Favorite Macro Tropes: Table Turn on the Cocky Bully

Brett couldn’t believe that scrawny little nerd was interrupting just as he was about to seal the deal with--what was her name? Jessica? Didn’t matter. The little dork tapped Brett’s beefy delt again and cleared his throat. Brett told Jessica to hang on--”This is just gonna take a sec,” Brett said, rolling his eyes.

Facing the little worm, Brett looked down over his big pecs and flexed them. His v-neck was so tight, those mounds of muscle really looked intimidating bouncing like that. “We got a problem buddy?” Brett said.

“You don’t even know my name, do you?” the nerd said. “It’s Zack, by the way. I want you to know exactly who’s going to humiliate you in front of everyone here.” Zack stood up bravely, all 5 feet and 100 pounds of him, and adjusted his glasses with a determined grimace.

Brett chuckled, looked over at Jessica and thumbed at the skinny nuisance. “Guy’s the size of one of my thighs and he wants to take me on in public. Look, see?” He slapped his tight jeans-covered quads and flexed his legs, which did look like it could squash Zack all on its own.

“What’s his problem?” Jessica asked, clearly irritated at the interruption but curious how it was going to turn out.

Brett shrugged and smirked. “His ex was in love with me. It’s not like I fucked her or anything--”

“Not like you could fuck her, you little-dicked no-neck moron!” Zack said. He was shaking now. He clearly wanted a fight.

A crowd had formed and Brett surveyed the circle around them. “Kick his ass!” shouted Brett’s lifting partner Stone, who pounded his chest and growled at the idea of a little violence to liven things up.

“Last warning, pipsqueak,” Brett said with his hands on his hips, bent at the waist and leering down at the mouthy little wimp in front of him. “You think I wouldn’t hit you just because I take shits bigger than you? I guarantee everybody’s gonna cheer once I knock your fucking teeth in.”

“I fucking dare you,” Zack said, and then in a surprising move he cleared his throat and hawked a wad of thick brown phlegm right into Brett’s face.

Wiping off the scrum with the back of his hand, Brett decided he’d entertained the little maggot long enough. He balled off his fist, swung hard enough to put Zack through the wall…

...but the punch never landed. Brett blinked, his whole body tingling as he realized somehow Zack had caught his hand--and somehow Zack was now a whole head taller than he was!

“...the fuck? How?” Brett felt nauseous and dizzy as he tried to figure out how Zack, who was smiling wide as he held Brett’s fist tightly in his grip--had turned into a 7-foot tall giant! Then Brett looked around, his knees shaking as he realized everyone in the room seemed huge, even Jessica behind him. Brett’s eyeline only came up to her tits now.

“Was that really your best?” Zack started squeezing Brett’s fist so hard he thought his hand might break. Then the little twerp--who was now bigger than he was!--put a foot on Brett’s chest and shoved him back into the crowd.

Hitting the ground so hard knocked the wind out of Brett. He wheezed and choked as he struggled to get back on his feet. The crowd around him backed away, obviously just as shocked by what was going on as he was. Brett panicked--an emotion he wasn’t very familiar with--as Zack approached him threateningly.

It didn’t matter what was going on or how this freak was doing this; Brett had to knock Zack the fuck out, and fast. He grabbed a nearby barstool and hoisted it overhead, surprised at its size and heft. Zack lunged at him and Brett went to swing…

...but another wave of dizziness overcame him. The stool over his head seemed impossibly heavy all of a sudden and Brett toppled backward. “How the fuck are you doing this?” Brett said in a shockingly high-pitched voice. He was now about as tall as the toppled over stool next to him, putting him just above knee-level to everyone else in the room.

Now Zack bent at the waist with his hands on his hips. As Brett struggled to his feet, Zack pushed him back to the floor with one hand. Brett hopped to his feet again and Zack shoved him down again. Some of the people in the crowd had started to laugh!

“I can do this all night ‘big guy’!” Zack chuckled. “I dunno if anyone’s interested,” Zack announced to the bar, “but little Brett here is about perfect size for dick-sucking height! Look at all those cute little muscles in his tight t-shirt and jeans.”

