The dwindling

by Dream Big

Dennis wakes up the morning after a big Pride party feeling not quite himself.

It began with a dull ache all over.

I’d come back from a disappointing Pride and slept late, and when I woke up I felt pretty rough. The rattling around in the spare room startled me and when I sat up, I felt like I’d encountered a bus under less-than-ideal circumstances.

“What are you moaning about,” my sister said. She’d woken me up—I’d forgotten she was stopping by to grab some of our dad’s things—and as siblings do, she’d delighted in being extra noisy because she knew I’d been out late.

“Please…”

“Oh hell, you do look bad. Did we stay up too late partying with the gays last night?”

“I’ll have you know I caught an Uber back around midnight. It was too fucking hot, and I was tired of fighting the crowds,” I grumbled. “I didn’t even drink that much, not enough to justify how I feel, at least.”

“You’re such an old man, brother dear,” she said, pityingly.

“If I had earned a hangover that would be one thing, but I honestly didn’t. I’m 37, Darla. I know my limits.”

“Maybe you caught something. Didn’t make out with any patient zero types, did you?”

“Nope. The one guy I was sort of hitting it off with ghosted me and I got annoyed and left,” I said. “Maybe I picked up a flu bug.”

“You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m sure once I pound some orange juice and eat something and take my meds, I’ll be better.”

“Okay, I’m almost done digging up those photos for Donny.”

“All right, I’m gonna go take a shit,” I said, “and probably go back to bed.”

I stumbled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom where everything seemed a bit off. I felt dizzy, so I took no chances and sat down to take care of business. It seemed to take forever to empty everything out, and despite the relief it also just felt strange.

It was while I was washing my hands, staring bleary-eyed into the mirror to assess the damage, that I realized what was wrong. And I did what anyone in my situation would do; I shrieked like a little boy and sank slowly to the floor.

I woke to Darla splashing my face with water and shouting my name.

“Dennis! Holy fuck, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” I replied weakly.

“Can you sit up?”

I nodded and that went well enough.

“You look terrible,” she said.

“You look like the piss boy,” I muttered.

“Don’t quote Mel Brooks movies at me. Can you stand?”

I considered. I was still feeling weird, but the room was no longer spiraling. Eventually, I nodded, and Darla held out a hand to steady me. I stood. A bit unsteadily, it must be said, but I managed to stand up.

“Oh, shit,” she said, and sunk down to her haunches. “What the actual fuck?”

I looked down at my baggy clothing and it all hit me.

“Oh,” I said.

So, about me. I’m Dennis. I’m 37 and I have a very boring job crunching numbers by day. By night, I try to stay in shape, sing in a local gay choir, and hang out with friends. I’ve managed to hold onto my looks and my hair—I’m about 6 feet tall, dark brown hair (fairly stylish), short beard, decent shape, good complexion, all that. Haven’t really dated in a few years but still typically get appreciative second glances when I bother to go out. No complaints about my dick—solid 6 inches with nice girth—or my butt, other than the lack of attention they’d gotten from others lately.

All of that had been perfectly true the night before.

Only somehow, I’d managed to misplace about four inches of height.

I no longer towered over my older sister. We were probably the same height, which was weird because she was only 5’7”.

I staggered back into the hallway, past my gape-mouthed sibling, and popped a pod into the coffee thing. It was surreal because everything was just a little off.

Because I was shorter.

“Seriously, Den, what the hell,” Darla said.

“Fuck if I know. Let me get some thinking juice in my skull. Hand me the bottle, please,” I said, pointing at the Costco-sized bottle of ibuprofen.

“I don’t think that’s going to fix whatever is wrong with you,” Darla said. “You need to see a doctor!”

“First, I need to get this head and body ache down to a dull roar,” I maintained, “and then I need to eat something. Then we figure out what’s going on.”

“Priorities, dude. You fucking shrunk! People don’t shrink!”

“I am aware. You want some eggs and toast?”

“How the fuck are you worried about eating?”

“Because I am hungry. That, I can fix, while the other stuff is a vast unknown, which starts with me sitting, hungry, in a waiting room while they decide which sort of specialist to bring in for a guy who thinks he shrunk four inches overnight. Scrambled?”

“Sure. I guess you have a point. But what about—”

“Darla, I love you, but I have a screaming head and a body that seems to be making up for size by offering pain. I need food or I will be sick. I need to focus on this, right now, or I will probably have a panic attack. Capiche?”

There’s nothing like a really good breakfast to quell the roar of poor decisions you made the night before. There is some kind of golden ratio of grease to restorative power involved. Ideally, you want mounds of bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, hash browns, all that stuff. In a pinch, however, even overcooked scrambled eggs and toast will suffice. Once I managed a very stressful morning with Cheerios with a banana and some chocolate syrup, but that’s pushing it.

So as we sat there eating, I was focused on the lucky accident of having leftover sourdough to make my toast, and wishing I’d bought bacon. I was decidedly not thinking about the absurd circumstances.

Darla gobbled hers quickly, and then just stared at me until I’d finished eating.

“Okay,” I finally said. “Let’s figure this out.”

I kid my sister, but she is a pragmatic person and pretty good under pressure. I tend to simmer and then blow up. She claims that having kids makes all the difference, a theory I remain stubbornly unwilling to test myself.

We retraced the events of the night before, but nothing stood out. It had been a pretty disappointing night. Didn’t drink or eat anything too weird, didn’t make out with random strangers.

Then we broke out the measuring tape and assessed the damage. Weirdly, my weight was close to what it had been: right around 205.

I was definitely shorter by nearly four inches, and my overall proportions seemed to have scaled appropriately. Which meant all of my clothing was going to look ridiculous on me, like a kid playing dress up.

“You know,” Darla said, “you’d probably fit okay in dad’s clothes. He wasn’t as tall as you and he kept in decent shape.”

I was about to quibble, because what gay man wants to dress up like their recently deceased (and decidedly not fashion-forward) father, but it wasn’t like I had loads of good options.

“Fine. Pick something out while I shower, will you?”

I knew my sister; she’d find the most dad-at-his-most-clueless outfit and get a photo of me in it, to be shared with our mutual friends and the family. Let her have her fun, I was still holding back the panic that had been swelling all morning. One thing at a time.

I grabbed fresh undies (I had some stretchy briefs that I’d bought for pride, hoping to make my average junk look bigger) and headed to the bathroom again.

Where I got my second surprise, as I stood in front of the mirror naked. My body looked about the same, at first glance, but on closer examination, the muscle that I’d held onto looked a bit denser. It looked like I had a decent pump. But the other thing was my dick looked a fair bit bigger than I was used to. Both ways. As in, it seemed both longer and thicker, and that was flaccid.

So confusing, the feelings washing through me! It was exciting to think about being fitter and even more so to imagine having a bigger dick. But I needed to shower, so that’s what I did.

I did, however, take a few extra moments to rub one out, and once I was hard, the head of my cock lined up with my belly button. That was definitely new, as was the surprising heft it had in my hands. I blasted my load—a particularly good one—at that bit of confirmation, but my dick didn’t go down, not even after I opted to rinse the soap off with cold water.

I’m sure, growing up, my sister had seen me with a boner. She was just two years older and it wasn’t a big house—and we shared a bathroom. But all the same, that was twenty years ago and I wasn’t keen to show off the state of affairs. The damned thing just wouldn’t go down.

I didn’t often use a bathrobe, but I was glad of it now.

“Left some clothes on your bed, Den,” she hollered up the stairs.

“Thanks,” I shouted back. There on the bed were some jeans and a button-down shirt, plus a pair of sneakers. All of them were dad’s, and to my shock, they matched. I wasn’t aware that was a likely outcome based on how dad usually dressed.

I pulled on the briefs and grabbed a tee shirt from the drawer, accepting that it was going to be baggy on me—but it really did look a bit pathetic. Sighing, I tugged on the trousers and pulled the belt tight; they were a little too big in the waist. Similarly, the shirt was tighter in the shoulders and looser in the waist, but it worked well enough for now.

When I tromped down the stairs a few minutes later, Darla was still scrolling her iPad like crazy.

“Word of advice, brother dear,” she said, “don’t search for your condition with safe search switched off. Way too much Rule 34 out there.”

“My condition?”

“What should I call it? For crying out loud, man, you shrunk!”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “Take it you didn’t find anything promising.”

“Not in the half hour you were screwing around in the shower,” she retorted.

I pulled out the laptop—mine, not work’s!—and switched to incognito mode. And then I began searching using every trick I’d picked up over the years. Darla peered over my shoulder.

“Shit, you weren’t kidding,” I said, having stumbled across some particular freaky shit already.

“You’re at least getting some better results than I have….no, wait, what’s that?”

This particular link was for what you might have assumed was a role play section on one of the more popular naughty sites—except, it wasn’t. It was under an anonymous questions area. And there were a few.

Hey guys I am a little worried, I woke up and I was shorter, does that happen? I’m 22 and i figured I still had a little growth left in me, but I must be two inches shorter. What can cause that for real?

WTF I SOMEHOW STARTED LOSING HEIGHT I AM 55 IS THIS NORMAL

AITA? Impranked my roommate last month by shrinking his clothes. This month, mine seem to be getting bigger. I got real mad at him but now he says he didn’t do anything. The more I think about it I can’t figure out how he could have done it as a prank, and I feel bad for yelling. But I’m also freaked out.

Half a dozen other entries followed similar patterns, and all of them since last fall.

“That’s kinda weird,” Darla said, “isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I think maybe I should see my doctor, he’ll have records showing the difference. Maybe there’s some kind of, I dunno, wasting thing?”

“I hope so. I mean, I hope he knows what’s up. Any other symptoms?”

I hesitated. “Yeah, actually, but I would rather not say.”

“Brother dear, it cant be any weirder than this.”

“How about if I’m pretty sure my junk is bigger?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Gross. It’s probably just that you’re smaller.”

I nodded, but I was pretty sure that was not the case. But I had no real measure and wasn’t going to whip it out for her to take a reading.

After a bit of unnecessary worried nagging, she bowed out—the kids had some kind of afternoon thing for scouts and her hubby was away so she was playing chauffeur. Obviously that’s after extracting a promise that I’d go to the doctor first thing, and let her know if anything changed.

The afternoon drained away as I scoured the internet, but almost all the leads turned out to be duds—mostly fantasy, plus a rare post from someone equally worried (or convincing enough to fake it).

However, one other problem became obvious pretty quickly: I was pretty horny. And I’d been prowling various kinky forums looking for help, which meant I ended up skimming way too many sexy posts. Now that I’d exhausted my search capabilities, I figured I’d clear my head with a wank. And I’m not gonna lie, the heft of my larger dick was calling my hand in a way it hadn’t before.

Whatever else was going on with my body, a bigger dick and the slight muscle growth were definitely trades I would happily accept.

Somehow, documentation makes things feel real, so I wrestled with the notion of tracking my measurements. But something told me my changes weren’t over. Whatever was messing with my body didn’t feel, well, finished.

I opened up a Google spreadsheet and down what I thought I had been.

Height: 6 ft, 0.5 inches
Weight: 215
Chest: 44
Waist: 36
Dick: 6 inches

And now?

Height: 5 ft, 7.25 inches
Weight: 209
Chest: 44
Waist: 32
Dick: 7 inches

Those latter numbers were undoubtedly more accurate than my guesses for a starting point, but they’d do for now. I wasn’t too fussed about precision.

It was interesting that my chest was the same size and my waist had shrunk a bit, because when I flexed a bit, I had a hint of muscle instead of the “haven’t really got fat yet but definitely not in great shape” body I’d been sporting. Maybe a few months of gym time might have produced a similar result. Well, aside from the lost height and extended cock size. Now, you could tell I was flexing, and a little prodding suggested it wasn’t an illusion.

But damn, my dick was actually bigger. Longer, certainly, and girthy in a way it hadn’t been. As I swelled up, I added another measurement.

Penis girth: 5.4 inches.

Now what?

Practical matters first. Clothing was needed, but until I got a handle on this, I was not going to want the stress of work stuff. So I emailed my supervisor and my usual backup, apologized, said I was sick and I’d be out until I was cleared by a doctor.

I’d call the doctor in the morning.

I salvaged another few options from dad’s closet and tried them on; they’d do in a pinch. Underwear was trickier because dad preferred boxers and I could already tell that was a poor option. Even flaccid I was a solid five inches now, and that required a little management. Plus, I didn’t like the idea of using dad’s undies.

And then I spent another hour or so trying to find anything that might explain my condition… only to get distracted by my libidinous urges again. I blew two more loads that day, and wondered how one effectively measures balls, because mine felt a little heftier, too.

I scrounged a fairly large supper, watched a movie, and fell asleep halfway through it. Popped a few Tylenol and went to bed early.

When I woke in the morning, I still had the full body ache, and once again my toilet time was unpleasantly vicious. I chalked it down to pigging out last night, but despite that, my weight seemed fairly stable, around 212. I knew better than to worry much about a few pounds here and there, but considered I may want to have a better sense of my fluctuations.

But then I looked in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, I realized I looked a bit more… compact.

I called and lucked out, my usual doctor had an opening that very afternoon. I told the receptionist about my body aches and hinted I had other more private concerns to discuss.

Now I just had to kill a few hours. I’d save the measuring for the doctor’s office. Well, most of it. I grabbed some food and turned on the idiot box.

Before an hour passed, the aches intensified and I popped a few pain pills, but a few minutes after I did so, I had another problem. Namely, my cock was demanding some attention. I figured it would take my mind off things if I banged one out in the shower, and the hot water would probably help with the aches.

By the time I was finished, nearly three hours had passed and I had to scramble to make my appointment.

I arrived at the doctor’s office about five minutes before my appointment and checked in with the receptionist, who handed me a tablet with a bunch of electronic forms. And in fairly short order, the nurse collected me and took my vitals. She seemed surprised that I asked her to measure my height as well, but not as surprised as I was.

“Five feet, six inches on the nose, and 218 for the weight,” she said. “Let’s do your temperature and pressure.”

“Those numbers feel a bit off,” I said. Had I lost another inch and gained five pounds? Since breakfast?

“You can have the doc double check, but I wouldn’t worry about the weight, you have a fair bit of muscle for your size. Temp normal range, and the BP seems good, too,” she said.

I sat there on the examination table, just trying to process her off handed comment. When she left I looked at the arm she’d used for the blood pressure cuff. Curious, I made a fist—and was surprised to find a dense firmness as my arm tensed up. There was muscle there in my forearm and (a quick flex) yeah, an actual bicep! I experimentally prodded my chest and found it unaccountably firm.

“Howdy, Mr Dennis,” Dr Bentley said. “So, what seems to be the issue?”

“This is gonna sound weird, but I am pretty sure I’m shrinking. Like, the nurse measured my height at 5’6”, and I was a little over 6’ last time I checked.

“Huh, that’s a new one. But Sarah is pretty short herself, so let’s put your mind at ease,” he said. “We will double-check in a moment. Looks like the other vitals are good. You’ve put on a few pounds, though….” He looked over his glasses at me, as if noticing for the first time. “If you’ve been hitting the gym, muscle does weigh more than fat.”

“No such luck.”

“Really? Did you change your diet or something? No changes to meds?”

“Nope.”

“Any new medication I don’t know about?” He seemed a little suspicious. “I can’t report you if you are, but I’d caution—”

“No, I’m clean, man. I barely even drink, I haven’t been to the gym in a year, haven’t changed my routine.”

“Huh.” He had me step on the scale and double-check the height, as he promised. “Five foot six, on the dot.”

“That’s why I’m freaking out a bit. Yesterday I noticed I was the same height as my sister and she is 5’7” exactly. Pretty sure this just happened.”

“That’s a new one on me, then. Can you think of anything that you might have been exposed to?”

“I haven’t done much but work for the last six months. I did go to a festival this past weekend, so maybe I picked up some kind of bug,” I suggested.

“That would explain the aches, but you seem to be in better health than your last three visits. You’re just shorter, and,” he sighed, “I have no guesses as to why. Sometimes men in their 30s and 40s compress a little, but not like this. Has anything else changed?”

“My waist dropped at least one size since Saturday. The shorts I wore to Pride are loose now.”

“Anything else?”

“Um,” I said uncomfortably, “my penis seems to be bigger, by about an inch. And my libido has been kind of a lot the last two days.”

“…huh,” he said. “I will make a note. That could be a result of increased fitness.”

“Yeah but even if it was that, how did I get fitter overnight?”

“If I knew that, I’d be too rich to care. But clearly I don’t have the secret to instant muscle tone and a bigger penis, so here I am, sharing this mystery with you.”

That wasn’t the answer I’d come looking for, but to his credit, Bentley read the room pretty quickly.

“Sorry, that kind of slipped out. I think the best thing is to run some tests and keep an eye on things. Meanwhile, get some rest and hydrate.”

I left several vials of blood and a pee sample lighter, but with no real answers.

I’d adjusted my seat but it still felt odd driving my car. I felt smaller but also larger, if that made any sense.

And hungry.

