Trio of TFs: Tyler and Tony Part 3

[This story is inspired by the picture you can see here.]

Tyler took a break from flirting with the trio of women he’d sat with to look around the rooftop deck of Lunacy, the exclusive club he’d been spending his weekends at in the offseason. His “big” brother (who had been half his size since Tyler hit puberty, stomping around his high school at 6’6” tall after a massive growth spurt) had been hitting the scotch pretty hard that night. Tyler had been a little concerned when Tony had stumbled away to “go to the bathroom,” especially since he had headed in the wrong direction, but Tony was a grown man. He could take care of himself. Plus, three Parisian models had made eyes at Tyler, so he waved down the cocktail girl, ordered a round of champagnes, and sat down while they fawned over his big frame and asked him questions about the NFL.

Tyler was in a comfortable haze, champagne buzzed and heady on the beautiful blondes’ sweet perfumes (and their huge tits) when angry shouting caught his attention. Annoyed, he turned away from the three beautiful women to see his brother Tony shoving a silver-haired man in a suit just outside the VIP area. Two stocky security guards on either side of Tony each grabbed an arm. Regretting the fact that his brother couldn’t handle his liquor, Tyler excused himself from the gorgeous woman and rushed over to the commotion.

The two bodyguards shoved Tony hard, but just before the little guy hit the deck, big Tyler yanked him up by the shoulders, easily setting him back on his feet. As soon as the stunned Tony realized that his NFL-player brother had his back, he leapt back at the silver-haired man. Tyler held him back.

“You fucks are lucky Tyler won’t let me knock you out!” Tony barked. Tyler rolled his eyes. “You see the size of my brother here? You fuckers are dead! Hear me? He’s gonna crush you!”

Tyler took a look at the two security guards. They were each half his size; he could squash them if this were physical, but there was no way they weren’t armed beneath their blazers. Plus, now that he was close enough to see his face Tyler identified the silver-haired man: his name was Giorgio, the owner of the club.

“Look, guys,” Tyler began in a calm and diplomatic voice, “my brother here had one two many sips of scotch tonight, but I can promise you he’ll behave himself. Just let me drag him back over there, far away from you, and that’s the last you’ll hear from him.” Tony’s jaw dropped at this, but before he could say another word Tyler gave him a forceful shove to the chest. Tony fell silent despite his rage. Tyler had made it clear he wasn’t fucking around. There was no way Tyler was letting his jerkoff brother get him kicked out of his favorite club.

“This… piece of TRASH… is your brother?” Giorgio said, gesturing toward Tony like he was nothing. A small crowd was gathering around them. More well-dressed security guards, some with a finger over an obscured ear-piece, circled the commotion as well.

“He’s always my brother,” Tyler said, flashing his charming smile, “but he’s only occasionally a piece of trash.”

“Your maggot of a brother,” Giorgio said, crossing his arms and approaching Tyler, completely unimpressed by the big lineman’s massive stature, “seems to think he has a right to speak to the woman of my club. I assure you, Mr. Catalina, that had I not been such a fan of your patronage, I would have stopped this classless mutt at the door. It may have been a mistake to let him in, and if you would stand up for him… perhaps it was a mistake to let you in as well.”

Tyler wanted to one-handed hurl his brother right over the side of the 25 story building right then, but he kept his cool. “Let me take him home, then,” Tyler offered. “And I promise…” He cast a fierce glance at his drunken brother. “He will NOT be back.”

Giorgio thought for a moment, then waved his hand at them. The security guards then formed a wall between Giorgio and the two brothers, so Tyler grabbed his brother by his collar and dragged him toward the exit. He looked back where he’d been sitting. Two sleazebag rich guys in their fifties had moved in on his Parisian girls and they were eating it up. He exhaled loudly as he easily restrained Tony.

