realized the knob was far too high for him.

“I’ll get that,” Craig said, chuckling as he strutted his enormous, now naked, body around the shower room.

With the shower on, Flex wet his bloated little physique as best he could. He held his bottle of body wash in one hand and tried to bring his other hand around to collect the squeeze, but his huge pecs and the general inflexibility of his over-pumped arms wouldn’t let him. Instead he set the bottle on the floor and stepped on it, grabbing a handful of what came out.

But now what? He did his best to flex his arm enough to reach his pecs, but that was as far as he could go. He looked down at himself, twisted his torso as much as he could to stare back at his bulbous ass, and wondered how the hell he was going to wash any of him.

“Need some help, little guy?” Craig said. Powerful hands worked a lather all over Flex’s body, and despite the degrading nature of the contact, Flex felt good to get the grime of his workout off him.

Flex giggled as Craig’s big fingers swept across his dimpled glutes and tickled his balls. “Okay, that’s enough soap, big guy!” Flex chirped.

“I’ve always wanted to use a Mr. Olympia as a loofah,” Craig groaned as he hoisted little flex up to his enormous body and started rubbing his sudsed up musclebod all over.