Brandon Twice
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Gimli's Revenge
🕑 Added 2020-08-30 01:33:44 +0000 UTC[6 word request: Dwarf Shrinks Powerlifter After Workout (Retribution)]
Gareth was getting a nice hip stretch after a brutal day of deadlifting with his coach when the pandemonium happened. He recognized the voice when he heard the shouting: it was Philip, Global Gym’s resident powerlifting drama queen. Gareth sighed as, from across the gym, he watched Philip kick over a bench toss a dumbbell to the ground.
These outbursts weren’t new for the members at Global Gym, and Gareth was more accustomed to them than anyone. Gareth’s coach, Trevor, was Philip’s boyfriend. The two were perfectly matched: the two men were each as wide as a fridge. If not for Philip’s moustache, they would have looked identical; powerfully built, shaven-headed men with iron kegbellies and lats so developed they couldn’t put their arms down if they wanted. They would waddle in together on their massive legs, give each other as much of a hug as their muscle-bloated limbs could manage, and then bound off to their own corners of the gym to train their respective clients.
Philip only had a small handful of clients--neckless beasts built like a bulldog, just like him--but Trevor’s schedule was usually maxed out with beginners looking to get into powerlifting. A few before, Gareth had timidly approached the massive man to ask if he would be willing to take him on, help him to get strong and huge.
“I’ve been turned down before,” Gareth had said, staring at his shoes, “because of… y’know, my dwarfism. Guys say I’m not built to pull weight, but… it’s been my dream. I may be a little short but I work my ass off, and you seem good at training…”
As Gareth watched Philip’s latest tantrum, he thought back to that day when Trevor first took him on as a client. The big beast grinned, shrugged his massive shoulders and said, “Why not?”
When Gareth finished stretching, Philip was still on his tirade--interrogating other gym members with pokes into their chests and pacing around with his huge arms thrown into the air. Gareth walked in a wide arc around the gym, hoping to escape the scene, but Philip spotted him and started lumbering toward him.
Standing in the huge man’s shadow, Gareth swallowed hard. He knew how Philip felt about him.
“Yo, Gimli,” Philip said, fists on his broad hips. Gareth shuddered at the nickname. Trevor had come up with it years before, and it used to sound cute when he used it but as time went on, it became a sign to Gareth that these big brutes thought of him as less than a man. “Where’s Trevor?” he barked.
Gareth stood his ground. Philip may have been twice his height (and probably three times his weight) but these years training with Trevor built him up to be quite a little powerhouse. The goal was to get to a point where he could stand up to bullies, and Gareth felt like he was finally there. “How should I know where YOUR boyfriend is?” Gareth said boldly. Philip just sneered back.
“You’re the last one to see him, little man,” Philip snorted. “He had a training session with you and then he just vanished. His car’s still outside though. So where the fuck did he go?”
Gareth shrugged. “Look, after we were done training I saw him heading to the locker room. Said he needed to take a shit. Beyond that, not my business. I don’t keep tabs on him.”
Philip rolled his eyes. “Yeah fucking right, Gimli,” he said. “Your eyes are glued to his big fucking ass the moment he enters a room. I know why you train with him, little guy, and trust me--” He held his hand flat, a few inches above Gareth’s head. “You must be this tall to ride, buddy boy.” Philip chuckled and stomped away.
Gareth felt bold and unsettled. He didn’t want Philip to have the last word. “What are you so mad about anyway?”
Philip froze, his wide shoulders tensing as he turned around. “Usual shit,” he said through gritted teeth. “When you have a boyfriend who looks like mine, with his big fucking dick stuffed into his singlet every goddamned day, you gotta throw your weight around to keep him faithful. You’re like the only guy around here I’m not worried about stealing him!” His beefy chest bounced as he laughed. Gareth just shook his head.
Gareth leaned into the door to the locker room and peered inside. He was grateful it was empty.
He thought back to the day he’d signed up at the gym. He remembered the manager staring down at him and shrugging. “I’m pretty sure everything’s… y’know, accessible and all, but you let me know if any of the door handles need to be lowered or something.”
These comments weren’t new to Gareth; after a lifetime of microaggressions he’d developed a callous, but it still took energy to move comments like that.
Trevor had named him “Gimli” but Gareth looked at it as a term of affection at first. Philip would make jokes about, “charging extra if he needs a stack of phone books to sit on!” but Trevor never denigrated Gareth like that. (He never told Philip to cut the shit, either, Gareth often reminded himself.)