Tyler wouldn’t even look at Tony as they waited for the elevator, just tapping his size 18 while he crossed his thick arms and looked anywhere else. Tony vacillated between apologies and half-formed excuses for causing the ruckus: “I swear, Tyler, I never meant to fuck up your rep here… but that rich piece of shit thinks he can talk down to me, tell me which chicks I can and can’t flirt with, fuck him… but seriously, Tyler, I’m real sorry…”

Just as the elevator doors slid open, Tyler felt a tap on his back. Behind him one of the security staff, a thickly built (but half his height) black man stared up at big Tyler as he delivered his message: “Mr. Giorgio would like you two to know he has changed his mind. He’s above petty disagreements. He would like to welcome you back to the club, if you would oblige him.”

A smug sneer spread over Tony’s face, like he had just won an argument. Tyler thought sobering up might be a better strategy, calling it a night before Tony got them into more trouble, but the security guard was already leading his brother back into the club so Tyler followed to keep him out of trouble. People at private tables pointed and whispered as he passed. “Great,” Tyler thought. “Now I’ve got a reputation here.” Maybe after that night he would take a break from hanging out at Lunacy for a little while until all this blew over.

“Dude!” Tony said as the security guard led him into a roped-off area with a private booth and bottles of champagne in iced buckets. “Looks like we got a VIP upgrade!”

“Yeah,” Tyler said, nearly spitting his words as he leaned in and poked Tony in the chest. “And that’s after you got into a shoving match with the owner of this club, so consider this your one free chance, asshole.” He grabbed Tony by the shoulders and forced him to sit down. “Now sit down and chill out for awhile, okay? Don’t get me into any more trouble.”

Tony had barely popped open the bottle of bubbly before Giorgio approached them, flanked by two wide-shouldered bodyguards. Tyler immediately stood up and extended a hand. “Mr. Giorgio,” Tyler said with a big smile, “I just want to say how grateful we are for setting us up like this, especially after that… misunderstanding from before…”

“Yeah,” said Tony, slugging some champagne right from the bottle. “Honestly it was a real classy move. We appreciate it.”

Giorgio smiled thinly. “Of course, gentlemen. You are, Mr. Catalina, quite a valued guest of my establishment and I’m not so petty as to allow a simple squabble with a guest of yours to get in the way of your valued patronage.” He closed his eyes, clearly pleased with himself.

“We absolutely appreciate it,” Tyler said again.

“There is, if you would, one thing I would like you to do in exchange for my beneficence.” Giorgio stepped aside and a red-headed woman in a short black dress stepped forward. Tony leapt to his feet.

“Celeste!” Tony shouted. She winced at the sound of her name.

“This is the woman your brother insulted,” Giorgio said.

“All I did was buy her a drink!” Tony pleaded to Tyler. “I swear! I’d barely started talking to her when Mr. Bigshot here got in my face.” When Tony saw Tyler’s stony face, his demeanor changed to contrition. He let out a sigh, his head sagging. “I’m sorry for bothering you, Celeste,” he said. “And I’m sorry Mr. Giorgio. It won’t happen again.”

The little redhead looked away, seemingly ashamed that all this was happening. Mr. Giorgio stepped forward. “I’m afraid a simple apology won’t be enough,” he said. “Kneel,” he commanded Tony. “Hang your head in shame for what you did. Agree with me that you are, in fact, a piece of trash and unworthy of a moment of this beauty’s time.”

Tony actually sank to his knees, ready to go along with it, but Tyler stepped in. “Excuse me, Mr. Giorgio,” Tyler said, yanking his brother back up to his feet. “Tony apologized. There’s no need to make him jump through hoops now. We were leaving, remember? You invited us back.” It suddenly became clear to Tyler that he had only done that to further embarrass Tony. A crowd had gathered, no doubt prompted by Giorgio to attend the humiliating spectacle he had planned.

“You’re overstepping your bounds,” Giorgio lectured. Tyler stepped forward so that Giorgio had to stare up at him to meet his gaze, further accentuating the size difference between them. Security guards closed in but Tyler didn’t even flinch. He looked down at the wealthy little man before him and crossed his arms.

