The disco lights cut through clouds of smoke, casting angular shadows across the dance floor where bodies moved in practiced abandon. Sammy Morgan was an imposing figure, a bouncer of considerable stature, with muscles that strained against the fabric of his shirt. He moved with a purposeful gait, his eyes scanning the room intently, ensuring that everyone remained safe now that his duty at the front of the house had concluded. His presence was a reassuring force, commanding respect and exuding an air of authority as he navigated through the crowd.
Desmond couldn't help but roll his eyes whenever Sammy came into view. Sammy's expression was always one of intense concentration, as if he were on a mission of utmost importance. "That guy takes his job way too seriously," Desmond whisper, marveling at how Sammy seemed to treat even the most mundane tasks as if they were life-and-death matters.
Desmond felt the bass in his bones, each beat a command his body obeyed without thought. The night was young, but his skin already glistened with a fine sheen of sweat that made his partially unbuttoned shirt cling to his chest in ways that drew appreciative glances.
Danny "The DJ" Jefferson's voice rolled over the crowd like honey. "Keep that groove moving, beautiful people." His skilled hands moved across the turntables, weaving one song into the next with seamless precision. The dance floor responded like a living organism, writhing and pulsing to his commands.
Desmond had claimed his territory at the heart of it all. His hips swayed with practiced sensuality, each movement calculated to draw attention while appearing effortless. The silk of his shirt caught the light as he moved, revealing glimpses of his stomach - softly rounded but still toned enough to be enticing. His blonde hair, usually perfectly styled, had begun to curl damply at his temples, giving him a debauched look that only enhanced his appeal.
From behind his yellow-tinted glasses, Desmond surveyed his kingdom. He noticed the way heads turned to watch him, the way conversation paused when he passed. This was his element, the place where his carefully cultivated image achieved its full effect. His body moved to the rhythm with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how good they looked, even if private moments of doubt occasionally crept in when he was alone.
Stacy appeared at his elbow, her gold chain glinting as she leaned in close. The smell of gin and tonic clung to her breath as she spoke, her words carrying the conspiratorial tone of someone with prime gossip to share. "Oh honey, you'll never believe what I just heard about that tall drink of water by the bar."
Desmond followed her gaze to where Jay Brooks stood, trying and failing to look inconspicuous despite his imposing height and obvious good looks. The man had the kind of build that made Desmond's mouth water - broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, all wrapped in a fitted shirt that left little to the imagination.
"What's the tea, babe?" Desmond kept dancing as he listened, his movements never faltering.
Stacy's fingers played with her necklace as she spoke. "Well, according to what I overheard at work - you know I handle all the personnel files at the firm - our friend over there is carrying quite the secret. Never been with anyone, if you can believe it. And definitely not out of the closet, though God knows why with a body like that."
The information sent a thrill through Desmond's spine. A virgin. A closeted virgin with muscles that could crush him. His mind filled with delicious possibilities.
"Speaking of secrets," Archie's voice cut in as he shimmied up to them, his slender frame moving with the music, "has anyone noticed how our dear Desmond's filling out his shirts these days? Too many late-night snacks after dancing, sweetie?"
Desmond didn't miss a beat. "Better than looking like I just escaped from a concentration camp, darling. Some of us can afford to eat." His smile was sharp enough to draw blood, but his eyes never left Jay.
The larger man had begun to notice the attention. His gaze met Desmond's across the dance floor, lingering a moment too long to be casual. When Jay quickly looked away, a flush crept up his neck, visible even in the dim light.
Desmond licked his lips, tasting salt and possibility. He watched as Jay shifted uncomfortably, clearly affected by the attention but unable to stop himself from looking back. Each time their eyes met, the tension ratcheted higher.
When Jay finally pushed away from the bar and headed toward the men's room, Desmond waited exactly three beats before following. He ignored Stacy's knowing smirk and Archie's exaggerated eye roll. The bass thumped harder as he moved through the crowd, his heart keeping time with the music.
The bathroom door loomed ahead, promise written in its peeling paint and decades of graffiti. Desmond adjusted his shirt, letting it fall open just enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of flesh. He reached for the handle, anticipation coursing through his veins like the best kind of drug.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across Jay's face as Desmond pushed him against the bathroom wall. The music outside was muffled now, reduced to a distant throb that matched their racing hearts. Everything smelled of cheap soap and desperation.
Jay's breath came in short, nervous bursts. His massive frame seemed smaller somehow, uncertain in this new territory. Desmond pressed closer, letting his body pin the larger man in place. Despite their size difference, there was no question who held the power in this moment. Desmond didn’t hesitate—he pressed in close, and their mouths met like it was inevitable. It was inevitable. Hot, desperate, sloppy. A collision. The door clicked locked behind them.
"First time in a bathroom like this?" Desmond's voice was low, teasing. He didn't wait for an answer before pressing his lips against Jay's neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath the skin.
A small whimper escaped Jay's throat - not quite a yes, but confirmation enough. His hands hung uselessly at his sides until Desmond grabbed them, placing them firmly on his own hips. "Touch me," he commanded.
Those large hands gripped tightly, almost bruising in their intensity. Jay's inexperience showed in his eagerness, in the way he tried to devour Desmond's mouth when they finally kissed. It was messy and uncoordinated, but the raw need behind it sent sparks of pleasure down Desmond's spine.
