Heavy Lift - Story Bite

 

This is a story I've had kicking around in my mind for at least two years now.  I know the broad strokes of it - the twists and turns it takes before the end.  But I still have no idea how it begins - and for me, that usually means I can't start.  

So, nuts to that.  Here's Chapter 3 of a story I'm calling "Heavy Lift."

CW: Dub-con, light non-con, F/m, shrinking, gentle, affection, fearplay, mouthplay, weight lifting terms


Heavy Lift - Pt. 3

It was the third day of our vacation before I tried to use my gym again. I was out of my routine by then, and starting to feel restless. I needed to get back into the swing of things, but I guess I was trying to avoid more physical proof of how much I’d lost. I was almost two feet shorter than when the weekend started, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to lift nearly as much.  But, no time like the present – and if I could work up a good sweat, it might take my mind off things.

The gym would also give me safe haven from Clio for a few hours. Don't get me wrong, I appreciated the way she was taking care of me, what with this whole 'shrinking' thing. All the petting, the back rubs, the affection. Not to mention?  The sex had never been better.  Even if it was, you know.  Different. 

On the first night I could still throw her around, almost like normal. Last night had been a challenge, and I’d ended up being a lot more gentle with her than usual. She hadn’t seemed to mind. 

But this morning, I was a lot shorter.  I had to stop shrinking eventually. When I did, I was going to need every bit of muscle I could get to deal with her.

The gym had always been my favorite room at our vacation house. Now, it felt cavernous, alien. I stared around at the equipment, wondering where I should start.The last day I'd worked out was Friday. Now it was Monday, and I had measured in this morning at a measly four foot three. Starting with fifty pound dumbbells, like my last session, was just not going to happen. I decided to try some bicep curls with a twenty.

Even pulling them off the rack, I knew I was in for a challenge. I held tight, bent my knees, straightened my back. Maintaining good form.  I grunted, and lifted the weight. 

I could do it! Or, at least a little. By the third rep I was already struggling. My back arching forward, my shoulder turning out. I took a mid-set break and stood there, panting. I had barely even started and I already felt exhausted.

I became aware of her presence, then. I'm pretty sure she hadn't made a sound. It’s possible I had picked up the scent of her lavender shampoo, fresh from the shower. But I swear, it was almost as if I sensed her. I turned, trying to look casual. “Hey, babe. I don’t think you’ve been in here since we built the place.  Um.  How long have you been watching me?”

Clio leaned against the door frame, giving me a look of angelic concern. It was alarming how big she looked today - especially considering she was only 4’11”.  Before we left for this trip, she hadn’t even come up to my shoulders. “You know you shouldn't be in here, Robby.”

I stiffened. “What? Why the hell not? This is my gym after all. So what if I'm... you know.” I gestured vaguely, not wanting to say the word. “And what's with this 'Robby' stuff anyway? You know I go by Rob.”

She shrugged. “Oh.  I didn’t think.  That name just seemed… appropriate.” The towel slipped alluringly down her chest as she adjusted her posture, and I had to fight to keep my gaze from drifting.  “And don't try to change the subject,” she went on.  “We still don't know what's causing this. Making you shrink so fast.”

I winced. 

“Oops, sorry.  Um.  Anyway.  I have a few theories. It might be caused by physical exertion. So you should just relax.  Take it easy today, and let me take care of you.  Okay?”

“That's bullshit,” I said, and I tried not to smile as I saw her wince, too.  “I'm not going to sit around, helplessly getting smaller every day. I'm still a man, damn it.  I don’t need your advice, or your sympathy..”

Clio came closer.  She was doing her best not to tower over me, I could tell, but that was downright impossible.  Staring up at her in the late morning sun, more than a head taller than me, wet skin glittering in the light… she may as well have been a goddess. “You're a man,” she agreed. “But you're my man. You have to accept your limitations. I'm the bigger, stronger one now.  The sooner you accept that, the better it will be for both of us.”

“There's no way you're stronger than me.  I may have lost a little height, but get that straight. I don't need you to look after me.  Now if you don’t mind, get out of my gym and leave me in peace.”

For a moment, I thought she was going to cry. Then she swallowed, and set her jaw. “What if I can prove it?”

I dropped the weight I'd been holding. The clatter surprised us both.  “Huh?  If you can prove what?”

“I, um.”  She hesitated, then went on, staring at the floor, her voice trembling.  “If I can prove I'm stronger than you, will you stop fighting me on this and just let me take care of you?  We can have, I don't know. A contest? If I can lift more than you, then from now on you take my advice without arguing. Okay?”

I thought about it. Narrowing my eyes, looking at her scrawny little arms, the fragile set of her shoulders. If you'll forgive the pun, I was sizing her up. She was eight inches taller than me, sure.  But the phrase, ‘ninety-pound weakling’ existed for a reason, I happened to know she tipped the scales at eighty-five, on a good day.  