And horny. Again.

I grabbed a chicken sandwich meal at the drive-through and then pulled into a space, letting the music and the AC keep me company while I ate. I wasn’t keen to go into the restaurant, both because I was feeling shrimpy and because I had a rapidly emerging hard-on. And while I sat and ate, I wrestled with what to do next.

I didn’t want to assume anything, but I couldn’t tell whether whatever was happening was finished with me, and I didn’t know whether there was any way to reverse it. But I also didn’t want to face questions at work (not like I had answers anyway), and I didn’t particularly want to go buy clothes to fit my new size, whatever that turned out to be, before I stabilized. I didn’t want to be out in public, either, because of embarrassment, but I’d have to deal with some stuff eventually.

So the first thing was to use the doctor’s note to take a break from work. At least a week, until I got a handle on this change and knew what was happening.

Second, I needed to find out more about this whole deal. There was just enough of a murmur about similar stuff happening out there to get my hopes up.

Third, I needed to monitor myself.

And fourth, I needed, badly, to deal with this libido.

Wait, five, I needed groceries, because the 1400 calories I’d just consumed barely took the edge off. Briefly, I wondered if the extra calories would slow down the process, or speed it up, but the gnawing hunger in my gut meant it didn’t matter too much.

Work was understanding, and thanks to Covid, the grocery places all offered delivery these days. And I figured I’d use at least some of the time to tackle a few house chores I always put off.

The best laid plans, right?

Instead, I got home, placed a big Costco order to fill up the pantry and fridge, and ordered a large pizza with everything. I took care of my raging boner while I waited, and then devoured more than half of the pizza when it arrived.

Darla texted me, and I gave her an update saying I was okay, and would let her know when I got results back. I also looked hard at my finances and tried to figure out how long I could stay off work. Just in case. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea but if I had to, I could last for nearly a year. That layoff rumor to years ago had made me set aside more than usual, thank goodness.

And then, I continued digging into remote corners of the internet. I’d reached out to a buddy with some hacker skills, and soon found my way into the dark web, but found it mostly incomprehensible and useless. I’d either need his help to find my way, or I’d need to learn more myself, and I had enough on my mind. But I’d also found some more places where people had posted oddly real-sounding worried messages claiming they’d shrunk. There was, sadly almost never any follow-up on those, and rarely more than two on a site. But I began plugging the reports into a spreadsheet because that’s what I do. Maybe a pattern would emerge.

Throughout the rest of that day, I tried to ignore my raging libido and focus on other things, but it was no easy task.

Finally the Costco order came and I put it away, whacked off to take the edge off, and went to bed early, hoping the next day would bring answers.

The next day was no help. The body aches continued, though luckily the Tylenol helped. The awful bathroom visits continued, but at least now I had eaten enough the prior day to justify them.

But to my dismay, I’d shrunk again, or rather, my body continued to shrink and expand in odd ways.

Height: 5 ft, 4.85 inches
Weight: 219
Chest: 46
Waist: 30
Dick: 7.75 inches
Penis girth: 6.25 inches

I had, I realized, continued to tone up and bulk up as I slept, somehow. I no longer even looked doughy, I looked muscular, like an off-season footballer. I was solid, and I was absolutely packing. Just shorter.

And dad’s clothes were now too big. Well, too long, at least, and pretty tight around the fun parts.

And my dick had never been bigger. Seriously, it was a handful and then some, and it was a turn-on to touch. Or to think about. Or to be aware of.

It took three back-to-back jerk sessions to make it go down after breakfast.

By late afternoon, I’d had to fend off Darla and I’d called the doctor’s office hoping for an update, but they said it would be at least another day before they got back most of the lab work. Made short work of those house chores, too, trying to stay busy to avoid jerking off more or worrying myself to death.

And while I was catching up on some TV, I made accounts on some of those naughty sites, thinking i might be able to connect with some of the people who’d posted questions.

And after eating way too much for breakfast and lunch, it occurred to me that I should probably see if the bulk I now possessed was just for show.

I’d used the gym at my community a few times, but not recently, and was pleased to find it empty but decently appointed. I’d gotten some use there during the pandemic but it looked like some new equipment had replaced the rather boring standard offerings. I started with cardio, and that went well, so I proceeded to circuit training on the big machine.

And quickly realized that the bulk I now possessed wasn’t just for show. Not at all.

One nice advantage of those machines is that you don’t spend half your time moving big disks back and forth; instead, you move a pin into a space, and you can get right to it. You can, for example, adjust easily when you find the resistance isn’t quite right.

Today, I adjusted only in one direction. It felt pretty good to test new limits, or to plow through another set of reps. And I barely noticed the time passing, especially since my apparently-now-standard-issue hourly boner seemed to nap while I was working out. It almost felt like the energy was being directed elsewhere, leaving my willie out of the picture for a bit. Just as well since the blissful just-me time ended when a group of chattering ladies showed up just as I finished another set of leg exercises. Best to avoid risk of impropriety and head back to my room before the hornies returned, right?

So I grabbed my towel and water bottle, and turned to leave when the door opened.

Coming through the doorway were two guys, probably college guys by the look of them, laughing and roughhousing a bit in a friendly jock sort of way. They didn’t immediately notice me because they were focused on each other.

Not in a sexual way, but in the way that friends having fun aren’t always aware of the world around them.

The two of them looked to be about 6 feet tall, same lanky yet muscular build. By their gear and general attitude, they weren’t serious jocks, just college boys doing basic maintenance. But both were pretty gifted—nature had done well by them. One was black, or rather sort of a dusky caramel color, with blond highlights in his short dreads. The other looked more Asian and Latino, or probably Filipino, and hard short spiky black hair. They were poking each other and laughing, and there was something both innocent and kind of homoerotic about their playfulness.

“Oh!” the black kid said, suddenly realizing I existed. “Sorry, man, didn’t mean to—”

“Damn, dude,” the other one said, “you get like that working out here?”

I looked down at myself, forgetting for just a second how I looked. “More or less,” I replied.

“You are one solid little dude,” the black kid said. “I ain’t seen you here before. And I’m here most days with my man Justin.”

Justin, in turn, smiled. “Damn, man, how big are your arms? Carlo, how big do you think his arms are?”

I must have blushed as I stammered “I don’t really know, I haven’t checked.”

“That’s a good pump,” Carlo said, reaching out to touch my upper arm. Then he stopped just short of touching, and his bright eyes met mine. “You cool if I touch?”

I nodded, and his long fingers gently felt my arm. I found myself attempting to flex a bit and was surprised by the results.

“Shit, that’s pretty solid.”

I looked over at Justin, who met my eyes and, when I nodded assent, did the same to my shoulder. “Fuck, that’s all muscle.”

“How long you been working out?”

“Not long, just kind of getting back into it,” I said.

“You compete, bro?”

“No,” I said.

“You should. You got a lot packed onto your frame, and they don’t take points off if you’re short. My cousin competes and he’s only about 5-foot-7,” Carlo said.

“Thanks, but,” I said, kind of sheepishly, “I’m still kind of adjusting to all this.” Besides, I thought, five-seven was a few days ago.

“Damn, dude, you, uh….” Justin was looking with wide eyes. “Uh, you may wanna…”

I looked down, and realized that my dick was half chubbed….and it was visible below the hem of my shorts. And the moment I realized that, it began to quickly rise.

“Oh shit!”

“No no, no homo, man, we surprised you,” Carlo said, backing up a step. “And we’ve all been there.”

“I know Carlo certainly has,” Justin said, with a sly smile that suggested he was quite familiar with Carlo’s occasional mishaps.

“Shut up,” Carlo said.

“Bro, I think he’s bigger than you are!” Justin laughed.

“Come on man,” Carlo replied. He was half blushing and half annoyed.

“Bro, it’s just us here,” Justin said to me. “You’re clearly a big guy, but Carlo’s packing a solid eight. You gotta be close…” He seemed proud of his friend, but Carlo just looked away a bit.

“Um,” I replied, “probably something close to that.”

“Shit,” Carlo muttered.

Justin’s innocent smile turned ever so slightly more teasing as he fixed his deep-set brown eyes on his buddy. “What’s the matter, bro, feeling threatened?”

“No way is he bigger.”

My penis seemed eager to prove itself, and despite scrunching my eyes shut and willing it to calm down, I could feel it reaching some new level of hardness. I knew it was lurching up to be fully erect. I must have blushed with my entire body, and yet, it was so erotic I couldn’t move, powerless against them ogling my junk.

“Damn,” Justin said. “He’s got you tied, I think.”

“No fucking way! It just looks bigger on him,” Carlo said, and I heard a thwack as he pulled down his shorts. That got my attention and my eyes opened of their own accord.

Carlo’s narrow waist and visible abs were partly hidden behind a dark pillar of cock. He was definitely gifted. And apparently uncut, but not unshaven.

He took a step back toward me, to better compare.

Justin frowned. “Close call,” he said, mischievously. “May I?”

“Go ahead, you fucking queer,” Carlo said, but I could hear the fondness in his voice and see his smile.

A light brown hand circled Carlo’s big black cock, and the other, hesitantly, reached for mine. I shuddered and nodded assent. His hand was warm and soft.

“Still a close call,” he said, appearing to take things very seriously. “You boys both as hard as you get?”

“Always,” Carlo said.

“Okay, bro,” Justin said, and added his right hand to his left, using his fingers to measure the length of the cock along the top. And then he did the same to me.

I couldn’t help but spurt a little pre when he touched me.

“Nice,” he smiled. “Carlo, man, I’m sorry, he has maybe half a finger on you.”

I looked up at Carlo, only to find him staring wide eyed at my dick. “Fuck me,” he muttered.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Justin said. “You know our rule. Biggest cock goes first.”

Justin then looked down at me. “And that’s you,” he said. “So who do you want first?”

I mentioned that Pride had been disappointing.

That’s mostly because it had been quite a while since I’d gone out—I hadn’t dated in a few years, and then the pandemic, and all that stuff. So when I ended up spotting this very cute guy (he looked like the guy who played Cisco on the Flash tv show, right down to the great hair and the big smile), and realized we were holding eye contact, I got a little excited. Then I ended up next to him at the bar, and then we ended up kissing right there (to the annoyance of the other patrons trying to order). There was a brief moment of giggling, and then we were full on making out.

And then he suddenly pulled away, said “sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.”

And then he left me there. It still stung a bit, if I’m honest.

Ahem.

Anyway, to say I wasn’t really prepared for that kind of attention is fair. And certainly not here, in a public gym by the locker room. I could feel panic surging in my gut, which just barely outpaced the blood inflating my dick.

“Make it a rain check, boys. You know I don’t allow that sort of thing here,” said a deep rumble behind me.

“Sorry Dave,” Carlos said, embarrassed. And then he and Justin awkwardly sidled past.

“Dick measuring contests are one thing,” Dave said, “but locker rooms get gross enough without getting cum everywhere. I’m Dave, I own this place. You’re new.”

Dave had to be 6’6”, and if he hadn’t competed professionally he’d missed out. The man was built like a tank, or perhaps a linebacker who had just eaten a bodybuilder for lunch. I later found out he really had competed 20 years or so ago, and despite being in his 60s still retained most of his shape. And that shape was huge.

“Um, I’m Dennis,” I stammered.

“Nice to meet ya, little dude. Let me take a look at you.” He stepped back and looked critically at me. “You just switch gyms? Got a little starter mass on you, I see. Not too shabby for someone your size.”

“It just sort of happened,” I said. “Recently.”

“Well, keep at it if you want to hold onto it. Or if you want to get serious size, your frame looks like it could take it. Check with the guy up front if you want to look for a trainer, we have some good ones.”

“Thanks, I don’t really know what I’m aiming for yet,” I said.

“Really.” He smiled and pointed at my erection. “Right now you’re aiming at either me or the locker room doorway. Might want to take a cold shower before you head out.”

“Sorry,” I said, “it’s got a mind of its own. I think I just need to get home to take care of something.”

“Do that, little dude. And maybe pick up some compression shorts or something to keep that thing in check. I run a clean gym,” he said, “not a hookup spot.”

“Yes, sorry,” I stammered.

He grunted and stepped aside, and after a quick reposition of the offending fuckstick, I basically made for the exit and went home.

Home, and a little sore. I found myself wishing I had at least used the hot tub to soak my aching muscles. I shucked my shirt and took stock in the bathroom mirror where the harsh light pulled no punches and told no lies.

I was pumped, and bulky looking. An experimental flex and an amateurish pose showed a compact, muscular guy with my face—and what appeared to be a zucchini stuffed into his shorts. The scale was right there, so I stood on it and got another surprise: the readout said I weighed 225 pounds. Could that be from all the food and the pump?

I showered and pissed like a racehorse (not in the shower, thank you, eww) and the scale read 223.5 pounds. Nearly five pounds since the morning. God only knew what tomorrow would hold.

I sat on the sofa and turned on some background noise, then opened my laptop to search some more. And just as it had last night, my search led me to some freaky porn and before I knew it, my big cock was in my ever-smaller hand.

The next day, things got weirder.

Height: 5 ft, 3 inches
Weight: 224
Chest: 49
Waist: 29
Dick: 8.5 inches
Penis girth: 6.75 inches

I was shorter than my mom had been. And heavier than my 6-foot dad had been.

It took me two sessions to calm that growing beast of a cock down, but the rest of me remained wired. A dull but not entirely unpleasant body ache persisted, which I supposed made sense, given the rate at which my body was reshaping itself. But mostly I felt full of energy, and not just the horny kind.

I managed to hold focus most of the day by frequently breaking to jerk off or eat, or just do some quick calisthenics. That kept the edge off, too.

I went back to the one forum where I’d found a few real-seeming posts that described similar circumstances, and when I logged in, I saw that two of them had replied to my questions.

Hey. Saw your message. You may not believe it but I started losing height last November, and I went from 5’11” to 5’1” over the holidays. Weird thing is, I swear I barely lost any weight, it just all kind of turned into muscle. My doctor couldn’t explain it. My girlfriend loved it though. It took a few months to adjust but things are good, now it seems to be done with me.

Hope you aren’t into some kind of kink bc this was really scary. I lost five inches and my boyfriend dumped me. I wasn’t big before but now I’m only 4’8”. But now I have a huge dick and that’s kind of cool I guess.

Yikes.

And then, finally, another message.

Hi, I noticed your message and wondered if you were being seen by a doctor. A small team of us are looking into the symptoms you mentioned. Specifically the reports of loss of height, and unusual redistribution of mass onto a smaller frame, are unprecedented. They would have been written off as fantasy, but for the handful of documented cases. It is possible that a virus or other vector may be at play. If you are interested and willing to participate, there is a study underway and we would like to interview you to assess whether you’d be a candidate.

This last one had contact information, and a link to a government public health site.

I sent off the email almost right away.

The next day, things got weirder.

Height: 5 ft, 2.5 inches
Weight: 228
Chest: 51
Waist: 29
Dick: 9 inches
Penis girth: 6.75 inches

Yeah, the half-inch I lost went straight to my dick, which certainly didn’t need it at that point.

I couldn’t tell if things were slowing down or speeding up, but what seemed clear was that it wasn’t done yet.

The aches seemed less intense, or maybe I was just getting used to them. The libido, annoyingly, was still ramped up. Once in bed, another time in the shower. And here it was 930 in the morning and I was thinking about going for another round.

Then my phone rang. Caller ID said “NIH/NIAID”, so I answered it.

“May I speak to Dennis Reilly?”

“Speaking,” I said.

“This is Dr Jason Melton. You reached out to our office recently regarding some unusual symptoms, am I correct?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I see here you live in the area. I’m wondering if you could come in for some tests?”

Finally!

An hour later I was pulling into a suburban DC area office park. The gate guard was expecting me, and directed me to a building a little ways back. I parked, after some mild annoyance seeing over the back seat, and made my way to the marked entrance.

“Good day, Mr Reilly,” said a tall, thin black woman. “I’m glad you could make it in. Can I get you to fill some forms out while we wait for the doctor? It’s the usual new patient stuff, HIPAA form, NDA, medical history, permissions, that sort of thing. No insurance, though, so that’s nice.”

I nodded and took the tablet, and set to work. I was still filing stuff out when a 30-something Asian man—Korean, at a guess—in a lab coat came to get me. I hurriedly docusigned the rest of it and stood to greet him, finding myself annoyed at his height (he had to be close to 6 feet). After introducing himself as Dr Park, he brought me back to an exam room where a tall female nurse awaited.

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll have Jenny get some vitals while we talk. You are good with some blood samples?”

I nodded, and then he began a very thorough medical assessment.

“We will get your files from your primary care physician in a bit, but unless you are pulling my leg, your symptoms match something we have been tracking for a few months now.”

“Losing almost a foot of height and all, the rest, you’re calling those symptoms?”

“Doesn’t really do them justice, I know,” he said, sympathetically. “Physical effects might be better wording. Whatever we call them, they’re real, and they’re affecting a few hundred people we are currently tracking, and probably quite a lot more we haven’t yet found.”

