Big Barney's Bouncer Blues

Big Barney's Bouncer Blues

It was only 8 o'clock and Barney already had a potential brawl in the bar that he’s got to diffuse. As he rushed inside, wedging his barrel-shaped body through the clusters of drunk college kids, it dawned on him that this scuffle might be his own fault.

Barney was the head bouncer at the Draft, where entitled kids with heir dads’ credit cards drank $1 well drinks until they couldn’t even stand. He worked the front door, maintained the line outside, and ID’d the little shitheads as they came in. “I take shits bigger than these fuckers,” Barney often thought as he compared his bulky powerlifting frame to the bony kids in skinny jeans walking in and stumbling out.

That night Barney saw Craig Oxfelter, the star left tackle of the university team, approach the front door with his hot little blond girlfriend. Of all these little runts, Ox, as Barney called him, was the only one he can respect. He was 325 lbs of shaven-headed athletic steel, and at 6’ 6" tall, towered over his peers. Even Barney felt a little tinge of intimidation when he shook Ox’s big bearpaws. On top of being an absolute beast, Ox was polite and respectful, even though he could fold most of these kids (and, to be honest, Barney himself too) in half with little effort. So Barney waved Ox and his sweet little girl over and let them cut the line. “Thanks Bar,” Ox said with a massive fist bump.

Of course, this little blonde-haired fratkid, acting like he had big arms in a size S tank top, had something to say. “What the fuck is this? Big fucking caveman gets to cut the line but we gotta wait?”

Barney knew the kid’s name: Clifford York the third. He’d tossed him and his two little lackeys Ben and Paul, who were at that moment rallying to their buddy’s side in their equally unimpressive tank tops, out of the bar a handful of times before.

“Easy little guy,” Barney said to Clifford as Ox and his girl strode into the bar. “When you’re the big man you can call the shots, got it?” The three frat boys roiled a little to themselves but seemed to get over it.

Until later, when the bouncer Barney called Hawkeye (because nothing ever escaped him) saw the three frat boys confronting Ox near the dance floor. Ox and Clifford were chest to chest (or rather, chest to stomach, since Ox towered over his opponent) when Barney got there so he immediately put his brawny body between them. It was a rare sight, Ox moving toward violence off the field. Normally he was a peaceful giant everybody loved, or at least knew better than to screw with.

“I’m getting real sick of having to toss you guys out of here,” Barney said to Clifford and his sidekicks.

“That’s bullshit. You automatically side with the big mongoloid?” chirped Clifford. Guys like him, who did crunches and curls and called it a day, loved to mouth off to bigger dudes. If the big dude walks away he’s a pussy. If he swings he’s a bully. Barney was tired of little fucks like him, but since he was on the clock, he decided to be diplomatic.

Turning to Ox (and a little worried, because Ox was barely putting any force in and Barney still had trouble holding him back), “You don’t want this, Ox. You’ve got too much going for you. And they don’t want this either, big man,” Barney said, thumbing at the three underfed guys behind him and eyeing up the big bald lineman, who was big and solid as a brick wall. “They know you’d squash these fuckers with one hand!”

“I’d like to see him try!” Cliff shouted. He reminded Barney of a little yippy dog. “Me and my boys would cream that dumb ape.” Barney tried to surpress a smirk.

“C'mon, Bar, they’ve been heckling me since we came in, harassing my girl,” Ox rumbled in his deep voice.

“You’re better than these little pipsqueaks,” Barney said. “Just head to the bar and grab a drink for yourself and your lady, on me, and ignore these Mosquitos.” Ox shook his head, grabbed his girl’s hand and headed to the bar. Then Barney turned to the frat trio. “You guys start any more trouble in my bar and I’m banning you for good.”

Clifford leaned forward to retort, but his buddy Ben grabbed him and whispered something in his ear. Then all three of them got these shit-eating grins that made Barney want to knock them all out right there. But then they bowed their heads and dispersed back into the crowd. “No more troubles in the bar,” Clifford said in his weaselly voice.

