A fun one I wrote a couple of months back. There's definitely room for improvement but I hope you enjoy it. There are also a couple of places where someone could write-in a sex scene if they were so inclined to build on this work.

Muscle Drain, Humiliation, Revenge, Shrinking, Height Loss

____

Unhealthy Competition, by whosbiggernow

"Bruh, ten o'clock." Drew said nonchalantly to his workout buddy. Beck didn't turn his head at first, instead looking around before turning his gaze in the direction Drew had indicated. A busty brunette was playing volleyball on the beach with a couple of lanky frat bros. As Beck and Drew walked along they took in the sight.

That was one of the reasons why they had walked this same path from the apartment complex to the gym for the past five years: The scenery was great. Not to mention that it got everything pumping before their workout. On this stretch of beach they were there not only to see, but to be seen: Drew rarely wore a shirt on his trips to the gym. Today was no different. Clad only in a pair of black high-tops and matching black shorts that made his legs look huge, he nodded to another attractive woman as she rollerbladed by.

He smirked when he heard the blades skip a beat, the woman thrown off by his smile. He relished this chance to show off. But he loved it even more when Beck came with him. A couple inches shorter and about twenty pounds shy of Drew, Beck was still a formidable man and clearly worked out. But Drew had learned in high school that Beck was like a little brother - always good to have around but also someone that it was fun to one-up. And Drew was successful at it too.

They had caught up after college, both moving back to the area, and Drew had quickly discovered that having Beck around continued to be the ego boost it had been in high school. Drew always seemed that much bigger when dwarfing an already pretty stacked dude. It drove women crazy.

"Push today?" Beck asked as they neared the gym.

"Yeah, sounds good. Let's do a hypertrophy push though. I'm looking to get a good pump going before my date tonight."

Beck raised an eyebrow. But Drew didn't say anything as they walked through the door. He simply smiled at the girl at the front desk. Veronica. After they had entered the locker room and set down their bags, Beck pushed further.

"Veronica?" he asked incredulously. Drew waved his hand.

"No, no..."

"You fucker," Beck punched him playfully in the arm, "you had me going there for a minute."

Drew laughed. It was hearty and deep and the sound reverberated through the empty room. Then he smiled. "No, this girl from work. She's sweet. No legs like Veronica's, but a solid eight nonetheless."

Beck's eyebrow raised again. "An eight? You lowering your standards bro?"

"Naw, just trying to see what it's like living life like you," Drew shot back. The two guys smiled at each other and laughed as they entered the gym.

The conversation continued on the gym floor where the lifting buddies went about their routine. Each pushed the other harder. Drew really appreciated that. While Drew was more developed, their strength levels were pretty well-matched and so a PR for one often spurred the other on as well.

Soaked in sweat from a hard workout, they retired to the locker room to shower and change.

"You dude, check this out," called Drew to Beck as he got out of the shower. A neon yellow paper was in his hand; outstretched, his muscles appeared striated and thick above the blue towel that covered his waist. Beck cocked his head in question. "They're looking for a new spokesmodel for the gym. Fame, notoriety, and of course a free one-year membership if you're chosen."

"Sweet," said Beck, grabbing the paper off his locker. The notification had been stuck to all of them at some point during the day. "Four weeks from now, sign up in the lobby," he read off as Drew went about changing.

"You want to do it?"

"Fuck yeah, why not? We're easily two of the biggest dudes in here. It would be a lot of fun."

Out in the lobby the men strolled up to the front desk, trying to look casual despite their after-workout pumped-up bodies being clad in form fitting clothes. Drew nodded and again smiled at Veronica, who had been watching their parade across the room. "We heard you all were having a competition. Fame and glory and all that. You got a sign-up sheet?" He winked.

She slid a sheet from one side of the counter over towards him and then placed a pen next to it.

"Fame. Notoriety. All of that," she said, mimicking him with a sly smile. "Maybe even something more." It was Veronica's turn to wink. "Whichever one of you big boys wins'll get a night with me as well. A dinner and then maybe we'll see where the night takes us." Beck and Drew exchanged glances and hurriedly scribbled their names down on the roster. "Good luck boys," she said in a sultry voice as they high-fived each other.

