Kirill And His Weaselly Little Assistant Caught Jay As He Was Sneaking To His Hotel Room From The Expo

Kirill and his weaselly little assistant caught Jay as he was sneaking to his hotel room from the Expo to get a break from the mob, a little quiet time to recenter himself before he went back out there and played Ambassador to Bodybuilding again. Jay smiled and shook Kirill’s hand--as big competitive athletes, they’d always been cordial before--but he made a point to make this little interaction short and sweet so he could get a little relaxation time before the long day ahead.

“Joel, take picture of us,” Kirill grunted to his assistant as he put an arm on Jay’s shoulder. Jay squared up next to the big powerlifter, a little suspicious of his aggressive tone and demeanor. There had always been a gentle beef between strength athletes and bodybuilders, and back in his Olympia heyday, when Jay had been the epitome of sculpted beef, he’d never worried about how tall or thick these strongmen were in comparison. But since his retirement, Jay always felt like these powerlifter guys had something they were trying to prove, trying to make him look small.

Or maybe he was just being paranoid. It had been a long weekend already, and he really needed to shut his eyes for about twenty minutes. Something about the way Kirill’s assistant Joel stared at him too made him uncomfortable. Jay knew that look: hungry admiration. The guy was a skinny average nobody, probably got the job working for Kirill because he had such a hard-on for size he had to be near it as much as he could. Joel pulled out a weird-looking camera and seemed to fiddle with it endlessly without producing a click or a flash.

“C’mon, bud, just take the damned picture will ya?” Jay said through a feigned grin, hoping to mask his annoyance as friendly teasing, but then he noticed something was wrong: he couldn’t move.

Worse, it felt like things around him were moving. Jay couldn’t turn his head but he peripherally witnessed Kirill rising up and away from him as the floor grew nearer. Jay’s fake smile lay plastered on his face, his body locked into his photo-friendly pose as it dawned on him that, somehow, his frame was compacting down in size.

Meanwhile, Kirill’s was expanding. Looking as far to the right as he could, Jay noticed he was now eye-level with Kirill’s knees… no, now his shins… and as Joel advanced menacingly, brandishing the wicked device, Jay realized that he was now half as tall as Joel, and less with every second.

“Man, look how fast it’s getting the smaller he gets!” Joel taunted.

It was true: Jay felt queasy as his perspective twisted into unfathomable dimensions: the room itself seemed to stretch on forever now, and the two men in the hallway with him were like buildings--Joel like a skyscraper, Kirill an impossible structure whose frame extended up against the ceiling which seemed miles away.

Then it all stopped and Jay collapsed. Relief at being able to move was erased by Joel’s giant fingers coming at him, snatching him before he could get away. His stomach lurched as the floor dropped out beneath him and he kicked his legs in the air as he was brought up to Joel’s giant face.

“I dunno if it’ll make you feel any better,” Joel said as he turned Jay this way and that, examining his shrunken frame, “but you weren’t our first choice here. We were gonna zap Morgan Aste, steal all of his size and put it on my boss’ body where it could do some good. But finding you back here, no bystanders, with all that bulk you’re just not doing anything with anymore… Right boss?”

Joel turned to face Kirill’s new stature. The size of the gargantuan powerlifter, impossible tall, huge and thick in all directions, made Jay’s whole body spasm.

“Hey boss, he just pissed himself!” Joel giggled. “Gross little shit! I oughtta squash you for that.”

“Put him in the bag!” Kirill commanded in a volcanic voice, pointing with a finger the size of a baguette.

“Yes sir!” Joel said, producing a net drawstring bag the size of his hand and dropping Jay’s tiny body into it. Jay struggled to no avail as he tumbled upside down into containment. He struggled but even the flimsy nylon netting was too strong for tiny Jay to battle with.