I smiled.  “What do I get if I win?”

“I....” She bit her lip, and pressed her cheek into her shoulder. “I'll leave you alone no matter how small you get. Unless you specifically ask for something.  And I'll stop calling you Robbie.”

We shook on it. I considered the twenty pound weight at my feet, and hefted a fifteen from the rack instead. I held it out to her. “Twist curls.” I demonstrated the motion, explained how to keep momentum from assisting, how to avoid letting your lower back carry any weight, and to add a hard twist at the top of the motion. “Whoever can do the most with good form wins. You first.”

She set herself, took a deep breath.  I honestly don’t think I’d ever seen her look so determined.  I had to disqualify her first two attempts - for swinging her hip, and rotating her shoulder, respectively.  I half expected her to get frustrated and give up the whole enterprise, but she only nodded, accepted my corrections, and started again.

I watched her beautiful face contort with effort, her pathetic little biceps straining against a weight that would have been a joke for me at normal size.  Sweat gathered on her brow, her free hand balled into a fist.  

But still, she persisted.

I’m not sure when I started getting hard.  Those grunts she was making were part of it - eerily similar to the sounds she’d make when I was on top of her, going extra-special slow, before I really started to pick up speed.  Around the third curl, her towel started to slip, and I definitely noticed the effect it was having on me.  

Well.  At least now I knew how I was going to celebrate my victory.

Five.  Six.  Seven.  Her check was straining, her arm shaking, but I couldn’t fault her form.  It was on the eighth curl that the towel gave up the ghost.  Tumbled down her body, pooled at her feet.  Her eyes shot open, and she met my gaze.  Embarrassment flushed on her face.   I could smell her exertion, see the beads of sweat standing out on her arms.  Her whole body was shaking with the effort to keep going.  This was the moment, when she would finally give up this silly idea, and leave me in peace.

She smiled, then.  It seemed an oddly knowing smile.  It’s hard for me to admit this part.  But in that moment.  That smile.  It made me feel a little scared of her.

A little.  

Nine.  Ten, with gritted teeth, and a growl from the back of her throat.  She was slowing down.  It wouldn’t be long.  Yet somehow, she looked even more capable than when she’d started.  More imposing.

Bigger.

I was still puzzling that, when my shorts slipped.  If it wasn’t for my erection, they would’ve fallen all the way to my ankles.

And Clio?  She just kept that damned smirk on her face, even as her jaw clenched with effort.  She grunted in a decidedly lurid fashion on number eleven, strained, shook… and arched her back to get to twelve.

“That one doesn’t count,” I squeaked.  “You’re done.  Eleven.”

She panted, and gave a nod.  “You’re shrinking again,” she purred.

“Don’t say that word.  P-please.”

She smiled, brushing the sweat from her eyes.  And offered me the weight.

It felt far heavier than the twenty had, only minutes before.  I spread my legs, bent my knees, set my back.  Clio watched expectantly, hand on her hip, not bothering to cover her shame.  Over the scent of her body wash, and the faint smell of sweat, I could detect another, familiar smell.  

I tried to ignore the all-too familiar sensation.  That cold, empty tingling in the pit of my stomach, that meant I was getting smaller.  I took a deep breath.  And lifted with all my might.

One.  Was all I managed.  Before I had to let my trembling arm fall to my side, body arching forward.  I hung my head in defeat.

She took the weight from my hand as tenderly as she could, and gave me the kindest, saddest smile I’d ever seen.  “Sit down on the bench please.”

Holding up my shorts, I did.

Clio knelt in front of me, moving with angelic grace.  She took my smaller hands in hers, patiently set them at my sides.  Then slowly pulled my gym shorts down.  I felt my body freeze, my heart pounding in my throat, my head spinning.  In my adult life, I don’t think I’d ever been more afraid of another human.

But despite all this, my cock was almost painfully hard.  Clio had to be almost a foot taller than me, and there was no denying that seeing her this way was getting to me.  What was worse, she knew.  And knew that I knew.

She bent, looking up at me with those soft eyes.  Her chin almost, but barely not, pressing against the base of my shaft.  I didn’t move.  I don’t think I could have if I’d wanted.  Yet my whole body seemed to fall toward her, as if compelled by gravity.  She left me hanging this way for what felt like an eternity.  Just staring into my face.  Studying me, with that sad smile.  I was just about to break, to beg her to look away, or else beg her to touch me…

When she brushed her lip against the underside of my cock.

I moaned, and arched my hips toward her, but she pulled at once, out of my reach.  She approached again, slowly.  Touching me a bit more firmly this time, running her cheeks along the smooth skin of my shaft.  I tried to hold still, but after a few seconds of this it was too much, and I thrust again.