As more laughter ensued, Brett realized the others in the bar were starting to side with the maniac who was doing this to him. He raced for the door behind him (which seemed farther away now that Brett’s strides had been reduced), weaving around enormous legs and feet, when…

...another wave hit him, and Brett found himself staring at a sneaker that was as tall as he was. As he looked up, up, up the leg attached to it, he saw a man the size of a building. Brett’s legs went week and he collapsed to the floor as recognition hit him: earlier, a guy had bumped into him and bounced off like he had hit a brick wall. Brett remembered laughing at the same man whose massive foot now stomped the floor just feet to Brett’s right, causing a shock wave that actually bounced Brett off the floor.

“Excuse me,” Zack’s booming (to Brett) voice echoed through the room. “Can you grab my little midget there? I’m fine with him getting squashed but I’d rather play with him a little bit first.”

As a giant hand came for Brett, he took off, dodging other massive feet stomping down around him. Giant heads swung down at him as people tried to get a look at him. He dodged huge snatching hands and stomping feet on all sides as people bustled around like there was a rodent loose.

The door--which was only barely recognizable as such now--seemed about a mile away. There was no way Brett could make it there without getting squished by all of these feet slamming down around him. He squealed--a sound so high-pitched he barely realized it came from him--as long red talons swiped at him, then caught him by the back of his t-shirt, lifting him up. It took him a minute to recognize them as a woman’s painted red nails, only bigger than his whole head.

He rose so quickly he thought he was going to puke, but managed to keep it to a low moan as Jessica’s movie-screen-sized face came into view.

“Jessica!” he chirped. “Jessica, help me!”

Her eyes went wide. “Holy shit, you are… so small!”

Brett yelped as her fingers let go until he slammed into her open palm several feet (to him) below. He couldn’t believe the feel of her hand below him: the ridges of her fingerprints, the way everything swayed every time she took a step. He felt like he could tumble off at any moment. Cautiously he peered over the edge of her palm to see the sickening drop to the floor below.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take that little insect off your hands,” said Zack’s voice.

“Please! Don’t!” Brett squeaked. She smirked at the sound of Brett’s voice. He pounded his teeny fists on her palm in frustration.

“Here you go!” she said, tilting her hand. Brett tumbled helplessly into a tight fist that closed around him, holding him tight in the fetal position. It was no use struggling, he knew. His strong muscles were useless against the hand around him. The pressure rose as the fist clenched. Brett screamed as he feared being squashed. Then it all relieved and the fist opened. Brett shielded his eyes from the sudden light and stared up helplessly into Zack’s enormous face.

The big tormentor stuck out his tongue and jabbed it at Brett. There was no escape: the spit-slicked tongue traveled up and down Brett’s body while he beat his meaty limbs against it. Hundreds of nubs along the surface of the tongue rubbed Brett’s skin raw. He shivered when he realized Zack was tasting him.

“Bet tonight didn’t go the way you planned!” Zack taunted. “I bet you wish you were up to your neck in booze right now, don’t you?”

Brett stared up at Zack, who seemed to be waiting for a response. He nodded meekly.

“Wish granted, insect!”

The hand suddenly turned upside down. Brett wrapped his big arms around Zack’s middle finger, holding on for dear life, but Zack’s hand shook him loose. Brett tumbled through the air, seeing Zack’s glass of beer below him. Another tingly wave hit him and Brett was overwhelmed by vertigo…

...Brett plunged into icy liquid, so deep he never hit the bottom. He struggled for the surface and gasped for breath as the cold amber liquid fizzed and bubbled around him. He could see the rest of the bar distorted through the sides of the beer glass as well as Zack’s leering face filling the sky above. The crowd in the bar was starting to disperse, resuming whatever they were doing before.

“Somebody do something!” Zack yelled, beating against the beer glass, but there was no way anyone could hear him.

