Teeny Tiny Chad

Read the last part of this story here.

Those watching the video would see a close-up of a mammoth pec, crunching and flexing as a man, face just off camera, grunted and moaned. His thick hand grabbed his own mound of chest muscle, giving the bloated meat a squeeze as he loudly exhaled.

“This thing’s as big as your fucking head…” The deep bovine voice was very obviously modulated but matched the man’s massive physique appropriately enough. “Giant Chad’s bigger than anything you’ve ever seen before…”

Chad waddled backward so that his body, knee-up, was in frame. His physique had grown out to grotesque proportions; just carrying around all that mass seemed to be an exhausting feat. Somehow he had squeezed his body into a blue and gold wrestling singlet that looked like it was about to burst at any second. The straps dangled around his waist; he clearly couldn’t pull it up over his torso.

Chad raised up his arms and flared his lats, looking much like a human blimp of solid flesh. His traps rose up so high they nearly touched his ears, making his head look comically small. “You want to worship this giant body?” he groaned, raising a bicep up for a kiss. The size of his arms made bending them difficult, and the huge delts piled up like big shoulder pads made getting his biceps near his face nearly impossible. Chad struggled for a few seconds, then just blew a kiss at his just-out-of-reach biceps head. “You wanna dig your face in these muscle pits?” He raised his arms as high as he could revealing a dense crevice where his arms, pecs and lats all converged, deep enough that a man could sink his whole tongue in. Stretch marks radiated out like tiger stripes.

“What’s bigger than Giant Chad, hunh?” the musclebeast groaned as he stomped down a foot and hit a most muscular pose.

Suddenly a hand descended into frame. It seemed at first like forced perspective, held close to the camera to look bigger, until the index finger on the hand jabbed Chad in the back of the head, nearly knocking him over.

“...the fuck?!” Chad barked, clearly not suspecting the assault. He swung big meaty fists at the intruding digits but all that mass moved to slow and the hand pulled just out of reach.

Suddenly the hand reached in and snagged Chad by the loose singlet straps, yanking him off the ground. The camera panned back, showing that Chad was actually standing in a shoebox. The grey walls around him were actually painted sheets of cardboard. Chad looked like a parade float dangling from the fingers, kicking his arms and legs to no avail (his movement all but entirely restricted by his bulk).

“Put me the fuck down!” Whatever had been altering his voice before had clearly shut off; Chad’s protests squeaked out with a high pitch that neutralized his intimidating physique. The hand bounced him like a yo-yo, then swung him back and forth. He wailed and moaned as he flew around, out of control, narrowly missing the sides of the shoebox. “Stop! I’m gonna be sick!”

From off-camera, a normal voice (neither auto-tuned low or helium-high) spoke up: “Teeny Tiny Chad faces his ultimate challenge… a normal-sized head! Subscribe now and access the most ultimate thumb-wrestling you’ve ever seen. Expect literal smack-downs! And if Teeny Tiny Chad isn’t careful, he may get a pinky where the sun don’t shine!”

The hook of a coat hanger lowered into frame and the hand hung Chad upside-down on it. Momentum kept the big musclebeast swaying back and forth while he struggled fruitlessly and spewed ineffective expletives in his chirrupy voice.

* * *

“Cut!” Orville said, switching off the camera, but Chad didn’t respond, too busy flailing. “Y’know Chad, with abs as strong as yours, you think you’d be able to just sorta… flex yourself up. I mean, you weigh like 2 pounds. Jesus.”

“Let me the fuck down from hear!” Chad chirped.

“Jesus, y’know, Dean was right. It really hasn’t dawned on you how fucking helpless you are, has it?” Orville roughly yanked Chad off the hook and let him crash to the ground. Chad lay there for a moment, the wind knocked out of him, before struggling to get his huge body upright. “You’re like a fucking upside-down turtle. Jesus, this is just sad. Let me help.” Orville yanked Chad up by the singlet straps and set him on his feet. Chad stumbled around like he had just gotten off a roller coaster, then placed his hands on his quads and leaned over.

“You didn’t tell me… any of that… was gonna fucking happen…” Chad “growled”--more like tweeted, with his voice, but the angry intent was still clear.

“I told you this new camera could make it look like you were huge again,” Orville said. He was looking down at his phone, tapping and swiping as he talked to Chad with an evident lack of interest in the little musclehead. “I told you I could modulate your voice so you didn’t sound like a cartoon character. And I gave you your direction to do that stupid, ‘Look how big I am,’ shtick that somehow used to work for you. That’s all the information you need. You may be the star, but I’m the director.”

