Brandon Twice
patreon
Ben's Rock Bottom [Big Barney's Bouncer Blues Sequel]
🕑 Added 2023-03-25 20:06:38 +0000 UTC[a sequel to Big Barney's Bouncer Blues! This is one part of a MEGA continuation.]
Gavin’s Wednesday schedule was always the busiest of the week, with personal training clients starting at 9 AM and running, back-to-back, all the way until 4 with no breaks. On that particular Wednesday he had four clients running late, about twenty minutes each, throwing his entire schedule off. By 5:30, he was just finishing up for the day, exhausted, and he still hadn’t done his own lifting routine for the day.
Global Gym was always a madhouse around 5 PM, which is why Gavin tried to be finished lifting by the time. The evening crowd was usually very “fitness influencer” heavy, with younger guys and tripods all around. A large, established bodybuilder like Gavin always attracted their attention, either positive (“Hey bro! How’d you get so big?”) or negative (“Tren freak. Anybody can get huge on roids, pussy!”). Gavin usually kept to himself at the gym, trying to attract as little attention as a 6’3, 280 pound musclebound man could.
Dwight, the Global Gym manager, gave him a nod as Gavin drank his preworkout and approached the weight room around 6 PM. “Late start for you, eh big guy?” he said.
Gavin shrugged. “Just one of those days. Probably going to get a quick pump and then bail.” He gritted his teeth as he saw every weight bench occupied, mostly by guys in their twenties on their phones between sets. The dumbbell rack was picked clean up to the 70s. Gavin scanned the room and saw at least half of those dumbbells scattered around, abandoned. These young lifters really didn’t understand how to respect the gym.
With preworkout spiking his heart rate, niacin tingling across his scalp, Gavin finally just grabbed an 80 pound dumbbell and hoisted it overhead. After a quick set of triceps presses, he turned to see Dwight standing behind him, grimacing.
“God, Gavin, I’m really sorry to bug you, man,” Dwight said. “But those homeless guys are out front again. They’ve gone from begging for money to really harassing people. I’ve called the police twice and they haven’t shown up. You think you could hop out there and flex those big muscles, scare them away for me?”
Gavin was a peaceful man, despite what people expected from his size, but some light intimidation might be a great way to express the aggravation of his day. He stripped off his hoodie, ran a hand through his dark curly hair, and put on his best sneer.
The big man walked with his lats flared, arms bent and flexed, as he stomped out to approach the two men in the parking lot. One had a long ponytail and a plastic bag slung over his shoulder. His dark, filth-stained trenchcoat had holes in the elbows. The other had shaggy hair and a beard with a hoodie on. Gavin noticed fraternity letters on the back of his sweatshirt. The two stood between a middle-aged woman and her car, each of them demanding some change before they would let her leave. She clutched her yoga mat fearfully.
“Hey, how about you two step the fuck away and let this woman leave?” Gavin barked, crossing his arms. His huge pecs swelled behind his forearms as he stared down at the two punks.
“Oh, great, they got King Kong to come deal with us,” said ponytail.
“They sure did,” Gavin said. “Look, cops are on the way. There’s three ways we can deal with this: first, you leave now. Second, the cops come and arrest your fucking asses.”
“Oh yeah?” said the guy in the fraternity hoodie. “What’s the third way?”
“I smash you two into a fucking paste and the cops thank me for dealing with you,” Gavin said. Ponytail charged Gavin and he shoved him to the ground with ease. “You want some two?” Gavin said, bouncing his biceps.
Frat-hoodie threw up his hands. “Naw, bro, let’s just go. We’ll deal with this guy later.” The two vagrants backed away, glancing back at Gavin every few steps as they left the parking lot and started down the sidewalk.
Gavin turned around to see a small crowd forming behind him. Some of the irritating gym rats had wandered out, recording the confrontation on their phones. “Fuck,” Gavin said as Dwight welcomed him back inside. “If that video goes online, everyone’s going to think I’m some roided-out rage-a-holic abusing the poor.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Dwight said. “We’ll have the Global Gym social media team get on it right away–talk about you like the hero you are!”
Gavin sneered. “‘Hero?’ Those guys are just fucking hungry. Too had for them, they picked the wrong day. Usually I’d have a dollar for them.”
Clearly word of the parking lot fiasco had traveled through the gym; as Gavin approached a bench, the young man on it hopped aside, offering it to the massive man. Now, instead of clogging up the space he needed, the little gym punks fist-bumped him and told him what a badass he was. He had free reign of the gym, despite how packed it was. “If only it was always like this,” Gavin said. “And all I had to do was bully a couple down-on-their-luck guys,” he sighed.
