The Shrinking Bodybuilder (2nd Part)

[JP71]

[COLOR=gray]The Shrinking Bodybuilder[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray][COLOR=gray]by JP71[/COLOR][/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray][COLOR=gray]A re-imagining of “The Shrinking Man” by[/COLOR][/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray][COLOR=gray]Richard Matheson[/COLOR][/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Ch 3.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray][COLOR=gray]6’4”[/COLOR][/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray][COLOR=gray]Monday was chest day for both William and Randy. They’d been training together for more than two years, now, and had been lovers for most of that time. As training partners they made their most significant weight gains, and had developed not only their bodies to incredible degrees of size, symmetry, density and overall aesthetic magnitude, but they were almost identical in height and muscular dimensions. They were almost mirror images of one another, although where Will was blonde-haired and blue-eyed, thanks to his German ancestry, Randy was dark-haired, dark-skinned, and brown-eyed. But they were well known at their local gym, seen as bodybuilding prodigies, inspiration to almost all of the hardcore builders there. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]It was rare that men could get to around 360 lbs, but look ripped rather than off-season bulky and lacking definition. Both Will and Randy could boast between 5% and 3% body-fat from one end of the year to the other, being 5% in their (slight) off-season, and 3% during competition time. They’d competed in men’s singles competitions up and down the West Coast, but gave up when they fell in love, simply because they couldn’t bear to go head-to- head on stage, opting instead to train for the 2010 Gay Games, in the Pairs competition, which they were sure to win by a mile. They could have been incredible champions of their sport, had they opted to turn pros, but they made quite a bit of money from live webcam shows and muscle-porn, which they hosted on their own pay-to-view website. They made a very good living from it, and so were content just to build up mainly for their own pleasure and sense of fulfilment. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Monday should have been a run-of-the-mill chest day for them both. But something wasn’t right. The first thing that was different about this particular morning was their arrival in the gym’s lobby. There weren’t many guys there at this time (Will and Randy were usually amongst the first to arrive, most days), but Joel Smith – whom Will had had a fling with long before hooking up with Randy – was sending a text message when the biggest bodybuilders at the gym muscle-waddled through the main doors. He looked up suddenly, coaxed to do so when their vast shadows fell across his line of sight. Joel had to do a double-take on Will who was wearing just a black and red striped unitard, low cut at the front, which left very little of his muscles concealed. He looked as though he was about to explode out of the spandex, seeming fuller, thicker in just about every muscle group. But something else was different about him.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Dude, what did you get up to in Canada? Secretly training like the fucking clappers? Thought you were having a romantic get-away-from-it-all,” remarked Joel who was nowhere near as big as the loving couple. He’d moved on from Will a long time ago, but what he wouldn’t give to get a jump from him, now that he was at his biggest and most muscular. He was so beautiful, and this morning seemed to radiate more beautifully than ever.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“We were just camping Joel,” said Will as he and Randy made to swipe-in at the main desk. Joel wasn’t convinced. “Must’ve been lugging a lot of firewood around then, William. Damn you look thicker and more defined than ever. Have you even checked yourself out this morning?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“We sort of overslept, Joel. We only got in late last night. The flight had us tired. We just showered, breakfasted, and came right here,” Randy explained with a yawn. He was anxious to break into training, in order to kick-start his emergence from sluggishness and get his body pumping. Joel noticed something else about the pair, something that he was seeing for the first time, but his phone bleeped the response to his text message, so his attention was immediately diverted away from the huge duo. Usually William and Randy were the same height, head and shoulders identical. Although Will seemed huger, fuller, and wider than Randy, Joel was about to comment on the height-difference, but instead focussed solely on his texting, now, sparing no further thought to the odd differences between the couple, the ones that hadn’t been there before they went on vacation.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I do look fuller and thicker,” William admitted, when he check-posed in the locker-room mirror prior to starting the day’s workout. Others now arriving in the locker-room, rather than make a beeline for their respective lockers, stopped to ogle Will, wide-eyed expressions seeming to become the order of the day. Will found this to be most distracting, but put it out of his mind. However, his new size seemed to please him, and he cracked out some poses, awed by his inexplicable gains. Now that Randy was more fully awake, he noticed it too, finding it difficult to contain his quivering semi-hardon. Fortunately his gym shorts were baggy, this morning, and hid much of his arousal. They had had a lot of sex on their camping vacation (often causing the tent to collapse hilariously around them), but that in itself wasn’t a workout, and would not explain the thickness that Will was suddenly sporting. Randy gave him the onceover, swearing to himself that his muscles hadn’t looked so pumped and full the night before. He put it down to fatigue, the fact he was only noticing this now.