“If my brother’s apology wasn’t good enough, we’ll leave. Otherwise, we stay. But he’s not going to bow down to anybody.” Silence hung in the air after Tyler’s statement.

Giorgio stared unflinchingly for a few moments before eyeing the big lineman up and down. He scrunched up his nose like he had smelled something foul. “I’m sure, Mr. Catalina,” Giorgio said, gesturing at Tyler’s body, “that your size is quite valuable on the field. But here, in my club, it’s less than useless.”

Tyler didn’t budge. The tense moments that set in after seemed to last forever. Then, Giorgio snapped his fingers.

“This is a waste of a good evening,” Giorgio announced to the crowd. “I apologize that I allowed such a vulgar display to disrupt our festivities.” To Tyler and Tony, he added, “My good fellows, I let my temper get the best of me. Enjoy the champagne.” He walked away briskly, gesturing for Celeste to follow. Tyler backed into the booth and had a seat, pouring himself a drink. Tony stood dumbfounded for a bit.

“Holy shit, Tyler, I thought you were gonna snap that little guy in two!” Tony snickered.

“I wouldn’t have done that,” Tyler said.

“You could’ve though!” Tony said. He burped into the back of his hand. “I mean you could have easily squashed that little guy, and then pounded those other two guys into the ground like lawn pegs. I think he knew it, too! That’s why he backed off.”

“Honestly, after what’s gone on tonight, I think you should shut the fuck up,” Tyler said. He rubbed his aching balls through his pants; he’d spent way too much time talking to beautiful women that night to go home without closing the deal. There was no way any woman was going to approach them now, not after the big scene that literally everyone in the club had witnessed.

Tyler’s hopes (and his needy hard-on) jumped up as a woman with short black hair in a tight cocktail dress approached their table, but she addressed them with a formality that suggested she worked for the club. “Mr. Catalina,” she said, holding out a small wooden box. “Mr. Giorgio would like to present you with these as a token of good faith.” She opened the box to reveal to fat cigars. Their pungent aroma wafted over the table immediately. They looked pricey, and if Tyler wasn’t going to get laid that night, he might as well be puffing away on a nice cigar all night.

Tony reached out and snatched up a cigar, dragging it under his nose as he inhaled. “Wow! Tell Mr. Giorgio we said thank you!” Tony handed the other cigar to Tyler. The woman snipped the ends off for the brothers and then held out a small crystal lighter to light the ends as they puffed away.

Settling back into his seat, Tyler happened to make eye contact with Mr. Giorgio across the rooftop. The older man raised a glass in a distant toast to Tyler and Tyler raised his back.

“Man, tonight’s been a real rollercoaster,” Tony said as he puffed loudly. He leaned back in the seat and put his feet up on the table and his hands behind his head.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Tyler said. “You want to know what you cost me tonight?” But before Tyler could bring up the three beautiful women who had been about ready to leave with him, he felt a weird tingling in his chest. He blinked and rubbed through his shirt. His skin felt oddly sensitive all of a sudden.

“Oh yeah?” Tony asked. “What’d I cost you?”

But Tyler didn’t respond. His vision had gone blurry for a moment before clearing again. He set the cigar down in the ashtray on the table and rubbed his eyes. When he lowered his hands again, the sleeves fell too far, covering up most of his hands.

All of his clothes seemed to fit weird in a way he couldn’t put his fingers on.

“You okay?” Tony asked, but Tyler was so overcome with dizziness that he couldn’t form the words to speak. He eyed the bottle of champagne--how much had he had to drink?--but then again, he was 325 pounds. Even chugging the whole bottle himself wouldn’t explain the lead in his stomach and his total loss of equilibrium. Tyler swallowed hard, mopped some sweat off his brow, then looked up, stunned to see Mr. Giorgio approaching.

“Are you gentlemen enjoying the cigars?” he said, exchanging a sly grin with each of the bodyguards flanking him.