“So what is it?”

“We aren’t sure. Not yet, at least. There are a few theories, but we don’t have a ton of data to work with.” He sighed. “Honestly, this one has us stumped. That’s why we are so aggressively trying to gather data.”

“I bet,” I said. “Is there anything we can do to stop it?”

“If I can be frank with you, Mr Reilly, we haven’t begun to understand how this…whatever it is… works. We can see the results but the cause and the operating mechanisms are proving elusive.”

“That’s not terribly comforting,” I said.

“Sorry, but I believe in giving you as much information as I can, because you may have some decisions to make in pretty short order. Ugh, sorry, bad phrasing.”

“What kind of decisions? What kind of information?”

“First, what I’m about to tell you is covered by some pretty serious NDAs. National security sorts of things, and I’m not joking at all.”

“Okay….”

“Since last October, approximately 2000 credible reports have reached our offices, or those of our partners at the CDC. One of the reports referred to a ‘dwindling’ and the name kind of stuck. Anyway, we’ve been tracking this and the symptoms have been pretty consistent. Most folks lose between three and eight inches in height, with proportional reduction in mass, over a space of perhaps five weeks. A much smaller cadre find themselves awash in male hormones, much like those released in puberty, with a corresponding boost to secondary sexual characteristics. A few have reported more extreme responses, like yours—including benign muscular and genital tissue growth, hyperspermia, and what I can only describe as the hormonal concentration of a horny teenager.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Muscle and bone density increased in most subjects. Quite a few got very hairy almost overnight. But every single person lost a few inches in height fairly quickly, and that’s weird enough to trip some alarms. Hence this study.”

“Study. Right,” I said still processing.

“Yes, and it’s important if we are ever going to figure this thing out. We need as much data as possible. Right now we have more questions than answers.”

“Shit,” I said. “Is there any cure?”

“I’m afraid not. We think it may be passed via fluids, based on anecdotal evidence. But we have yet to isolate any virus or other pathogen that could explain what’s been happening. Which is where you come in.”

He leaned in and lowered his voice.

“You appear to be …an outlier. We have had a few people settle around 5’, and one who wound up just above four feet. But your responses across the board have been strong. If your self observations are correct, whatever is causing this is likely still active in your system. Which means we can monitor it as it occurs. And that may reveal more about how it works, whatever it is. And that gives us a fighting chance to slow or even halt the dwindling.”

“And reverse it?”

“That’s not something I can promise. I think it’s only fair to tell you that it’s pretty likely the changes wrought are not reversible. We can probably get the hormones back in balance, which may help, but I have no clue how we would reverse the height loss. I am sorry, but you need to prepare for the worst.”

“Fuck!”

“What I can tell you is that we have a number of other guests under care and monitoring already. And we have developed some things to help manage some of the more challenging aspects of the dwindling.”

“So what, you want me to come in every week?”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. I guess you didn’t get that far in your paperwork. We are recommending residential stay for now, at least until you stabilize or we identify the spread vector. You’re going to be under quarantine for a while.”

“I can’t go into quarantine! I have work!”

“Mr Reilly, we just got past a pandemic. And the current administration is committed to doing everything possible to prevent another one. Believe me when I say that there are any number of ways we can legally compel compliance. I’d really rather not have to use them. As for the logistical stuff, we can sort that out on your behalf. And if nothing else, we are actively hiring analysts with your sort of background at the moment. But let’s not rush things. I think we can cover things with your current employer.”

“Maybe I could arrange to work from home, at least,” I said. “I’m not exactly eager to be out in public as a shrimp.”

“Understandable. But there’s something you probably need to consider as well,” he replied. “Your libido issues are almost certainly going to become a bigger problem as time goes on. We recommend a medical leave of absence.”

“Really?”

“Nearly everyone we are tracking suffers from hyperspermia and clinical compulsive sexual disorder, which we believe is a direct result of the hormonal cocktail flooding your systems. How many times a week did you masturbate or otherwise engage in sexual activity before, and how many times did you do so yesterday?”

“Shit,” I said.

“The patient who dwindled to nearly four feet tall has to deal with his urges nearly every two hours while he’s awake. Being interrupted every 90 minutes or so and spending half an hour dealing with the problem makes normal 9-to-5 day jobs rough to hold onto. And he typically wakes up having had nocturnal emissions as well. Luckily, he is an outlier, and most of the others are reporting something more like normal teenage horniness.”

“That’s plenty distracting,” I said.

“So, about the quarantine situation. We are in the process of setting up a facility for that purpose. A repurposed corporate retreat space in western Maryland, free of prying eyes, but near civilization. I’m a little excited to move from this awful office park, myself.”

Of course, I had to think it over, but what choice did I have, really? The “normal teenage hormones” stage was a rapidly vanishing point in my mental rear view window, and the week wasn’t even over.

“How small do you think I will get?”

“I don’t know,” the doctor replied. “Based on prior outliers, and how much height you’ve lost….well, you’re outpacing them.”

“Not what I had hoped to be exceptional about.”

“I really am sorry. On the bright side, not all of you is dwindling.”

“Heh.”

“And if it helps, you’re an outlier there, too. You’ve mostly just, I don’t know, kind of ….compressed. And if I’m honest, the look kind of works for you.”

I probably blushed a bit.

“They weren’t exactly lining up to date me as it was. I might have done better if I just turned into a twink, but at this rate it’s more…I dunno, fantasy dwarf?”

“I must say you’re taking this better than I feared.”

“It’ll hit me sooner or later. Right now it’s a bit of a shock, and this has been a week full of shocks. Ever since Pride and that guy. I mean, who makes out with you out of the blue, and then flees? It’s a shame, he was really cute, and I didn’t get his name.”

They sent me home with a bunch of paperwork and I spent the afternoon working out what to tell folks—finding a balance of truth and omission. And of course, dealing with the stubborn libido situation.

In the morning, I’d make a ton of phone calls to hand off my work, and take medical leave. I called my sister and texted a few friends, but kept details minimal. Darla, of course, got the full report.

She was not happy.

“Sounds a bit sus, brother mine. Not just the idea of a secret facility where they could do anything to you. All of it,” she grumbled.

“It is a government facility,” I said. “And I checked out the doctor I met, and he seems legit. We know we are dealing with something new and weird. And I really could use the break.”

“I guess. You better stay in touch,” she said. “I’ll keep the house from exploding while you’re away, but don’t be gone too long.”

The next morning, I woke hoping I’d stabilized. I hadn’t.

Height: 5 ft, 0.75 inches
Weight: 233
Chest: 53
Waist: 30
Dick: 10.25 inches
Penis girth: 7.25 inches

Hoo, boy, that was a lot of dick to manage. And at barely over five feet tall, all that weight was packed into dense muscle. I had big pecs now, and I hadn’t even earned them. I’d always wanted to be buff…

Yeah, I got off on my own compact fireplug body. Twice.

Work wasn’t happy, but with the promise of helping by email when I could, they would have to manage. Dr Melton’s office would provide plenty of paperwork to keep HR satisfied. Hopefully I’d still be employed when this was all over.

But, as I was reminded four more times that afternoon, my main priority had to be my health. And my monster dick required more attention.

My buddy Tommy was, as expected, the first to call. Tommy is… well, he is a lot. He is, as anyone could immediately guess, gay. And very flamboyant. I’d met him at the chorus thing, and we had clicked, but after fooling around exactly twice when we were drunk and lonely, we settled into a very stable friendship built around him being outrageous and then me pulling him back to reality.

Average, physically. About five-nine and 160, trim and lean but with a bit of pudge, because he was also in his late thirties. He was cute in an otterish way, brown hair brown eyes, and a terrible gossip. Of course he had somehow found out I was sick, and had text coming over now with soup about half an hour ago, but I’d been too busy choking my chicken to notice. And now there was a knock on the door and a ringing phone.

“Hey,” he said. “Unlock your door.”

“I’m sick, man. Not taking visitors.”

“Bullshit. I can see you.”

I sighed. Tommy would not let up, as I knew all too well, so I just skipped to the part where I let him in.

“Jesus holy fuck balls,” Tommy said.

“Yup,” I said.

“Hoo boy. God. What the actual hell.”

“Are you done? Cuz this whole situation isn’t stressful enough already.”

“Are you shitting me? God, no wonder you called out.”

I could see the questions mounting.

“One, yes, I’m okay, just …more compact. It’s some kind of sickness and I’ve been to the doctor, and I don’t know much yet. All that height I lost seems to have wound up elsewhere.”

“Okay,” he said. “I never heard of anyone shrinking before, not for real. How short are you?”

“Not quite five foot one.”

“And what about other measurements?”

I pulled up my little Google Spreadsheet and showed him.

“Damn. Is it going to stop anytime soon?”

“Hasn’t yet,” I said.

“Is your—” he began, then seemed to rethink his question. “Is your dick really that big?”

I blushed. “Yeah.”

He smiled. “Talk about compensating.”

“Sure, it’s cute now. But what if this doesn’t stop? There are practical considerations and this whopper has already begun to be inconvenient.”

“I want proof,” he said.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said, and showed him the offending organ right there in the kitchen. Damn, I was only partly soft.

“Huh,” he said. “Denny my boy, that is an upgrade if I ever saw one.”

“Hey, you never complained before!” I stuffed my meat back into its straining pouch.

“Sorry, babe. Nothing against your old dick, but this is bigger all over. It kind of thickened up like the rest of you did.”

“Goddamnit, Tommy. What am I gonna do? I’m not even fully hard.” I leaned on the edge of the couch.

“That,” he said, grinning slyly, “is a problem I can help you with.”

When I tell you he practically pounced on me like demented French cartoon skunk, I’m not joking. I think he expected to bowl my little ass over onto the couch and have his way with me. But apparently neither of us expected me to basically catch him, effortlessly, in one arm, without tipping over.

I kind of knew I was stronger than I used to be, but I didn’t even budge. Just palmed his ass one-handed, and sat there.

“That is not what I expected to happen,” Tommy said, confused. “What the hell?”

I set him down on the floor

“This isn’t just show muscle, is it?”

“Guess not. I did hit the gym the other day and it went pretty well. Not like I earned it,” I said.

“Okay, new plan, because apparently being extra buff is something I didn’t really realize turned me on. First, we work you out, hard, and then we take the rest of you for a test drive….”

“Do I get a say in this?” I objected.

“Yes.” He gestured at my now hard cock. “You said yes, with a big exclamation point.”

I resisted going to the actual gym, mostly because I was pretty self conscious about my height. Tommy was fine with that.

“Just run up and down the stairs until you get sweaty,” he said. “Then some pushups and crunches, maybe, and if you still have dumbbells, some stuff with those. But do it in your undies. I wanna see those muscles go!”

Fine. It occurred to me that if I burned some energy working out rather than whacking off, it would probably be healthier. Plus, the idea of an audience—at least one I knew—seemed a little fun.

First, the stairs. Up and down, twenty times, even with my shorter legs, wasn’t much of a challenge. Before, it would have winded me, to say the least. Then, I banged out 100 pushups, and 100 crunches. Again, barely a sweat. My little set of adjustable dumbbells, fully loaded, were maybe 60 pounds each, and I did all the usual exercises with those too—and, well, I was fine. Lunges and squats and presses and curls, anything we could think of. It wasn’t a huge challenge, and I know I hadn’t loaded up that heavy at the actual gym. But I finally broke a sweat somewhere in that process.

“I’m impressed. Bet you put on quite a show at the proper gym,” he said.

“Very nearly. We were interrupted before we got too serious.”

“Really! The nerve of some people. Annnnnyway….”

He then took some more measurements while I was pumped. More lines in my spreadsheet.

More evidence of my freaky changes.

“Now, let’s check on the other muscle,” Tommy teased.

“Should I shower first?”

“Definitely not.”

The first time Tommy and I got together, there had been a party with some of the guys from the chorus, at a club not too far from his place. In fact I’d parked at his apartment and we had met up for a drink before going out, and when we left the club we had been pretty drunk, to the point where I knew it wasn’t safe for me to drive home. He insisted I crash there, and got to talking while he pulled linens for me to sleep on the sofa. We both got a little raw and vulnerable and before we knew it we were kissing.

If I’m honest, Tommy isn’t a great kisser, but man, he can give a blow job like a champ. He sometimes jokes that if he gets too chatty, we all know how to shut him up.

Anyway, we were both feeling very connected and, well, oral sex is his way of demonstrating that. And despite both being pretty drunk, it was really rather sweet. Mutual hand jobs and blow jobs, no anal, just two guys making each other feel wanted and cared for. And over breakfast the next day, we decided that it was probably just a one-time thing. No regrets, just a FWB situation that may or may not happen again.

And for most of the last 8 years, we had been good friends. That connection seemed to have helped cement the friendship, which survived his two terrible boyfriends and my intermittent dating without wavering. We only hooked up once when we each got dumped during the same week, and we had basically the same experience. We met up at my place, drank, watched stupid movies, and complained about our exes. At one point I said maybe I wasn’t fuckable (Darius, the hot jock who I’d been dating, had basically decided I wasn’t in his league and the fucker said the quiet part out loud when we parted ways), and Tommy objected. “You are plenty cute and you deserve better,” he had said. “Whereas I am just a clingy bitch, apparently.” To which I called bullshit. And then we decided to fuck each other to prove our exes were wrong, because that’s how drunken gay friend logic sometimes works. And in the morning, things were back to normal.

So there was no simmering undercurrent of attraction or even sexual tension. We were just close friends who’d fooled around a bit. In all that time, I’d never seen Tommy get so primally turned on.

“Fuck, Denny, I can’t get enough of you,” he said. He’d shucked his clothing and mine, and dove at my cock. He gave it a cursory lick and tug, and then swallowed the whole thing, which was no mean feat given its size and the iron-like level of hardness it had attained the minute his lips touched the tip.

“Shit, that’s nice. I forgot how good you were at this,” I moaned.

He pulled off my cock and grinned. “Damn right. Now let’s see what we can do to give this bad boy a work out!”

I laughed and picked him up and carried him into the bedroom. We both giggled as I tossed him onto the bed and grabbed his own perfectly nice dick. “Hey, that’s my dick, I didn’t say you could play with it!”

“That doesn’t seem very fair.”

“Play with this instead,” he said, turning over and sticking his ass up at me.

“If you insist,” I said, and swatted his butt. “Whatever shall I do with it, though?”

“Gosh, I thought you knew,” he said. “First, you’ll get some lube, while I arrange these pillows. Then, we will have to see what opportunities that opens up.”

I grabbed the lube and slathered a bit on his rosebud, and gently began to work a finger in. I may have been horny and urgently needed to fuck my friend, but I wasn’t a mindless brute. I realized that my cock was a lot to take and I didn’t want to hurt him.

Fortunately, he was a well-practiced bottom, and his hole limbered up pretty quickly as he purred under my ministrations. The noises turned increasingly more desperate and he urged me to hurry.

“Fucker, just stick that big cock in!”

So I did, sliding several inches in almost immediately as his welcoming ass gulped me down. “Ahh!” He gasped. “Hang on, let me get used to you a moment.”

He took a few deep breaths. “Okay, I’m good,” he said. “Damn, you’re big.”

“There’s more than half left to go,” I said.

“Fuuuuck.”

“Here I go,” I said. The rest of me slid right in, and it felt incredible. Finally I was all the way inside him, and he moaned again.

“Oh my god! So good! Yes!” He gasped. “Now fuck me. Fuck me, you big dicked little stud!”

Yeah, if you’d guessed he was a bossy bottom, you were right. He quickly got used to a ten inch fuckstick in his ass, and began actively gripping me with his hole as I slid out. For my part, I could tell by the obscene noises he made that I was hammering his prostate and rearranging his guts with every thrust. Before I knew it, I had picked him up and spun him around, and his arms grabbed my shoulders for support. Not that he needed it—his weight felt like nothing as I bounced him on my big dick. He spurted pretty quickly once his dick began rubbing up and down my abs, and when it did, his ass clinched hard around my cock. I growled as I came. Must have been a dozen jets of batter I shot up his ass.

I left him on my dick, his head lolling and his breathy gasps and involuntary butt clenches milking me. I sat us down on the bed, and rolled to the side.

“That was fun,” I said, still breathing heavily.

“That was fucking amazing,” he said. “But the plan was to give your love muscle a workout. Let’s see whether it’s all for show. Just…. Give me a minute to catch my breath!”

He tired out before I did, but I fucked him three more times before morning.

When I woke, cuddled as the little spoon with Tommy as big spoon, I knew something wasn’t quite right. I needed to pee, so I started to extract myself from the arm draped over me. The room was dark, but the little bit that got past my curtains suggested it was still quite early. I struggled to remember what time the clock had said when I last looked at it. Maybe 1am?

“Morning Dens,” Tommy said, sleepily.

“Gotta pee, move,” I said.

“Don’t wanna, you’re too cuddly.”

“Neither of us into watersports, so move.”

He made a weird little sleepy grumpy growl as he rolled away from me, and it would have been cute if I hadn’t needed to pee so badly.

