Boxers' Revenge

[6 word request: football coach shrunk by rival humiliation]

Cody grimaced as he entered the gym. Hoss and Dex were still there, busting out their last set of curls. They were the last three in the gym--the rest of the team had headed to the dining hall--and it was going to be up to them to solve it.

“Guys you will not believe this!” Cody said. Big Hoss, 300 pounds of chubby strength, didn’t break his eye contact with the barbell and his massive biceps as he curled. Pretty Dex was flashing sexy come-fuck-me looks into the mirror, flexing his abs (he always lifted in a half-shirt) as he admired the unbelievable pump in his huge arms.

“Guys! For serious!” Cody shouted. Neither of his teammates paid him any mind until they tossed their weights down.

“Fucking hungry, bro,’ Hoss groaned, grabbing his big belly. “Tell me on the way to the gym.”

“It’s about coach!” Cody said. Suddenly he had the two athletes’ attention.

They followed Cody out to the parking lot behind the athletic center. Coach’s jeep was there, doors open, interior lights on, keys in the ignition.

“Why would coach just leave his car like this?” Hoss stammered, his eyes almost crossing as he tried to work things out.

“I 1000% think this is the work of the goddamned Boxers!” Cody said with a sneer, spitting at the mention of their rival team, the Basil College Boxers.

Dex shrugged, chugging the rest of his gatorade. “Maybe,” he said. “I mean, it would make sense as a retaliation move, especially since the big game is this Sunday. But we should call his phone first before we bring the cavalry that way.”

Dex lifted the lid on the trash barrel at the edge of the parking lot but paused before he tossed his empty gatorade bottle. “What the fuck?” he said.

Cody and Hoss hustled to Dex’s side. “What’s up?” Cody asked.

“This is… too fucked,” Dex said, reaching into the trash barrel. He plucked out a pair of grey sweatpants, a Granite State Goliaths sweatshirt, and a whistle. Finally, he plucked out a phone and held it up alongside two loafers.

“That’s coach’s phone,” Cody said, turning the device in his hand.

“Fuck,” Dex said. “What do we do now?”

Cody shook his head. “I say we don’t even wait for the others. A tight end,” he said, slapping Cody’s broad shoulders, “and two lineman,” he said, punching Hoss’ solid girth and beating his own broad, beefy chest, “are enough to handle those Boxer bitches. Let’s head there right fucking now!”

*

Coach Daniels rattled the bars of his cage, wondering if he could work one free, The well-built bald man stroked his moustache as he paced the perimeter of his “prison”--which seemed to be store bought, and made for hamsters, complete with a wheel and an overturned water bottle.

THe room beyond his cage was dark, but suddenly it filled with light. He covered his eyes and crouched down as he felt the earth tremble slightly. Three enormous men--they seemed a hundred feet tall each from his perspective--thundered into the room. One crouched down and leered at the edge of the cage, shaking some of his long blonde bangs out of his face. If Coach Daniels had been full-sized, he would have broken those pretty cheekbones with two punches. He estimated that at the moment he was about six inches tall, meaning his ability to strongarm his way out of this situation was non-existent.

“Look at his little dick!” said another of them--Specter, the right guard for the Boxers. Daniels had been around enough oversized athletes that guys the size of small elephants no longer fazed him--but at this perspective, realizing that Specter could squash him in one chubby palm or tuck him into a burrito (which he imagined Specter inhaling whole), Daniels felt a little intimidated. There was no way he was going to show it though.

“You boys are in a lot of trouble,” Daniels said, crossing his arms. The blonde, the Boxers’ quarterback, was a smug senior, last name McNally. He poked a pencil through the bars of the cage, eraser first, and nudged Daniels’ cock and balls. The gritty coach didn’t even flinch.

“You know, if you weren’t smaller than my entire cock,” McNally said with a greasy smile, “I would say you’re actually pretty well-hung. And not in bad shape either, although I bet we have to measure your bench press PR in ounces now.”

Daniels swiped a beefy arm at the invading pencil, shoving it away. Angrily, McNally shoved the eraser into Daniels’ chest, knocking him down.

Daniels was back on his feet almost immediately.