Back at the front door, Hawkeye spotted some kids drinking smuggled beers in the line about twenty people back. Hawkeye was a sturdy kid, but Barney decided to handle it. He was roughly the size of a refrigerator with the kind of size only a lifetime of heavy deadlifting can build. He easily yanked the beers away from the punks and one-handed them each into the street. As he returned to his post, Hawkeye looked panicked.

“I just saw Ox follow those three punks out the side door to the alley!” he blurted out. Barney darted around the building to the alley, hoping he got there in time to stop Ox from turning those guys into three messy stains on the wall.

The alley was foggy for some reason (fucking kids and their vapeing), and dark (because Mel, the owner, was too cheap to buy a lightbulb for back there) but as the fog cleared, Barney saw the three frat guys, completely unharmed. Ox was nowhere to be found.

“You punks come out here to fight?” Barney said, looking around for the massive lineman.

“Just to talk,” Clifford said with a smarmy look on his face. “And the big meathead decided he was headed home.”

The story didn’t add up, but nothing about this scene did. “All right, back inside. I’m seriously on my last nerve with you guys.” He let them back in through the back door.

Before he left the alley Barney heard something weird–a high-pitched moaning from behind the alley dumpster. Sure enough, leaned up against the wall back there was a tiny little bald kid, completely wasted.

With a deep sigh, Barney hoisted the kid to his feet. He was light as a feather, couldn’t weigh more than 90 lbs, 5 feet tall if he was lucky. Barney chuckled when the kid’s sleeve fell back to reveal a tribal tattoo that looked ridiculous on his bony arm. “Kids think they can just buy their badassness. Too lazy to lift up a damned weight.”

When he got a good look at the shrimp, stumbling on unsteady legs, he worried that they’d served a minor, but it was just a really small, underdeveloped guy. Barney didn’t remember seeing the kid come through the front door, but then again he was so small he might have just slipped by. The shrimp was completely obliterated, no doubt because a guy that size would be wasted on only a couple of beers. “Can’t drink like the big fellas, can ya little guy?” Barney chided. He really was tired of picking up after little punks who didn’t know their limits.

The shrimp tried to focus his eyes. “Baaaarrrrrr…” he moaned, his voice so high Barney doubted he kid’s testicles had dropped yet.

“No more Bar for you little guy,” Barney said, hoisting the shrimp over his shoulder and walking him out to the front.

Sure enough, the night remained interesting: Hawkeye had seen the frat trio again harassing Ox’s girlfriend, but Ox was nowhere in sight.

“I’ll deal with them,” Barney said. “You take this little guy and get him in a cab and out of my sight.” He handed the shrimp over to Hawkeye like he was nothing.

When Barney saw Clifford getting grabby with Ox’s girl, he took great pleasure in grabbing Clifford by his pencil neck and hoisting him into the air, marching him out the front door. He swung wildly but his Barney barely registered the struggle, or the protests of Clifford’s little lackeys. Barney tossed Clifford on the sidewalk.

“As long as you see me at this front door I don’t ever want you coming back!” Barney declared. A small crowd gathered around to see. Clifford hopped to his feet and Barney hoped he would throw a punch. He couldn’t wait to waste the kid. But Clifford’s two buddies grabbed him, again whispering in his ear, and the fight left Clifford’s body. He dusted himself off and confidently walked away.

As they passed Hawkeye, Clifford stopped to point at the shrimp, who was propped up against the building and barely coherent. The shrimp lunged at the three but Hawkeye easily caught him and pulled him back–a mercy move; even if he’d been stone sober, the frat guys would have easily wasted the little pipsqueak. Barney was thrilled to see the three disappear around the corner.

“I’ve got a cab coming,” Hawkeye said, steadying the shrimp with one hand. “Thing is, the address this kid’s giving me is the football house. No way does he live there.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Barney said. “I’m tired of looking at him.”

Ox’s girlfriend stopped to thank Barney on her way out the door. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Barney asked.

“He left like an idiot to fight those punks and never came back,” she said. “I’m kind of pissed at him.”