As Gareth walked lightly around the locker room, eyes on the floor, he could still smell his powerfully built coach. Trevor’s cologne, mixed with his musky B.O., hung in the air in a way that warmed Gareth from the inside. How many nights had he gone to bed imagining his own face buried in Trevor’s hairy chest? “I’ll be the big spoon,” Gareth imagined saying; Trevor would be shocked at how tight of a hold Gareth had despite the fact that he couldn’t get his arms all the way around the big man.
“You’re strong,” he imagined Trevor saying.
“All thanks to you,” he would have replied.
But alas, that wasn’t to be; Trevor preferred a man who looked exactly like him, no matter how he treated him.
Trevor’s duffel bag was on a bench, unzipped. His protein shaker was next to the counter. Gareth picked it up and sloshed it around. There was still an inch of chocolatey froth at the bottom. “So I’m guessing,” he said, turning around, trying to recreate the scene in his head, “you took out your shaker, almost finished it, then… walked away for some reason?” He crouched down as he walked, examining the floor.
“Trevor,” Gareth said in a soft voice, peeking under the sinks and benches, slowly creeping along as he sought out his coach. “Trevor, buddy, I’m sure you’re scared,” he said, a smile spreading across his face, “but your buddy Gimli is here to save you. Don’t panic, big guy,” he said. “But Philip is looking for you and he sure is mad. I think he saw you flirting with that bodybuilder guy earlier. So trust me, you’ll be happier to have me find you than him.”
The locker room door swung open. Philip, turning sideways to fit his bulky frame through the door, burst in. “The fuck!” he said. “His duffel bag is still here!”
Gareth froze, Philip’s grating voice making his teeth clench. “Still can’t find him?” Gareth asked.
Philip grabbed the duffel bag from the bench, then slammed it down. “The fuck is my fucking boyfriend? He screwing somebody so damned hot he left all his shit behind?”
Gareth, unsure if Philip had even noticed him there, cleared his throat. “His shaker is over there, too. He didn’t even finish it.”
Philip picked up the shaker, sniffed inside, then guzzled down the remains.
A smile spread across Gareth’s face.
“You just drank that? Without even knowing what’s in it?” Gareth said. He was beaming.
“Look, I can drink my man’s protein if I feel like it,” he chuckled. “Lord knows he’s drunk enough of mine!” He gave his big package a jostle, as if Gareth wouldn’t get it otherwise.
“Maybe you’re just not looking in the right place?” Gareth said. “Maybe big Trevor is right under your nose and you just haven’t spotted him yet.” His eyes scanned the floor as Philip took a step forward.
Gareth imagined hearing a crunch and a pop. He wondered how exactly he would explain to Philip exactly what the bloody smear beneath his sneaker used to be.
Gareth glanced at the clock. It had been enough time since Philip had consumed the contents of the shaker. The power dynamic between them would dramatically shift very soon.
“See, I have an idea where your big clydesdale of a boyfriend might be,” Gareth said, taking a step confidently forward. “I had a conversation with him today, you see. About you, in fact.”
“Oh yeah?” Philip said. A sudden burp caught him off guard. He put one hand on his solid musclegut. It gurgled so loud they could both hear it.
“Yeah,” Gareth said. “I told him he deserved better than you. He’s a great guy and beautiful as hell, and your pretty average dick can’t be worth your constant hissy fits.”
Philip shook his head, doubling up his fists. “You little shit. You on test or something? Or did your balls just grow overnight?”
“Then I told him,” Gareth continued, unphased by the large man approaching him, looming over him, “that he was the most amazing person I had ever met. I told him I had never felt like this about anyone else, and that… if he gave me a chance, I could show him love like he had never known before.”
Philip’s eyes lit up, his mouth agape. “Are you fucking serious?” he said. “How hard did he laugh after?”
Gareth’s gaze sank back to the floor. “Quite a bit, actually,” he said, his voice low and solemn. “So I spiked his protein shake.”
Philip paused, taking a moment to process this new information. “Spiked it? With what?”
Gareth shrugged. “He said he was going to take a shit. Have you checked the bathroom stalls yet?”
Philip lumbered toward the bathroom stalls beyond the showers, kicking the first two open easily. The third was shut. Philip hit it with his big shoulders a few times while Gareth dropped to his hands and knees. Underneath the stall he saw Trevor’s size 13 shoes. His socks were still in them, but otherwise they sat there empty.