​

They walked home, discussing plans for how to dominate the competition the entire way. A cool breeze had started coming in off the water and the beach was largely abandoned now. It didn't matter: The guys were so engrossed in planning that they wouldn't have noticed anyone anyhow. As they rounded the corner on Drew's block, they agreed to meet up the next day, same time as always.

Drew unlocked the door to his apartment and let his mind began to wander onto Veronica and the prize she'd have in store for him. She was a true vixen, and a tease too: No one at the gym had ever been known to date her. In the kitchen he took out his portioned meal and began reheating it. Then he opened his laptop and browsed idly through the internet while he ate. His mind, still on the prize, navigated him to a website that demonstrated some different poses for competitions. He knew the basics, but a little practice wouldn't hurt before the big day.

Drew slid the empty dishes into the sink, picked up his laptop, and headed into his bedroom. Setting it on the bed he hit play on the video he'd queued up and watched it a couple times before turning to the mirror against his closet door.

He started with a front double biceps, his favorite, and watched contently as his arms exploded in balls of muscle. Drew then angled himself into a side pose, but frowned. He pulled off his shirt first, and then shucked his pants. He nodded in agreement with himself and then attempted the pose again; a "side serratus" as the video called it. His muscles popped and adjusted as he angled himself into position and attempted a variety of movements to find the best display of his body. His abs clenched in a display of power and then released, his movements instead pulling on his obliques a bit more.

His attention focused back down to his legs, and he moved his foot angle a bit to bring his thick calves in and out of view. All the while his hamstrings swelled and bunched, looking massive in his boxer briefs. As he looked at himself his hamstrings weren't the only thing that swelled. The movements and his display of power had chubbed him up a bit, the bulge in his underwear increasing significantly.

Content with his progress, he shifted his focus to getting ready for his date. He picked a dark green t-shirt that hugged his arms perfectly and then tugged on some jeans. He noted that it was probably time for a new pair, the cloth over his crotch was worn thinner than the surrounding area and made more obvious by the still-present bulge there. He kept them on though, being ideal for some subtle communication on this first date.

_____

Distracted by the revelry of the evening, it wasn't until breakfast the next morning that doubts began to creep into his mind about the competition. He picked at his bowl of oatmeal and then got up from the counter. He walked back into the bedroom, turning on the overhead light: He wanted to see himself in the worst possible light. He looked over his body again, the fantasies now swept from his mind after a restful sleep.

Standing in front of the mirror in only a pair of grey sweatpants, he did a quarter-turn pose and looked himself over before leaning in closer. He brushed his hand over the well-kept stubble on his chin. He pinched himself slightly below the right pec, feeling how much flesh there was between his fingers. With a shake of his head he plodded into the bathroom and weighed himself.

The readout of 218 left him doing some mental math as he looked for his laptop. Drew opened a program he had used before for bulking and toggled a few settings before putting in his weight and estimated body fat. With four weeks until the competition, the readout showed he could probably cut down to less than 210 pounds without sacrificing much of his muscle. His cock jumped at the idea of how striated he would look. And with roughly 15 pounds still over Beck, he was sure he would dominate the stage.

When they met up after work, the sight of Beck renewed Drew's excitement for what was to come. "I'm thinking legs today," he said casually as they strolled toward the gym.

"Looking to put a little more meat on those thighs before the big competition?" Beck asked playfully. Drew simply nodded. Then, suddenly, a volleyball dropped right in front of them. Drew bent to grab it, palming it easily. The gorgeous brunette from the day before came bounding up to the two men.

"A little help?" she called as she bounced her way closer. Both Beck and Drew slowed their pace to draw out the stunning sight in front of them. "Like what you see, boys?" she asked playfully, grabbing the ball from Drew. "I sure do," She said slyly before either of the guys had a chance to say anything. "See you around cutie." She winked and gave Beck a quick peck on the cheek, much to his surprise. Despite having been with more than his fair share of women, the spontaneous action still made him blush.

