Reduced Capacity (Part 2 added May 9th 2024)

[Littlerjim]

Harris hated his roommate.

It was a fact that often raised eyebrows of their few mutual friends when he had chosen to share his opinion - mostly he kept it hidden and bubbling under the surface, fooling few but at least allowing the pretence of civility to exist. For those friends, it was hard to imagine anyone hating Rhys. He was kind, considerate, generous with time and money, and an all round “nice guy” who never seemed to reciprocate any feelings of ill will. Mostly, they put it down to jealousy.

In highschool, Harris was very much the big fish of his pond. At 6’3”, he wasn’t the tallest guy in school, but he certainly enjoyed the benefits of being tall, and he didn’t have that gangly look a lot of the tallest boys had. Neither was he the strongest - he had friends who out-lifted him consistently, but they were all red faces and beer-bellies. They looked chubby more than they looked muscular and, Harris reasoned, if you’re not going to look good whilst doing it, what’s the point? He was still one of the strongest guys around after all, and had a perfect V of a torso, pumped arms, tight quads and defined abs that made all the girls he knew swoon when they saw him - even those that pretended not to. It also meant he was quicker than those lumbering gorillas, which helped him excel at sports. He was, as far as he was concerned, perfect.

And he would admit, meeting Rhys for the first time was… difficult. How could it not be, when it was the first time his perfection was challenged?

It was his freshman year at university, and he was the first to arrive in their halls of residence. He’d just finished unloading his belongings into his new room when a voice came rumbling from behind him.

“Hey, buddy - room for a little one?”

An innocent joke, one designed to break the ice, but a misjudged one: it had knocked Harris out of joint from the very start. Although, there probably wasn’t much Rhys could have done to stop his new roommate going down that path. When Harris turned around, he froze with his jaw hanging slightly open. 

He was tall - very tall, having to duck just under the doorway to enter the shared bedroom. That made him, what, 6’7”? But the bastard didn’t have the good grace to be skinny streak of shit to go with that height, oh no. His broad shoulders filled the door frame - making him almost like a ship in a bottle, Harris unsure exactly how he entered the room so quietly - and crowned a thick, burly mass of muscle. He didn’t have a cut physique - despite being fully dressed, the items he was wearing were stretched to near transparency, so Harris was certain of that. But what he did have was mass, probably twice as much as Harris himself possessed, on what seemed to be the most natural looking mountain of musculature the poor teen had ever seen. 

“Rhys - pleased to meet you,” the giant said, a friendly smile on his face and his hand outstretched to Harris, trying to break the tension. Harris accepted and immediately regretted it, finding his own hand swimming in the giant’s paw.

He wrinkled his nose - not just because of the indignity of the situation, but because he was pretty sure he could smell the guy. It wasn’t a foul odour, and definitely wasn’t sweat, but it wasn’t entirely removed from that. It was manly, and a little intimidating, and the only way a guy like Harris knew to respond to feeling threatened was anger. Quiet and seething, he finally spoke.

“Harris. This bed’s mine.”

But Harris wasn’t jealous. He was very adamant about that, despite the fact that - from that moment on - Rhys wasn't able to put a foot right in his eyes. So what if the guy was huge? Some people just happened to be genetic freaks, it’s not like anyone could do anything about it. If anything, Harris felt sorry for the big oaf, who would almost definitely go on to have health problems later in life. No, the thing that Harris despised, the biggest crime that Rhys had committed, was being lazy.

Harris was not the kind of person to have everything handed to him on a plate, or so he liked to think. His view on the matter always seemed to gloss over who paid for his gym memberships or his specially catered diet, who had taken him to sports meets and bought equipment, who had helped him with school work to let him focus on his hobbies, or the numerous genetic advantages at his disposal. But it was true, at least, that Harris did work hard alongside all of these benefits. He was up at 6am most days, trained long hours down at the gym, stuck to his dietary regime with pious zeal and put in effort day after day. He felt he had earned the body he was blessed with,

Rhys had not.

The giant lump was snoring loudly whenever Harris left in the morning to train, and was often still in the same position when Harris returned. He played sports casually as if there was such a thing. He played pick-up sessions if they were going, always humiliating his diligent roommate in the process, but no matter how much any of the teams on campus begged him to even try out a practice session, he always firmly but politely refused.

“I’m just not interested in sports,” would be his template response.