Arms pinned tightly to his sides in the bag, Jay felt Kirill’s footsteps rumbling the air as he headed back toward the expo. This couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening, but then Jay felt himself, nylon sack and all, stuffed upside down into Joel’s jeans pocket. A hand the size of Jay’s whole body patted him a few times. “Boss it gonna take all that size now, and I”m gonna take you, and we’re both going to have a lot of fun...

————-

BrandedX2: “Big Guys Taken Down a Notch”

New content every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.

The molly kicked in just as Richie strapped on the big Deadmau5 mask the promoter gave him. He couldn’t wait to go wild at this show–blow off some steam from last season’s hard work–and dance up on some hot slutty women.

“Feel okay in there?” the promoter asked, giving the unwieldy mask a thump.

“Feels great!” Richie replied, flexing his beefy arms. No way had anyone seen a dude his size party they way he planned–and with this mask on, he’d be the perfect spectacle. Fucked up raver chicks would be all over him.

The mask seemed to be have some kind of speakers in it, broadcasting the live music directly to his ears. As he started dancing, he noticed some cool flashy colors swirling and spiraling in front of his eyes. They made his head feel… nice and soft. He could almost hear a soft voice behind the music but they were too faint to make out. Soon his thoughts felt like warm cotton and he lost himself in the music… and what was that smell? Fragrant, delicious cheese.

Hours passed with Richie going into autopilot, bouncing from one hot sweaty whore to another. He was rock fucking hard and at one point a chick huddled up against him gave a hard squeeze of his throbbing tool, jerking him off while messed up people danced crazily around him, none the wiser.

His cock had never been more sensitive! Richie couldn’t form a thought beyond the sensations overwhelming him. He was hungry… getting tired… needed to cum, bad. Yet no matter how expertly the girl worked his dong, it was almost like he couldn’t cum.

He reached up to yank off the mask but it wouldn’t budge. Panic snapped him out of his daze enough to realize something was wrong. Still hornier than he’d ever been, desperate to cum and collapse into an exhausted pile, Richie stumbled around searching for the promoter.

When he found him, he grabbed the guy and demanded to have the mask removed.

“Easy, easy big fella… lemme take a look.” Richie’s heart pounded as the guy inspected the outside of the mask. “Okay, let’s see now… there we go.” Richie heard a click and the speakers and lights inside the mask went black. When the mask came off, Richie desperately gulped in air.

“Thanks,” he said, his mind still dull.

“No worries big man. The mask isn’t programmed to release until the full chemical dose is delivered.”

“Chemicals? Wha–” Richie froze as he felt a tingling in his mouth. His front teeth suddenly expanded somehow, sticking out from his lips, a nice buck-toothed overbite. Confused, he traced the outline of his clunky new teeth with his tongue.

Then his pants fell down, and Richie realized he was standing eye to eye with the promoter who’d been a half foot shorter than he was earlier. No, now the promoter was taller; Richie had to look up!

“You see, we run a very secret after party–unbelievably cutting edge, of course. Our guests are into the bizarre, and tonight they’re going to watch a bunch of former athletes try to navigate a maze. Hope you find the cheese before the others do!”

Richie could barely listen. Suddenly whiskers sprouted from his nose, overwhelming his brain with sensory stimulation. An insane itching above his ass grew to an unbearable degree before he suddenly felt a painful release–and whirled around to find a tail growing from his rear.

“That’s right,” the now huge promoter said to little Richie, whose shrinking slowed just as he found himself eye to eye with the promoter’s shoelaces. “We’ve got a nice little outfit for you to wear, too!” Richie turned to run but a giant hand snagged him by his new tail. He dangled painfully above the promoter’s giant face while another giant hand slid a leather harness on his body before dropping him into a plastic cage.

The changes had more or less stopped. He was halfway between human and mouse, animal features on his thick NFL-built body. He was unable to organize his awkward new mouth enough to communicate with anything other than squeaks. The giant world outside the cage made Richie queasy with fear, an emotion he wasn’t used to. The cage shook as the promoter walked and Richie wanted desperately to know where he would end up. He also desperately wanted some cheese.