He left, sweaty and with fully engorged arms, an hour later. He chugged his protein shake with his gym bag over his shoulder. All the tension of the day had lifted. He approached his truck, parked at the far end of the lot, and clicked the keyfob in his hand. The truck lights flickered as it let out a gentle beep, the locks disengaging.
Gavin caught the smell before he saw them: old urine, cigarettes and B.O. It was the guys from earlier, ponytail and frat-hoodie. He should have known they would be waiting for him to leave.
Gavin could tell the two men had taken some sort of drug in the time since he’d last seen them. Their energy was different–agitated, frenetic, and their movements were erratic. Ponytail had a wooden plank in his hand. He slapped it against his own chest, his eyes bulging in a threatening way. Frat-hoodie had his hood pulled over his face, almost covering his eyes.
His first impulse had been to toss them some money and apologize about before, but he knew there was no reasoning with them in this state. “Look, guys,” Gavin said, tossing his bag to the ground and doubling his fists. “Neither of you wants any of this. Trust me.”
“No, buddy, you don’t want any of THIS!” Ponytail said, swinging the wooden plank. Gavin blocked it with his meaty forearm and swatted it aside. He heard it clatter to the ground about ten feet away. He glanced up at the gym; no one was coming out, and no one had seemed to notice what was going on in this dark section of the parking lot.
“Wait, bro, WAIT,” said frat-hoodie. “Just wait, Mitch. I know how to take care of this bozo.”
“Oh, do you?” Gavin said. Ponytail lunged at him and Gavin shoved him again. He turned to frat hoodie and hoisted him up, tossing him against his truck.
Frat-hoodie started whispering something. It didn’t sound like English; Gavin could only barely make out separate, discernible words. It seemed like another language. Somehow it echoed around Gavin, like the wind was repeating it. He felt cold. Frat-hoodie started to feel heavier. His knees shook and Gavin’s heart started to pound.
Thick fog rolled over them, just for a moment… then it vanished like vapor. Gavin cried out. He felt like he was falling although his feet never left the ground. He blinked as he tried to reorient himself; somehow, he was staring UP at the bearded guy in a hoodie he had just been holding off the ground. He let go of his clutch of the man’s clothes–the man who was now twice the size of him!--and backed away. He spun around to see Ponytail looming over them as well.
For a moment, he thought they had somehow grown to seven or eight feet tall, but when he looked down at himself, he saw his body had somehow deflated and shriveled down to a scrawny, bony thing. Massive, meaty muscles he’d had for his entire adult life were all gone. He felt exhausted, slow-moving, flimsy. He didn’t recognize the spindly limbs he was staring at, but they moved at his command.
“Holy SHIT!” Ponytail shrieked. This time he did the shoving and Gavin hit the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs. Gavin struggled to stand, throwing a weak punch that landed on Ponytail’s chest. The punk just laughed and grabbed Gavin’s bony wrist, twisting his arm painfully.
“Don’t hurt him too bad,” frat-hoodie said and he grabbed Gavin’s gym bag from the ground. A small crowd was leaving the gym. Ponytail slapped a filthy hand over Gavin’s mouth and yanked him up–he couldn’t BELIEVE how easily this skinny guy had just lifted him off the ground!--and pulled him behind the big truck. Gavin tried to yell for help but his cries were muffled. The gym-goers pulled away, unaware that their hero was in peril a hundred yards away.
“Damn, his big gym-bro clothes shrunk too,” Ponytail said, yanking off Gavin’s hoodie. He grabbed Gavin’s shorts and pulled them off too. He was powerless to stop him as Ponytail yanked off his shoes, leaving him entirely naked.
“I got his keys,” Frat-hoodie said. “Let’s go.”
Ponytail tossed his crusty trenchcoat to the ground, pulling off his shirt and replacing it with Gavin’s tank top. “Hunh. A little tight,” he commented. “But it’s nice! A little sweaty, but doesn’t stink as bad as my other shirt.” Gavin threw a few punches with his puny fists as Ponytail climbed into his truck, but they had no effect. He shouted as the truck pulled away, running after them with one hand over his shrunken junk.