His actual interests appeared to be just goofing off with his friends, playing games and watching shows. He always had a soda open or a packet of something filled with carbohydrates, and whenever he caught Harris giving him a venom-filled side-eye, he would have the absolute gall to offer him some. Harris would politely refuse, then send off an angry text to the effect of “YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT HE DID NOW-”

At first, this behaviour made Harris feel more than a little smug. If that’s the way Rhys decided to take care of the gifts he’d been given, then so be it. Maybe when the freshman fifteen hit, and all that mass turned to flab, and he found himself a useless, out-of-shape wreck the moron would learn a thing or two about actually taking care of himself. And when he came to Harris, begging for his help in getting back in shape, he might even consider helping the poor guy.

But that never happened. Worse, as time went on, Harris became aware of something else: the fucker was still growing.

His head seemed to get closer and closer to the ceiling of the dorm, cresting at around 6’8”. Whenever Harris left for his morning gym sessions, he found himself having to squeeze past a humongous sock-clad foot, sticking out from the end of Rhys’ bed; it was humiliating! Within days of term starting, a new selection of clothes had arrived for the colossal boy, but within two months even these were now beginning to look tight on him! 

Rhys’ body loomed bigger and bigger, both physically and in Harris’ mind. The injustice of it made him seethe with rage, and people found him more and more prone to snapping at them. How could anyone possibly experience so much change in such a small amount of time, especially when they had so much to begin with? It just wasn’t fair, and the more Harris thought about it, the more he realised - no. It wasn’t fair, was it? There was something very badly wrong here. 

One day, he waited until Rhys had left the room before springing into action, and it wasn’t long before he found exactly what he had suspected to be true.

RESIZR

Hormonal adjusting hypersteroidal compound.

WARNING: Resizr causes extreme difference in body mass. Use must be prescribed by a medical professional. Misuse can cause fatal injury.

Dose must be taken as prescribed. Missed dosage can cause immediate, catastrophic reversal of effects.

Had he not seen the proof of it already, flaunted in front of his face every day, Harris would never have believed it. But here it was! A bottle of pills that might as well be a genie’s lamp, hardly even hidden in a fucking sock drawer.

His first instinct is to unscrew the lid, and pour as many of those pills down his gullet as he could, and see just how big someone who worked for it, someone who deserved it could get on the stuff. But some small, still-rational part of his mind saved him. That label about fatal injury cowed him, and so he settled on another course of action.

The bottle said that regular doses were needed, right? Then all he had to do was make sure that would never happen. He flushed the lot, and hid the bottle at the bottom of his closet, a wicked grin plastered on his face as he did so. It persisted all day until his lumbering roommate returned, squeezing in through the door with a cheery smile and a wave, feeling happy, for once, to have it returned.

Then Harris watched him. Rhys put down his keys, took off his shoes, took a trip to the bathroom, put his phone on charge and then - finally - he did what Harris was waiting for. He walked over to his sock drawer. Paused. Rifled around, then went over to his bedside table which he checked, then back to the sock drawer. He looked up at Harris, urgency clear on his face.

“Um - Harris, you haven’t seen a medicine bottle lying around have you? I’m due a dose.” He asked, plaintively.

“A medicine bottle? Are you under the weather?” Harris asked, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

“No, it’s… it’s an ongoing thing, just some medication I need to take is all. Have you seen it?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Have you tried the bathroom?”

Rhys held his gaze for a long moment. He wasn’t an idiot, he could tell Harris was acting strangely, but then he always did. With no better options he went to the bathroom and, as he expected, found nothing. He came back into the room saying so.

“Oh, dang. You sure it’s not in the drawer?” Harris asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Really? Because sometimes, I can just stare at something and-”

“Harris, I’ve checked twice, it’s not there.” Rhys says, and uncharacteristic impatience in his voice. “I’m sorry, I just really need to take this medicine, like right now. Please, if you know anything just say so.”

“Sorry, friend, I - no wait, I think I did see something!” he said, faking enthusiasm. “I saw it when I was tidying earlier, I just thought it was a prank gift or something. Is this what you’re looking for?”

He hopped up, went over to the closet, and pulled out the bottle before handing it over.

“Yes! Oh, thanks buddy, you’re amazing. You really don’t know-”

And then he stopped. He’d unscrewed the bottle, peered inside, and found it empty. Then he looked up. Harris was watching his every move with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What’s up, pal? I think you better hurry up and take your medicine.”