“You’re definitely a man who can’t admit when he’s in a losing position,” said the third building-sized man. As he lowered his thick body, Daniels recognized his lantern-jaw and bristly beard immediately: Shep Smithers, a lineman who had played for him for one year before transferring to Basil College.

“Look at you!” Daniels said, honestly impressed with how much Shep had filled out in the years since playing for the Goliaths. The 240 pound freshman was now a full-sized doorway-filling 330 pound tackle, although at Daniels’ height, it was tough to accurately eyeball a player’s weight. “Turns out jumping ship to a team shitty enough to start you has made your fat ass bigger than your ego!”

Shep moved with a quickness that belied his size, grabbing the cage and shaking it, holding it on its side. Daniels tumbled through the air, falling against the bars behind him. He gazed down at the incredible fall beyond, hoping the bars would hold. “You think we’re fucking around, don’t you?”

“No, I think you’re fucking UP,” Daniels said as he stared into the movie-screen sized face of the beefy man-mountain. “You realize what you’re doing is considered kidnapping, right? You guys ready to end your football careers AND end up behind bars? Wait until your coach hears about this.”

“He did hear about it,” said a fourth voice. Wes Abner, coach of the Boxers, strutted up behind Shep. He reached over and casually flicked the latch on Daniels’ cage door, snatching Daniels out so fast he didn’t even have time to escape the invading hand.

“Why don’t you boys beat go order a pizza or something? I’ll have a word with our little rival coach here.”

Abner’s grip was firm, nearly to the point of being crushing. Daniels looked down over the clenched fist surrounding him at the jiggling pot-belly below, then up at the greying mop of hair on Abner’s weathered-looking face. Coaching the Boxers had certainly aged the guy quite a bit in the last few years.

“Lemme guess,” Daniels said as Abner opened the door to his office. “Your boys snagged something from the science department, laced my after-practice cigar with it, and that’s why I shrank out of my damned clothes in my jeep.”

Abner chuckled as he locked the door behind him. He tossed Daniels casually on his desk and had a seat. “Have you read your school’s charter?” he said, his mouth open, his tongue tracing the edges of his teeth.

“I’ve glanced at it once or twice,” Daniels said.

Abner lit up a cigar. “Cigar sounded good. Mind if I smoke?” he said, exhaling a massive cloud so thick Coach Daniels couldn’t even see Abner until it cleared. He coughed and sputtered but struggled to stay upright, shoulders back, big chest thrust out. No way was he going to show weakness, despite being action-figure sized.

“The fuck does our charter have to do with anything?” Daniels said.

Abner gloated like a fat toad as he stared down at Daniels. He knocked Daniels over with a chubby finger. As Daniels struggled to his feet, he knocked him down again.

“Turns out both of our schools were founded by witches,” Abner said. Daniels rolled his eyes and made a jerk-off motion. “If I were you,” Abner said, his tone changing, “I’d show a little more respect before you end up tossed in with our team’s dirty jockstraps.”

“Okay, fine,” Daniels said, although the mention of the jockstraps made his dick jump a little. He hoped Abner didn’t see.

“Now,” Abner continued, puffing on his cigar a bit. “The witches that formed our school used to be of the same coven until the split. They battled each other for years. As the schools shifted to more… secular management… the witchcraft became buried, but it’s still here. All around us.”

“You don’t say,” Daniels said.

“Might I point out that you’re small enough to shove into a microwave, little man?” Abner threatened. “That, right there, should be enough evidence!”

“Okay, okay,” Daniels said, unable to argue. “The fuck does that have to do with anything? Why am I souvenir-sized?”

“Our schools’ annual rivalry invokes a little bit of magic,” Abner said. “And bad sportsmanship was not looked upon kindly by our eldritch forefathers.”

Daniels threw his arms out. “We haven’t even played the damned game yet? How the fuck are we being bad sports?”

Abner shook his head. “You took something of ours,” he said. “Your players stole something of ours. The statue from our trophy case, the mahogany Boxer, is missing.”

Daniels froze. Those damned idiots, he thought. “What makes you think our guys did it?”

Abner put a hand on Daniels’ head, pressing down until Daniels was flat on the desk. “I’d say your impressive five-pound physique would be as much proof as I need,” he said. “Once your team desecrated our artifact, we were able to choose whatever vengeance we wanted. It pays to read the school charter, mini-man.”