And again, she pulled back, grinned like a Cheshire cat, waited for me to calm down.

“Clio.  Don’t tease me like this.  It’s mean.”

“Shhh.”  She touched the tip of her finger to my lips, and I silenced at once.  My heart pounded in my ears.  “You need to learn to let me take care of you.  Don’t move.  Don’t try to touch me.  Just let me make you feel good.”

A little whimper escaped from the back of my throat.  I nodded.

She took a long, long time, coming back.  And even when she touched me again, it was terribly gentle.  For a while she pet me with the back curl of her fingers, the way she might a frightened kitten.  She ran her wet hair along the crown of my penis, which made it twitch and leak an alarming amount of precum.  She kissed her way up and down my shaft, again, and again.  And every so often she would pause.  To look up at me with that knowing smile.  Our sex had always been straight to the point, and often rather intense.  With her in control, she seemed to luxuriate in taking things slow.  Exploring me.  Getting to know me at this new size.  I didn’t hate it.  But that smile… it was so unnerving.

“Why… why do you keep looking at me like that?”  By now I was panting, shaking.  Moaning almost constantly, my vision blurring with the weight of sensation.

She grinned wider.  And slowly pulled away, began to stand.  I started to apologize, to beg her to come back.  

But then, I gasped.  

Clio was much, much bigger.  Or – of course, I was smaller.  God, how had I missed it?  My feet barely even reached the floor anymore!

But still, she gave me that angelic smile.  “So.  I said I had some theories.  About what was making you....”

“Don’t say….”

“Shhh.”  She cupped my cheek, her expression beatific.  “Shrink.  You’re shrinking.  Okay?”

My cock gave an involuntary little twitch.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Robby.  We’re going to figure out why you’re getting smaller, and get you back to normal.  Some day.  But until that happens, I’m going to take care of you.  When I say take care, I mean everything.  You’re going to have to rely on me, trust me.  I’m going to cook for you, clean for you.  Take away your fear, keep you comfortable, and happy.  I know this is hard for you, and you might not forgive me.  But this is the best way I know to make it easier for you.”

“Clio.  Wait.  Don’t!”

I tried to cover my manhood, as she sank back to her knees.  She easily wrapped my thin little wrists between her thumb and forefinger, pinned them to the benchtop.  She moaned as her lips closed over me.  In felt amazing, but from the way she reacted, in all honesty, I think she was getting even more pleasure from it than I was.

I struggled, at first, but really I had no hope of resisting her.  I doubted I would’ve even come up to her chest anymore.  Clio was just enormous, and even with those thin little arms, far stronger than me.  After a few moments with her lips wrapped around me, I gave up fighting entirely.  Yet still, every so often, she would pull away.  Watch me.  And smile.  Around the third time, I finally realized… she was checking how much she had made me shrink.  Waiting for me to get to exactly the size she wanted.

When she finally released my wrists, I didn’t think for a moment of escaping.  Her mouth was so warm, so inviting.  She could easily take my entire length now, all the way to the base.  I found that I could actually feel myself shrinking in her mouth, as her tongue swirled around and around the head of my cock.  After a few seconds of this, she was even able to tease my balls with her lower lip.

I don’t know how long it took, how many times she stopped to see how small I had become.  But eventually, she brought me right to the edge, let me hanging there, for an awful eternity.  I could feel myself shrinking so, so fast. 

“Please!” I screamed.  But right then, whether I was begging her to stop, or begging for more?  Even I didn’t know.

She grasped me by the waist then, her hands wrapping almost all the way around my midsection.  Fingernails digging in, the way I’d used to do to her when I was about to cum.  Forcing my hips forward, forcing me deeper down her throat.  She moaned louder, pursed her lips… and I was lost.  

Clio cooed happily as she drank down every last drop.  Not that there was so much, at my size.  With every pulse, I could feel myself getting smaller.

She helped me to my feet.  I had trouble standing after all of that, and the feeling of vertigo with losing so much size was deeply jarring.  She patiently streadied me while I clung to her tree trunk thigh, like a sailor clinging to the mast of a ship.  My head didn’t even reach her midsection anymore, her soft bush several inches above eye level.  I held my breath, willing myself not to cry.

“It really is a nice gym,” she remarked, almost to herself.  “You did such a good job putting it together.  You’re not allowed to use it, of course.  For now.  Even if it wouldn’t make you any smaller, it’s just too dangerous for a little guy like you.  It would be a shame to let it go to waste, though.  And since I’m going to be taking care of you from now on, I think I need to get a bit stronger.  Don’t you agree?”

I said nothing.  Only held onto her, and shook.

She took my hand, and pulled me gently toward the door.  “Now then.  Why don’t we make you some breakfast, Robby?  We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”