Suddenly, for some reason, the shrimp whimpered and reached out for her. Poor guy was struggled to get even a single word out but was too wasted to do even that.

“You know this kid?” Barney asked.

She backed away with a look of disgust on her face. “Never seen him before in my life.” As she walked away, Hawkeye threw the shrimp in a cab. He held one skinny arm out the window as it pulled away like he was reaching for her.

“What a creep,” Barney said, happy to finally have all of this college kid nonsense resolved with his night almost over. “I’d hate to be him when he wakes up tomorrow.”

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and Barney was thrilled to finally punch out and head home. Tomorrow was a big squat day, and he had to be up early. Still, the night kind of felt unresolved.

In the parking lot Barney spotted the trio again and his adrenaline surged. Clifford was leaning against his car! Now that he was off the clock, with no witnesses, he couldn’t wait to put these punks away.

“I’m giving you one warning to step away from my car, and I’m really hoping you choose to ignore it.” Barney walked slowly now, swinging his huge arms to emphasize his bulk. He couldn’t wait to cream these fuckers.

“I tell ya what,” Clifford said without moving a muscle. “You move me from this spot and we’ll all take off, and you’ll never have to see any of us again.”

Barney snorted. He grabbed a handful of Clifford’s shirt, noticing that the two sidekicks had moved in to flank him.

But before he could do anything further, all three started to chant in some weird language–like Latin played backwards or something. Just the sound of the words made Barney’s head hurt and shocked him breathless. Suddenly a thick fog rolled in around him, so dense Barney couldn’t see anything.

As it slowly dissipated, Barney was shocked to see Clifford, whose shirt he still held in his hand, had gotten huge somehow! Barney was staring up at him–and, he realized in a panic, the two others behind him! He let go of Clifford and stumbled back, disoriented. Then he noticed it wasn’t just the frat guys: his car, all the other cars, the whole parking lot had gotten bigger somehow. Then he looked down and saw an unfamiliar body. Since he was a teen his bulk had impeded his view of the ground, but now his body was narrow and spindly. His clothes had shrunk to accommodate his new body, now the size of a ten year old.

“What? How?” Barney squeaked in his new body’s voice, a pit in his stomach that grew with Clifford’s widening smile.

“A little fraternity magic. A trick we use to get rid of our enemies. So come on, big man. The deal still stands. Move me and we’ll leave.”

Clifford’s flunkies each grabbed one of Barney’s scrawny arms, holding him easily. Little Barney audibly pissed his pants and the three fratboys keeled over with laughter.

It was lucky for both of us that Terry stepped away from the railing just as my “camera’s” mass-reducing flash went off. Poor guy would’ve ended up dangling from the railing, ending up a tiny splatter on the sidewalk. (I wish I could say it had never happened before to other unlucky fellas I decided to turn my camera upon.)

Instead, he seemed to vanish, his compression pants collapsing to the ground in a heap. I took great pleasure in watching the little lump writhing around under there. As usual, I poked him gently through the fabric, confusing the hell out of the little guy as some unseen force immobilized his powerful body with ease. Then I reached in and fished out Terry’s new body--from head to toe, his body had been reduced to four inches tall (while perfectly preserving his beautiful shape) with one exception: his cock and balls had remained the size they were at full height.

 From the still-warm compression shorts I plucked my new little sex-toy. His now-enormous (to him, that is) dick was like an anchor, a cumbersome appendage that now made up more than half of his meager bodymass. Like all the others, Terry was horrified at the monstrous thing--horrified more when he realized he recognized it, that it was connected to him--but before he could start to freak out, I slid his dick into my mouth and sucked it, slow and hard.

He went silent and limp, overwhelmed by impulses his tiny brain couldn’t handle, but I only gave him a little taste. This was broad daylight, and to an onlooker I was walking around with what looked like a realistic sextoy (not far from the truth, of course). Holding the compression pants up to my face for a long, deep inhale (I love the look on their faces when they see me doing this), I then wrapped him up in them, slipped them in my backpack and headed on my way.

