Just a little something I whipped up on a whim. Still hard at work on the attribute theft game I've been working on. It's been more work than I thought because a lot of it can't be reskinned and instead needs to be coded from scratch. But it will be worth the wait, and as always, completely free. Look for a post in a month or two soliciting play-testers.

The following story was inspired by "AI #47" by Kroktopus on CoiledFist - https://www.coiledfist.org/gallery/AIperspective_by_kroktopus/32aa1083_1f1e_4890_ab86_14b97bfdd207

Humiliation, Shrinking, Height Loss

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Trailer Park Boys, by whosbiggernow

Dylan was the kind of young man who just wanted to keep his head down and keep his world right. His job as a high school janitor didn't earn him a lot of glory, at least not with mainstream society, but it was an honest living and he knew if he just kept living below his means that soon enough he could get an upgrade out of this dump. "This" dump of course was a weathered old trailer, bought from an old friend of an uncle who needed to be moved to a nursing home - so it almost goes without saying that the trailer was almost beyond repair from all the neglect it had been through leading up to the previous owner's departure. It creaked with every gust of wind and with the walls as thin as they were, Dylan was convinced that some of the creaks could even been from his neighbors passing wind.

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And given the company in the surrounding trailers, this was likely the case with Chuck and Trent, the a pair of obnoxious electricians that lived next door. They were loud, and crass, and being in their twenties they were exactly the kind of trouble that Dylan was trying to avoid as he attempted to improve his meager station in life. But these two oafs had more brawn than brains and they flaunted it like peacocks on parade. Chuck, with his shaved head and tattoos snaking up his beefy arms, was a towering wall of muscle. His eyes always seemed to be looking for trouble, and his voice boomed through the thin trailer walls like thunder on a stormy night. Trent, on the other hand, was a lanky fellow with a perpetual smirk plastered on his face. His mop of unruly dark hair and constant stubble gave him the appearance of a scruffy stray dog.

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Their trailer was a constant hive of activity, echoing with the sounds of pounding music, raucous laughter, and the clinking of beer bottles. Every night, without fail, their parties would start up and they raged on into the early hours of the morning, keeping poor Dylan awake and frazzled. Finally, one late afternoon after a long day of scrubbing toilets, Dylan was reclining in his easy chair and making his way through a 12-pack of beer when a large dent, punctuated with a loud thud, appeared in the side of his trailer. Startled, he gaped at the impacted wall, before he heard Chuck's voice shout "Issall good!". But it wasn't all-good. Not in the least. Liquor-fueled anger welled up inside of Dylan. He'd had enough. He'd reached his breaking point.

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Sitting bolt-upright, Dylan jumped from the chair and stalked out the front door of his trailer. He marched right up to the trailer next door, his heart pounding in his chest like a jackhammer as he knocked on it. Chuck swung open the door, his bulk filling the doorway like a human barricade. "What do you want, shrimp?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt as he looked Dylan up and down. He'd only seen these guys from afar. But now, standing on the bottom step and forced to look up at a man who was already probably six inches taller than him on level ground; he felt absolutely puny. But Dylan squared his shoulders, trying to appear taller than his stature allowed.

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"Could you guys please keep it down? I'm trying to relax," he said, his voice trembling with frustration and anger. "You can't just chuck stuff at the side of my trailer. My home! You've made a dent in the side!"

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Trent emerged from the shadows behind Chuck, a smirk on his lips. "Aw, is the little guy upset about us playing catch?" he taunted, his voice as grating as nails on a chalkboard.

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Dylan gritted his teeth, his patience wearing thin. "Just show some respect for your neighbors, okay?" he demanded, his voice growing stronger with determination.

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But Chuck and Trent just laughed, their deep bellows reverberating off the trailer walls. "Respect? Who needs respect when you've got muscles like these?" Chuck flexed his arms, the muscles bulging beneath his skin like overinflated balloons.

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Trent snickered, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Yeah, what are you gonna do about it, shrimp? Cry us a river?"

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Chuck took a step down the trailer's stairs, heading towards him, and Dylan instinctively backed up. Every step closer Chuck took, Dylan backed up another. And Trent was not far behind. Soon they were out of the trailer, and sure enough, Chuck was quite a bit taller than Dylan. And much more imposing, Dylan realized with a gulp. They were going to kick his ass, and there wasn't a damn thing his scrawny frame was going to be able to do about it. Trying to think on his feet, Dylan turned to leave despite his frustration. Frustration that was rapidly descending into fear as the liquid courage quickly left him. But Chuck and Trent grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, their grip like iron chains around his frame. The spun him, hard, turning Dylan back to facing them again. And then, in a flash of blinding light, Dylan felt very odd; almost like he had a sense of vertigo and was about to throw up.

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In a matter of seconds his clothes hung loose and baggy on his shrunken form, his once-average stature reduced to that of a child. The fabric of his shirt pooled around him, hanging from his narrower shoulders. His shorts barely clung to his waist, but with his steep drop in height they looked more like pants considering how close to his ankles they were now. His shoes, if he'd been wearing them when he left the trailer, would have been ridiculous on his now-child-sized feet. Dylan's mind swirled with confusion and fear as he looked up at Chuck and Trent, who now towered over him like skyscrapers. Dylan's eyes went wide with horror, but all he saw was their oafish grins while their mocking laughter rang in his ears.

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"What did you do to me?" Dylan's voice trembled with uncertainty as he stared up at the two menacing figures before him.

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Chuck and Trent exchanged wicked grins, their eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. But instead of offering Dylan an answer, they reached out and, with a cruel twist of their fingers, shrank him another twelve inches. Dylan gasped as his diminutive form shriveled even further, leaving him barely the height of their knees. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized the extent of their power over him. With a menacing chuckle, Chuck lifted Dylan right out of the collar of his now-oversized shirt and carried him into their trailer. Trent followed close behind, his smirk widening with every step.

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Once inside, Chuck and Trent wasted no time in subjecting Dylan to a series of humiliating tasks. They made him scrub their dirty shoes until they gleamed, forced him to dance on the table like a trained monkey, and laughed uproariously at his every protest. But every time Dylan dared to speak up or resist, Chuck and Trent would simply smirk and shrink him another two inches, until he was no larger than a doll in their hands. Each inch lost felt like a dagger in Dylan's heart, a painful reminder of his helplessness in the face of their cruelty.

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