Just as quickly as she had dropped into their lives she was gone, but they watched the show as she bounced back towards the beach before continuing the walk to the gym.

"What was that about?" Drew asked, clearly unhappy at being ignored.

Beck simply laughed. "What's the matter? You're not used to being ignored? Women are intimidated by big musclemen like you! They want someone who's stacked in all the RIGHT places..." Beck teased, grabbing at his crotch with one hand while curling the bicep of his other arm. "Wait till you see how I'm drowning in it once I win that competition," he continued, giving Drew a playful punch in the shoulder. Drew didn't take it so lightly though.

Drew was loathe to admit it, but the interaction with Beck had shaken his confidence. And more than just a little. Throughout the workout he found himself not quite moving as much weight as he should have. His mind was completely preoccupied with the interaction, and the potential implications for the competition. As he completed the last rep of his leg press his mind wandered to the composition of the judging panel. What if it was all women? What if it came down to purely aesthetics? He was disciplined enough to know not to let the "what-ifs" creep in and yet they still did.

"You alright dude?" Beck asked when he fumbled a loaded lunge. Drew just shrugged it off. The locker room was quiet that afternoon, as was the walk home.

As his meal reheated Drew loaded up the dieting program again. It was a short prep period and no matter how he seemed to slice the numbers anything pushing past three pounds per week would cut too much muscle and fullness in appearance. He began to wonder if that wasn't a good thing, given the day's interaction. But as he bit down on the first bite of chicken he decided against it. He'd worked too hard to gain what he had and he wasn't going to throw it away on a silly competition, even if it meant losing.

But as the thought of Veronica danced across his mind he noticed a pop-up in the corner of his screen. "Prepping for a competition? Let your competitors do the cutting for you with our newest product. Go for gold without sacrificing any of yourself."

It sounded too good to be true, and Drew was familiar with the axiom, but he clicked the ad anyway. Immediately he scrolled to the bottom and saw that the cost was pretty reasonable; only $20 per bottle plus shipping.

He scrolled back up and read through the directions and the ingredients. It certainly seemed fine, and all it took was three doses put in a meal or shake. Easy enough. He added it to his cart and began to check out, but hesitated. He'd never cheated before. Well, not meaningfully. Was it fair to potentially rob Beck, his friend, of a date with Veronica? He sat on the question for another minute. But then with the click of a button he decided that it was indeed fine: It was harmless, anyway. All it was going to do was bloat him a bit with the sodium and make him look soft and pudgy. There was no real harm in it.

Buoyed by his decision about the competition and with renewed confidence, he started scrolling to find a pair of posers that he liked. Green, orange; there were so many to choose from. The thought of being on stage, with only a skimpy pair of posers to cover him wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to though. His ample package stirred easily, and while he certainly wasn't ashamed of his endowment the idea of containing it in front of a panel of beautiful women was daunting. Solid colors probably weren't the best choice. Instead him opted for a patriotic pair, with white stars on a blue background in the front and red and white striping on the rear. Drew figured the pattern would be just enough to obscure anything too obscene.

The rest of the week flew by and when Drew picked up the two small packages in his mailbox on Friday after his workout he'd almost forgotten about his purchase. He brought them on up to his apartment and unwrapped the smaller of the two first. A small bottle rolled out, almost baby blue in color but otherwise like any typical aspirin bottle. He gave it a gentle shake and heard a light rattling.

"Use as instructed. Do not exceed recommended dosage" was all that was written on the bottle. He opened it and a tiny scoop fell out. He looked skeptically at the nearly translucent powder inside and then placed the tablespoon-sized piece of plastic gently back into the bottle before tucking it into his gym bag.

He then snatched up the second package, the one with the familiar teal and black taping, and carried it into the bedroom. He undressed quickly, admiring his cock momentarily as it bounced heavily from the confines of his underwear. He held up the new posers, admiring them briefly before slipping them on. They looked great, the narrow cut above the hips perfectly showing off his Adonis belt as well as his impressive quads. The string of the waist, when tied in a bow, provided the perfect cover for his penis. Although, he noted as he chubbed up at the sight of himself, if he got past a semi on stage it wouldn't matter what pattern was across it: The nearly seven-and-a-half inch coke can would be pretty obvious. He ran through his poses again, remembering to smile despite the effort it required. Striking a 'most muscular' sent him into a full erection and he narcissistically drank in his visage of masculinity before shucking the posers and rubbing one out.