 Back home I unwrapped my new little prize and took a look at him. Terry’s body was fucking perfect--now that he was weighed down by that beautiful dick of his, I took the time to explore it. With my pinky finger I got into the grooves of his abdomen as much as I could, traced the soft firm expanse of his ass, wiggling into his miniscule-grundle, causing his still-human-sized dick to shoot to attention. He got breathless--I’m not sure how bloodflow works after the transformation, how he can have enough juice to inflate a cock as big as his body while still keeping his brain working, but they always seem to get a little woozy when they get hard.

 Then, of course, it’s all about delicious little sensuous tortures. I loved to blow gently against his big juicy cock, tongue his peehole teasingly, slurp his balls into my mouth (causing his whole body to go rigid and quiet). Of course when I’d worked him into a frenzy I’d swallow his dick to the hilt, leaning my head back while the rest of his body rested on my face. I loved to feel them beat uselessly against my nose, squirming their beefy little legs against my chin while I cheerfully hummed a tune.

 After I gave Terry a full workout I let him sleep on a little cushion--a solid thirty minutes without me bothering him, which was hard (I mean, look at him--how can I keep my hands off that perfect body, especially at its modified size, shaped like it’s made just for my pleasure?). But that was all.

Afterwards I woke him up by getting his cock hard and slick with some silky lube while I cocked my heels back and aimed him at my hole--holding them by the root of their dicks, I’m usually able to fuck myself without hurting them too badly. I’ve gotten pretty good since the first few accidents, and with Terry, I got a good rhythm down. His little squirming back there was just icing on the cake--and when I felt him tense up, his cock throbbing as he filled me up with his seed, I came myself, splattering all over my chest.

Afterward I let him unwind next to the puddles of load he’d made me shoot, gently massaging him with a finger while he tried to cope with the earthshattering orgasm he’d just experienced. When the post-cum haze wore off, I noticed him checking out his surroundings, taking a good look at me, at his body, and the relative size of his monster dick.

“If you’re wondering, you are bigger,” I said. “You’ll regain one inch every time you cum in me.” For a moment, I see a flash of hope--until he does the math, and I smile.

If @jakelandry keeps writing stories like this, I just might fall in love with him. (Tons of great other stories on his Tumblr. Guarantee you'll rub out at least two nuts your first visit. Check him out!)

Just a Prank Bro

“It’s just a prank bro.” Lance had no idea how many times his roommate had said that to him. It was like every time Blake ‘played a prank’ that’s all he would say. It’s not like putting flour in the shower was super annoying and hard to clean off. Or how changing his shampoo and soap to motor oil wasn’t super annoying. Or when he decided to place all of the cups of water throughout his room while Lance was sleeping and then sleep with his buddies. No. None of that was annoying at all.

However, now Lance had a way to get back at him. It was going to put that ‘bro’ in his place. There were a few times he thought that he might be going a bit too far but when he found his entire history book glued shut he knew it had to happen. These weren’t even “pranks” anymore. It was practically vandalism.

It was still going to be about a half hour before Blake got back from his class. Lance planned on putting “the prank” in his pre-workout. All he had to do was make sure he was close enough to actually see it happen. Lance knew he would enjoy watching every minute of it.

Lance patiently waited the half hour and asked if he could join Blake in the gym. “Little guy wants to watch me train?” Blake threw up a double bicep pose. Lance couldn’t help but roll his eyes. The jock was far too into admiring himself to even notice Lance’s contempt.

“Yes. I want to watch you train.” It was so sarcastic and monotone Lance thought he almost ruined his chance.

“Awesome bro!” with a slap on the back the two headed for the gym. Blake quickly downed his pre-workout and went through all the different machines. He was showing everything in the college’s gym off. It was probably close to an hour before Blake made any indication that something was off. Lance could actually feel it too.