————-

BrandedX2: “Big Guys Taken Down a Notch”

New content every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.

He was friendly when I told him at the gym that I recognized him, that he was my favorite bodybuilder. He smiled when I asked for an autograph and signed my paper without hesitation, unaware that it’d been soaked in a chemical he was absorbing through his skin.

I got him later in the parking garage, just as he tossed his gym bag on his passenger seat. I told him it was nice to meet him, extended my hand (dusted with the potent reagent) to shake. He took it without a second thought.

The reaction was quick–he shrunk out of his clothes while I started filling up mine. The transfer of size wasn’t 1:1, but when he was done he was a barely visible lump in his collapsed compression tights, I pawed at my own new mass, filling out the tank top that had hung like a tent on me before.

Later, when he’d gotten used to the cage and my daily exploration of his tiny body (prodding his dick with a pencil eraser, gently licking the length of his hard lumpy body, swallowing him inch by inch and then spitting him back into my hand–all followed, always, with a gentle bath in the sink and gentle fingertip caressing until he’d fallen asleep on my palm), he recounted to me what the shrinking felt like:

“It was like falling, fast, but my feet were on the ground. I was naked but didn’t know how, stifled by humid heat, choked by a smell–it was my own smell, but magnified so much I didn’t recognize I until later.

"Then when light came in, when you pulled open my clothes to see me, I realized what had happened–and had to swallow the fact that the moist pocket my whole body fit in now used to house my dick. And I thought as I looked up at you–you looked different too, and I wouldn’t have known who you were if you weren’t wearing that tank top I made fun of earlier–that your grip wasn’t as rough or scary as I’d expected when your hand had approached me.”

He tells me these things as he lies, face down, on the hairy mounds of my newly ample chest, completely unaffected by the fact that its size was stolen from him. I gently draw lines with my fingertips up and down his back and he falls asleep in my warm cleavage–until he’s woken by my hot load raining down on him.

Alexey was exactly as the catalog had promised--unbelievably huge and muscular, stuffed into a tight blue shirt, an adorable baby-face crowning the body of a titan. Jim’s heart leapt at the sight of him--Alexey smiled as he approached and offered a beefy hand, but the guy’s unbelievable size was intimidating as hell. Jim, a slight redhead at just over five feet, tried to keep his hands steady as Alexey patted his shoulder--he felt like a child next to this giant!

“We will have fun, I promise,” Alexey carefully pronounced with a thick accent. “What would you like to do first? Walk along ze beach?”

Jim could barely contain his excitement. “Let’s go back to my hotel room!”

Alexey sighed, his huge bulk swelling as he inhaled, then deflating quickly. He looked around anxiously. “I could take my shirt off, we could dance at a bar…”

 “No!” Jim protested. “Hotel room!” Alexey’s size was terrifying but Jim had paid good money for this opportunity.

 Back at the hotel room, Jim poured a glass of champagne while Alexey arranged his things. “So, how did you get like this?”

 “Lots of training and discipline,” Alexey said, puffing up and surveying his wide body from edge to edge.

 “No, I mean…” Jim walked behind Alexey and yanked up the blue shirt to reveal a small metal panel--a small keypad, a dial, and a little screen flashing inscrutable data. “Like this.”

 Alexey signed again. “I… did not understand the contract I was signing.”

 “Well, I’ve read the manual, let’s get this going!” Jim said. “Flex for me!” Jim had a seat and sipped from his glass.

Alexey hit a double biceps pose, then spread his lats. His massive chest stood out like a big meat shelf.

 Jim wasn’t satisfied. “No,” he protested. “Take your shirt off!”

 Alexey was reluctant but did what he was told. He hoisted up his shirt with one hand, needing help from Jim to pull it up over the bulk of his torso (which thrilled Jim to no end). Jim had a seat, breathing deeply from the warm and lightly sweaty garment while Alexey hit some mandatory pose.