Drew was a peacock the next morning on his way to the gym. "Dude, what's got you so hyped," asked Beck as he noted the unusually abundant swagger of his friend as they headed into the locker room before their Saturday morning workout.

"Nothing," Drew lied, "I'm just excited for this competition. I picked up some new protein the other day; forgot to tell you about it. Man, it's so good!" He sat his bag down on the locker room bench and unzipped it. "Here, you've got to try it." Drew thrust a shaker bottle with protein powder in it at Beck.

"What flavor is it?" Beck unscrewed the top and eyed the powder, before walking over to the sink and running some water into the bottle.

"That's what's so incredible. It tastes like nothing I've ever had before," Drew lied again. He knew better than to sample the product.

"Holy shit," Beck took a swig, "you're right. Oh, but I got nothing for you bud..." Beck started digging through his bag. "I've been making some contest prep changes too. I don't know if I brought them..." His voice trailed off as he dug around the bag, and then in his locker. "Ah ha!" he pulled out a bottle with a green cap and what looked like green gummies inside.

"Try one of these! They're a chew-able multivitamin I've been taking the last couple weeks."

Without a thought Drew tossed it into his mouth and chewed, flavor erupting like the Gushers he used to eat when he was a kid. "Thanks dude," he said as Beck took another swig of the protein drink.

_____

Two weeks into contest prep and Drew was pretty excited. He was five pounds down and right on track to come in under 210 for the competition day. From under the bench, he looked up at Beck before adjusting his grip on the barbell.

"Five reps dude. You got this." Beck encouraged, keeping his enthusiasm high but his hands low from the bar. Beck new better than to anger Drew by spotting too closely. His strength had been slipping with the decrease in weight. Intellectually Drew knew that it was going to happen, but he couldn't believe how much a difference just the half-dozen pounds could make. Two weeks ago he'd been crushing 325 pounds for a working bench weight. Now, as he struggled through his third set, 295 was posing quite a challenge. What was encouraging was that Beck was seeing a similar drop in strength.

"Switch the twenty-fives for tens?" Drew asked between breaths as he got up from the bench.

"Yeah, I'll start there. Might have to drop the tens too on third set though." Beck replied as he slid the twenty-fiver off of one side. As they switched places and Drew looked down at his buddy, he noticed he seemed visibly smaller. The compression shirt, an alter-ego style with Captain America's shield across the front, wasn't pulled as tightly across his chest as it would be normally. And the ridges of Beck's abs didn't seem as deep.

Drew was dismayed to find the thoughts exciting him, and he took a ginger step back from the bar as Beck pushed out a third rep - He certainly didn't need to be explaining away a stiffie as he was standing over his friend's head.

After they finished their benching and moved on to lunges, Drew decided to take advantage of some good old fashioned mind games. Every edge he could get, he figured.

"You're looking a little flat there today, huh?" Drew ribbed as he picked up the 90s from the dumbbell rack.

"I don't know..." Beck said as they dipped into the first lunge. "You not going as heavy on the squats? Those quads are looking pretty small there..." he nodded over to Drew.

They usually would do their lunges head to head, mostly to check each other's form but to push each other harder too. But neither said anything else to the other for the duration of the workout. The walk home was pretty quiet too as the words sank in deeper.

By the end of the week, with only seven days before the competition, Drew found himself not only disappointed but frustrated by how his lifts were decreasing. The cut was coming along nicely, or at least it seemed to be. His skin looked shrink-wrapped across his muscles and his weight was steadily decreasing. But the small delight of how cut he was looking vanished when he compared himself to Beck.