The jock looked himself up and down in the mirror in front of him. He could have sworn that something was different. It quickly became obvious as his XL shirt started to drape over his body. The thin straps slid to the sides of his thinning shoulders. His thick muscular arms were losing their hard definition.  He was completely in shock as he turned around realizing he was Lance’s height. Everything on him was so much smaller.

“What did you do?” he threatened.

“It’s just a prank bro,” Lance smirked. Blake was furious as he grabbed Lance by the collar. So many thoughts flew threw his head he didn’t even know where to start. Even if they were the same size Blake knew he could beat up Lance. That wasn’t going to be a problem.

All of a sudden a heat wave filled Lance’s body. Everything about him felt completely different. He didn’t know what was happening. His entire body started to flex as Blake’s grip tightened.

“Wha…” Blake muttered. His head leaned back as Lance grew several inches taller. Blake couldn’t help but think that he was about an inch or two taller than his former 6’1”. He kept staring in awe as Lance’s arms thickened in front of him tearing apart the sleeves of his shirt. The rest of the shirt fell into his hands as the thick pecs and solid stomach pushed out of his body. There were dense strong muscles growing all over him.

Lance couldn’t help but laugh at Blake’s tiny body standing in front of him. Blake’s face instantly went sour knowing that all of that weight was his. To make it worse it looked like Lance weighed even more than the former jock.

“You know I didn’t know this would affect me too,” Lance flexed his arm. He watched Blake squirm uncomfortably in his weaker body. “But I can’t say I don’t like it.”

STORY FOR MY 2000TH LIKE

He was slugging beers back so fast he didn't even notice that one of them had something slipped in by the guy he'd turned down earlier that day. All he knew was his cock was suddenly super-sensitive and his skin felt all tingly.

An hour after the drug was in his system he noticed his shorts felt kind of baggy. They slid slowly down his big (but slowly diminishing) ass. As he went to yank them back up, he noticed his big muscle-belly had deflated. His stomach was smooth, like it's been years before. Come to think of it, his chest didn't look quite so hairy...

The shorts fell right off; luckily he had a jockstrap on underneath, but even that felt a little loose, and now he couldn't hide the obvious fact that his tree-trunk legs had slimmed down considerably. As he ran a big paw--fuck, his hands were smaller too, with dainty little fingers!--over his narrowing thighs, watching the hair get lighter and lighter, his face tingled like crazy. He reached up to find a silky-smooth jaw, something he hadn't had since he was just a kid.

He felt his confidence draining, suddenly embarrassed to be standing around all those other big hairy men in nothing but a jockstrap. It was like the first day of gym class back in middle school, when all the other bigger, hairier guys got naked and he was nervous to reveal his hairless prepubescent body. Of course, after puberty kicked in and ever since, he'd been a big burly bear, but all of a sudden... He was just a little kid, and everyone was staring.

Yanking up the gigantic shorts, he pranced out on his little legs, gazing up at all the big men he'd been looking down on hours before.

Terry Hollands Week--CALL FOR ARTISTS

Anybody remember when I wrote stories about a transformed Richie Incognito every day for a week awhile ago? I’ve chosen a new victim. This big slab of meat, Terry Hollands, is going to be the new subject of a series of transformation stories, in all of which he’s going to end up on the short end of the deal (very literally in some cases). Because I lack any sort of visual artistic skill, I’d love it if anyone could offer any sort of pic (no matter the medium, no matter the transformation) for me to write a story about.

I’m open to just about any scenario in which Terry is changed in a way that puts him lower on the food chain--shrinking, twinkification, muscle drain/theft, inanimate, animal transformation, muscle inflation/immobilization, trait swap, age regression/progression, blueberry transformation... Am I leaving anything out? If any of you talented deviant-minded folks could whip something up, that would be AMAZING. In the meantime I’m going to try to cobble out 7 or more stories where this big fella ends up losing his strongman status. Please please please shoot me a line if you’re interested in collaborating in any way (and if any writers have any ideas to pitch at me, speak up!).

My most recent progress pics. Anybody who wants to do some morphing (of ANY type, although I'd probably object to TG or AR), I'd love to see it.