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Will’s workout proved to be the best he’d ever had. Usually he could comfortably bench-press around 490lbs for three sets of fifteen reps, as could Randy. They alternated between sets, switching places on the bench and taking turns with spotting. It quickly became apparent that Will’s reps were occurring more swiftly than Randy’s. “Feels light this morning, somehow. Going to add 10kg on either side. Load the plates for me, dude,” Will instructed, starting to get turned on by his sudden rise in progress. “Damn, I’m at my max at 490, Will. It’s like you’re a different person, this morning.” Randy obliged his lover and added plates to either side of the bar. Will got himself into position again, and for his second set cranked out fifteen more reps at 510 lbs.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Shit, that beats Coleman’s best,” said Randy, awe-struck. Although he didn’t want to feel jealous of his partner, from a personal point of view it was impossible to feel any negative emotion towards Will. But his hardcore bodybuilding side had just been slapped in the face. It was time to swallow his pride and accept that somehow Will had surpassed him in brute strength, and his muscles were thicker and more defined. This phenomenal change in Will and his approach to the four routines he employed to get his chest into tip-top condition, continued throughout the day. Randy was supportive all the way through, marvelling at how his lover was lifting heavier, with greater repetitions each time. Although he tried not to feel jealous, he got through his routines with less enthusiasm than Will, his mind laden with silent questions in need of answering.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Later, in the locker room, as Will towelled himself dry from his shower, he could not avoid the many stares he got from the dozen or so gym-jocks doing their thing nearby. Some were getting changed to begin their workouts, whereas others were in various stages of getting dressed in order to leave. One of them, Bruce Lane, hadn’t seen Will and Randy since before their vacation. They’d given him great advice and helped him get the most out of his training, and it certainly showed. At just twenty-one years of age, Bruce was carrying a lean and well-sculpted 242 lbs at a height of six foot four, and was already competing at a super-heavyweight collegiate level. He’d always looked up to Will and Randy alike. Now, however, as dark clouds began to gather outside, turning what had started out as a typically normal Monday in late summer into a foul-weathered afternoon, Bruce found himself looking up to just Randy. That was strange. The two huge men had always been the same height: six feet six inches. But now, although Will’s physique looked quite a bit bigger and more pumped than Randy’s, there was certainly a discernible difference in their heights. Bruce Lane’s eyes now drew level with Will’s for the first time since meeting him the year previous.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You’re looking fantastic, Bruce. When’s your next competition,” Will amicably inquired. Although Will and Randy were the biggest bodybuilders on the West Coast (many folk reckoned), they seldom showed interest in the competitive world. They had put themselves beyond that time in their lives, now that their thirties were fast approaching and other concerns in life drew their interests. “State Championships were back in June. I was placed second in my class. Not bad for my first time out. Got you two to thank for it,” said Bruce appreciatively. “You look like your height’s shot up, too,” Will remarked, totally giving the younger man the onceover, impressed by his increase in size.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Bruce chuckled: “Stop the teasing, Will. My height hasn’t changed at all. I’m still six feet four. I reckon that’s tall enough for me. Don’t want to be the next Noah Steere, do I? How that behemoth is able to pack so much muscle onto such a tall body is beyond me.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Will stared blankly into Bruce’s eyes, saying nothing, but thinking so many garbled things at once. His lips tightened pensively and he remained stony-faced, standing rigidly for a moment after Bruce continued on his way.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Will... uh sweetie?” Randy had to nudge him to snap him out of his short-lived trance. “You okay, Will?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Will suddenly turned towards Randy, finding he had to tilt his head slightly upwards in order to look into his eyes. “You’re taller than me,” he declared, his voice cracking mid-sentence. His mouth grew quickly dry as cotton. His bladder suddenly felt full and for the first time in William Grant’s life, he lost control of his sphincter muscles. Randy was speechless at this point. It was embarrassing to observe the man he loved so much urinating in a public place, and somewhat disconcerting to discover that for the first time in two years, Randy could see a little bit more of the crown of Will’s shining blonde head. As if the arrival of this disturbing revelation demanded punctuation of a most foreboding kind, the heavens above belched forth a peal of thunder, as dark clouds continued to blacken the sky...[/COLOR]