Both were smaller than when they had started out on their training plans for the competition, but it was frustrating for Drew that the stuff he had slipped his friend was apparently a waste of money. Twenty dollars was twenty dollars, and while it was a gamble he had expected it to pay out. He waved Beck on ahead after their workout, hanging behind in the locker room to use the scale.

He stepped onto the plate, the bar clanging to one side until he loaded it with counterbalances. At 210 the bar clanked the opposite way: Too heavy. Surprised, Drew slid the "10" weight back down and nudged the "1" out a few notches.

Then a few more past "5". As it reached "8" it slowly dropped back to even before settling itself with the balance weight just above 208. Drew nodded to himself, understanding the implications. He had cut too heavy, lost too much weight too fast and so a little muscle had been sacrificed. That was why he was looking as tight but as small as he was. Small. That was a word he hadn't used to describe himself in quite some time. He shuddered at the word, and pulled on his tank top before heading home. He wasn't in the mood to show off today.

​

By the following Thursday, three days out from the competition, Drew found anger building inside of himself. He slammed the door to his apartment as he came home from work, throwing his bag onto the couch before hiking up his pants for what seemed to be the 100th time that day.

He took two meals out of the fridge and popped them into the microwave, pressing the buttons on the panel forcefully before storming into his bedroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, chastising himself for ever having started the stupid cut. His polo shirt didn't fit correctly, having lost a bit of size from his chest and shoulders. But most disappointing was how he looked in his pants. His formerly massive quads used to be a tight fit into his jeans. Even athletic cuts had been a little too tight. And khaki slacks, which he had to wear for work, were border-line obscene if he didn't wear the right underwear with them: His quads pushed everything up and out.

But he'd noticed in the last couple days that they now fit fine. In fact, he actually needed a belt instead of just wearing it for the look. But the hardest part was the emptiness he felt around his crotch. Everything was still tucked properly within the confines of his boxer-briefs but without his huge legs there was plenty of room between them. His bulge, which had stretched the fabric of his pants before, now barely touched the space they'd previously created thanks to the new room available without his quads pushing everything out.

In that moment curiosity got the best of Drew and he opened the closet. He dug around for a particular box, one from college with some old fraternity recruitment gear in it. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled the blue and white tank top from the box. Smoothing it out a little on his bed, he pulled off his polo and pulled on the tank top.

His stomach dropped as he turned to the mirror again. Despite being from freshman recruitment the tank fit pretty well. It was still pretty snug across his chest, being only a medium, but what caused Drew concern was that despite being tight it didn't really look that much different from how he had grown into it by senior year. He'd made considerable gains since then, and yet... He reluctantly grabbed a measuring tape from his nightstand and bunched up his bicep. He cringed at the sight of it in the mirror. The tape confirmed what his eyes already new: His arm was smaller.

The gentle beep of the microwave every few seconds called him back out to the kitchen. He looked at the two meals he had prepared and grabbed a third from the refrigerator and started that one heating before tearing into the others. He needed carbs. He was sure of it. The diet hadn't depleted him too much: He looked absolutely shredded. If he got some carbs in him he could still have some good size in addition to the definition for the contest.

Fully sated, he grabbed his laptop and headed back to the bedroom to figure things out. Still clad in his boxer-briefs, he looked at himself in the mirror again. He twisted his leg outward, admiring the lurch of the quad even if it was smaller than it had been a few weeks ago.

The airy pouch and stretched fabric around his leg holes gnawed at his ego though, so he pulled off his underwear as well. Training, in addition to work, had left him with a coarse coating of hair across his body. He brushed a hand through the dark fur across his chest and abs and decided that it was time for it to go - the judges would want him clean-shaven anyway.

Already naked, he dug through the vanity for his trimmers and then climbed into the shower. He slipped a #1 onto the trimmer and began his normal summer routine. Most times the ladies enjoyed a little hair, but during the summer when it was hot and he spent a lot of time at the beach he'd keep everything trimmed and smooth. He hadn't had any complaints about it yet. He worked his way from shoulders to toes, sparing only the three-day stubble on his face and the close-cropped hair on his head. He turned on the shower and then stashed the trimmers before pulling out a fresh razor.