“Turn around!” Jim screeched. “Show me your back!”

 Alexey seemed to know where this was going, but obliged anyway. He hit a back double bi, spread his lats wide--but then Jim leapt to his feet and tapped on the keypad above Alexey’s waist. “555 freezes the body, but leaves your head intact, right?”

 Alexey, frozen in place from the neck down, nodded. “Yes.”

 “This is amazing!” Jim said, stripping Alexey naked and taking the time to explore Alexey’s body, his fingers digging into every muscle, probing every inch of the massive Eastern European. “You’re so big... You can get as big as you want now that you had this installed right?” Jim tapped the edge of the keypad with his fingernail--tink tink tink, against the metal.

 “Well… I was very big before it was installed…”

 “But if I remember correctly… 1472, then the star key…” Jim hit the buttons as he said them aloud.

 “Hey, wait, don’t just…” Alexey’s protests fell on deaf ears as the process began: slowly, with the sound of an inflating balloon, Alexey began to rise up, his body remaining proportionate but growing in all directions. No longer afraid of this man who was completely in his power, Jim dropped his pants and starting jerking his dick as he rubbed his hand over the expanding man. Alexey’s face seemed to panic as he rose up and away, seven feet tall, then eight, larger than any human who would ever live, approaching the ceiling with no way of stopping himself.

 “You’re gonna burst through the ceiling!” Jim gasped breathlessly, now straddling Alexey’s inhumanly gigantic leg like it was an unsaddled horse.

 “Yes, I am--please, the reset button…”

 Jim groaned, his whole body went rigid, and he came--just as Alexey’s head touched the ceiling and pressed into it.

 “Okay, okay,” Jim said breathlessly. Let’s take care of this…” He hit the flashing red RESET button and Alexey’s body snapped back to its starting (but still massively muscled) size.

 “Thank you, now please--” Alexey began, still facing away from Jim but struggling to see what was going on behind him.

 “I believe 6-1-1-pound sign causes expansion with no height increase, right?” Jim punched the corresponding code and Alexey’s back immediately started to swell, his arms inflating like tires, his legs spreading apart--mass pouring onto his frame without an inch of height added.

 “Holy shit…” Jim said, sinking to his knees and inspecting the gargantuan ass that was still inflating before him. He dug his face in, tasted its musky depths, licked from top to bottom as Alexey moaned and struggled.

 “Unh… please, be careful… ohhh…” Alexey moaned. Jim could barely hear him from the warmth of Alexey’s ass. Jim emerged and pressed the reset button again. “I guess it wouldn’t be any fun if you got so big your bones started breaking.”

“Yes, please, now… the code to let me move again is--”

 “Y’know, I could shrink you down to the size of my dick, you know. I’d love to see a big guy like you wrestling with my cock like it’s a contender.”

 Alexey’s eyes fell. “Yes, you could.”

 “I’ve studied the whole damned manual, Alexey. I wanted to get my money’s worth. See, I’ve got this interesting little kink… I mean, it’s one thing to fuck you… God, it’s a damned dream come true… but you wanna know what my fantasy is?”

 Alexey’s brow furrowed. He seemed afraid to ask.

“Code 9-9-1-4-9-star,” Jim said confidently. He’d been waiting for this moment. Alexey’s eyes went wide--he had no idea what this setting would do--and his mouth suddenly formed an O-shape. Movement returned to his limbs for just a moment--but then he froze again. His whole body took on a plastic sheen. Suddenly the features of his body lost their details. His face was painted on. He maintained much of his size, but now he had the puffy shape of an inflatable doll.

 Jim fingered the doll’s open mouth hole, played with the same opening between the seams of its blocky rubber ass. “I’ve dreamed of fucking a living blow-up doll for my whole life, Alexey,” he whispered into its drawn-on ear. “Let’s see how many time I have to fuck you before I get it out of my system completely.”

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.

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!).