[COLOR=gray]... and a crack of lightning threw everything into shocking white relief. Will was brought awake with a jolt, almost feeling the electrical charge from the overhead storm running through him with force enough to make him scream out in anguish. His heart bounded crazily in his chest and he sat bolt upright, his first instinct to snuggle into Randy and realize that a thunderstorm couldn’t hurt him. But as he was brought back to reality with a jolt, he remembered that Randy wasn’t by his side; he could never be beside him, not ever. He belonged in the world of the colossi, that now seemingly infinite, alien cosm that was now so irrevocably beyond Will. And at his current size the storm presented a real threat to him.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]It came in the form of what felt like an earth-shattering upheaval, and as utter terror caught Will in an inviolable headlock, he was thrown forwards, out of his protective cotton womb, striking the smooth side of the vitamin bottle with enough force to have the wind knocked out of him. He felt his glass refuge spinning from the shock, the boom from the initial impact of whatever had caused this, still ringing in his ears, enough to cause him pain. Of the two remaining pills, along with crumbs from the others he had already consumed over the course of many months, one was tossed into the cotton wool, absorbing the force of impact. But the second pill struck the side of the bottle with a loud jarring noise. It landed on top of Will. At his size, the pill was as big as a dining table, and easily heavier than three or four grown men. But Will managed to kick it away from him before it could crush his tiny bones.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]His senses drift[/COLOR][COLOR=gray]ed for a time, alternating between a harsh and unfeeling darkness devoid of experience, and the laments his heart held on to for the life his diminutive existence had so cruelly robbed him of. When his senses once again tuned into the reality of full consciousness, he thought about the pain he felt in his body, and then about what could have caused this gross shifting of his world. [/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]The thunderstorm couldn’t have done this alone, he reasoned, his tiny chest still trying to take in vital oxygen. It must have been the tree in the front yard. There might have been a lightning strike, severing a great limb, which could have struck the side of the house. That could have caused the impact I felt. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]He counted to one hundred in his head, pacing time until the next peal of thunder and flash of nerve-racking lightning. But the storm must have been abating, for it seemed the onslaught from the heavens had ceased. He thought of several things simultaneously, and his heart began to race again in panic. The spiderlings in their wintry egg sack, insulated from the severe cold: would the force of his branch striking the house theory be enough to bring on an early emergence of the hatchlings? What if part of the house, or something near to it, were to catch fire from lightning? Surely the heat would reach the extractor fan and trick the spider babies into thinking spring had arrived early. Better still, what if fire spread through the fan casing, burning that accursed web mausoleum of death and the egg-sack it shielded? What if the entire attic were to go up in flames? At his size he would be long dead from the heat alone, let alone naked flame or smoke. At least then his suffering would be at an end. But there was no way to know if there was a fire burning in the yard. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]His concerns shifted to his food and water supply: how would they have fared during the monumental jarring of his world? He accepted that the opaque vitamin bottle had moved, as to how far, he couldn’t guess without venturing to take a look outside. It was completely dark, now, so he decided to wait until sunrise. Besides, he was ravaged from the shock of this latest harrowing experience. But bad dreams made him dread returning to sleep. Instead he just languished in his cotton wad, drawing the material ever more snugly around him. He rocked back and forth for an indeterminate time, quietly mouthing some of the lyrics to his favourite song from Bob Dillon, over and over again: [/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]"... don't stand in the doorway, don't block up the hall. For he that gets hurt will be he who has stalled.... There's a battle outside and it's ragin'... It'll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls... For the times, they are a-changin' "[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]There was no fire or attack by a horde of scuttling baby spiders. The aftermath of the night’s storm was actually quite peaceful, once the neighbours had turned off their tripped car alarms and reassured their children, before returning to their normal-sized beds and their normal-sized lives.