I hopped down to the floor and stumbled in the near-dark to the bathroom, and hopped up on the toilet. I was too sleepy to aim in the dark, and was pretty sure I needed to shit, too. And boy was I right. When it was finally done, I thanked the lockdown for making me buy one of those fancy Japanese toilet seats with the bidet. But even cleaned up, something still felt off, so I reached up and flipped on the bathroom light.

Wait, up?

I turned to look in the mirror and it was above my eye level.

Whatever noise I made was enough to rouse Tommy, who hopped out of bed rubbing his eyes.

“What’s all the noise about, Den?” Then he saw me.

This was bad. Scary, even.

Height: 4 ft, 8 inches
Weight: 225
Chest: 56
Waist: 26
Upper arms: 20
Flaccid dick: 8.5 inches, girth 5.25

I’d needed to calm down quite a bit before we got the measurements, as I was understandably freaked out. I looked squashed down and my muscles looked massive. But the truly scary thing was that I knew, knew, my dick had gotten bigger too. I was just too panicky to get it hard, especially after last night’s marathon of fucking.

Tommy helped measure me, and suggested I shower while he made coffee.

I climbed into the shower, my mind swirling with anxieties. The stupid shit was already vexing me—it was annoying to reach above my head for the shampoo and it was impossible to adjust the shower. Not to mention that I was pretty damned wide now, and at the rate I was going, I might soon be wider than I was tall. The dense inflated muscles made it difficult to reach and scrub, too. Still, the shower helped calm me down a bit more. I toweled off, refusing to look in the mirror, even though at some point while I was in the shower, Tommy had quietly deposited the stepstool in front of the sink, and moved the toothpaste out of the cabinet to where I could reach it.

A few minutes later, I came out to the kitchen, wearing only drawstring boxers.

“Hey,” I said. “Sorry I freaked out.”

“You had every right to. But please, sit. Bacon is nearly done, how do you want your eggs?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Scrambled, then,” he said. He’d made himself at home and the food smelled great. He handed me coffee.

“Look, I feel silly, sitting here while you do all the work in my own kitchen,” I said.

“Dennis, honey, you would need to stand on a chair to use the stove. Face it, you need my help right now,” he said it without any malice at all, but it stung a bit because he was absolutely right. Still, I didn’t like feeling helpless or like a child.

“Butter the toast. Want some juice?”

I did, and he poured some grapefruit juice for both of us, and ladled the eggs and bacon onto plates. We ate in relative silence for a bit, each waiting for the other to break it.

Finally, Tommy did, because, well, he was Tommy. Staying quiet simply wasn’t in his skill set.

“First, thanks for last night. That was amazing and I am going to walk funny for a few days. But that’s definitely my limit for now.” I nodded.

“Second, you need to call that doctor up ASAP, because I’m worried about you. But in my post nut clarity, I also realized that if whatever’s going on with you is sexually transmitted, I just got exposed to it too. So I’m worried about me, too, okay?”

“I understand,” I said, feeling guilty.

“Third, I think I should drive you to the doctor. For obvious reasons.” Sure, that made sense. “And unless it isn’t safe to do so, either you need to stay with me or I need to stay here. You need the help, at least until you go to that facility you mentioned.”

“I guess that all makes sense,” I sighed. “Seriously, Tommy, thank you.”

“I would do almost anything for you, Dens. You’re my best friend. But like I said, no more hanky-panky until we know whether our little romp got me in the same boat as you.”

I tried to help clean up after breakfast but I could feel my frustration getting in the way, so I left him to it. Tommy was capable enough in the kitchen but tended to make a huge mess. I dug around for clothing that might fit but had little success—my proportions simply didn’t make much sense at my new height. In the end, I grabbed one of my old baggy t-shirts and found that it looked painted on because of my beefy new build, but fit me like a nightshirt that was particularly loose below my pecs and hung down to my knees. Annoyed, I cut several inches off the bottom. Cotton workout shorts with a drawstring would have to do, and I ended up safety-pinning some stretchy briefs because otherwise my dick would hang out the leg of boxers. Even then, the dick situation was pretty dire.

Tommy popped in and shook his head at my outfit. “There goes what little fashion sense I’ve managed to teach you in nearly a decade,” he said. “But I suppose there isn’t much choice. Now look, please call the doc and stay here until I get back, okay? I’m going to take my sorry walk of shame ass home, get some stuff, and come back as quickly as I can. Call me if anything changes.”

We exchanged a friendly kiss and a hug and then he was gone for a while.

I rang the doctor’s office and he urged me to come in as soon as I could, with Tommy. He would clear his schedule when we arrived. I texted the update to Tommy and then turned my attention to the other problem at hand, which was that my libido had been slowly building itself up since Tommy left, and I couldn’t delay much longer.

I grabbed a ratty towel and sat on the floor naked, and within two strokes my dick hardened up almost painfully quickly, leaving me a little dizzy. Jesus, it really had gotten huge. 8.5 inches flaccid turned into almost 13 hard, and the girth had scaled up as well. It looked mammoth on my short body, even against the backdrop of bulging muscle. And as short as I was, sitting there, it came up past my nipples even when I was sitting straight up. And my pecs were almost big enough to be proper cleavage. That was news.

Fuck I was massive, and for a split second I was willing to be stuck a shrimp if it meant I had the largest dick in America. The veiny monster captured my attention fully, almost mesmerizingly. Its big flared head was almost daring me to make the attempt.

It would have been easier had I not been so buff, or if it weren’t almost painfully stiff and allowed a bit more flex, but once I had the idea nothing could have prevented me from sucking my own dick.

It’s damn near hypnotic, you know? When your dick is just right there waiting for you?

And let’s be fair. I did the math and at that point my dick was about a quarter of my height. To put it in perspective, at my original height, that would have meant a 16.75-inch pecker, which is beyond belief. But that didn’t matter to me then.

What mattered was getting that huge dick in my mouth, which proved difficult. Still, I gave it my all—my mouth simply wouldn’t stretch around the big fat head, so I improvised and licked and sucked what I could reach, while enthusiastically stroking the hefty bastard until I saw stars. An unreal amount of spunk blasted out, a dozen shots that shot feet into the air before splashing all over me. I was utterly spent, and leaned back against the bed panting like a dog in summer heat.

After a few minutes in the afterglow, I cleaned up as best I could, but man, it was a ridiculous load and the towel was reeking of it. Luckily, my unit contained a washer-dryer combo, so I threw it in with a bunch of other stuff and used the most vigorous setting. Fresh sheets, an open window, the fan, and a bit of Febreeze helped de-funkify the place, and I showered yet again. And during the shower, I had to actively resist a quick wank, because my damned mega dick seemed insatiable. I ended up resorting to cold water and exited the bathroom shivering, but wearing a robe that dragged the ground. I’d put on clothes when Tommy got back. I checked my phone and I had missed a couple of texts from Darla and Tommy.

As if on cue, I heard the key in the front door, and Tommy came in, dragging a large suitcase and a backpack. He looked me over and sighed.

“Aren’t you packed yet?”

“Packed? We are just supposed to go to the doctor?”

“Hon, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you’re being stupid here.” He knelt down. “God, you look adorable, like a kid in daddy’s bathrobe.”

“This was dad’s bathrobe,” I groused.

“Look, my point is, your doc is going to take one look at you and I bet you a dozen donuts he sends you to that facility ASAP. Be prepared, babes.”

“Not like I have anything to wear. Not that fits,” I said. I really didn’t like that he was right about all of it.

“Pack that robe, a couple of shirts, and whatever you have that’s like what you were wearing earlier. I’m sure the clothing doesn’t matter, but grab any toiletries you want and all your chargers and laptop and such.”

Twenty minutes later we were bundled into his car, looking like we were headed for a weekend getaway, and were on the road to the office.

“Tommy, seriously, thank you.”

“Yeah, you’ve thanked me enough,” he said, amiably.

“I’m serious, I have been so distractable and fuzzy headed lately.”

“I kind of noticed,” he said, more quietly.

“After I texted you about the doctor, I ended up on the floor sucking my own dick.”

To his credit, he didn’t crash the car, but it was a double take worthy of Cary Grant.

“I mean, I tried to, but it was almost too big.”

“How…” he swallowed hard before continuing the thought. “How big are you now?”

“Almost 13 inches, and bigger around than it was yesterday. I didn’t measure,” I said.

“Damn. I thought you were huge last night.”

“I was. But you don’t get how hard it is to think of anything else right now. I’m like 80% libido. Maybe the doc can help with that, at least.”

It took only moments for us to be shown to an exam room, and I tried to ignore the looks I got from the staff.

“Mr Reilly?”

“Come in, Dr Park,” I said, and he did.

“Whoa,” he said, taking in my new size. “I kind of hoped you were joking.”

“Tommy,” Tommy said, introducing himself.

“Ah, yes, the friend you mentioned. If it’s okay with you, can I send you to get some paperwork and lab work done?”

“If it’s okay with Dennis,” Tommy said. “Do you think I caught whatever he has, this dwindling thing?”

“I don’t know, but this is a rare moment where time may be of the essence. If this is transmitted through sex, we might catch it in action. We’ve only ruled out airborne so far, but you’ll notice we are all in masks and gloves.”

While Tommy was off doing his thing, Dr Park got more measurements. It was satisfying to know how accurate mine had been, but hearing them read aloud as he took them was still not fun. I mean, it was cool to hear how buff I was, but not so much how 4’8” was completely accurate. Then he got a little awkward.

“Pardon me,” Dr Park said. “I really do need to document your genitalia.”

“Go for it,” I said. “But like I said, it’s been a real issue.”

“That is certainly the largest flaccid penis I’ve encountered.” He observed as he entered the data.

“Believe me, I’m aware. But the bigger problem is it doesn’t seem to stay that way for long.” I gave it a quick stroke and it responded enthusiastically.

“Whoa.” He watched, rapt, as my huge dick rapidly erected itself. “That is remarkable.”

His hands shook briefly, but he steadied them with an effort of will, and measured, shaking his head in disbelief.

“32.7 cm, and 19cm around. Astounding.”

“Is that the biggest you’ve dealt with?”

“Believe it or not, no. But you’ll meet him soon enough, I expect.”

“Really?”

“As of last week, he was about 5’5, but his penis was 39.8 cm. Like, 15 and a half inches.”

“Damn,” i said.

“Our concern is that you’ve resized much more quickly than the others, and to a more extreme extent, as I mentioned before. The rate of change is… well, it’s faster. Much faster. The other fellow took about a month to lose 5 inches of height and gain about the same length.”

“But the good news is that we should have enough data points to make some projections. Melton will run his computer magic and see what he comes up with. His projections have been fairly accurate, but in your case? It’s going to be more difficult.

“What about Tommy?”

“I hope he isn’t affected, for his sake,” Park said. “But if we did confirm a sexual vector, that may help narrow the search.”

When Tommy came back to the room, however, I could tell something was amiss. “You look terrible,” I said.

“I feel like shit.” Tommy looked decidedly poorly. “It hit me when they drew my blood.”

“Flu symptoms?” Dr Park asked.

“Temperature of 102, aches, chills, and increasing lethargy,” Nurse Jenny confirmed.

“And nausea and vomiting,” Tommy said.

“That tracks. Wait, you haven’t—”

“Bleeeargh” He did make it to the little trash can before he hurled.

“Yuck,” I said. Then I repeated the sentiment when Jenny grimaced, snapped on gloves, and scraped some into a sample container.

Dr Park calmly grabbed a cup of tap water for Tommy, then cocked his head in my direction. “You didn’t have the nausea?”

“No, just felt wiped out. And my tummy troubles went south.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty common thing.”

“It was an uncommonly awful bathroom visit,” I said.

“It’s a side effect of that mass being reallocated. We haven’t figured out how it’s doing what it does, but the ‘what’ is simple enough. The Dwindling seems to redistribute quite a lot of the otherwise lost mass into muscle, but the bone and fat have to go somewhere.”

“That’s why I weigh roughly the same,” I said. He nodded.

“So I have the shits to look forward to,” Tommy groaned. “Lovely.”

“May I ask when you and Mr Fowler initiated physical intimacy?”

“Maybe 3 p.m? I think you got to my place around 2:30,” I said, but Tommy just moaned into the trash can and nodded weakly.

“That’s within the window we’ve seen with others — but it’s been based on best guesses and fuzzy recollection. This is the first time where we can so accurately track the likely exchange timing!” He was a little too excited for my tastes.

“Is that helpful?”

“It might be. About 18 to 20 hours from the time you began your intimacy, to the time when symptoms appeared.”

“Uh, honestly, I wasn’t feeling well when we left to come here,” Tommy said. “I just didn’t say anything. So subtract at least an hour from that.”

“Even better,” Park replied. “There are quite a few things that have a relatively short shelf life in your system that we can test for, and we have a full range of samples to work with.”

“Not all of them,” Tommy said. “But I suspect it won’t be long, there’s some nasty stuff happening in my belly. I need to lie down but I also need the bathroom.”

Dr Park summoned another staff member and they got poor Tommy to the nearest bathroom just in time. A few awkward moments later, Dr Park returned, and gave his hands a thorough scrub in the sink while he hit me with a few more questions about what precisely we did.

“I’m really sorry to pry so much, but I’m sure you understand why.”

“I get it, Dr Park.”

“I’m glad. The more we learn, the better. And well, timing matters.” He pulled up the rolling chair and sat beside me. “May I call you Dennis?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Dennis, I’m going to level with you. I need to get the information while I can, because in addition to the redistribution you’ve experienced, and the libido issue, I’m afraid there’s another side effect that others have reported.”

“Tell me,” I insisted.

“In some of the patients, we’ve noted a… for want of a better term, a decrease in mental acuity. Memory, critical thinking, problems focusing, decreased impulse control, and other cognitive issues. And while I hope you won’t be one of the ones that these issues apply to, if you experience any of that, I need to know while you’re still able to focus and answer.”

“That is legitimately terrifying,” I said after a pretty long pause. “How bad?”

“It varies. Distractedness, absent-mindedness, that sort of thing is fairly common, but on par with what you might experience from heavy fatigue. But a few cases have been more extreme.”

“Lovely. And because I’m already an outlier…”

“Exactly. I’m glad you can see the reason for concern. We’re in a bit of a race here you see, trying to learn as much as we can as quickly as we can.”

“Fuck. Do you have any good news?”

“Sort of. The facility isn’t fully complete, but enough of it is up and running to accept some patients. I got the all clear this morning to move more extreme cases there, as well as active studies like you.”

“It’s funny,” I said. “Tommy made me pack stuff just in case. I think he must have realized something was up. He’s smarter than most people give him credit for.”

“Let us hope that he remains so.”

Two hours later, Dr Park and I were in a large van, but they put Tommy in a medical transport so they could keep him hooked up to all the monitoring. Unfortunately, that put us leaving the DC metro area during rush hour, so it took us a little over two hours to get to the facility.

As we drove, Dr Park took several calls and spent a lot of time exchanging texts with various folks, and I mucked about with my iPad trying to distract myself. I text Darla a few times letting her know where to reach me.

“Sorry about that,” Park said just as we passed Hagerstown. “Now, I need to brief you a bit more on what to expect. Bear in mind this has been a rush job but most of it was swapping out conference facilities for a clinic and laboratory. You’ll actually be staying in hotel rooms, and rather nice ones at that. With luck they’ll be able to open up the gym and pool, and a fair number of the staff are already here setting things up.”

“Sounds nice,” I said, not really meaning it.

“I know it isn’t how you planned on spending the week,” Dr Park said, “but we’ll do what we can to make everything as nice as we can.”

“My tax dollars at work,” I said, sarcastically.

“Public/private partnership, actually,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yes. Turns out that one of the people infected was a tech bro’s kid, and he ponied up quite a lot to make this place comfortable. In fact, he suggested it because he’d been here when it was serving as a corporate retreat. And a big wad of research money came from one of the patients himself. He’s in biotech and saw potential, both from the side effects and from whatever treatment we came up with.”

“Honestly, some of the side effects are pretty nice,” I said, flexing casually. “Between the muscle and the bigger cock.”

“Others are less so, I expect.”

“I don’t like the idea of losing my brains,” I said. Even I could hear the worry in my voice.

“I’m sure. And we’ll do what we can to prevent that. But you’ll probably be here a while. There’s only so fast we can move.”

“I understand,” I said.

“So we’ll make sure you have plenty to keep your mind working. Frequent cognitive tests, puzzles, games, social interaction, all of it. Dr Melton’s idea.”

“I spoke to him on the phone originally, I think.”

“Yes. Normally he’s working the data end of things — number crunching, computer stuff, projections, all of it. Brilliant guy, I think you’ll like him.”

“How did he get roped into this?”

“Long story. He might tell you, but it’s not my place to.”

A few minutes later, he was answering what seemed to be an barrage of text messages.

“Sorry again,” he said. “Impolite of me, but they were all pretty important things.”

“Such as?”

“Well, you and Mr Fowler won’t be alone. They’re moving some of the other patients there over the next few days, from various regional hospitals.”