The flimsy stall door couldn’t take Philip’s barrage more than a couple of times. It burst open and he stared into the stall, shocked. Gareth tried to peer around his bulk to get a glimpse, although he had an idea what he would find there.
Trevor’s singlet lay over the toilet next to his shoes but Trevor himself was nowhere to be found.
“The fuck?” Philip said. He belched again and rubbed the sides of his head, trying to fight off a suspicious feeling creeping in. “What did he do, strip naked on the shitter and leave his clothes behind?”
“No,” Gareth said, crossing his arms. “He shrank out of them, and I’m betting I know where he ended up. Is Trevor a good swimmer?”
Philip started to shake. He suddenly dropped to his knees. Gareth started at the sight of such a big man suddenly collapsing. Philip moaned. Suddenly his tight tank top seemed a little loose.
He rose to his feet, his sweatpants collapsing to the floor. Gareth delighted at the sight of Philip’s big dick flopping around, but a moment later the big man shrank further and the tank top hung so low it reached the floor.
Philip flailed his thick limbs as he became tangled up in his shirt. His eyes darted around at the bathroom stall; no doubt, to him, the room seemed to be growing larger. “What the fuck?” he said in a high-pitched, chirrupy voice. The tank top finally collapsed, but he emerged from the neck hole, running as fast as his bulky frame could go.
But at only a foot tall (and dwindling) it became clear (to Gareth at least) that he wasn’t quite fast enough! Before he got past the showers he was down to about six inches tall. Gareth walked briskly and passed the little guy easily. He stuck out his foot, chuckling as the three-inch man slammed into it, falling onto his overgrown ass like an upturned turtle.
Gareth was rock hard as he stood at his full height--3 feet, 10 inches tall--and put his hands on hips, staring down at the tiny 3-inch man the man he hated most in the world had dwindled down to. Philip just lay there, too shocked at the turn of events to say or do anything. Gareth snatched him up and pressed him against his chest. Philip put up a fight, but Gareth applied a little pressure and the little guy ended up pressed against his chest.
“Ah, now, let’s see…” Gareth said as he approached the toilet. He lifted up Trevor’s singlet and fished out his boxer briefs with his free hand. “Good god! These things are HUGE!” he said. “And look how stressed out the crotch is!” He held the boxers to his face and breathed deeply. “Y’know, I bet you would enjoy these too,” he said, stuffing his tiny catch into the boxers. He held them up, with Philip swinging in them like they were a huge hammock. “I wouldn’t move too much,” Gareth teased. “You’re fall out those leg holes you’re going splat on the tile floor!”
He leaned forward, expecting to see a 280 pound man’s dump in the toilet, but instead he saw it was empty. With a little closer inspection, he saw a tiny speck off to the side. He leaned in closer: it was Trevor! (At least, it was a very tiny person; Gareth assumed it was Trevor.)
“I’m gonna need your help, little man,” Gareth said, fishing Philip out of the sweaty undies and gripping him tightly around his thick trunk. “I found your boyfriend but he’s too small for me to grab. Fish him out for me.” Philip chirped out some retort but Gareth just squeezed his fist lightly. “That wasn’t a request,” he said.
Trevor looked to be a small fraction of an inch tall now. To Philip, he was the size of an action figure, which made him a tiny speck to Gareth. “Think about it, gentlemen,” Gareth said as he walked back into the locker room. “I’m the littlest guy in this gym, as no one here is too shy to mention. And you, Philip, are tiny as FUCK to me, and Trevor’s tiny as fuck to you! How tiny do you feel now, Trevor?”
He held Philip close to his face, trying to get a glimpse of his microscopic coach. “I’ll have to get a magnifying glass before I get home.”
Philip was spouting off something but his voice was too high to hear. Gareth looked around for a container, then settled on the protein shaker. “In you go,” he said, gently depositing his new treasurers. “I wouldn’t get any of that in your mouth, either. Let’s hope it doesn’t transfer through skin-to-skin contact, eh? I guess if this is empty when I get home, I’ll know what happened.”
He smirked at Philip’s look of horror as he screwed the top closed. “Okay now,” he said. He gathered up the powerlifting couple’s clothes, putting them into Trevor’s duffel bag. “Say goodbye to the gym!” he sneered into the protein shaker. “I’ll have to stop at Petco on the way home and get a place for you guys to sleep. Maybe I’ll get you some toys so you can keep training! If you’re going to be my pets, you’d better stay thick and beefy.”
