Brandon Twice
patreon
From Bosa to Bosa
🕑 Added 2020-07-19 02:36:06 +0000 UTC[6 word request: One Bosa Twinks, One Bosa Grows]
Nick Bosa stumbled to the shower with his eyes still closed. He had slapped his alarm a half dozen times, only dragging himself from bed when he saw several missed messages from Coach demanding he show up early for workouts that day. He felt like he could sleep another twelve hours and it still wouldn’t be enough.
The shower squeaked to life as he turned the knob but he was shocked as the water shot over his head. He reached up to adjust the nozzle but it seemed to high. He rubbed his eyes, then looked around. Everything in the shower looked off. Then he looked down at his body.
In a panic he leapt from the shower, staring into the mirror. Only his head and the top of his shoulders were visible, the sink now at nipple height. This was not the 6’4” athlete he was used to seeing every day! Worse than the dramatic loss in height was the fact that all of his muscles seemed deflated. He patted himself down in horror, feeling much smaller pecs, narrower arms, and a smooth midsection where rippled abs used to be. He still looked like a jock, but he was no different from some weekend warrior who did curls and benched at a Planet Fitness.
Most shocking was the reduction between his much narrower legs: his big cock was now just a little thing. He fingered the nub of flesh and the two tiny balls between it.
This wasn’t possible, he knew, but as he rushed to find something that still fit him, other details fell into place: all week he hadn’t had to shave; his usual weights in the gym felt much heavier; and he hadn’t even thought about touching his dick since the previous Saturday night, a massive drop from the usual thrice a day beating he gave himself in addition to fucking whatever girl he had in his bed that week.
With the drawstring yanked tight on some basketball shorts that still looked ludicrously large on him, he threw on a football jersey that fit him like a nightshirt and hopped into his car, loathing the fact that he couldn’t reach the pedals without moving the seat forward. As he adjusted the mirror, he took a long look at his narrow, smooth face. Gone were the angular features of the chiseled athlete. Even his normally prominent jaw had reduced, and he could have sworn he felt a thin layer of pudge forming.
Coach tilted the weights on the scale’s balance, casually perusing the results. “195,” he said, making a note on a clipboard. “And you’re standing at 5’10” tall. That’s about right…”
“Are you fucking serious?” Nick shouted. How could his coach be so calm about this? “I’m half a foot and a fifty pounds smaller! Get the team doctor in here right now!”
Coach smiled, then grabbed the athlete--who used to look down on him, but now stood a few inches shorter--and roughly shoved him down to the bench. Nick tried to stand again but with a grin and little effort, Coach shoved him back down.
“Look at this,” Coach chuckled. “You’re clearly not the man you used to be, Nick. You ready to calm down so I can explain this?”
Coach produced a small file and tossed it into Nick’s lap. The shrunken athlete, now shirtless and unbelievably self-conscious about his reduced frame, slumped his shoulders forward as he looked into it.
“Chemical trial?” Nick read aloud. “You’re testing some drug on me?”
“Two birds, one stone,” Coach said with a shrug. “Pharmaceutical company wanted to test it on a real testosterone factory. I’ve seen you in the shower, Nick. You got balls the size of my fist--at least, you used to.” He smirked. Nick unconsciously clenched his knees together. “There were a couple of other genetic stipulations, but… I think you’ve heard enough to overwhelm that little brain for the time being. I want to run you through some drills to see what you can still do.”
“Drills?” Nick held up his unremarkable arms. “What, are you gonna put me on the field like this? You need to give me the antidote! I’m not a fucking lab rat!” He started to rise but Coach lunged at him. Nick flinched, almost falling backward off the bench.
“Jesus,” Coach said with a grin. “Man, I almost get why you lunks get off on being bigger than people. This is quite a trip. Anyway, Nick, one of the reasons I signed you up for this was because I wanted you to develop some skills that didn’t rely on your size. Being naturally huge and strong has become too much of a crutch for you. I’m thinking a little time on the smaller end of things will give you an edge, make you a next-level player. Are you really going to spit in the face of an opportunity like that?”
Nick just sat there, blinking. He had always respected Coach, but the man had always been less than half his size. Now, if he wanted to, he could’ve tossed Nick across the room. What else could he do except exactly what he was told?
“Let’s get out there and work on some drills,” Coach said, giving Nick a harder shove on the shoulder than he was prepared for. The athlete grabbed his throbbing shoulder and examined the small uniform the coach had tossed to him, slowly putting it on. What choice did he have?
Nick was grateful they trained on the indoor field and the facility was locked down. Not only did he not want anyone seeing him like this, but his performance was worse than a high schooler’s! He kept tripping over his feet and getting winded whenever he was running. He still had muscles, he just wasn’t as big as he was before. But for some reason it was like his body had lost all its vitality!