“Will I be rooming with Tommy?”

“If you both want that, we’ll try to accommodate it. But at least until the worst of it passes, you might appreciate separate rooms….and separate bathrooms.”

The medical transport beat us there by twenty minutes or so, but that’s not really important. There was a guarded gate with a high fence, but they waved us through.

Poor Tommy had passed out on the road up, and was hooked up to various monitors attached to his gurney.

“This is actually the first chance we have had to witness and measure the initial stage of this thing,” Dr Park said. “Your friend will be under my team’s care tonight and the next day or so.”

“Will I be able to see him?”

“Of course! But while they take him to the lab, let’s get you settled.”

The facility looked every inch like some corporate retreat, which of course it had been. Dr Park thought it was an old AOL campus, but the feds had owned it for twenty years or so, and it had a few telltale upgrades. The fence was one of them, but so were the other security measures: concrete and steel barriers, tons of cameras, reinforced doors.

“The security dates back to post 9/11. They had it kitted out in case of unrest. Then it sat unused until Covid, when it got turned over to that task force. But it’s too remote to be much of an emergency hospital. The plan was to use it for extreme cases then, so it was an easy sell to put it to similar use.”

We walked under a covered walkway to one of the buildings as the medics unloaded poor Tommy, headed toward what seemed to be the conference center. Our path led to what clearly had been intended as the hotel part — three stories and rather large, but not a bad looking place. The balconies were covered and Dr Park saw me peering at them.

“The balconies? Yeah, they’re doing work on them, I think installing screens or something. With all these trees, I guess the leaves and debris were an issue. You can ask Lynn, though, she’ll probably know all about it.”

Inside we met Lynn, who looked very buttoned-down and stiff-backed. She was solidly built, and if I weren’t playing for the other team, I’d have said she had a pretty nice ass and a great rack. Not giant boobies and badonkadonk, but rather a woman in her 30s who stayed very fit. She wore glasses and her outfit suggested military without being it — trim outline, blazer, trousers rather than a skirt, sensible shoes, all in a solid navy over a pale blue shirt.

“I see you’re bringing the fresh meat already, hmm?” She said, with a twinkle in her eye. “Welcome to the retreat,” she said, extending her hand and shaking mine with a firm grip. I tried not to be annoyed she had to bend a little to do that — she was about 5’6.

“Dennis Reilly,” I said.

“Lynn Chambers,” she said. “Already got your file, and you’re one of the first folks to arrive, so you get your choice of rooms. Most of them are ready to be occupied.”

“One of the first?”

“You’ll meet Sam later. He’s a bit shy and he just arrived yesterday, but with luck we will get you boys to do some socializing. Good for mental health.”

“Lynn here spent time in the military before going civilian, if you hadn’t guessed.”

“The posture’s a clue,” I said.

“Army. Captain, formerly, but I don’t bother with rank, and I don’t really miss the Army. I’m a counselor by trade. Full disclosure: I work here because of my younger brother. He got this dwindling last fall, and I’d just got done my tour of duty and wanted a fresh start, and despite the circumstances I think it’ll be an interesting job.”

“And what exactly is the job? What do you actually do?”

“Mostly the same thing I did in college — think of me as a residence assistant, or a dorm mother. But one with a degree in therapy. I worked with soldiers who had traumatic, life changing injuries. Though the boys I mostly dealt with had lost limbs rather than lost height,” she said. “My main job is to keep an eye on your mental health, and act as a sounding board. You guys are going through a lot all at once, and hopefully I can help.”

“Should I call you Doctor, then?”

“Hell no,” she said. “Lynn is fine.”

The rooms, she explained, had been renovated to be accessible, and they were private. Each was basically a junior suite, with a sitting area with a desk, a kitchenette, and a bedroom. Most looked out onto a tree-filled vista or onto a central courtyard. The balcony in this room was small and had been fitted with screens, and the trees looked nice enough.

But there were nods to expected infirmities, too, such as doorways that could fit a hospital bed, walk-in showers, grabbing sticks, that sort of thing. There was also a very well designed rolling step stool and the shower controls were lower on the wall than code probably required.

“Practical consideration. We don’t know how far this ride will take you, but the focus is on managing your condition with a bit of dignity. You can always buzz me or an attendant — there’s an app you will need to download — or ring the emergency bell.”

Park’s own phone buzzed, and he apologized and took his leave.

“Busy man. Now, before we go any further, is this room okay?”

“Seems as good as any.”

“Great, I’ll have your stuff brought up shortly. Do download that app, and then if you need anything, request it there. Pretty much any household stuff you can think of, we have, but if you need something we don’t have, there’s a place you can deliver stuff, and forward your mail to. If you hate this room after a few days, we can move you. But from the sounds of things, it may not be long until this place fills up.”

I mulled that over while she bade me follow her back out into the hall.

“There’s a key card as well as the phone app, not just for your room but for everything else you need. There is a little lounge on every floor, and the gym and pool facilities are really good. We should have the spa staffed soon, but for now the sauna and hot tub are open. The food is decent, but remember I just got out of the army last year, so my standards may be suspect. See the cafe manager if you just want to, I dunno, keep some frozen waffles and eggs in your suite. He will hook you up.”

“This is all paid for by the government?”

“More or less. I think the official line is that they’re using this place as a test bed for new rehabilitation models, but if you ask me, it’s because a few well connected patients are involved. Amazing what sort of care you can authorize for a senator’s favorite grandson or a CEO’s nephew.”

As we walked and talked, I found Lynn easy to relate to, and when we wound up back in her office, she gestured at the very comfortable couch while she took the chair next to it. “You prefer printouts, or should I just send stuff to your tablet?”

“Great, so just one sheet to kill trees for. So, here’s the private network info, and once you’re connected, that QR code will have instructions for everything else. You’ll be glad of the wifi, because the signal out here is for shit.”

We talked a bit more and I found myself opening up a lot more about all my fears. Not just the whole dwindling problem, but my own concerns about my career, my difficulties with my suddenly roaring libido, my confusion about the situation with Tommy and how I may have “caught the feels”, all of it.

Yeah, we basically had our first counseling session. She was great, too. Funny, not judgemental, easy to talk to.

“Thanks for all that,” she said, when I’d run my course. “It all makes perfect sense, given what you’re dealing with. It’s all so new and frankly scary. But like I told my brother, you’re not alone. Things are weird and likely to get weirder and more awkward. My best advice is to remember every patient here is in the same boat, and every member of staff is doing their level best to help. That app should have a lot of resources if you want to do a little self help, and I’m always available too. Now, I suspect you’ll want to see your friend, and I’ll take you to him if you like.”

Tommy looked much better, despite being hooked up to a dozen machines and having two staffers checking stuff constantly. He was out like a light, so we didn’t disturb him, just waited for Dr Park to come back.

“Ah, you’ve made it,” Park said, as he finally joined us. “He’s comfortably resting right now but once he wakes up we’ll let you know.”

“How is he?”

“Not too bad, but we are already seeing some evidence that it’s affecting him beyond flu symptoms. And if we are lucky, we might be able to see the delivery mechanism. Poor guy is probably the second most aggressively monitored patient in the whole place, if not the whole state!”

I wasn’t letting Dr Park’s cheerful manner derail me. “What evidence?”

“Mostly some hormonal levels that are surprising. Surging testosterone among other things. I think we will learn a lot from his urine and fecal output, too.”

“Eww,” I said.

He chuckled. “Well, it’ll be a bit before we get good info, anyway. Hungry?”

I ended up in the cafe with Lynn; she seemed to be searching for someone else, but when it was obvious he or she wasn’t there, she shrugged and made her selection.

Lynn was right about the food. They weren’t fully spun up yet, so nothing fancy was on offer, but I certainly didn’t walk away hungry. Baked chicken in some kind of wine sauce, loads of veggies and some brown rice? Right up my alley.

“No restricted diets needed for you boys,” Lynn said. “Whatever is going on with you seems to need fuel, and just turns it all into muscle from what I can see.”

I followed her gaze and realized that my sleeve had just torn when I reached for the salt and pepper.

“Now, while we eat, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you. It’s a bit delicate, but I think our rapport is good enough to survive a little bit of frank discussion.”

I nodded.

“First, we will have some clothes sent up as soon as we can, but for now, there are some hospital scrubs waiting for you upstairs. And some sports underwear that might help out with the more awkward aspects of your condition.

“That’s not that delicate,” I said. “It’s a relief, really.”

“The delicate matter is that of your libido and your need to engage in self-gratification.”

I almost choked out my greens. “You could have waited for me to finish chewing and swallowing,” I groused.

“You have barely taken a breath between bites.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Anyway, there are some….items in the bottom drawer of that dresser in your room. Among them is a sample jar that I’d like to ask you to fill up when you next get the chance. With your ejaculate,” she added, blushing ever-so-slightly. “And then leave it in that little bin outside your door and ping us to collect it. If possible we will want that every morning and every evening. We will measure you and draw blood daily as well, but figured you’d like to provide semen samples under less public circumstances.”

I agreed, and then I finished off the food in front of me.

“Done? Good. One last thing for your very busy first day. While we were eating, I got an answer from Sam. He is willing to meet you tonight.”

“He’s the other patient who got here early?”

“Yes. Like you, he is an outlier. I think it would be good for you two to meet.”

“How small is he?” I asked, hoping to brace myself for potential embarrassment.

“He is down to 49 inches. But he didn’t have your luck in other areas. Aside from tightening and toning a bit, he hasn’t gained the muscle you did, nor did he gain much in the other masculine traits. That’s in an hour, just meet at the first floor lounge by the elevator. See you there!”

Christ, he must look like a tall hobbit, I thought. But at the rate I was going….

I was so excited about the idea of meeting someone else who was dealing with the same condition, I nearly forgot about Tommy. I did get the app installed in my phone and tablet, and it was pretty impressive. Then it pinged “reminder: drinks at Lynn’s office”, followed by “Message from Dr Park: Fowler awake.” I glanced over at the scrubs neatly folded on the bed, and ripped my damaged tee shirt off, and shucked my shorts. The existing undies would have to do for now, but the scrubs were comfortable and very adjustable.

I have a good head for directions, usually, but an luck on the message led to a gps style map, so I allowed it to guide me. It wasn’t that far a walk, and the staff buzzed me through on sight.

Dr Park was waiting for me. “He’s asking for you,” he said.

Tommy looked much better, but he was still hooked up to a dozen machines. He was eating some kind of pasta, and he seemed happy to see me.

“Hey,” I said.

“Dude, I feel so much better….other than all this cyber crap. Now that they’ve taken half my blood, I got hungry and that made them happy.”

“Any… any changes?”

“I can’t tell. I did have an epic bowel movement, though.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“I’m not kidding, it was scary. It felt like food poisoning!”

“Yeah, same with me that first day,” I said. “Man, I’m sorry about all this.”

“I’m not mad at you, Den. This isn’t your fault — I’m the one who jumped you, remember? Besides, we were overdue for our every-few-years sexy times.”

“You seem remarkably calm about this.”

“Probably the pain drip they put me on,” he giggled. “Wheee!”

“Well, hopefully you don’t get hit too hard with this bullshit. One shrimp in the friend group is enough.”

“I make no promises,” he said. “But I wanted to see you before I zonk out again. I was too sick before to say it, but I don’t regret what we did. No matter how it turns out for either of us. But I hope I don’t get quite so buff as you, or as hung. All that dick would distract me from my true vocation.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I know. It’s my primary charm.”

Dr Park was waiting outside, and as I shut the door, he he indicated he wanted to talk privately.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Your friend listed you as his next of kin and emergency contact,” Dr Park said.

“Yeah, he doesn’t get along with his family at all,” I explained.

“Makes sense. So in that capacity, I need you to know something. We are seeing some concerning developments in his profile.”

“Like what?” I asked, worried.

“It may be nothing, but he’s showing some signs of cognitive decline or dementia. He’s been giggling a lot at things the staff say or ask, and he couldn’t name the current president.”

“That wasn’t the pain meds?”

“He has a saline drip and a mild sedative, but that’s it, nothing strong. Something seems off to me, but I don’t know him well enough to pick up on all the cues. Can you keep your eyes peeled for anything that seems off?”

“Wait, is dementia or decline a side effect?”

“We don’t know. Personally I hope not. No, distraction is pretty widespread amongst the affected, but I think that’s mostly due to libido. This feels a bit different.”

I agreed to let him know if anything seemed off, but I didn’t mention my concerns for my own wellbeing on that front.

I made it to Lynn’s office right on the dot, and she walked me down a side hallway to a small lounge with a full bar. Self service, of course, but it seemed well stocked.

“What can I get you,” she asked. Soon I had a Kentucky Mule and was sitting on the couch when the door opened again, and in walked Sam. And I had to fight myself to not stare.

Sam was Asian, as it happened. And he was smaller than I expected. Barely four feet tall, and …my guess was he’d been skinny and toned before. Now he looked lean and tight, or so I imagined. He was wearing similar scrubs, but his pants were rolled up.

“Sam, Dennis, and vice versa.”

We shook hands and it seemed surreal. He was so damned tiny, and built kind of like a 7-year-old. Lynn handed him a cosmopolitan and sat down on one of the chairs.

“Sam here was one of the first people we managed to talk to a few months ago. Care to share more?”

Sam looked shy and awkward for a moment before replying. His voice was surprisingly deep.

“I had a one night stand at a conference, and when I got back, this started,” he said. “It took a month or so to slow down the decline. By the time Dr Park reached out, I went from 5’5 to what you see here.”

When Lynn had me describe my own journey, Sam began to warm a bit. Finally someone understood his experience firsthand!

Sam would be a terrible poker player with his face showing everything, though. Still, he couldn’t help feel a little protective of the guy.

“Other than the obvious,” I asked gently, “How are you?”

“That is what she asks me every time we talk.”

“And what is your typical answer?”

“Feeling a little down,” he said. “Short tempered.”

Oh no, he didn’t just hit me with two terrible dad jokes right out the gate. “Uh,” I started, and the two of them busted out laughing. I’d been had.

“Your face!” Lynn said.

“Welcome to the club, man,” Sam said, genially. “Lynn suggested I turn my terrible jokes into an icebreaker.”

“Consider it broken,” I said, chuckling.

Over a nice slug or two of whiskey, the three of us talked a little more, with Sam volunteering to show me the ropes in the morning, and Lynn promising daily sessions to make sure I didn’t go mad.

“Glad you two are on the same page,” she said. “I think it’s good to see people who have the same problems as you do.”

“I don’t know if they’re quite the same. I’m sorry, I gotta ask,” he said, his gaze fixed on my leg. “Is that all you? Are you hung like a mule or something?”

I blushed. My dick twitched. Sam blushed. No clue whether Lynn did.

“I, uh, seem to have been whammied in more than just my height,” I said.

“Shit, man!” His eyes widened as the blood decided to go where his eyes were focused.

“Um,” I said. “It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“As your therapist and dorm mom, I would rather you discuss any oversized junk somewhere other than my office,” Lynn said drily. “Given the libidinous nature of this affliction, it’s inevitable that the subject would come up, but maybe you boys can take it up to your rooms?”

“Sure,” Sam said. “So long as I can take the bottle.”

She waved him on and before I knew it, we were being ushered into the hallway.

“Be good boys. Or don’t. Either way, see you in the morning.”

“Was she trying to encourage us to —”

“Kind of?” Sam smiled. “More like she was indicating she’s cool with whatever. Can’t blame her, really. We are a bunch of horny boys. Or did the libido fairy leave you alone?”

“Pretty sure she dumped the whole bag of pixie dust on me,” I said. But then it occurred to me… I wasn’t a raging horndog.

“Ah, you finally noticed,” Sam said. “They’ve got some low-level white noise thing going that helped suppress your libido. It’s in all the public areas, presumably to keep us from humping each other nonstop. I guess it was either that or some really big spray bottles.”

“I think this is the longest I’ve gone without thinking about sex in days,” I said.

“Good. It’s pretty late, but before you go try to sleep in this comfortable little funhouse, you can adjust the libido suppression effect in your room through the app. Personally I suggest rubbing one out first, and then turning the field on so you sleep better.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Really, you’ve been a big help.”

“Dennis, I’ve been dealing with this dwindling shit for a few months. Learned a few tricks to cope with it all. Let me tell you, that white noise thing is a huge help. Best thing that weirdo Merton has come up with, aside from that app.”

“I thought Merton was the numbers guy?”

“He’s apparently a genius, he has got his fingers in everything,” Sam said. “Here’s the lounge. Wanna sit here and chat more? It’s a great view…”

“It is, isn’t it? Sure, I’ll have another slug of that whiskey, if you don’t mind.” Sam obliged, and refilled his own glass.

“Sam, I gotta ask. How the hell are you still standing? You’ve had a lot of this.”

“Body of an 8-year-old, metabolism and liver of a 22-year-old,” he said. “You have probably 200 pounds of muscle to soak up the alcohol. Me, I got something else from the smorgasbord of side effects.” He smiled. “If you had to guess, how old would you think I was?”