Rhys was still frozen. He had tried, really he had, from the moment he had met Harris. He knew that his size made people behave in funny ways sometimes, and usually all it took was a few careful words, a friendly hand extended across the aisle, and they’d come around to him. Not Harris. He fought him every step of the way, every attempt at friendship and civility dashed, thwarted and sent back to him smeared in crap.

And now this. Going through his things, stealing medicine from him, hiding the evidence, lying. No. Rhys was through trying with this prick.
Just then he felt a pain in his stomach. With a wince and a stifled “Ah-!” he doubled over, his huge form bending down before Harris and his nasty, sadistic smile. Rhys would be sure to wipe that off his face.

“You clueless, jealous, tiny piece of shit…” he said through gritted teeth, still clutching at his stomach. “You have no fucking idea what you’ve done.”
 

[Wrestlejock646]

I'm having a negative, visceral response to Harris already.

[Ro20316]

Harris what did you do, my friend?

[actorsarecool]

Oh boy, Harris doesn’t know what he’s unleashed into the world.  If I had to guess the pills were the only thing keeping Rhys small. Can’t wait to see where this goes!

[Littlerjim]

1 hour ago, Wrestlejock646 said:

I'm having a negative, visceral response to Harris already.

Good

[arpeejay]

Great start! Looking forward to the next installment!

[ploder4]

Is this a snuff story?   

I think Harris better run.

[Dezman]

LITTLERJIM IS BACK AND I CAN TELL ITS GOING TO BE ANOTHER BANGER!!! I'm already trying to figure out what theme the growth is going to have in this one (and I'm kind of hoping to see a little cumflation this time).

[Littlerjim]

Part 2

 

“Oh I think I know exactly what I’ve done!” Harris crowed, looking at the doubled over giant with glee. “You think I wouldn’t notice? The way you flaunt your size at me at every opportunity. As if it was yours to begin with. As if you deserved it! Let's see how you like it being knocked down a peg or two.”

Harris walked over to his bed, grabbing his phone before pointing it at Rhys whilst he was still doubled over with pain. He was shocked, then, by the speed at which a thick limb reached out and knocked it from his hands, smashing it to pieces on the opposite wall.

“Hey! You’ll pay for that-” he managed to say before the other arm reached out and grabbed him, pulling him close to the giant man. Rhys face was inches above his own, teeth clenched and breathing laboured. His scent seemed denser than normal.

“You think this is easy?” he said, his tone icy and livid.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Harris spat back, his indignation overcoming the undeniable knot of fear in his stomach. Unless those pills wore off soon, he was still in a lot of trouble. “Everything you get is handed to you on a plate! You didn’t earn it!”

“I didn’t fucking ask for it, fucking moron. Did I ask to be carted around in a truck like livestock? To not be able to ride a bike with my friends because there was none that could support me? To be carted around in a van like livestock? To be constantly scared of breaking everything I so much as grazed? Because I went through all that before my 10th birthday.”

Harris scoffed. “Fuck you, man, check your fucking ego, you’re not that big.

“You think this is big?” That last word was punctuated with a deep bassy resonance. He didn’t shout; it was like someone had suddenly leant on his volume control and the room shook from the force of Rhys’ voice alone. When he spoke next however, it was a quiet, dangerous hiss.

“You don’t know the fucking meaning of the word. But you will.”

All it was, was a casual flick of the wrist. That’s all Harris saw anyway, apart from his own legs and arms lifted suddenly up in front of him, dragged behind as they struggled to match the pace with which his torso was flung. This happened in slow motion, because in actuality he had collided with the opposite wall within a second. He hit hard enough to fracture some of the plasterwork, yelping with pain that zig zagged down his back. He almost seemed to pause again before falling, sprawling onto Rhys’ bed.
It wasn’t a soft landing; the springs in Rhys’ mattress had been squashed into submission months ago.

He panted as he tried to calm himself and assess the situation. Any thoughts of laying into his roommate, verbally or physically, did not make it past the most cursory of thoughts. The pain in his back still throbbed, and despite his ego still desperately clinging on - after all, the pills were bound to wear off soon, right? - he was aware of just how dangerous his position was right this second. Harris had unmasked his roommate who, for now at least, possessed enough raw strength to seriously harm, if not kill him.

There was the door, of course, but Rhys stood between him and his egress. Harris could barely even see the edge of it past the large man’s heaving lats, his own breathing also laboured. Harris knew from sore experience that Rhys was much, much faster than he looked. On flat ground there was no match between the two; just last month Rhys had joined in a game of tag rugby with some of his friends, and had moved with all the speed and power of a steam train.