Daniels nodded. “What say I get your statue back?” he said.

“Well,” Abner said with a shrug, “you’d remain at this size for a little while, until whatever arcane judge in charge of this stuff decides that your slight has been repaid. You may have to coach your team from someone’s jacket pocket, little man.”

“Would still be ten times the coach you are,” Daniels said through gritted teeth. He braced himself to be knocked across the room but Abner just laughed. He pulled out his phone.

“Shep? Yeah, get your big ass back in my office. I’ve decided to let you and your boys have a little fun.”

*

It was 11 PM when the three Goliath players arrived outside the Basil College athletic center.

“Holy shit!” Dex said as he pulled out his phone. “Are you fucking kidding me? Did you guys get this picture?”

Hoss and Cody’s phones vibrated as well. They all got the same picture: Coach Daniels shoved into a jockstrap worn by some big beefy man. All they could see was the big bulge behind the coach, and the cloud of pubes above his head.

“Dude, is this for real?” Hoss asked. “They like… Shoved him into a jock with somebody’s dick already in it?”

Cody shook his head. “Dammit,” he said. “You know what we have to do?”

“Yeah!” Dex said. “Call the NCAA! We gotta report their fucking asses! They’ll be shut down so fucking fast…”

“First we have to get coach back,” Cody insisted. “We gotta give back that stupid dog statue.”

Hoss shook his head. “No way, man. Fuck the Boxers.”

“Actually,” Dex said, scratching himself through his basketball shorts, “to be honest? Hoss is right. Fuck them. We steal a fucking thing and they make our coach ride a cock like it’s a bucking bronco?”

Cody shook his head. “Hoss, get the statue. It’s in the trunk, right?” Hoss nodded as they parked. He headed to the back of the car and popped the trunk. “Dex, you let me do the talking, okay?” Cody said. “We don’t need you mouthing off in there, and Hoss isn’t great at thinking on his feet.”

“Or thinking at all,” Dex said. They approached the building, heading for the only room still lit up at this hour. Cody’s phone rang.

“How close are you?” said a vaguely familiar voice.

“Literally right outside your athletic department,” Cody said. Hoss had the duffel bag with the dog in it held against his brawny chest.

“Stay in the parking lot,” said the voice. “We’ll make the switch in ten minutes.”

Cody recognized the pretty blonde as the Boxers’ quarterback, as well as one of their tight ends, but his blood boiled when he saw the third man: it was Shep Smithers, the guy who defected from their team years ago and transferred to Basil. It looked like he’d been on a steady diet of cheeseburgers and growth hormones since that year. He held a metal cage in his hands.

“You have the coach?” Cody demanded. Shep nodded.

“Good to see you again, big guy,” Shep said with a grin. “You losing weight? Trying to be a wide receiver or something?”

“Give us the coach, Shep,” he said, cautiously approaching the big man.

“Give us our Boxer first,” Shep demanded.

Hoss slowly approached the blonde quarterback, handing over the duffel bag.

Cody reached forward and snatched the cage from Shep’s hands. “You okay coach?” he asked without breaking eye contact with the big tackle patting his girthy stomach as Cody walked away.

“Yeah, I’m good, let’s get the fuck out of here, boys,” Daniels said.

Cody handed the cage to Hoss and they peeled out of the parking lot. Dex stuck his middle finger out the window as they pulled away.

“Holy shit, what did they do to you!” Hoss said, staring in the cage. With his thick fingers he fumbled with the door, finally just punching it in and snatching the tiny coach from inside.

Daniels was wearing a silky red dress that looked like it belonged on a Barbie. A curly red wig was stuck on his head. Hoss grabbed at it but Daniels shouted.

“It’s glued,” he said grimly. “We’ll have to get something to soften it so you don’t yank my brain out.”

Daniels stripped off the dress and tossed it aside. Written in Sharpie across his big brawny chest were the words: “PROPERTY OF THE BASIL COLLEGE BOXERS”

“Those assholes!” Dex said, leaning up from the back seat. Daniels turned around and they saw, scrawled across his rippling back, “INSERT CUM HERE” with an arrow pointing down to his ass. There was a cartoonish eye drawn on each of his muscular cheeks.

“What else did they do to you?” Cody asked.