Tyler opened his mouth to reply but couldn’t seem to form words. He struggled to stand--and his pants fell down, the belt still buckled. He stared at them, shocked, his suitcoat and shirt now hanging down around his waist. His brain couldn’t comprehend what was going on.

Then his vision went blurry again, and he felt like he was falling--or rather, he was falling, tumbling downward into a soft pile of… something. He rolled around, sliding along the silky surface. He flailed his big limbs but nothing seemed to slow his descent. Then, it was over. He was huddled somewhere warm and humid, somewhere that stunk like a locker room.

Above him, voices boomed: “Tyler? What the fuck, Tyler!” That was his brother, but so loud it sounded like it was coming from a massive speaker system.

“Collect him. I don’t want him getting lost.” That was Mr. Giorgio, bellowing from above like it was the voice of God. Tyler struggled to stand but something heavy was draped over him, like a tent had collapsed on him. The ground shook like something as big as a T-rex--no, way bigger!--was approaching. In a panic, Tyler tried to crawl to safety, searching for an opening in whatever he was trapped in.

Whatever was on top of him suddenly lifted away and he stared up, wide-eyed, as light shed upon his situation: he was naked, and tangled in some dark blue fabric. Printed below him in giant letters were C-A-L--he gawked at the sight, bewildered but suddenly realizing that he was looking at the waistband of his own boxer-briefs.

Above him were men as huge as buildings. Tyler felt overwhelmed by terror (an emotion he was unaccustomed to in his usual position, looking down on a much smaller world) that spiked when a shadow fell over him. One of the men was reaching for him! He turned and scurried into the pants as quickly as he could but the hand wrapped around him like a jellyfish. Before he knew it, warm calloused flesh surrounded him on all sides. Only his head stuck out, and despite his massive strength, there was no way he could budge the massive fingers even a little bit.

The ground fell away so fast Tyler puked bourbon over the edge of the hand where it splattered what looked, to Tyler, to be 200 feet below. He puked again when the hand raised him to a giant face, one of Giorgio’s goons, who held him close like he was eyeing fine print.

“What should I do with this little shit?” the goon asked. He stuck his tongue out and snorted, the hot breath blasting over Tyler’s face.

“Bring him to my private room. And grab his piss-ant brother too,” Giorgio commanded with a snap of his fingers.

Tyler watched, helplessly, as two other bodyguards grabbed Tony’s arms. His brother wriggled and fought but they quickly lifted him off his feet and carried him, still struggling, out of the booth. The world blew by in a blur as Tyler tried to keep from vomiting again. As he walked, the goon holding Tyler tightened his grip so much that the little lineman could barely take a breath. At his size, he couldn’t project his voice enough to tell him to ease off, and even if he could, he doubted that the giant bodyguard would.

Tyler could barely take in the gigantic passing scenery as they blew through a curtain, then a door, then another door. Then Tyler was dumped unceremoniously on the floor in the dark. He was thankful to be free and able to breathe (he lay on the floor gasping for breath) until the lights came on. He saw Tony, shackled to the walls now by manacles around his wrist and neck. Something wasn’t right, though: Tony’s clothing hung on him loosely, the sleeves hanging well over his hands, the pants pooling beneath him.

Tyler’s eyes went wide when Mr. Giorgio approached with his arms crossed. It was like looking up at a skyscraper. “You didn’t think much of my size before, did you my little football player? Now what do you think?” He chuckled, took a swig out of a glass of brown liquid, then unzipped his fly. Tyler was on his feet now, unsure of what to expect but knowing it couldn’t be good.

“Even as big as you used to be, you were fast, weren’t you Mr. Bigshot?” Giorgio’s voice boomed as he whipped out his dick, which Tyler realized was at least the same size as his own body now if not bigger. “Let’s see those athletic moves here.”