If he did it now he wouldn't be too inflamed by competition day. He shuddered a little, internally, as he dragged the razor across his arm pits - That was one of the areas he hated to trim. It always made him feel dainty; feminine. The second hesitation came when he had worked his way a bit lower. A thick bush of pubes would be pretty disgusting in the small, tight posers. And much like his pits, Drew felt very uncomfortable with a clean-shaven groin. He moved on without taking any action, the trim already having left the area pretty neat and tidy. After he was finished he lathered his body, relishing the feeling of his smooth but powerful curves before the prickle set back in.

He got out of the shower and began to towel off, the steam slowly clearing from the mirror. When Drew caught sight of himself the towel dropped from his hands. He had made a grave mistake. Somehow, instead of enhancing the look of his muscles, the shave made them look even less defined. He looked absolutely tiny compared to the reflection he was used to. Instead of looking like the powerful, dominating man he was accustomed to and who he knew would be the perfect mascot for the gym, he looked like one of those swimmer types he had bullied in college.

Or, as he stepped back to catch full view of himself, maybe even more like a track runner than a swimmer. Of course he still had lots of power and size, but compared to his old self he seemed very slight.

​

Disgust, anger, and resentment coursed through Drew's body that night as he laid in bed. It had been a stupid idea, entering the competition, and it had been even more stupid to try and compete with Beck. It wasn't just going to be an embarrassment that he had gotten so much smaller, it was going to be humiliating if he lost to his friend. And even more so for Drew himself knowing what he had done to his friend to give himself an edge.

​

The alarm on his phone woke Drew from his fitful slumber on the morning of the competition. He had gone to bed early the night before to prepare himself for what he had convinced himself was sure to be both an exhausting and embarrassing day. He had used the previous afternoon to center and reassure himself that he was simply being too critical. But doubt still crept in at the edges of his thoughts.

He still had a body most guys would kill for, and at the end of the day it was all in good fun. Competition with Beck is what kept the two men pushing themselves to improve. He fumbled with the phone in his hand, trying to shut off the alarm. It seemed much too large to handle for some reason.

He finally silenced it, his eyes opening to check and see if he had any texts. There was one: a text from Beck about a half hour earlier.

"Sorry bud. Emergency came up. Can't make it to the competition. Good luck."

Drew shrugged and laid the phone down on the pillow next to him. That was a lucky break for him. The worries he had seemed to melt away with just that simple text. His unhappiness with his size was only in comparison to his friend.

The two were easily some of the biggest guys at the gym and Drew was confident that even at a somewhat smaller size he'd still clinch the victory. He didn't want to win this way, his friend skipping out, but a win was still a win.

Drew rolled onto his stomach and embraced the feeling of the morning wood forming between his legs. He ached for release but controlled himself. It was bro-science, but he held to the superstition about sex before a competition. He ground his dick into the mattress, imagining what it would be like railing Veronica after winning. He propped himself up on his elbows and dug his hips deeper for a stroke or two before opening his eyes. He collapsed back to the bed in surprise.

His bulging arms, which had still been looking pretty cut the day before despite the drop in weight, weren't so huge any more. Drew jumped from the bed, throwing himself off and across the room to his mirror. The sight of himself in the mirror almost caused him to faint. The nude form reflected back at him couldn't be his! It wasn't possible!

From head to toe his entire body had transformed. The stubble on his face, which he had re-trimmed the previous night to make sure it looked great for the competition, was still present but the color was completely washed from it. Whereas normally he would have had dark, thick stubble coating his chin instead he found a pale, pre-pubescent brown that seemed to be only a little bit more than a dusting.

His jawline was still well-intact, but sat above a neck that was now pencil thin. His traps lacked their normal mass too, as well as his shoulders. They looked like a kid's! Drew shuddered as he refined his thought: They looked exactly like a gangly teenager's. This practically pre-pubescent motif was the case for the rest of his body as well. The dominating pectoral shelf and cobblestone abs beneath were shadows of their former selves. His abs were only a faint outline across his stomach, which sat atop a waist that had narrowed considerably. If he had flared his lats, the taper would have been all but gone.