“Feelin’ thirsty after all that excitement,” Zack boomed. Brett shrieked as the glass tilted, all of the liquid sliding away from him in a torrent Brett seemed helpless to fight. He swam as fast as he could away from the giant lips below him… and then everything tilted back. Exhausted, Brett did his best to stay afloat, choking and sputtering on beer he swallowed while he avoided being swallowed himself.

“I think that’s enough,” said a familiar voice. Through the glass Brett saw big neckless Stone strut up, big arms crossed. After all that had happened, Brett had actually forgot that, to everyone else, Zack was still a scrawny little pipsqueak. Brett’s heart fluttered as he realized he might actually be saved. Stone was big as a fridge. He could squash Zack with no problem!

“I think I’m just getting started,” Zack said.

“Give me the beer,” Stone said. Zack pulled the beer closer to him. Brett moaned as Stone grew farther away.

“I think not,” Zack said. “Actually, I’ve got a great idea. You want this beer so bad? Arm-wrestle me for it.”

Stone chuckled. He probably didn’t even notice that he flexed his cannon-sized arms at the suggestion.

“You fucking serious?” Stone said. “I’m gonna snap your arm like a twig.”

“Arm-wrestle,” Zack repeated. Brett sloshed around the glass as Zack walked toward a table, setting the glass on it. Zack rolled up his sleeve, revealing his skinny little arm. “Winner gets the beer, and whoever happens to be floating in it. Deal?”

“No!” Brett yelled. “Just grab the glass! Grab me and run, Stone! Don’t do it!”

But Stone couldn’t hear Brett. He rolled up his own sleeve, flexed his 24” biceps, and got into position. Another crowd had started to form, all to Zack’s enjoyment. Stone’s hand swallowed up Zack’s as they took their spots.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Stone said. “Give me your best shot.”

Zack smirked. “Done,” he said. At first he pressed as hard as he could. Stone didn’t even flinch.

“Come on, man. That beer’s as good as mine,” he said.

“Don’t be so sure,” Zack said. Brett felt something in the air, like static electricity, and Stone’s whole body seemed to pop. In one second Stone went from being 6’ tall (skyscraper-sized by Brett’s perspective) to half that. His body was the same bulky meathead proportions, his clothes still stretched to their limit on his beefy frame, but now his feet didn’t even touch the floor. His feet dangled from the table as he looked around, wide-eyed, unable to resist as Zack easily slammed his tiny fist down on the table.

“You didn’t even put up a fight,” Zack taunted as he let go of Stone’s hand. Stone fell back to the ground, suddenly waist-high to everyone around him. “If you’re smart, and you back off now, I’ll leave you like that. If you’re stupid, you’re going to end up in the glass with your buddy here.”

Stone slowly rose to his height and backed away. “Sorry...sir,” he said in a pipsqueaky voice. An average-sized guy gave Stone a shove. The little musclehead stumbled to the ground, then rose meekly to his feet, accepting the role his new size dictated.

“In fact, get me some chicken wings,” Zack ordered. “I’m starving.” Stone opened his mouth to say something back, then walked to the bar with his head down. He tugged on a waitress’ skirt to get her attention and place his order. “Better drain the lizard before I eat a whole meal, right?” Zack said into the glass.

The glass shook and rumbled with every step, Brett smacking against the sides. When Zack entered the restroom, every man inside wisely zipped up and hurried out. “See how much people respect you when you learn a few magic tricks?” Zack said to Brett, who could barely stay afloat in the beer now. Maybe it would be best to just give up, let himself drown… He could barely handle the shame of the idea that he would meet his end in an inch of beer.

Things got worse when he heard the rumble of Zack’s zipper and realized the glass was sitting on top of the urinal. “Don’t tell me you want to get a look at my dick!” Zack said with a chuckle. “I can see why, it’s about three times the size of you now.” Zack picked up the glass with one hand as I pulled his dick from his pants with the other. Then he tipped the glass, sending Brett tumbling through the air, only to splashdown in the urinal’s cold depths.