“You wouldn’t fucking believe it,” Daniels said.

“Why do you smell like farts, coach/” Hoss said, leaning in and sniffing the air.

“Don’t ask,” Daniels said. “And there’s not a damned thing we can do about it either. All because you little shits stole that dog!”

“We didn’t know they were gonna… you know… miniaturize you!” Hoss said. Daniels was having a hard time standing on Hoss’s broad thighs, so he hopped to the center console.

“We’ll report them,” Dex said. “Fuck them. At least those three’ll be ineligible to play on Sunday. They’re the three best players on their team!”

“We can’t,” Daniels muttered. Cody tapped the brakes and the little coach toppled into a cup holder. He stood back up, struggling to maintain his dignity despite the silly wig and the graffiti scrawled all over him. “Some old curse on our schools, I guess. You guys stealing their statue let them choose an equivalent punishment for us. I don’t exactly think this is ‘equivalent’ but it’s all specifically within the rules. Abner even gave me the phone to let me tell the police what was going on but… some sort of magic shit, I couldn’t say what was happening. Weird as hell.”

“So what do we do?” Cody asked.

Daniels shook his head. He strutted up to the stereo and shoved the ON button, clicking through the stations as he tweaked the volume. It all seemed to take a lot out of his exhausted, muscular little body,

“Now that we returned the statue,” Daniels said, “we just gotta wait until it wears off. With any luck I’ll be six feet tall again by this weekend.”

“And if not?” Dex asked.

“If not, you’ll only need half a cupful of gatorade to dump on me after we stomp the Boxers into the goddamned ground.”

“I don’t feel so good,” Hoss said, rubbing his big belly.

“Me neither,” Cody said, rolling down the windows. “Feel like I’m gonna… barf…”

Dex, in the backseat, writhed and groaned as well.

“The fuck?” Daniels asked as the athletes who had rescued him started sweating and moaning. With a loud POP Daniels watched as each of the football players suddenly disappeared--the same way he had--their clothes fluttering down, now empty of their big athletic bodies.

Daniels’ eyes went wide as he saw a tiny lump under Hoss’ t-shirt start to wriggle toward him. He watched as the big center climbed out the neckhole of his shirt, naked and a head taller than the coach, as they’d been at their full sizes.

“What the fuck!” Daniels shouted. “How is this possible?” He watched as Cody climbed out of his shorts and heard Dex yelling for help from the back seat. They were all miniature men now.

They heard a passing car’s engine suddenly slow, heard it park, and Daniels looked for cover as they heard footsteps approach the car. He dove between the driver’s seat and the center console as the door yanked open. Shep, with a sack in his hand, snatched up tiny Cory and spit in his face before tossing him in the bag.

McNally opened the back door and snatched up Dex, who screamed as McNally shoved the tiny tight end down his pants before letting a massive fart rip.

Specter had Hoss in his pudgy hands a moment later. Hoss screamed as Specter dangled him over his mouth, the chonky lineman’s thick limbs flailing as he fell toward the open mouth. A moment later, only Hoss’ big ass and massive legs kicked from Specter’s smirking lips before getting slurped in with the rest of him.

“You can’t eat him,” Shep said. He held out a hand. “Spit him out.” Specter, his mouth full, paused for a moment before coughing out the saliva-soaked Hoss into Shep’s hand. “You do more harm than just humiliation and maybe you’ll be the one shrinking, buddy,” he said.

Daniels froze as Shep’s phone flashlight beamed down at him. He tried to wriggle lower in the seats but the huge lineman’s big paw snatched him up. “Your boys tried to pull a fast one on us,” Shep said, licking his big tongue the length of little Daniels’ body. “But looks like we get some bonus mascots now instead. We’re gonna dress you guys up as little Boxer dogs and make you do tricks on the sidelines while we pummel your team into dust.”

“And it’s all legal!” McNally said as he grabbed the real Boxer statue from the trunk.

“Coach says that little trick your boys pulled is going to cost you. You guys might be this small for the rest of the season!”

“Wonder if we’ve got enough ideas to keep them busy?” Specter said as they slammed the car doors shut.

“I’ve got about a million and one ideas,” Shep said, tossing Daniels into the sack with the other tiny Goliaths, “and I’m coming up with new ones all the time.”