The veins that had covered his thick forearms and biceps were greatly subdued as well, barely visible under the pliable flesh that made his arms look more like tubes of cookie dough than the defined instruments of manipulation they had previously been. And his legs, which had looked like a lithe cross-country runner's just a few days ago, were now tooth picks. He had never thought he'd want that lithe look back! Anything would be better than this. His legs were still the same length though, Drew noted. He didn't seem to be any shorter. Neither did his dick. Drew said a silent prayer that his junk didn't seem to have gotten smaller, younger, whatever, along with the rest of his body.

A wash of emotion took over him as he slapped himself across the face thinking it was a nightmare. It wasn't. His next thought was to the competition: There was no way he could enter looking like this! And forfeiting the competition made him remember the text from Beck. And what he had done to Beck. And what, Drew reasoned, he must have accidentally done to himself instead.

Drew reasoned that maybe Beck would have an answer, or maybe the two of them could think of a way to set him right. They were good friends, after all, and Drew didn't know where else to turn.

He looked through his closet trying to find something he could wear. Gym shorts were a must since there was no way his jeans would stay up on his narrowed waist. But even the smallest pair in his wardrobe still rested a little loosely on his hips, the elastic just not quite able to draw them tight to his body. As he walked around his room trying to find a shirt he wasn't swimming in, he noticed that the shorts were really going to be a problem: Normally his huge thighs kept his endowment from bouncing around too much but now it was pretty obscene.

The feeling excited him a bit and when he looked in the mirror he was surprised to see just how much bigger it appeared on his skinny frame, pressing against the baggy shorts. "At least there's one benefit to a smaller body", Drew thought to himself. In the reflection he noticed behind him the blue and white rush tank he had tried on the other day. Drew felt a moment's hesitation: Did he dare try it on? It was, after all, the smallest piece of clothing he owned. And he really wasn't sure what other options he had.

He picked up the article gently and rotated it to the correct position before pulling it on. To Drew's horror the fabric seemed to stretch on forever. His head finally through the neck hole, he turned back to the mirror and glared at himself. The medium tank, which only a couple of days ago had been snug, was now loose on his body. He was smaller than his college freshman year, which meant he had the body of a high school teenager. "I'm still a man, dammit," Drew cursed at himself as he pushed down his feelings of helplessness. It had been a long time since he had been this shrimpy. And despite how he felt about it, it was either that he wear the tank top or go shirtless. And the latter Drew was sure he couldn't bear.

He went to the nightstand and began to put on his wristwatch. But the band had about four links too many for his new wrist size and he slipped it back off, right over his hands, and put it back. His wallet, keys, and phone were too heavy to be carried in his shorts so he set them on the counter by the door as he looked at the neatly lined up pairs of Nikes. They seemed like boats to him in his smaller hands and sure enough they felt like it too when Drew slipped them onto his feet. He very well couldn't walk to Beck's shoeless so he puzzled over it for a minute. Trying not to despair in the fact that his size 14 shoes were now about 5 sizes too big, he grabbed two extra bunches of socks from his bedroom and stuffed them down into the toes. His feet still felt like they were being swallowed but at least he wouldn't completely step out of them. The weight of the shoes as he walked out was surprising as well. There was so much he had gotten used to in life at his bigger size.

The walk to Beck's apartment building wasn't far. His loft was just around the corner from Drew's place but the normally leisurely walk had turned into a walk of shame. If it were not for the tragedy of the situation Drew was certain that he'd find the look of himself quite comical: A lanky, bean pole of a dude walking down the street with a tank hanging off of him and clopping along in shoes that were obviously too large.

After the first block Drew began to notice that the crowd didn't seem to shift around him like he was accustomed to. Normally his imposing stature was enough to get people to clear out of his way, but now it seemed he was the one darting around even the "average" guys on the street.

"Watch it twerp!" A guy roughly Drew's own age shouted at him as they collided on the sidewalk.