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Will eventually fell asleep, but it was a fleeting respite from his woes. When he awakened, he was sure that he had shrunk even further. He felt much colder, despite his cotton wool insulation, and when he emerged from his protective cocoon he cried in anguish when his loin-cloth slipped easily from his hips, dragged down by the weight of his pin-sword. He examined his surroundings, trying to get a feel for the bottle’s internal ambience. He didn’t feel any shorter, but when he flexed into a most-muscular pose, then balling his biceps and cupping each one in turn in order to test their size and thickness, he was dismayed to find that his muscles had once again become re-proportioned to his smaller height. The humongous size and thickness he would feel just after he’d shrunk down – before his muscles would adjust and also shrink – was once again gone, and in relation to the size he was now, his superheavyweight status was lost forever. There was no way to work-out at this stage of the shrinking process. He hadn’t lifted weights in what felt like a long, long time, not since that time with Clarence, but the exertion he gained from simply trying to survive in an attic the size of a vast city, combined with what nutrients he was able to get out of the protein powder and the vitamins, just about managed to keep his muscles in good but not great condition.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]His pecs were still big, but not huge. Whereas before he could not see his dick or his feet when he ventured to gaze down at himself – always marvelling at the immense thickness of his pec-shelf and how far its thickly-fleshed mass jutted out from his ribcage – now he could clearly see both. He cupped his genitals with his hands, pleased that they still felt thick and heavy to him. In reality his dick was smaller than a speck of sand. His bare feet were covered in calluses, the skin beneath them long since hardened from the months of running he’d had to do. He had a bad case of athlete’s foot, too, but there was nothing he could do about that beyond washing the fungus from between his toes as often as possible. He was hungry, ravenous. He decided to check the damage outside and pushed back the cotton so that he could climb his knotted thread-rope up to the bottleneck. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]He paused before climbing, the thread gripped tightly in his minute hands. Something about the view from above worried him. There was too much light beaming in through the bottleneck. “The jolt to the house moved the bottle, I felt it.” His alarm raised, he added aloud: “But just how much did it move?” Plucking up the courage to venture forth, Will climbed the thread-rope, carefully using the knots to help him advance. He arrived at the bottle neck and almost skidded across the smooth, glassy surface as anxiety gripped him. Originally the vitamin bottle had been lying parallel with the length of the shelf, so that the first thing he would see upon emergence was the black-labelled, skyscraper-sized container of protein shake. However... now.... it seemed his view had changed dramatically.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Oh my God,” he nearly screamed, when it became clear that the neck of the bottle had shifted by at least ninety degrees so that it now faced away from the shake container. Not only that, the lollypop stick had been knocked away from the aperture of the bottle, making it impossible for him to descend safely from the bottleneck. Not that he now had anywhere to descend to. One third of the bottle now jutted out over the edge of the shelf. From Will’s current perspective the drop to the floor below would be roughly equal to a normal-sized man leaping off a tall mountain (how tall, he couldn’t fathom). He was trapped now, doomed to shrink away to nothingness inside a glass prison... or tomb.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“No... there has to be a way to beat this,” he raged, his muscles pumping a little from a sudden attack of raw anger. He thought about flinging himself against the right side of the bottle, mustering up every bit of strength he could, in the hope he could generate enough momentum to swing the bottle back to its original position. But could a normal-sized man – or even a huge bodybuilder – expect to move a house by the same means? It was impossible. Maybe it was time to give up, finally admit that he was beaten. Tomorrow, by his reckoning, he would be at Zero Height, and then what? Death... surely. What difference would living one extra period of twenty-four hours make to his predicament? All he had to do was step out and away from the lip of the bottleneck and he would be free-falling to his utter end. Why did he want to get out of the attic anyway? Even if he could make it outside, how would he get to level ground? He admitted to himself that he hadn’t thought that far ahead. But he’d been a prisoner for many months in the attic, and just to stand in the open air and feel the outside world all around him again, would be a tremendous reward for his unassailable efforts.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I will not die here,” he vowed. And as his stomach growled, demanding food, he patted his still rock-hard brickwork abs and felt himself driven to solve this latest in a seemingly never-ending series of challenges. He wasn’t beaten yet. He was a man, and he still thought like a man. And so, hunger gnawing at his every diminishing fibre, Will thought about how to go about escaping from the bottle.[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]To be continued....[COLOR=yellow]Part 3[/COLOR][/COLOR]




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[Lucas88]

Very descriptive and dramatic. Enjoying it a LOT!