“Nobody wants to see you beat the shit out of me!” he said. “My fans want to see me flex! They want to worship me.”

Orville turned from his phone with a look of amusement. “For real? You’re TEENY TINY CHAD. They’re jerking off imagining their high school bully or the mean ogre at the gym is a helpless little insect. We have 800 subscribers--at 20 bucks a month--because YOU, Chad, are a helpless. Little.” He snatched Chad in his hand, tightening his fist around him. Chad’s elephantine body flexed, veins sticking out on his thick neck, but he couldn’t free himself from Orville’s grasp. Orville raised Chad up to his face, holding the little muscleman’s head up to his mouth before he spat out the final word: “INSECT.” Then Orville tossed Chad back into the shoebox like he was so much garbage.

Chad stumbled around before rising to his feet again. “Where’s Dean? There’s no way he would be okay with this.”

Orville smirked. “Chad, Dean is going to lose his mind when he realizes that rent, and all the debt he racked up taking care of you, is all taken care of. All we have on the site right now is the candid content, the videos of you waddling around your aquarium like a roided out hamster. When we start releasing the event videos, like Thumb Wrestling and Chad Takes a Bath, people are going to go nuts.”

Chad stared at the ground, rubbing bruises from the fall. “No way. Dean is gonna kick you the fuck out. No way is he gonna be okay with you abusing me like this.”

Orville chuckled. “Aw, is the big tough muscleman gonna cwy?” Chad flipped Orville the middle finger. “Hang on little guy, let me get my magnifying glass out so I can see that.”

“I’m not doing anything else,” Chad set, folding his arms. “I’m not doing shit until Dean gets home. So fuck you and fuck your website.”

Orville grinned. “Actually, with our next video I don’t need you to do anything.” Orville stood up and left the room. Despite the fact he was glad that Orville was gone, Chad still felt massive anxiety from the abandonment, replaced by dread when Orville finally returned. In his hands he held the lid to the shoebox, but it looked like it had a few alterations to it: there were small lights wired in each of the corners, plus a tube jutting out from the top like a makeshift exhaust pipe.

“Our subscribers are going to love this,” he said.

“What is it? What are you gonna do?” Chad said, backing away slowly.

“First, let’s get you out of this stupid thing.” Orville put his finger and thumb under Chad’s armpits and lifted him easily, tugging off the singlet with his other hand. Then he plopped Chad back into the shoebox.

Chad did his best to cover his exposed cock, although lat thickness got in the way.

“This is a little two-birds, one stone situation,” Orville said, fitting the lid of the shoebox down carefully. Chad stood there in darkness until he heard a click and the lights turned on. Chad tried to shield his eyes. “You ready big guy?”

Once he had adjusted to the brightness, Chad saw there was also a camera attached to the shoebox lid. He heard a few thumps on the top of his cardboard prison. “Ready big guy?”

“I’m not doing anything!” Chad shouted back. “You can’t make me!”

“We’ll see what you say in a few minutes,” Orville’s voice boomed through the box. Then Chad heard a click--was that a lighter?--and heard a crackle, like something was burning. Then, in through the exhaust tube came a pillar of dense white smoke. Chad backed away, terrified, until he smelled it: pot smoke. Orville was smoking weed and exhaling it into the box.

“This video’s going to be called ‘Hot Boxing’--and with any luck it will help you quit your sniveling and complaining for once.”

Chad heard the click, the burning, then watched another plume of white fill the room. Chad backed up, choking, but the whole shoebox was now hazy with marijuana smoke. Chad held his breath as long as he could; his lungs gave out just as another burst of smoke filled the room.

Choking and coughing, Chad put his hands on his head. His whole body was tingling, his head swimming. He could hear Orville laughing outside. It infuriated him--but deep inside, he started to feel… good. Too good to admit to his captor.

“We’ll see how you feel after a little while breathing that,” Orville’s voice boomed. Suddenly solid objects fell through the exhaust pipe. Were the cannonballs? Chad waddled close to see, waving the smoke away with his hands. They were M&Ms.

“I’ve got a family size bag out here, big man,” Orville said. “I know candy’s not on your ‘Muscle stud diet’ but let’s see how breathing my secondhand weed smoke for an hour makes you reconsider. And let’s see how Teeny Tiny Chad looks stuffed full of candy.”