Although the guy was shorter than him and couldn't have been more than 170 pounds it still knocked the wind out of Drew when he collided into his shoulder. He started to say something but stopped himself. The look, one of challenge, intimidated him. The reality of the situation set in and a quick figuring made Drew turn on his heel and huff his way towards Beck's.

The walk up the few flights of stairs was surprisingly difficult and Drew found himself short of breath once he reached Beck's door. He took a moment to catch his breath before knocking.

"Just a minute!" He heard Beck call from deep inside the apartment. A few minutes later the door unlatched.

"Aw fuck dude, not you too," said Beck as he opened the apartment door. The voice was his friend's but the body certainly wasn't.

Drew had been expecting his lifting partner to dwarf him now, but in fact quite the opposite was true.

Like Drew, Beck's muscles seemed to have melted away, leaving behind a trim body that was lost within the too-large t-shirt that draped across Beck's body. Except with Beck that didn't seem to be where the changes ended. The sleeves of the shirt hung low on his arms, well past his elbows, but the bottom of the shirt hung down around his legs: Beck had lost at least a half a foot in height as well!

As Drew took in the sight of his now pint-sized lifting partner swallowed in the folds of his clothing, Drew realized that it wasn't a t-shirt that Beck was wearing. It was his Captain America compression shirt. Drew shuddered to think of how small Beck really must have gotten if the compression shirt appeared so loose around his frame.

​

Drew wasn't sure for how long he'd been staring at Beck but a hissed "Get in here!" pulled him out of his thoughts and he quickly took heed, stepping in and shutting the door firmly behind him.

"I... I don't understand. I thought I mixed it up." Drew stammered as Beck grabbed him a glass of water from the kitchen.

"Bro, can you give me a hand?" Beck said, pointing towards the cabinet where he kept his drinking glasses: He was too short to reach it now. Drew nodded, crossing the room and pulling a glass down and handing it to Beck. He nodded his thanks and filled it, then offered it back. "You want to sit?"

Drew on the couch and Beck in a chair, the two sat in silence for a while. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to take in. Drew tipped his glass back, but the lack of water surprised him. He was in such a daze he didn't even realize he had drank the whole thing. "I guess I need to tell you something..." he started, spinning the glass in his hands.

Beck looked up and their eyes met. Drew couldn't believe how child-like, how small and innocent Beck looked. He shuddered. This was his fault.

"I... Well, I sort of tried to cheat for this competition." Drew hesitated as the words set in. To hear it out loud made him ashamed. "It sounds weird, I know, but I was feeling insecure..." Beck raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, shut up. I was feeling insecure about the competition because of the attention that girl gave you. You know, I'm used to the gym bunnies falling all over me, and when she barely nodded at me I began to worry. I thought I had the competition clinched, no offense, but then I began to wonder what kind of judges they would have. And, well, I got nervous."

"Well shit dude. Have you met you? I was pretty sure I didn't stand a chance. I can't believe she shook you like that!" Beck's comment came off as brusque, but Drew knew that was just his way of being understanding.

"Yeah, well, I started running that numbers and I figured that maybe it wasn't going to be as easy as I'd hoped. I mean, I like that we push each other but Veronica... What a prize dude!"

"I get it. I felt the same way. It's pretty tough always being number two you know? It didn't matter how hard I pushed there was no way I could beat you. And well, your ALWAYS scoring with chicks and I thought just once I'd like to get a one up on you, you know? I appreciate the healthy competition but I guess sometimes you take it too far. And now I took it too far..."

Drew looked at Beck in confusion. "Wait, what?"

"Well, I guess I have to be honest," Beck said softly, avoiding looking right at Drew. "I was feeling pretty small compared to you and I got some supplements to fix that. At least I thought. I guess I accidentally took them myself as well..." Beck's head dipped a little in embarrassment.

"I got to be honest with you bro. If you're saying what I think you're saying than this isn't entirely your fault. I was about to apologize for giving you some supplements. I found them online when I was researching diets. It said that it would reduce the competition or something like that."

"So what you're saying is that we dosed each other." Drew was getting angry. Self-loathing was beginning to bubble over.

​

"What the fuck are we going to do now?"