But Coach didn’t stress. He showed a level of patience Nick had never seen before. Nick went to throw a football and it only went about ten feet before bouncing off to the left. Coach smiled and urged him to try again. The hell was happening? Nick felt like he was morphing into a dude who had never played the sport before.
Nick was starting to forgive himself for his performance--if coach didn’t care why should he?--until one of the scrawny interns walked in. Nick bristled, waiting to dismiss the little pipsqueak for intruding on their private session, but the intern--what was his name? Chad? Chet?--stood right next to coach and surveyed Nick the whole time.
After what seemed like hours, Nick left the field in shambles. His body felt like it had turned to lead; every part of him ached! He felt like the well of energy he usually tapped into to push through workouts had been blocked off. He wanted to talk to coach about what he was experiencing but not with this little douchebag kicking around.
“You know Chandler, right?” Coach said. Chandler extended his hand. Last time Nick had seen him, Chandler had barely been nipple high to him, but now the 21 year old intern was only a couple of inches shorter. Nick was still the bigger man, but he didn’t like how much the divide between them had narrowed.
“Honored to be working with you, Mr. Bosa,” Chandler said, beaming. Nick flashed half a smile, then looked at Coach. Working with him?
“So since your faculties are going to be considerably reduced for the foreseeable future,” Coach said with a shrug, “I’m assigning Chandler to be your personal handler. Anything you need, he’ll take care of. Right Chandler? Now hit the showers, big guy. Chandler, take care of my star athlete there!”
Nick stomped to the locker room with Chandler trailing behind, rattling off about what an exciting opportunity it was to work so closely with his “hero”--a word that made Nick shiver. The guys on the team told stories about catching Chandler sniffing jocks. No way did he want this guy so close to him--or in his house!
Chandler was still prattling on as Nick prepared to strip down in the locker room. He raised an eyebrow and, voice dripping with irritation, growled, “Privacy?”
“Oh, sorry!” Chandler said, falling over himself as he scrambled to turn around.
“How about beat it?” Nick said. “I’m getting showered. I don’t need an escort.”
“Coach said I’m not to be more than 10 feet away from you,” Chandler said.
Nick shook his head. He and Coach would be having a chat later on--maybe he couldn’t stop this freaky experiment from going on, but there was no way he needed a 24/7 escort!
With a dismissive wave of his hand, Nick directed Chandler to stand near the locker room door with his back turned to the pro athlete. As Nick stripped down, Chandler kept on jabbering: “And in any case, I think that after this experiment is all finished, you’re going to go from one of the greatest NFL players of all time to the greatest athlete in history, PERIOD!”
Nick hadn’t responded since Chandler had begun his tirade back on the field, so he didn’t feel the need to interject at all. He hustled into the shower, eager to wash off the grime of the day. He felt like he had been sacked a hundred times. He had half a mind to just head home and collapse into his bed.
“So just so we’re clear,” Chandler continued as Nick tried to ignore him, “your privacy is paramount. I’ve signed an NDA about this whole affair and I have to say, my loyalty is to you, Coach, and the team.”
“If your loyalty’s to me,” Nick began, “how about you give me a little space?” Nick’s breath caught suddenly--his whole body tingled--and suddenly a stream of water was shooting over his head for the second time that day. Nick collapsed into the wall, his exhaustion nearly making him black out.
“You okay in there Mr. Bosa?” Chandler called from outside. Nick heard the little pipsqueak approaching. Soap was getting in his eyes now. He fumbled around, trying to rinse his face. He was shivering for some reason, horribly cold, his joints aching more than ever, and he felt… light?
“Holy shit,” Chandler said in a hushed voice as he peered in. Nick had barely been able to get a look at himself to discern just what the intern was reacting to: he had shrunk again!
It looked like whatever muscle had been left on his body had shriveled away. He was almost afraid to touch his bony rib cage or his skinny arms; as long as he didn’t feel them, they couldn’t be real. He turned around, shocked, hands slapped down to cover his manhood. What he felt behind those hands made his heart sink; while his cock and balls weren’t the big unit he was used to, they had at least been slightly above average, but now he felt a shrunken little nub and two little raisins, just as tiny as the rest of him seemed.
Nick looked UP at Chandler now. The little intern was half a head taller now!
Chandler backed out, turning around. “Sorry, Mr. Bosa! Sorry to see you indisposed like that.”
Nick was shaking. He wanted to go home, to go to bed. “Get me a towel!” he said, disturbed at the high-pitched rasp that his voice had reduced to.