But this wasn’t flat ground. They were in a tight room, with a doorway for Rhys to squeeze through and multiple more, if Harris could duck past him and down the corridor quick enough. And if he could do that, he could hide, he could call for help, call the cops even! All he had to do was get out of this room first, out through the - 

Where was the door?

The thought scratched at his brain trying to get in, but it was like trying to hear underwater - all of his thoughts came slow and gloopy, and he shook his head, trying to focus. He hadn’t moved. Rhys hadn’t moved. He could see the door a minute ago but now all he could see was Rhys. Still heaving with breath, his arms broad in a shirt that was starting to tear open, his head and neck bowed under the ceiling - oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no-

“No.” It had just slipped out, not a statement of defiance, but a squeak of defeat.

“Finally fucking noticed have you?” With a grunt, Rhys’ head stretched another inch along the ceiling, and his shirt ripped just a little more. “Fucking tight..”

Rhys reach up to tear his shirt away but even that movement, of simply placing one hand on its opposite shoulder, was enough to break it across his back. Removing it was like tearing wet tissue paper, like it didn’t even want to resist.

Harris watched in open mouthed horror at the sight before him. Rhys’ muscles undulated and pumped outwards, whether he moved them or not - though he did quite a lot. He flexed, but it was clear he wasn’t posing - it was like stretching after an interminably long car ride, and he even groaned with satisfaction as it did so.

“Awww, yeah…” he intoned, once again setting rattling the glass in the window panes, “It’s been so long since I had a chance to let it all out like this. I’d consider thanking you, if you weren’t such a little prick.”

Harris remained silent. He wanted to respond, to spit some hard words back into Rhys’ face, to show him that, no matter what, he would never get the best of him. He found that he couldn’t speak at all. He sat there paralyzed watching the man grow, and grow. His socks were becoming too small for his feet, the tops inching down towards his ankles. The hem of his shorts meanwhile rose higher to - Harris was at least able to swallow when he saw it -  an impossibly sized bulge at Rhys’ crotch. He wanted to pretend that it wasn’t real, but by this point, his roommate’s clothes were basically painted on. He could see what looked like a pair of ripe mangoes stuffed in there, an impossibly long and fat slab of flesh, its large helmet creeping closer and closer to the edge of the shorts…

“Can’t move huh? Yeah, that’s my fault,” Rhys said, his shadow looming ever larger over the paralyzed Harris. “Well, no, it’s your fault really, but it’s my body doing it. Take a deep breath - you smell that?”

Harris felt his lungs inflate instantly at the suggestion, inhaling deeply of the rich, dense smell in the air. Not that he needed to try and smell it - he could fucking feel it. The already imposing presence of Harris was spreading, enveloping him like a dark aura of manliness that clung to his clothes, the room and the very air itself.

“Pheromones. I can’t help it. Normally it’s not so bad, sure they’re there, turning people on, telling people that I’m the alpha, to listen to what I say. But when I’ve been cooped up for so long, it all gets bottled up. You uncorked it all, and now you’ve overdosed. I don’t need to kick the shit out of you - and we both know I could, easily - because you’re so turned on by being close to me, that you’re my little bitch.”

“Am. Not.” Harris managed to get the words out, barely, but Rhys was far from convinced.

“Oh really? Then what do you call this?” He leant in close and, with one mighty digit, poked at the tent appearing in Harris’ shorts. “Drop them.”

Again, Harris’ body acted on auto-pilot, his hands dropping to his waistband before the fact of his movement even registered in his brain. As his shorts were removed, his thick 7 inch dick sprang up, smacking against the bottom of his abs. He used to be so proud of it, but felt his cheeks blush pink as Rhys snorted with derision.

“Actually I’m not sure what to call it either, haha!” His laugh was an obnoxious guffaw, and he moved his finger to prod the smaller man’s erection again - it was clear that his index finger was of a similar size. “It’s not a hard-on? Surely it must get bigger than that.”

Again, Harris felt one last ember of defiance flare in his breast.

“It. Is. Big” He managed to grunt.

“Tch. Poor, stupid Harris. Didn’t I tell you already? You don’t fucking know the meaning of the word.”

And with that he removed his own shorts - a single finger in his waistband and they all but disintegrated away. For Harris, it was like an oven door being opened - he could feel the heat radiating from the man, the scent so pure that all memory of any other smell was eradicated. But it was the sight of it that really got to him. Longer and fatter than Harris’s forearm, a thick veiny monument to manhood that still seemed to fall lazily against the monster’s thighs. Its head was hooded in a thick layer of foreskin, and the balls it rested over undulated and swelled even as he watched.