Without warning a torrent of acrid yellow piss hit Tyler with the force of a fire hydrant, knocking him off his feet. Tyler coughed and sputtered, wretched again, all the while trying to take a breath without aspirating urine. Giorgio took a step forward and Tyler rolled backward, propelled by the force of the liquid.

“Fuck, man!” Tony whimpered from his corner. “Quit it! Leave him alone!”

“I’ll deal with you in just a moment,” Giorgio said without turning around, continuing to drive little Tyler backward.

Behind him was a massive grate, the slats of which were just wide enough that Tyler could slip through it. As he tried to fight Giorgio’s urine, it dawned on him what would happen if he didn’t get some traction and get away from the grate. The idea of ending up tiny in a sewer was unfathomable, but he couldn’t get any traction as piss covered every nearby surface.

Despite his best efforts Tyler rolled toward the grate, barely grabbing the edge and saving himself from tumbling into the darkness. Mr. Giorgio chuckled as he took another step forward, trying his best to piss Tyler down the drain. Tyler’s beefy arms flexed as he fought the downpour, trying to pull himself up. His muscles screamed, his lungs begged for air they didn’t have, and Tyler’s grip started to loosen…

Then Giorgio’s piss stream died. Tyler took advantage of the good fortune, pulling himself up with the last of his strength. He rolled clear of the grate and went limp, entirely spent from the ordeal. Mr. Giorgio laughed as he zipped himself up.

“You realize, you little insect,” Giorgio said as he crouched above the defeated athlete, “that had I just one more martini you’d be a memory right now?” He inhaled deeply. “Good lord. You smell like piss, little man. Clean yourself up!”

“Fuck you!” yelled Tony. “Fuck, Tyler! Something’s happening to me! I’m still shrinking man!”

Tyler fought his exhaustion enough to look at his brother who, while still enormous to Tyler’s perspective, was clearly smaller than he’d been before. His clothes hung from him like a collapsing tent. The shackles that had restrained him were so big he could easily slip right out, but even as he did, Giorgio didn’t even flinch. Tony crawled away from the restraints, slipping out of his clothes in the process. He was only waist-high to Giorgio now.

Giorgio stood confidently between Tyler and his slowly diminishing brother, his arms crossed, a sneer on his face. “What’s your next move? You could make it out the door if you tried, but then I’d have your brother all to myself. Or you could try to get past me. You big, tough athletes… Those muscles aren’t doing much now, are they?” He clucked his tongue.

In a burst of rage, naked little Tony ran forward--but Giorgio stopped him easily with a palm to his head. Tony fought uselessly for a moment before Giorgio gently shoved, sending him flying across the room.

“You see,” Giorgio said in Tyler’s direction, “one of the cigars was near-instantaneous. The other was slow-acting. Originally I’d planned for them to be delivered the other way around. I thought it might be entertaining to see your little maggot of a brother shrunk to the proper size in an instant, while you gave my bodyguards less and less trouble as time went on. But you see, they must have gotten switched…” Giorgio plucked Tyler from the ground by his foot. He swung upside-down, worried he would be sick once again, until Giorgio plopped him into his hand. “But I want you to take a look at what’s left of your brother while it’s still there.”

Giorgio approached Tony and knelt over him, holding Tyler above his frightened brother who was now less than a yard tall. “Tyler, bro! I’m scared, dude! It’s not stopping!”

Giorgio reached forward and gently handed Tyler over to his brother. Tony took little Tyler in his hands and held him like he was a baby, but as the shrinking continued, soon Tyler became too heavy and Tony let him drop. For a moment they stood the same size, staring sadly into each other’s eyes, before Tony got even smaller, slipping past their old height difference until Tony was just waist-high, then knee-high, at which point Tyler picked him up.

Tyler held his brother close, desperate to protect him at any cost even as he got tinier and tinier in his hand. He didn’t want to look up at Mr. Giorgio, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing their fear, but the shadow cast over him made him wonder, in horror, if Tony’s shrinking would ever stop, and what Mr. Giorgio had in store for them even if it did.