“Maybe late twenties? I’m sorry, I can’t always tell with Asian guys.”

“Asians don’t raisin, they say. Not true. We save it up and get really old all at once in our 60s,” he said. “But for real, I just turned 59 last month.”

“No fucking way,” I said. He barely looked mid-twenties!

“Yup. Whatever has been shrinking me has done a number on me, metabolically speaking. Along with losing 14+ inches of height, I am physically a good 30 years younger. I keep wondering if I’ll go through puberty again. I could use a growth spurt. Unfortunately my junk shrunk too.”

Couldn't help but peer over at him.

“We could compare if you like, but if we want to do that, my room is just down this hall.”

To say I was curious is unfair. I was desperate to know. Because Sam was kind of charming, but he really did appear to be built like a twink, and he was so small and scrawny that he reminded me of the gangly build I had at age ten. Yet, his features were masculine and grown up. His skin didn’t show his age, but his eyes did, now that I really looked.

So I followed him into his room, which was pretty much just like mine but with more boxes in the living area — he hadn’t been here long either but apparently had more time to prep and pack.

“So,” he said. “I had a perfectly average 6-incher before this hit. And since we get everything ensured every day, I know that I now have a little over 5 inches. Seems unfair,” he said, “especially given what you must be packing.”

I looked down, and discovered my dick was rapidly inflating; apparently it enjoyed being discussed. “It’s pretty annoying, really. I’m over a foot long hard now.” I adjusted myself as best I could.

“Wow. What did you start with?”

“About six.”

“Other than Grindr, the last time I remember talking about cock size was in middle school,” he said that almost wistfully.

“Yeah. So you mentioned Grindr. I’m guessing you’re gay…?”

“Guilty as charged. Maybe I wasn’t before, but I sure seem to be now. I’ve always admired muscular guys, but in my day it wasn’t something you easily admitted. Also, I should warn you, I turned off the suppression field in here.”

“Okay…” that figured.

“Dennis, you're hot as hell,” he said. “If you are okay with it, I’d like very much to see what I can do with all that meat.”

“Maybe later,” I said, after probably too long a pause. “I came here with a friend, and him being here is my fault. Least I can do is make sure he’s okay before I start fucking other people.”

“Ah, shame on me,” Sam said. “I knew there were two folks today, but I didn’t know you were a couple.”

“We’re not, at least not officially. Friends, really good friends, with benefits,” I said. “Maybe more. At very least, our last session seems to have given him whatever we’ve got, so he’s down in the lab getting the full scan.”

“Say no more. I’ll be a gentleman. But the offer still stands,” he said. “Whenever you feel up for it. Rumor has it there will be quite a few more of us here soon, and if they’re as horny as we are, I think there’ll be plenty of opportunities to get together.”

“Thanks, Sam. I mean it.” A handshake seemed insufficient for the moment, so I went in for a hug.

“Damn, I think I am missing out,” he said. “If you change your mind….”

I smiled and took my leave, then found my way — a little stiff-legged — back to my room.

The place seemed quite empty, despite a king-size bed (which, honestly, seemed a bit over-ambitious for a guy who was hobbit-sized). I checked the app and the suppression field was still active in my room, but it was kind of too late. My engine was already running. Time to see what options were available. I may not feel right smashing Sam right away, but I had no qualms about a little self-pleasure.

The toy box they provided had way more in it than I would have guessed. A couple kinds of lube, a box of assorted condoms, a couple of dildos of various sizes, three different-sized Fleshlights, and a few other little surprises. There were also wipes and a stack of towels on the shelf.

I spread a towel on the floor so I didn’t make a mess on the bed. Then I turned on my tablet and found one of my favorite naughty story sites, and set right to it. I was producing enough precum that I didn’t need the lube, and I already knew what my evening looked like.

It looked like a 13-inch mega-dick headed right for my mouth, while two hands vigorously massaged the shaft and balls. It didn’t take more than five minutes before I’d worked myself up to a frenzy and blown a rather impressive load.

And after I did it two more times, I was finally tired enough to pass out.

When I woke to the alarm in the morning, I was hungry, but my morning wood was epic.

“You’d really think that I’d get tired of this,” I thought, “but….no.” And I went to town on my own dick, hoping to kill two birds with one stone.

A copious load later, I managed to deflate my monster cock enough to go to the bathroom. I studiously avoided thinking about the presence of a step stool and what that may mean about my future, or about how the toilet seemed a little larger than it should.

I showered and shaved and brushed my teeth, grateful for the adjustable controls everywhere, but concerned about whether I’d lost more size. Based on what I’d experienced, my dick was likely bigger, and I was pretty sure I was shorter as well.

While I had my coffee, my phone blooped and there was a message reminding me to come down for measurements before breakfast. I brought my coffee with me.

Sam was in the elevator, yawning, when I got there.

“Oh, I was going to swing by to collect you. We can grab a bite after the scanner.”

Lynn was already by her lobby desk, and raised her mug as hello. I repeated the gesture while Sam ignored her. Sam stopped at a conference room and knocked before a voice said “enter.”

Standing there tinkering with a computer was an actual dwarf in a lab coat. He was maybe 4 feet even, but it was the limbs that gave his condition away. Nearby was a device that looked like one of those 3D airport scanners.

“Just in time, boys,” he said. “Sam, you’re used to it, but for Mr Reilly’s sake, I’ll explain. This device measures everything, and I mean everything. Ideally, you’d be both naked and fully aroused. You’ll get this daily, ideally at the same time each day. And I’ll draw blood, and occasionally ask for other samples too. For now, come here and I’ll get you properly connected. I’m Steve.”

I stepped into the chamber and the thing did its work, sizing me up much faster than our clumsy efforts.

Height: 4 ft, 6.8 inches
Weight: 228
Chest: 57
Waist: 24
Upper arms: 21
Quads: 23
Penis: 13.6 inches, 6 inch girth

Damn, at this rate my arms would catch up to my waist! But of course the fact my dick was rapidly outgrowing the rest of me was on my mind.

“Still dwindling,” Sam said, his eyes wide. “Mine lasted a few weeks, but how long have you been shrinking?”

I did the math. “A week,” I said.

“Seven days? You’ve lost a foot and a half in a week?”

“Yup.”

“Damn. I’m sure you mentioned the timing, but for some reason I had it remembered as a month. That’s about how long it took me to shrink to this.”

“Dennis is an outlier.”

“Yeah. Lucky me,” I groused.

“At least your dick is huge,” he said.

“If I’ve got my math right, at your original height, that whale of a cock would be about 18 inches,” Steve said without ever looking up. “It really is fascinating. Imagine if the boner pill companies ever figured out what was causing this!”

“The thought had occurred,” I said. “But it isn’t exactly convenient to have a dick this big.”

“Pssh. The possibilities are endless,” Sam chuckled. “If you’ve got some imagination, at least.”

Dr Park and Lynn were in the canteen when we arrived, so naturally we sat there. It was only us and a trio of orderlies eating breakfast.

“Gentlemen,” Lynn said, “Dennis, how was your first evening. Did Sam let you get any sleep?”

“Yup. We had a nice chat, and then I went to my room and slept alone.”

“Aww, really?” Then she held out her hand to Dr Park, who silently pulled a crisp $5 bill out of his pocket and slid it over to her.

“Cute,” I said, finding it much the opposite. “Any news on Tommy?”

“Yes, in fact he is definitely in the study. You can see him after breakfast.”

“How’s he coming along? Slow burn, or is he like Dennis?”

“Slow. He is down an inch, but I see no immediate signs of bulking up like you. Other than his glutes.”

“He’s always had some nice cakes,” I mused aloud.

Tommy was dressed in the same scrubs I was, and you could tell he wasn’t happy about it.

“It’s an inch, you heathens. I can deal with the rest of this bullshit, just barely, but at least allow myself the dignity of some clothes with style!”

Yeah, no mistaking that voice. I smiled as stepped into the outer room.

“Oh god, no, they got to you!” He gasped in faux horror at my attire. “You look like a hot soap opera doctor. Slash bodybuilder.

“Yes yes, joke away.”

He hugged me but I was unable to notice much difference. Maybe because I’d shrunk and so had he. He had kind of a dopey smile.

“Heh. They gave me the good meds. Because man, that body ache sucked. But now? Wheee….”

“We got a lot of data before that, though. Don’t let him fool you, he touched it out for most of the night before we finally got to the point where it would have been cruel to leave him in pain,” Dr Park said.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“As okay as any of you. The process is underway, that’s for sure. Good news is that between the samples we got from both of you, and the stuff we got as he was undergoing what I think off as stage one, we may find something.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Meanwhile, maybe you can help him get to his room. Just see Lynn about it.”

“Noooo, I wanna sleep with you,” Tommy whined. “You’re nice. And you’re hot.”

“How long are the meds going to have him like this?”

“Hard to say, but probably a few hours at least. At his current rate of dwindling, I can’t tell whether his size will make it more effective, or whether his system will metabolize it more quickly.”

“Okay, Tommy, let’s get you out of here,” I said.

“This room is nice,” Tommy said. He’d flopped onto the huge bed and was staring at the ceiling.

“This one is mine. You can stay for now but there’s plenty of nearby rooms.”

“Okay,” he said. “I demand visitation rights.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Tommy…” I began.

“Dude, no. I know you, you’re going to be a grump and beat yourself up over this. Don’t. I’m fine.”

Okay, he was right, even if I don’t really like to admit it. That’s where my mind went.

“Fine, you win. But you may change your tune. I mean, look at me, for fucks sake!”

He eyed me up lasciviously. “Hard not to. You’re like a super buff go-go boy, but scaled down. Daddy likes.”

“You are not my daddy.”

“Meh. I’m flexible. Besides, that dick is huge, babes. I don’t care what you wanna call yourself or me, so long as I get a ride!”

“Dammit, Tommy—”

He was already most of the way out of his scrubs. “Wait!” I said.

“Okay, but why? You need a release before you poke yourself in the chin with that big dick, and I got an itch that won’t scratch itself. Doc said it was fine, whatever the dwindling thing is, you either got it or you don’t. We both got it, and it ain’t getting worse.”

“Other than the fact I keep shrinking while I get buffer and bigger dicked, with no fucking end in sight?”

“I’m sure it won’t get too much worse,” he said. “Certainly not for a fuck between friends.”

The rest of his argument involved less talk and more deep-throat action, and I couldn’t muster up much of a counterargument.

“Goddamn, my dick must be in your stomach,” I said.

He simply pointed to his neck, then inhaled the rest of my cock until I was squirming, while he did things with his throat that ought to be registered with the cops. Fuck, he was a pro. And just as I finally found the will to pull out—belatedly remembering a promise to provide a sample for testing—he gulped and I lost it, blasting so hard I half expected it to shoot out his toes.

“Yummy,” he said, wiping his lips and licking the very small amount of leakage. His smirk was suddenly annoying.

No, wait,, it wasn’t a smirk.

It was more of a vacant dopey smile.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he said.

“You just sucked a gallon of cum out of my foot-long dick,” I said.

“It was a lot, but a gallon? Don’t be silly.”

“It was just hyperbole.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that was all cum.” And then he glanced down, delighted. “Looks like there’s more where that came from!”

“No, wait, I need to fill a cup with it!”

“Lay back, babes. I got you. Gimme the cup.”

I’d barely had a breather after my first cum, and he spared no effort in getting my motors running again, teasing and edging me back to full hardness. When I was ready to burst, he pulled his mouth off me and aimed me at the cup, with some difficulty. I really was like a steel rod. He giggled and counted the spurts as I filled the cup. Like, completely filled it, and there wasn’t another, so he aimed my cock at his mouth and got the rest more or less into it.

“Such a messy boy,” he said. “But so….productive! I have an idea…” he suddenly said, and ran out leaving the door wide open and me still reeling from two back to back, brain melting orgasms, my cock still somehow half hard.

Just outside each door was a small cooler, so I popped the lid on the still steaming cup of semen, and put it inside. Then I went into the app and quickly found the place to let them know….and I added a comment asking for more cups if they wanted a complete sample.

Honestly, I felt a bit off. Giddy, maybe. I was missing that post nut clarity I’d hoped for. I kept thinking about what felt off, and gradually realized that the sample container was 4 oz. How much cum was I making?

I was still standing in the doorway thinking about It when Tommy came back, carrying a cardboard box.

“In, in, in,” he said, then followed me in and shut the door behind me.

“So, right, I had this idea. You’re some kind of tiny bukakke factory, apparently, so let’s see how much you can actually produce. For science, you know? They seem to like that here,” he added conspiratorially.

From the box he produced a pair of Rubbermaid 1-L pitchers, a roll of paper towels, a box of cookies, and a full bottle of Gatorade.

“What on earth?”

“Okay, hear me out. First, snacky-snacks to keep your energy up. Mine too, I’m hungry. I swiped these from the lounge.”

“We could just get lunch, you know.”

“Oh, right, but I don’t think we will be leaving the room in time.”

“It’s already 11:30,” I said.

“Uggggh. Fine. Let’s eat, then,” he whined.

“I’m supposed to meet with Lynne after I get you settled. How about we deal with all that, and then maybe….”

“But I want to fuck! Why won’t you let me have it?”

Okay, that was weird. Not that I wasn’t clearly interested, but I still had my wits about me. Somehow they were still winning against the throbbing fuck stick siphoning my mass.

“Tommy, I think we need to go downstairs and try to think about lunch first, okay?”

“I could probably live off the amount of spunk you have in there.” The way he said it sounded less like a joke and more like working out if it were possible.

“Dude, do you hear yourself? You sound obsessed!”

That seemed to bring him back to himself a bit. “Um…shit, I kind of do, don’t I? I’m sorry. I just feel all wired after sex.”

“This seems like a little more than that,” I offered.

He sank into the little chair by the table. “Babe, I feel like I took drugs. Like, maybe ecstasy, or something.”

“Maybe something they gave you?”

“No, it’s not that. Everything feels heightened and I feel like I have no inhibitions and all I can really focus on is sex.”

Yeah, that squared.

“I think we need to involve a doctor,” I said.

“And you’re still hard,” he said.

“I’m starting to get used to it. But I can’t spend my whole life jacking off.”

We pinged a doc via the app, and went to the canteen. Pork stir fry was okay and I was still adjusting to how much food I needed. I shoveled down three servings before I felt full. Tommy ate a bit, but mostly pouted. It was just us, but not for long.

“You’d be Tommy,” came a gruff voice behind us. It was Lynn and some other new person, a tall bear of a man in a lab coat. “And you must be Dennis. I’m Dr Cornetto, but call me Noel,” he said. “I’ve been going over your records, Dennis, And Tommy’s, hopefully soon.”

“I was kind of expecting Dr Park,” I said. “No offense.”

“None taken, but he is offsite for a bit. I work very closely with him and am familiar with your files.” He sat down at the table with us. “So as you’re probably aware, the dwindling has only one main commonality, which is a transfer or loss of mass, specifically height. Secondary effects have included genital size change and muscle accretion or loss, and most often an increase in libido. Hyperspermia in a few cases, body hair changes, a few others. “

“I’ve had a first row ticket to all of that. What about mental stuff?”

“Less frequent and a bit harder to quantify. Do you suspect you’re affected?”

“He was talking about my dumb sassy ass,” Tommy said. “I’ve felt really ADHD all day. Any train of thought that doesn’t involve sex or food has derailed, and it’s starting to worry me.”

“I see. And do you agree, Mr Reilly?”

“I’ve noticed it too,” I said. “He’s always been a little….impulsive. But it’s like he lost his filters or something.”

“I see. What about you?”

“Me?” I debated telling him I had concerns about my own state, but there were other worries. “I’m more worried about the fact normal folks cum a few teaspoons, and I could fill a pitcher lately.”

“Hmmm. Well, a few tests will see whether you have legit concerns or whether we add hallucinations to the list of side effects.”

“Noel, I overfilled a four-ounce sample jar in one go today. And this guy here brought a liter pitcher, hoping to fill it from my balls.”

His eyes widened at that.

“Sample jar is in the cooler by my door. And the scary thing is, I bet I could fill a pitcher.” I found myself leaning in closer. “I could cum right now, actually.”

“Ooo! I can help! Just let me play with your big cock for a few,” Tommy giggled. Then he frowned. “Fuck, sorry. That came out before I could stop myself.”

Noel gave us both a long, assessing look.

“Okay, this is a bit more than I expected.”

“A bit? Sweetheart, have you seen the cock on this little tasty muscle morsel?”

Said cock, in fact, was roused yet again.

“Just a sec,” Noel said, and tapped at his phone again. “There, just hold out for a few more minutes and let the white noise kick in.”

It was almost like walking into a movie theater on a sweltering hot day. In just a moment, the simmering storm of libido calmed.

“Oh,” I said.

“Fuck, I can actually think again,” Tommy said.

“Glad to hear it,” the doctor said. “Dr Melton will be delighted it worked. Unfortunately, there are only three levels and that was level two. You must let me know if you start feeling this way again. I honestly have no idea what to do when level three is ineffective.”