All other thoughts melted. Harris let out an excited squeak and felt his own cock twitch and pop, the first rope of his own cum hitting him square in the jaw, as three more joined in across his chest and abs, then finally it slowed to a dribble.

“Well that was easy,” Rhys teased, “I didn’t even do anything. You like this big, heavy monster cock, bitch boy?”

Harris said nothing. He stared at the pillar of flesh being waved in front of his face with undisguised lust.

“I asked you a question, you fucking answer,” Rhys demanded, smacking him across the jaw. It was a gentle tap - at least comparatively so. It was enough to knock a response out of Harris, but not enough to send him into the wall again; or through it.

“Y-yes…” Said Harris, unable to lie. “I love it.”

“But it’s not.” Rhys waved his dick up and down in front of Harris’ face again, watching the small man follow his every movement as if hypnotised. “This isn’t big. This is still soft, and even then, I’m still. Getting. Bigger. But you’ve already jizzed your little load just from the sight of me! You were a bitch all semester long, and you’re still a bitch now, aren’t you, bitch?”

“Y-yes…”

“Yes what?”

“Yes s-sir””

“You want to taste it, don’t you bitch? I can see you drooling,” Rhys sneered, holding his titanic member just inches in front of Harris’ face.

“Yes,” Harris breathed, shivering with anticipation.

“Would you like that? To slobber all over my fat balls, to stretch out your virgin throat with my fat meat and then to feel it grow inside you bigger and bigger until you feel it in your guts?”

“Please! Please let me!” Harris begged, his mouth puckering, tongue lolling for the cock just millimetres away from him - 

“Nah.”

Harris blinked and watched the titanic man step away from him.
“But I-”

“But you what? I’m not taking advantage of you like this,” Rhys said impatiently, not even looking at Harris as he stooped down and reached inside his closet. He pulled out what looked like a pair of spandex shorts, ridiculously oversized, though not compared to his still swelling body. He pulled them on, but they still bulged obscenely. “Shit… left it too long…” he muttered underneath his breath.

“W-w-what are you d-doing?” Harris asked, his confusion cutting through the paralysis.

“I’m getting out of here. I don’t want my room wrecked when I outgrow it, and that won’t take long. Fuck, the door…” Rhys had now turned to face the exit of the room. Getting in and out was hard enough when he was less than 7ft tall, and now he was more than 8. It was a difficult task of pivoting through and he ended up pulling away part of the door jamb - but he managed it.

Rhys turned to face the room he had just left, smiling at the broken little man sitting on his bed, covered in his own jizz, unable to do anything but stare dumbfounded up at him.

“I’m not fucking a little bitch who can’t even think for himself,” he grinned, aware of people up and down the hall beginning to notice him, and not caring in the slightest. “I’m done chasing after you - if you want this, you can beg for it on your own terms.”

And with that he left.

It was ten minutes before Harris could move a muscle, and another ten before he could actually stand. He was angry, he was humiliated - especially when people passed by the still-open door, and saw him, cock out and deflating, still covered in cum. But he also knew, deep in the pit of his stomach - he had never been more turned on in his entire life.
 

[Dezman]

I expected the growth, but I really didn't expect it to hit so soon. I was kind of expecting a longer transition, but man was this good. I can't wait to see just how big he gets.

To be quite frank I'm not usually one for humiliation, though in this case you made Harris detestable enough that it felt more like revenge than humiliation. He played a stupid game and won a stupid prize. Honestly, what was he expecting to happen when you steal medication from someone built like a truck and 7 feet tall?

We also get a titillating glance into Rhys' past that I am sure will come up in the next chapter. The Introspection is coming back with a vengeance (mad respect for that), and it once again shows a care for characterization that speaks to the depth of your characters and the skill of your writing. I noticed it before in Being Better, but it looks like we're going to get another little bit of the difficulty of living at the size of a giant.  

I also deeply appreciate the consent in this. I know it's not really a Thing to look for here (and this isn't a slam), but I had a moment of clarity when I read this. My mind went from "Oh yeah here we go!" to "Oh… oh yeah that's actually really decent of Rhys." The care for consent just makes him that much hotter to me. 

Once again, another banger of a chapter. I am eagerly awaiting the next addition.