Chandler walked into the shower with one hand over his eyes, a towel dangling from the other. Nick grabbed the towel, shocked at how heavy it was, and wrapped himself in it. He didn’t wait for Chandler; while the intern stood there, face covered, Nick sprinted for the door, grabbed his bag, and ran out, tripping over the huge towel that hung down to his feet.
At home, Nick declined another call from the intern and hid up in his bedroom. Chandler must have stopped by, because someone was banging on the door, but Nick wasn’t going to answer. No way was he going to be near that little homo--especially not while he was this small!
At one point Nick pulled himself from the blanket cocoon he hid wrapped himself in on his bed and walked weakly to the bathroom. Everything in his house looked so huge! He didn’t want to look at his shrunken body or his reduced manhood, but then he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He still looked like a grown man, just one that never seemed to eat anything.
Somehow, despite his emaciated frame, he still had a chubby belly and soft cheeks. His head looked too big for his tiny body, and his ears were so huge he looked like a cartoon character. Judging by how high the sink was, he estimated his height to be around 5’4” now. He didn’t dare step on the scale.
What the hell was he going to do? At some point, Coach was going to make a demand of him. What if he could never get back to his old self without Coach’s help? Was he really in a position to be acting insubordinate?
While he was puzzling this all out, he heard a massive banging on the door downstairs. It wasn’t the intern’s weak little fists; it sounded like a sledgehammer had smashed the door! Nick shivered as he heard a thunderous weight smashing up the stairs. It sounded like an elephant was heading toward him!
Nick froze, wondering if Coach had sicced someone from the team on him. He looked around for someplace to hide when the door caved in, bashed off its hinges.
A massive beast of a man--so big he had to stoop to get through the door--walked in. The room shook with every footstep. Every inch of his body bulged and flexed as he moved. The adrenaline pounding through Nick’s body made him feel like his heart would explode.
Then he recognized the beast--beyond the hypermasculine lantern jaw, the four-foot expanse of muscle from lat to lat, the chiseled face and the smoldering eyes staring down at him from atop a mountain of rock hard flesh… It was his brother, Joey.
Joey looked to be well over 7 feet tall. He had to bend his neck just to stand in the room. As Nick examined the muscle monster, he found himself shaking. No NFL game had ever had him breathing this hard!
“There you are,” said Joey in a low, rumbling voice that Nick felt in his chest. “Your fucking Coach is bullshit. What do you think you’re doing running off like this?”
“How did you… I mean, how are you so…” Nick couldn’t get over the massive bull his brother had swollen into.
“Same way you got itsy-bitsy,” Joey said, bouncing his pecs. The t-shirt he’d stuffed his torso into burst open in a new tiny tear every time he flexed. “I guess it’s impossible to just shrink a dude without that size going somewhere else.” Joey flexed his biceps; the sleeves groaned before bursting apart to reveal his 30 inch arms. “I’m where all your size is going.”
“But--why?” Nick said, feeling betrayed. Had Joey been in on this?
“Turns out our coaches worked together on this. They want me to refine my skills, really up my agility despite my size. Making me this big is like putting a parachute on me. I’m like a fucking freight train! You should see when I build up speed. They want me moving like a damned ballerina though. Literally, I’m taking ballet classes. You should see the spandex they specially made for me to squeeze into…”
Without asking, Joey reached down and plucked Nick from the floor, hooking a massive arm around him and carrying him at his side. Nick squirmed but Joey applied just a bit of pressure; Nick felt like he might be squashed if Joey got any more forceful, so he didn’t move. He didn’t even have the guts to tell his brother he needed to put on clothes!
“So earlier today I was actually getting a massage and I just blew the fuck up like the Hulk! I mean, I woke up huge today, but I didn’t get this big until a couple of hours ago… I’m guessing you shrank down then too?”
Nick squeaked out an affirmative response as Joey demolished his front door with an effortless shoulder bash.
“I’m wondering how many more times this is gonna happen!” Joey said as he yanked open the door of a brand new monster truck, tossing the shrunken man in the passenger seat like he was a bag of groceries. “Like, are you gonna get even smaller? Am I gonna get even bigger? Can’t wait to find out!”
Despite the massive size of the truck, Joey still had to squeeze through the door and was cramped in the driver seat. “Biggest one they had,” he said as he bounced two giant pecs that were pressed up against the steering wheel. “Anyway, your coach says you’re being taken into custody of the team from now on. I guess some intern is gonna take care of you? That means feed you, bathe you--I don’t think he even thinks of you as a person anymore!” He reached out with a mammoth hand and patted Nick condescendingly on the head. “Don’t worry, bro, I still do. Just do what you’re told, and maybe one day we’ll be back to seeing eye-to-eye again!”