“I never thought I would say it, but I didn’t really love feeling so out of control. That’s why I never went in for party drugs,” Tommy said. At least he sounded more like himself. Bossy bottom energy, right?

“Now, Dennis, are you serious about the hyperspermia?”

“See for yourself.”

He saw the full sample and shook his head. “Astounding. And that was one episode?”

I nodded.

“I think you are right, we do need to do some science on this. See if you can avoid any more ejaculations tonight, and let’s measure in the big container first thing. Meanwhile, I think perhaps you should spend the night in separate rooms.”

We did spend the night in separate rooms, for science. I got a few excited texts that night from Tommy, and one pleading one daring me to break the rules, and I replied with a reminder to crank up the white noise. I ignored him after that. To Tommy, especially in his current state, my situation was a toy for him to play with.

But at the rate I was going, I was feeling like that might not be an inappropriate take. There was less and less of me, just muscle and cock. What was the point? It was beginning to feel deliberate, like some mad scientist had some fetish for small men. Somehow I fell asleep but my dreams were disturbing—me trying to run down a corridor while my huge wang kept tripping me up, all the while pursued by giant men.

Morning came and I woke to yet another massive hardon. I had to pee in the shower and the cold water did nothing to help. I still had a giant dick in my face. While trying to shit my brains out.

By now, I was getting used to how much fecal matter I was producing but I added “possible scat fetish” to the mad scientist checklist. Then I remembered that it generally meant more height loss and frowned.

Protocol was to go get measured first, so I pulled my scrubs on as best I could, adjusting where I could—even as loose and adjustable as they’d been, contending with a huge chest and shoulders and a massive dick made the front look stupid. I tried dad’s robe but my shoulders and arms were simply too big for it. Exasperated, I decided enough was enough and went down to get measured. The time for embarrassment was past.

I gritted my teeth as I entered the hallway, prepared for the change in libido, but it didn’t happen—I’d later find out that the whole facility was set to level two now by default. There was a notification in the app, and also a map that helped me find the scanning room, because my sense of direction was not up to its usual standards. I hoped that, at least, would let up a bit.

I could tell from the tech’s reaction that I’d dwindled again. He had no poker face. And he actually said “whoa” before he could stop himself.

Height: 4 ft, 4 inches
Weight: 224
Chest: 59
Waist: 23
Upper arms: 23
Quads: 24
Penis: 15.5 inches, 6.25 inch girth

Fuck. Why wasn’t it stopping? And why was the thought turning me on? I mean, I’d had the low-level simmering libido all morning, but with the white noise everywhere I’d been able to keep it under control. I was beginning to doubt how long that would work.

I went back to my room, and grabbed the pitcher and a towel and started what I suspected would be a very routine wank of my massive cock. I quickly gave into the pleasure and used the weeping pre to work the shaft, letting my body do what it desperately needed to.

I couldn’t even get the head fully into my mouth, though getting it to my face was not remotely challenging. And when I finally aimed it, I unloaded quite a bit into it. About 13 ounces in the pitcher of shame. But today added a new wrinkle: I felt extremely dizzy after my release, and more than a bit winded. I lay there in my bed panting for a good five minutes. Then I put the lid on the pitcher, set it in the collection box, and put on some scrubs again. Still fucking hard, but too hungry at that point to care.

Sam and Tommy had already met when I got down to the canteen, and when they spotted me, they giggled.

“Okay, what has he told you?”

“Oh, plenty, all of it quite flattering, and some of it pretty funny.”

“Eat, babes, and then join us,” Tommy giggled. “You may not be able to see around that redwood in your pants, but we will be here.”

He wasn’t wrong; said redwood was nearly at my neck and still hard.

I loaded up from the buffet, suddenly starving. They’d done most of a full English, loads of protein and carbs that I suddenly craved, as well as a choice of fruit and coffee. Of course, sitting meant the blasted cock was up to my nose and I basically had to eat around it.

Tommy and Sam smirked at my predicament.

“So, how did you do?” Sam asked. “No offense but I can see you haven’t stopped changing.”

I pulled up the data in my app and handed it to Sam while I struggled to find a more convenient position. Sam shook his head. “I wasn’t sure how much of that cock was new or whether your dwindling made it seem so big. Damn.”

“You know the measurement I want,” Tommy said. “How much hot cum did you shoot from that big ol’ cannon?”

I finished the mouthful I was chewing. “About a third of a liter,” I said.

Both of them responded with wide eyes and little gasps.

“Holy shit, that’s a lot.”

“Thanks,” I grunted sarcastically between mouthfuls.

“No wonder you drank all that juice already. You have to be dehydrated.”

“And you look like you’re raring to go.”

Suddenly I felt all the pent up rage and annoyance that my libido had been distracting me from. “I fucking am, okay? I’m fucking starving and horny beyond belief! It’s driving me fucking crazy and I don’t know if it’s going to stop! Like ever!”

The room got very quiet, and the orderlies and staff just stared at me. The burly guys slowly set down their forks and coffee mugs.

“What!? I’m not allowed to be pissed off? Look at me for Christ’s sake! I’m turning into a fucking oversexed hobbit muscle fantasy! It’s ridiculous, and it sucks, and I want my life back!”

I slammed my fist into the table and the stupid thing dented inwards, while the glasses bounced and spilled.

Then I got dizzy and passed out again. The last thing I saw over the dick in my face was the blurry suggestion of a big buff orderly.

I woke to the distant sounds of beeps, and eventually I opened my eyes.

“He’s awake,” Dr Park said. His face suddenly loomed large in my field of vision.

“What happened?” I slurred, groggily.

“You threw a temper tantrum and passed out at breakfast,” Tommy said from somewhere nearby.

“Please, boys, I need to talk with him now that he’s awake. Privately.”

I heard the door shut. “What’s going on? I feel weird.”

“Dennis, you had a drastic change and passed out. Right now you’re in an observation room, and we have you secured in place for your safety. The nature of your most recent episode required some….improvisation.”

“What?”

He sighed, heavily. “First of all, I think he combination of pent up mental and physical stress finally hit you. You’ve been through a lot in a week and we haven’t really had a chance to do the psych work yet, but in hindsight we should have seen this coming. Well, the outburst at least.”

“You are currently strapped down for your safety and ours. You’ve been out for about three hours and a bit, and during that time, we have watched your body change. By our best estimates, you have been losing an inch in height every 70 minutes since then. Your hypogonadism and hyperspermia have matched this change and your body has been under significant stress. Your muscle mass seems to have soaked up whatever was left. We will know more once you’re stable and we can get you into the scanner. But first, we need to make sure you’re still okay upstairs, right?”

“When I said we improvised, I mean your size, genitalia, and muscle mass required a novel approach to securing you. In short we had to force your dick out of the way and keep your arms and legs from hurting anyone. So you are, for now, strapped spread-eagled onto an improvised steel device, while your penis is strapped down to another one. Your changing dimensions made nylon straps the best short-term option, but we are working on some more appropriate replacements.”

“The fuck?”

“We have you partly sedated but the truth is your body is likely under so much stress right now it may be burning it out more quickly than we had hoped. Once we are assured you have your wits about you, and we conduct a few more tests, we can get you scanned for better measurements.”

“Why do I feel like I am thirsty?”

“You’ve had several very productive ejaculations since your episode at breakfast. It’s rather impressive, but no worries, we’ve had you on a pretty solid saline drip and you can have a proper drink in a few minutes.”

I was vaguely aware of a tugging sensation at my groin, and feeling was returning to my limbs. I couldn’t move any of it, and barely move my head.

“Since we got you hooked up here, you have actually produced almost a liter of ejaculate,” he said. “That’s on top of what you did before breakfast, and then during your episode in the canteen. Medically fascinating, but I suspect quite taxing for you. Now that you’re conscious, we are hoping to bring that under control, but like I told you before, this is all new ground for the team. No guarantees. All I can say is that we are doing our best to take care of you. And we are learning so much…”

He kept talking, I think, but just then I seized up and this time I could actually feel the sensation of compression all over—except my junk, which felt oddly nice.

“Interesting,” Dr Park said. “Did we get that on the monitor? Good.”

Lynn appeared a few minutes later and began what felt like a by-the-books assessment. I was troubled by some odd gaps in memory, or rather things that seemed to take too long to summon. Couldn’t remember Bill Clinton’s name, or the name of my bank, at all, not until she said the names and they seemed to reimprint themselves. Math proved challenging. The simple stuff was okay but the more advanced stuff was utterly inaccessible to me. And as the sedative wore off, the sensation in my cock returned. I interrupted her mid-question and shouted “ahh, coming!” I couldn’t really see how they were collecting it but heard the splashing. She did a brief psych panel, too.

Not sure how on earth Lynn kept her composure. Imagine trying to assess the mental health and cognitive faculties of a man while he is visibly mutating and occasionally orgasming as he tries to answer your questions.

“Well, Dennis, there is definitely a decline but I think you are mentally fit enough to get out of this thing. It has to be uncomfortable.”

The orderlies unstrapped me and put me in a wheelchair, with my dick sticking way up in front of my face. I was, I suddenly realized, heavily muscle bound and it almost felt like I was wearing a wetsuit.

Just a little over five hours since my last visit, i entered the scanning and measurement room, and I knew things were bad. I was still pretty dizzy so they helped me into the tube—which seemed a bit larger than I remembered. My shoulders were so broad now that I had to turn a little sideways to enter, and my cock was surreally huge in front of me. I stood straight up when indicated, and then they helped me back to the wheelchair.

Height: 3’11”
Weight: 216
Chest: 63
Waist: 27
Upper arms: 29
Quads: 30
Penis: 19.125 inches, 9.25 inch girth

No wonder my size felt so off. Those were ridiculous proportions. When sitting, my balls felt like cantaloupes, and my dick was beyond huge, it was half my height! It was above my head now, far too large for anyone to take. I struggled to understand how this could even work, but I knew my brainpower wasn’t great. I figured I probably had trouble keeping blood in my brain and my dick at the same time and that’s why I was dizzy.

Whatever the case, I had the sense that this wasn’t done with me yet. And as I felt yet another no-reason orgasm building, I heard the doctors talking heatedly just outside, right before I passed out again.

“Hey, meatball,” a sassy voice whispered. “Wake up.”

I groggily opened my eyes. Looming over me was a wall of flesh I assumed must be my dick, and behind that was Tommy, and his expression was an odd mix of smug sass and actual worry.

“Whut…” I said.

“I stand corrected, Mr Fowler. Now please stand aside.” Dr Park’s face loomed overhead.

“Okay, but once he’s checked out remember your promise.”

“What’s going on?” I felt really weird, and warm, and like my extremities were far away.

“First, don’t try to sit up. You’ll just get dizzy again,” Dr Park said. “Second, you’ve had another episode.”

“Fuck!”

“You’ve been out for two and a half hours.”

“Let me guess, another inch? Two?”

“…Not exactly,” he said. “I need you to brace yourself.”

“For what?” I struggled a bit but couldn’t move easily, and my body felt sluggish and heavy.

“It is pretty extreme.”

“Stop dancing around it. How small am I now?”

“The latest dwindling episode took over 5 inches from your height, I’m afraid,” he said. “You’re about three and a half feet long.”

“Shit!” I said, truly frightened. “I am a hobbit!”

“Your musculature has changed, too. It was fascinating to watch. Basically your dimensions shifted on that front, too. And of course your genitalia have grown.”

“Of course,” I said, sarcastically.

“Your muscle tissue density increased significantly, which is likely a good thing. Your mobility was getting limited.”

“How ridiculous is the beast now?” I asked tiredly.

“As you say, it is pretty ridiculous.” He then read off my new dimensions.

Height: 3’5¼”
Weight: 199
Chest: 42
Waist: 25
Upper arms: 25
Quads: 25
Penis: 21.5 inches, 9.75 inch girth

“I’m a complete freak.”

“It could be worse. Whatever just hit you, it caused your muscles to compress and become significantly denser. Probably your bones too. More normal proportions at least, though still massive on your small frame.”

“My dick is more than half as tall as I am. It’s over my head, for fuck’s sake.”

“…Yes,” he admitted. “And your testicles are pretty large as well, though not as extreme as your penis. You were unconscious for the scanning, and the sample collection. Because of your extreme hyperspermia, we improvised something….”

“Lotta that happening,” I growled. “Too much.”

“Anyway, you can’t really see it from your position, but the near constant flow required some way to deal with it. With you on your back, your penis stretched beyond your head and we were able to angle it a bit. A plastic bedpan and some tubing, and an equipment rack, and we have at least some means of collection. Rather ingenious, I think, given how quickly we put it together. It’ll do for now.”

I sighed, feeling the wobble in my dick. I supposed I should feel grateful they hadn’t just let the beast drip my cock snot all over my face. Each breath I took, thanks to my huge chest, meant I was lifting my nearly two-foot-long junk about six inches, and I could hear a splatter when I breathed out and my chest compressed.

“Is there any good news?”

“We are pouring over the data we got from you and Mr Fowler. Melton is running a ton of simulations based on what we’ve gathered so far. So don’t give up hope!”

“But I’m still…dwindling.”

“So it seems,” he said. “And that brings up another issue, but Lynn will discuss that with you when the opportunity presents itself.”

“I can guess. You can’t reverse this. At some point I’ll be as much cock as anything. My life is over,” I moaned.

“We hope not. But for the short term, I’m afraid keeping you here is the only option. Hopefully you’ll stabilize.”

“I don’t feel stable, Doc. I feel groggy and thick, like my own muscles have me prisoner. I am a little buzzed, too. Horny like a teen.”

“The white noise is at its highest setting.”

“Don’t switch it off, for god’s sake! I can’t imagine how bad this would be without it.”

“I’ll see if we can’t figure something out. You know, on the bright side, if you do exit this phase, the libido usually drops a bit. It’s at its worst while you are actively changing.”

It was a sliver of hope I was willing to cling to. Still, that pesky “if”….

Eventually I passed out, and the doc must have sedated me because I slept hard. I had a few weird, vaguely sexual dreams that I thankfully don’t remember much of (beyond feeling aroused and confused).

When I finally woke, I wished I hadn’t. I had an overwhelming sense of warmth and I was pretty sure I wasn’t on my back anymore. I risked an eye, and then snapped fully awake pretty quickly.

I’d been flipped over, and appeared to be in some sort of hammock, face down. Ha hole had been rigged somehow, kind of like where you put your head while getting a massage, so that I could breath. I had medical tubes running into my nose, blowing air.

I couldn’t move much, but the source of warmth was obvious enough. The wall of flesh below me.

My cock.

“Awake?”

I groaned in response.

“I’m going to need actual words, Dennis,” Lynn’s voice said.

“Awake. Can’t move much,” I slurred. “Why?”

“We will get to that,” she replied. “First, I need to do an assessment of your cognitive function and mental state. Bear with me.”

I stumbled my way through her assessment, but could tell things weren’t going well. Way too many questions about current events, basic math and logic stuff, and all of them seemed to need answers I couldn’t recall, or felt too complicated to focus on. Same with the mental assessment.

“How I do?”

“Under the circumstances? I expected worse. Now,” she said, putting away her tablet, “I expect you have questions.”

“Yeah.”

“First, you have been out for about a week. A lot has happened, but I suspect you’ll need an update on your own status before I go into all that.”

“You stabilized at about 34 inches, and you are what I can only describe as bloated with incredibly dense muscle. That’s a lot of why you can’t move, but they also have you kind of swaddled to keep you from shifting in your sleep. They flipped you pretty soon after you passed out, because your penis and testicles continued to grow.”

“How bad?”

“Just over 93 cm, or 37 inches, fully engorged. Which you have been the entire time.”

“Fuck,” I said. More cock than person.

“It’s been a challenge to keep you hydrated with how much that thing puts out. You have also lost a fair amount of weight, but your bones and muscles are extraordinarily dense. Not much fat on you.”

“Tommy is doing well, and he got lucky physically—he only lost a few inches. He and Sam are getting along well, and have made many friends among the newer residents. There are about 30 of you here now.”

“The very good news, however, is that the docs have been pretty busy and not only have they figured out the cause, they’ve been working on a way to reverse the dwindling.”

I admit, I squeaked a bit.

“In short, it was a biological weapon test. Some kind of programmable virus type thing. Pretty sure it was Russia. We think the plan was to simply shrink people, but the virus got confused and the instructions corrupted. But once they were able to monitor everything in real time, because of your extreme response and Tommy’s fresh samples, they cracked it. The boys in Frederick think they have a way to reprogram it to fix you.”

I couldn’t help it, I began crying in relief. She waited in silence for a respectful moment or two.

“The thing is, I needed to assess your ability to grant consent. Because of your extreme case, they can learn a lot by attempting to correct you.”

“Yes!”

“Hold on. You need to understand the risks. First, they’re not sure how much they can reverse. Or how well your body will hold on as it attempts to restructure you.”

“Still yes. I don’t want to be a support system for a cock.”