He needed help… but he was totally naked. He grabbed the trenchcoat and pulled it on, retching at the smell, like an old shaker cup. The parking lot seemed so much bigger now than before, but then again, his legs were so much shorter now. As he passed by vehicles, only able to see his eyes and forehead in their windows, he realized he had to be only about five feet tall now. He shuddered to think of how little he weighed. This wasn’t possible–it couldn’t be possible–and yet his frail little body was absolutely real.
Just before he got to the Global Gym door, he heard sirens from behind him. He ignored them, pulling open the door, but Dwight easily pulled it shut again, locking the door. Gavin pounded on the glass, shouting Dwight’s name, but the manager just frowned at him.
“It’s me!” Gavin shouted. “It’s Gavin!” But the gym manager–his longtime friend!--had no idea who this little man in the dirty trenchcoat was. He thought Gavin was one of the vagrants!
Cops suddenly surrounded Gavin, who stammered out explanations–he was robbed, two guys took his truck. He didn’t know how to explain that they had taken his muscles and his size as well. Dwight stepped out of the door and pointed Gavin out.
“He’s one of them,” Dwight said. “He was harassing people before.”
No one listened to Gavin as he whimpered out his real identity. They cuffed him and shoved him in the back of his car as some of the gym members recorded the scene on their phones.
*
“I haven’t driven in… a LONG fucking time,” Ben said as he grabbed the stick shift of their newly procured truck. Muscle memory kicked in and he pushed in the clutch, shifting with ease. “Fuck. I guess it’s like riding a bike.”
Mitchell searched the glove compartment after ransacking the musclehead’s bag. “Guy’s got a wallet in here but no cash, just cards. Phone, too, but it’s locked.”
“We’ll ditch the phone,” Ben said. “We can probably use the cards for a bit, too. He can call the police, but I doubt they’ll believe who he is when he reports this stuff stolen.”
“We should ditch the truck too,” Mitchell said. “DAMN, I love this fucking truck. How’s a guy who’s so big he can’t wipe his own ass afford a truck like this?” Then he paused. “More importantly… how the FUCK did you just… y’know… miniaturize him?”
Ben sighed. “That’s… ANOTHER thing I haven’t done in a long time…”
They were silent as they stopped at a red light. They both froze as they noticed a cop car on the corner. Their lights came on and Ben’s first impulse was to slam on the gas and make a break, but the cops took off in the other direction. Ben continued through, relieved. For the moment, they were safe. In that truck, they’d be considered regular people.
“So that’s it? You just… deflated that guy… and you’re not gonna explain it?” Mitchell said. “Damn, I left my vape in my coat pocket…”
“Fraternity trick,” Ben said. “And honestly, I can’t explain it more than that. I didn’t even know I could still do it without my two buddies. I’m surprised it worked, to be honest.”
“What the fuck kind of college did you go to?” Mitchell asked as he searched the truck’s center console. He found a handful of change and a small bottle of pills. “Ox-an-dra-lone. You think this stuff will fuck you up?” he wondered aloud as he popped two of them.
“Look, let’s ditch the truck, buy some food, then get some distance. They might not believe that scrawny little shit is actually the fucking Hulk, but they’ll check his fingerprints and he’ll answer enough questions to prove who he really is. Then they’ll be looking for us.”
“Let’s get shitfaced,” Mitchell suggested as Ben stopped at another red light, right next to a busy bar with a line of sexy young people up the sidewalk, all waiting for an opportunity to get in. “And then… you know how easy things are going to be now that I know you can turn big guys into little pussies? I mean, security guards won’t be able to stop us anymore!”
Ben glanced at the bar. The dull bass thudding from inside brought back memories–of back before he got into meth, before he ended up in the streets, when he was one of those young people getting fucked up without a care in the world.
At the front of the line was a small crew of muscleheaded bouncers, all looking enormous and overinflated in their tight “Staff” t-shirts, but one of them stood out. He was half the size of the rest without an ounce of muscle to speak of. He had a mustache and an intense glare. Something about him was unsettling… like, even though he was small, he was still a total badass.
Ben stared at the little bouncer for way too long. They made eye contact.
“Ben? You listening to me, Ben?” Mitchell asked.
Ben’s heart skipped a beat. “Fuck,” he said. “No fucking way that’s him.”
The light turned green. Ben stomped on the gas. The tires spun, leaving rubber on the pavement.
“What the fuck? Who was that?” Mitchell asked.
Ben gripped the steering wheel tightly. He was almost afraid to say the name out loud: “Barney.”
Comments
Anonymous
Loved it! Keep going!