Brett swam to the surface only to catch a hot, powerful stream of urine that pushed him right back under. He swam a few feet away and rose for some air only to get doused by the urine stream again. He couldn’t take much more of this… and then the force of the stream died down. Brett gasped for breath as Zack’s enormous cock finally let out its last few drips.

“So, what would be a fitting end to you, Mr. Brett?” Zack’s hand rose to the flush lever. Brett didn’t even flinch. He was exhausted, could barely breathe, and was ready for all of this to be over. Then Zack’s hand fell away from the lever. “It’s no fun flushing you if you don’t beg. Plus, I just thought of something way better.” Zack stepped away and snapped his fingers. Brett felt the tingling much more ferociously. He barely had time to react as he felt himself tumbling out of the urinal, hitting the floor (which was, thankfully, only a few feet away).

He lay there, soaking wet, for a few moments as he caught his breath. He examined the floor tiles, happy to see they were a recognizable size again. He looked around the bathroom, relieved that it was a reasonable size once again. He backed away from the urinal he’d almost drowned in, then weakly rose to his feet.

Looking down at his body, his jaw went slack: gone were the pleasing bulges of his tall, well-built bodybuilder physique. His body looked squished down, as if he’d taken his old mass and compressed it into half the height. His torso looked like a swollen tick, his stumpy arms and legs sticking out at odd angles as his musculature seemed to fight against itself for space. His pecs ballooned out ridiculously, a shelf he could fit a whole tray of drinks on. As he tried to pat himself down to make sure it was truly real, he found he could barely bend his arms enough to reach most of his body.

He looked up Zack, whose grin was wider than ever. “That’s perfect!” he said. “You were too tall anyway. That’s the perfect height for you--and look how big those muscles look! Very manly.”

Brett guessed he had to be just over 3 feet in height. Zack left the room and Brett waddled after him, unable to keep up on his stumpy, nearly inflexible legs. If someone were to give him a stern shove, he would tip over, despite all of his powerful muscle mass. He imagined himself getting trapped like a flipped turtle, unable to get up without help.

He cautiously peered out the bathroom door to see the bar crowd. At the table they had left, Zack sat with Jessica as Stone brought them a tray of chicken wings. Brett toddled out on his awkwardly huge legs, hoping no one would notice. But who could miss 250 pounds of muscle on a 3 and a half foot frame?

“He looks like a balloon that’s about to pop!” said the guy who had almost stomped Brett to a pulp earlier.

“Somebody juice that berry, it looks ripe enough!” said someone else.

A woman reached down and pinched Brett’s blocky cheeks. “Aw, he’s so cute!”

Stone looked more shocked than anyone else. “Brett?” he squeaked. “That you?”

“Stone, let’s get the fuck out of here!” Brett said in his voice, which was just as midgety as his height implied. Brett started running for the door, no easy feet with his ballooned out thighs barely able to swing around each other. Brett lost his footing and started to tip backward, but Stone grabbed him with two hands and forced him back upright.

“Shit!” Stone said, sweating. “You’re so… fucking… heavy!”

“Let’s just get to my fucking car!”

Stone, whose still had the proportions of his 6’5” body (just shrunken down to 3’) of course got there first. When Brett finally got there, he struggled to reach for his keys, unable to get his stumpy arm past his thick lats to reach his pocket. “Help me, Stone!”

“Jesus!” Stone said as he tried to force his fingers into Brett’s tight jeans. “Your muscles feel like granite but they’re big as fucking watermelons! I can barely reach in there!” Finally he pried the keys loose and got them in the door. Stone hopped in the driver’s seat, then looked down, distraught, as he realized he couldn’t reach the pedals.

“Okay, you drive!” Stone said, hopping down to the floor of the car. “I’ll be gas and brake.”

Brett looked up into the driver’s seat, then down at his stumpy body. He backed up, got a little momentum going, and hopped, only to loose his grip and tumble onto his back. His glutes and lats were so blown up that his lower back was nowhere near the ground. Stone could have easily crawled through the arch it made. Brett wobbled himself from side to side while Stone tried to pull him to his feet, both of them knowing there was no way they would be able to drive once they got Brett upright again.