“And second, they think there’s only one shot at this. If they get it wrong, they can’t go again. Whatever happens, it’s a one-way trip. It could even be fatal if they’ve messed something up.”

Another hour of questions left me mentally exhausted. I wasn’t even sure how well I had answered, because the sheer amount of nerve endings my mammoth cock contained meant that it was taking up a lot of space in my mind. I was constantly aware of it, of the heat and weight of it, of every minor movement of the air around it or the slight brush of the fabric sling that kept it from crushing me. I was pretty sure I could even feel it inexorably adding minuscule amounts of flesh to itself, possibly at the expense of my body.

It was like when your neighbor is playing music so loud that you have to work at it and turn your own up to hear properly. Only without the option to go bang on the door and let them know it was a problem.

Shut, I could probably knock down a door with this cock. It was long past ridiculous, and while it sure felt good while it was actively spewing thick blasts of cum, the constant drip of pre plopping into the bucket behind my head was like fucking water torture.

Hyper awareness. That’s what it was. I was normally good with words, but I had the bizarre feeling that my normally expansive vocabulary was dripping out of that meter of cock, one letter at a time.

I was doomed, if they weren’t able to fix me. They had to. I didn’t want a life like this.

I could feel the spiral starting. The depression waiting to grab my soul and tell me he was worthless.

Naturally, that’s when my friends showed up.

“Hey!!” Tommy bounced in, grinning. “They said you’re awake and somehow still have a brain!”

“Oh god.” I was only momentarily embarrassed; it was Tommy after all. His head popped into my limited field of vision, smiling.

Then he gave me a big smooch. “Ew, you taste like plastic tubing and bad breath.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“I’ve tasted worse,” he said. “Anyway, the docs said we could come visit now you’re awake!”

“We?”

“Sam’s here too. He’s just too short for you to see from there.”

“Hey, sexy,” said Sam’s voice from somewhere below.

“Okay, elephant in the room, god damn, that cock is bigger than you are!”

“What cock?” I said, feigning ignorance.

“Seriously, they kept us out all week, Den. I hope it’s cool, I’ve been hanging out with Sam a lot, but we missed you.”

“He wouldn’t shut up,” Sam said wryly.

“Congrats, you’ve summed up the Tommy experience.”

“Ha ha,” Tommy smiled indulgently. “Anyway, they said they are going to try to reverse some of this, and I had to see you before then. It’s a shame you can’t really move to see me.”

“Hang on, I found the controls,” Sam said. Suddenly there was a shift. The bed titled up a bit, and the shift in location meant the giant dick-in-a-sling above me shifted too. That meant fabric sliding along my enormous shaft, and it responded.

“Ahhhh!” I squeaked. I could hear a large blob of pre splatter somewhere behind my head. Fuck, now I felt even harder.

“Whoa! Sorry, wasn’t expecting such a reaction,” Sam said.

I could see him, once the stars and swirls in my eyes calmed down a bit. He looked chagrined but physically the same: cute Asian hobbit twunk.

And looming next to him at what he guessed was only a few inches shorter than he had been, was Tommy. Damn, he’d been cute before but now he was a certified prototypical twink.

“Drink it in, babe. This actually worked out pretty well for me. Check out my ass!”

Okay, that was … a lot of cake, indeed. A beefy, perfect, bubble but. And then he tensed it up and it was even nicer.

If you go for that sort of thing, which I do. Behind me, I heard another gushing splash as my cock got in on the excitement.

“Oh my god,” Tommy said. “Now that’s what I call appreciation. Thanks, babe. Anyway, I wanted to come in and make sure you were okay. Sam, too, he likes you a lot. He may like me better, though. I’ve been growing on him, I think.” Sam just shook his head indulgently.

“Now, I know that you’re in kind of a freaky situation, but I really wish I could ride that thing before they try to fix you. But, they said it wasn’t safe to try, one or both of us could get hurt. And they really want to try that cure on you, buddy.”

“Yeah. This is just too much. I don’t even know if I can walk with this thing. If they can’t…I don’t see much point in going on, y’know?”

He nodded, momentarily serious and focused. “If they can’t fix you, we will do our best to make you feel happy and loved.” And he meant it, bless him.

Dr Park finished giving me the once-over, and seemed satisfied with the results.

“The tricky bit comes next, Dennis. Without going into too much detail, your dwindling is still active, but really slowed down. The idea is to jump-start parts of that process, but in other directions.”

“Sounds great.”

“It ought to sound scary. But I guess at this point you haven’t much to lose.”

“Too much of a good thing, doc. The muscle is one thing, but nobody needs a three-foot cock.”

“Just so. We’ll, I guess we will brief you as best we can, and then get started.”

I nodded and he activated the bed controls so I was a bit more comfortable.

“Now, the first thing we are going to do is inject you with our modified virus. Then you’re going to be submerged in a tank full of, well, goo. It’s engineered to feed the refactoring needs of the revised virus. You’re going to need to pick up that mass you lost, right? And we will be feeding you as well, with a nutrient drip.”

“How long will it take?”

“Impossible to say. Our best guess is a couple of weeks at worst, but you’re not going to enjoy the process. Sedating you would be ideal but it’d be risky with your hopefully changing mass. But with how quickly your body reacted to the original, you may be lucky and it will go more quickly.”

“Got it,” I said. “Ready when you are.”

About twenty minutes later, I had received the injection, and soon I was being lowered into a large tank, and hooked up with more sensors and electrodes and tubes and wires than I care to think of. I had swim goggles over my eyes and tubes up my nose.

Hours passed, or possibly minutes. The goo was, well, gooey. The breather kicked in and that wasn’t pleasant either. And then the tingling and warmth started. Wave after wave, maybe ten or twelve seconds apart. At least my massive dick was blocking my view; I wasn’t sure I wanted to see anything. I was too lost in the feeling.

It was almost like my whole body was being massaged. No, stroked—sensually and rhythmically—to the point of orgasm, and then denied. But weirdly, it wasn’t sexual, somehow. My dick was left out of the fun, though in point of fact I already felt like I’d been oversexed for so long I may have just been numb to it.

I drifted in and out for a long while. Still not sure how long it was. Days certainly. When I bothered to open my eyes, I couldn’t see much. Just a sort of thick unset Jell-o. No, more like…runny pudding. Custard? It wasn’t chunky, for which I’m grateful. I don’t know, it doesn’t make sense. It felt like a mud bath.

Eventually, the waves of massage stopped, and after a bit, I could feel the goo shucking off my body. And then a spray of lukewarm water. It felt really nice, like I was washing away something gross, leaving me clean and fresh and new.

A hand reached up and pulled the goggles off. I blinked as a towel was wiped gently across my eyes and the breather pulled off my face. I gasped, and there was a weird echo. No, not an echo. Those were other voices.

The world swam into focus. And there were the open-mouthed faces of the staff, and a look on Dr Park’s face that I can only describe as …confused.

“How…how are you feeling, Dennis?” He asked.

“Weird.” That wasn’t the right word for it. I felt like I’d got a full body massage for a bit too long, and then fell asleep in a hot tub. And then someone had taken me apart and forgotten to put me back together.

“I’ll bet,” someone whispered.

“Okay, let’s get you out of this thing, and we will want to run some more tests after you’ve rested.”

I barely registered the many hands pulling me out of the tank and putting me onto the cart, because my entire body was singing—it didn’t quite hurt but there was definitely sensory overload, which made it really hard to sort out one sensation from the next. I was pretty sure there were towels involved and damp cloths, but I kind of lost myself in it.

“Dens? Denny? Speak to me, babes.” I knew that voice—definitely Tommy. My eyes felt too heavy to check just yet.

“Tommy?”

“Oh good. He knows me, Doc,” Tommy said.

“Score another point for you, Mr Fowler,” Dr Park said.

I felt something over my eyelid, probably a finger, and bright light flashed into my eyes. I tried to move my arm and heard something snap as I did that.

“Whoa! Slow down, it’s just me, just checking your eyes, Dennis…”

My eyes adjusted quickly. Something large was blocking my vision, or most of it, but the angle was wrong for it to be my oversized cock. Small blessings, right? It snapped into focus: a large and bulging wall of flesh, and when I moved my arm, to shift the thing, it moved too.

Wait, that was my arm. My arm!

I sat up suddenly, and several other snapping noises accompanied the motion. I looked at my arm, with a shredded piece of heavy-duty nylon strapping dangling uselessly from it.

“Denny, babes, calm down please, you’re scaring them.”

“What the hell?” I looked down at the expanse below me, and realized that it was me, taking up the entire width of the bed, my feet stretching past the end of it. I wiggled my ankles to make sure.

“Can I ask you not to move too much just yet?” Dr Park said, calmly. “I will explain.”

“Water,” I croaked. Tommy handed me one of those terrible hospital cups and when I grabbed it, it exploded. “Here, babe, just use the straw,” he said, producing another one. I sucked deeply and felt like I’d never had cool water before, I was so thirsty.

“Okay, Dennis. We need to talk now, because a lot has happened, and we need to catch you up.” He scooted closer. “The straps were a precaution, because well, we didn’t know whether you’d be able to control yourself. It appears we overestimated those allegedly industrial straps.”

“I did that?”

“Yeah, you did, you big stud,” Tommy said.

“Mr Fowler, please. Editorializing isn’t going to be useful, so let’s bring Dennis up to speed first, okay?”

“Sure.”

He sighed. “Dennis, the good news is, we managed to accomplish our primary goal of reversing the worst of what the dwindling had done to you. However,” he said, “it appears our calculations may have been off. Or just something about you tends to over respond to this process. The net result is pretty substantial—and I have to emphasize, this is a one way trip, as we briefed you beforehand.”

“How substantial?” I asked, finding my voice a little weird and rumbly.

“Well, first the good news. You have regained all the height you lost, and then some. And we’ve substantially reduced your phallus, which we feared might be impossible.”

“Still huge,” Tommy said, “which is nice for everyone, don’t you think?”

“Ahem. However, we ran into issues putting the brakes on, so to speak. Consequently, you are now roughly 6 feet, 8 inches tall. And you seem to have retained the hypertrophic muscle development you attained when you initially shrunk.”

“You weigh like 440 pounds, Dens! All of it hot sexy muscle,” Tommy burbled.

“Um...yes, that’s about right. And on the other matter, you still have pretty significantly oversized genitalia,” he said. “But we estimate it’s a little less than half the size you were before we made this attempt. Flaccid, you’re back to around 11 inches.”

“We don’t know yet how big a boy you’ll be when properly stimulated,” Tommy gushed. “But I have dibs.”

“Estimates are in the 14-to-18-inch range. A damned sight less inconvenient than 38 inches, so we are counting that as success.”

“More useful at that size, right?”

I nodded dumbly. Then I gestured at the shredded straps.

“Ah, yes, we will want to run some more deliberate tests, but it appears those muscles aren’t just for show. I suspect your muscle density is much greater than, well, the average 6’8” muscle monster. If such a thing exists. But you snapped those straps like they weren’t even there, and they could hold a gorilla. So be very careful, please.”

I feel pretty recovered in a few hours, and they sent me down for imaging.

Height: 6’8.25”
Weight: 442
Chest: 68
Waist: 34
Upper arms: 29
Quads: 33
Penis: 16.95 inches, 5.5 inch girth

I was fucking massive.

Dr Park cleared me once the bloodwork came through. This time the virus had self-destructed as it should have, so I wasn’t going to pass it on.

And so there I was, taking up most of a king-sized bed, while Tommy and Sam treated me like a buffet.

“There’s so much of you now,” Tommy said. “And so much of it is yummy muscly goodness.” He was into muscle worship, I’d discovered. I’d flex whatever muscle he was lavishing attention on and he’d squeal with delight.

Sam had his mouth quite full, but we interpreted his muffled grunts as “not this part.” He was pretty happy down there inhaling most of my dick, which was still utterly inhuman for anyone not already in the building. I’d shot twice already, but he was warming me up for Tommy.

Because Tommy was determined to take me to the hilt.

Tommy had settled at about 5’5, but he’d gained quite a bit of tone and a dump truck of an ass. His already nice butt had become bigger, rounder, firmer, yet supple. There was enough of it there to justify his size queen instincts, now, because you’d need at least 5 inches to get TO his hole, much less in it.

Trust me, it was worth it just for that trip, because once you were in there, he was in control. Size wouldn’t help you. His grip was insane, and wonderful, and it seemed like he could clench for several inches inside.

Sam mostly wanted to be used for oral, but he’d happily fucked himself on Tommy’s cock (he’d gained a happy inch there, putting him at about 7.5”) while I was under. They got along well, with Sam’s maturity balancing Tommy’s lack thereof. Tommy’s intellect was mostly intact, but they estimated he’d dropped maybe 10-15 points in IQ, for whatever that’s worth. He still felt like Tommy, but his already air-headed personality was dialed up and his ability to focus was pretty limited. He’d forget little things, or need reminding. He seemed pretty happy, overall, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going back to his old life anytime soon.

Sam had stabilized before we met him, but as I got to know him, I realized he’d probably been a bit more complex and high-strung before the dwindling. His youthening had left his maturity pretty much intact, but left him much more blunt than he’s been, or so he claimed. He said only that he saw no purpose in not just saying what he thought, or asking for what he wanted.

I met many of the others, but the three of us settled pretty quickly into a contented state and our needs were met, so we were social (and I like to think, helpful for the newer guys) but pretty self-contained. Within three months there were 70 or 80 of us there, and a few folks had been eager to return to society.

Dr Park said the team were still working on the reversal process, and had a few more folks ready to try it. What they’d learned was that the physical stuff could definitely be reversed, but the mental stuff less so. But they could fix most of the more extreme cases, and were hoping to be able to halt the dwindling at earlier stages. The reversal process was still hit or miss. There had even been one case were it went wrong. The poor guy had gone from 5’10 to 4’10, and the supposed cure had backfired, leaving him at just under three feet tall. Poor guy was just skin and bones. Sam wasn’t sure if he’d left, or if he’d died. It was possible, after all. None of the researchers were opening up about it, citing HIPAA and confidentiality. I couldn’t blame them.

We later found out that some folks got hit with a version of the original virus that shrunk or grew their organs unpredictably, and it was lethal. They hadn’t been tracked correctly and thus hadn’t been factored into the possible outcomes.

I’d been in the facility for about eight months when something changed. And it was something big.

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What happened by Dream Big When Daniel meets up after college graduation with his high school friends Chris and Jane for a beach vacation, it turns out Chris has some important news: first, he’s into both of them, and second, he’s got access to his family’s secret body transformation serum, and he’s willing to share. 2 parts 8,209 words Added Nov 2019 10k views 5.0 stars (7 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Increased Libido•Transformation•Bisexual

Enough to go around by Dream Big Sometimes life takes everything from you. Sometimes, it gives you more than you ever dreamed. 2 parts 6,621 words Added Jun 2024 Updated 22 Jun 2024 5,761 views 4.9 stars (18 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Muscle Growth•Increased Libido•Age Difference•Incest•Brothers•Twins •M/M•M/M/M

The perils of fair trade by Dream Big It seemed like a good deal: a little height for a little more cock, especially if you have too much of one and not enough of the other. But even a fair trade can go wrong if you’re not careful. 2,976 words Added Jun 2019 10k views 4.8 stars (14 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Size Decrease •M/M

Just a little bigger by Dream Big Drew has two problems: he’s got a crush on his two best friends, Vic and Sarah, and he’s self-conscious about being short and skinny. He’s not prepared for the changes that develop in both departments on their fateful post-graduation trip to New York City. 15 parts 31k words Added Dec 2019 Updated 7 Mar 2020 37k views 4.7 stars (18 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Self-suck•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Increased Libido•Breast Expansion•Gradual Change•Transformation•Getting Taller•Bisexual•Hetero Sex •M/M•M/F•M/M/F

Are you sure by Dream Big Suddenly awash with money, Bill takes the plunge and follows the stories of secretly augmented men and women to a remote lab where they promise to fix everything he doesn’t like about his body. 5 parts 6,234 words Added Nov 2019 20k views 4.7 stars (10 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Self-suck•Hyper Cum•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Getting Handsomer•Getting Taller•Size Increase•Race/Ethnicity Change•Bisexual•Hetero Sex •M/M

Side effects by Braun1 7 parts 56k words (#62) Added Feb 1997 58k views 5.0 stars (6 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Size Increase

Simon says by BRK My goofy, fun-loving shop owner loves staging these ridiculous competitions with us, but this latest one is definitely the craziest. 2 parts 7,732 words Added May 2013 Updated 30 Jun 2017 24k views 5.0 stars (10 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Extra digits•Multi-abs•Multicock•Multiarm•Multilimb•Muscle/Strength•Getting Taller•Size Increase•Suggestion

Small problems by The Obsessive-Compulsive College freshman Curt has certain inadequacies he’d like to correct. (Hint: Remember the “Better Living through Chemistry” meme?) 7 parts 9,668 words Added Sep 2009 39k views 5.0 stars (9 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Hyper Cum•Increased Libido •M/M