Desmond took control, slowing the kiss, teaching without words how their tongues should dance. Jay proved to be a quick study, his movements becoming more measured, more deliberate. When they broke apart, his eyes were glazed with lust.
"On your knees," Desmond ordered, surprising himself with his own boldness. He hadn't planned to be so dominant, but Jay's submission was intoxicating. The larger man sank down without hesitation, looking up with a mixture of fear and desperate want.
Desmond's fingers trembled slightly as he unbuckled his belt - not from nervousness, he told himself, but from anticipation. The fluorescent light wasn't kind to anyone, but he forced himself not to think about how it might highlight the slight softness of his stomach. Instead, he focused on Jay's expression as he freed his cock, already hard and leaking.
"Open your mouth," he commanded, and Jay obeyed, his lips parting eagerly. Desmond traced them with his thumb before pushing inside, groaning at the wet heat that enveloped him.
Jay's technique was sloppy but enthusiastic. His hands gripped Desmond's thighs as he tried to take too much too quickly, gagging slightly. Desmond tangled his fingers in Jay's hair, controlling the pace. "Slowly," he instructed. "Use your tongue... yes, like that."
The sight of this muscular man on his knees, learning to suck cock for the first time, was almost too much. Desmond's stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly - an embarrassing reminder of his humanity - but Jay didn't seem to notice. He was too focused on his task, his throat working to take Desmond deeper. Jay’s mouth was warm, wet, eager. Desmond’s soft, sweat-slick tummy bumped Jay’s forehead with every movement—a humiliating, adorable moment that made Desmond want to groan.
Desmond pulled back before things could end too quickly. "Stand up," he said, his voice hoarse. He turned to face the wall, pushing his pants down further. "Now you get to taste something else."
He heard Jay's sharp intake of breath, felt those large hands spreading him open. The first touch of tongue against his hole was tentative, questioning. Desmond pushed back, demanding more. "Lick it properly. Get it wet."
Jay's eagerness returned, his tongue becoming bolder as he explored this new territory. He lapped at Desmond's hole like a man dying of thirst, his hands kneading the flesh of Desmond's ass. The wet sounds of his enthusiasm echoed off the bathroom walls, mixing with Desmond's encouraging moans.
"Fuck me," Desmond finally gasped, reaching back to pull Jay to his feet. “C’mon, closet case,” he muttered. “Show me.”
There was a moment of fumbling as Jay struggled with his own clothes, then the blunt pressure of his cock against Desmond's spit-slick hole. He pushed in slowly, his size making Desmond grateful for his own experience. The stretch burned beautifully, making his toes curl in his boots.
Jay's first thrust was cautious, but Desmond pushed back hard, taking him deeper. "Harder," he demanded. "I won't break."
That seemed to break something in Jay. His hips snapped forward, driving into Desmond with increasing force. His hands gripped Desmond's hips hard enough to leave marks, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The bathroom stall rattled with each thrust, the metal groaning in protest. Desmond braced himself against the wall, his cock bouncing freely as Jay pounded into him. He could feel the larger man's inexperience in the erratic rhythm, in the way his movements became increasingly desperate.
"I'm going to..." Jay's warning came too late. His hips stuttered as he came, filling Desmond with pulse after pulse of hot cum. His whole body shuddered with the force of his orgasm, his forehead pressing between Desmond's shoulder blades.
They stayed like that for a moment, both panting, connected in the most intimate way possible. Jay's cock was still twitching inside him when everything changed.
The first indication something was wrong came when Jay felt the world begin to expand around him. The bathroom tiles stretched like taffy, the grout lines becoming canyons as his perspective shifted drastically. Desmond's body, still pressed against his, suddenly loomed like a flesh-colored mountain.
Panic seized Jay's chest as he realized what was happening. His hands, still gripping Desmond's hips, grew smaller and smaller until they couldn't span even an inch of skin. His softening cock slipped free as he continued to shrink, leaving him standing on the curve of Desmond's lower back, now barely an inch tall.
The fluorescent light above seemed as distant as the sun, casting harsh shadows across the vast expanse of Desmond's skin. Sweat droplets around him had become pools large enough to drown in. The music from the club, muffled through the walls, vibrated through Desmond's flesh like earthquakes.
Jay tried to call out, but his voice was too small to carry. His own cum, still leaking from Desmond's hole, formed a terrifying lake before him. The heat radiating from Desmond's body was overwhelming at this size, like standing too close to a furnace.
Gravity shifted as Desmond straightened up, sending Jay sliding down the slope of his back. He scrambled for purchase but found none on the sweat-slick skin. His descent ended at the top of Desmond's ass crack, where he clung desperately to a few strands of hair.
The massive globes of Desmond's ass shifted with each movement, threatening to dislodge him. Jay could feel the vibrations of Desmond's stomach bubbling through the flesh beneath him, reminding him how small and insignificant he'd become.
Then Desmond's cheeks spread slightly as he bent forward, creating a dark chasm before Jay. The hole he'd just been inside now gaped like the entrance to a wet cave, his own cum making the surfaces gleam in the harsh light. The musky scent was overwhelming at this size, filling his lungs with each breath.
Before Jay could process what was happening, he lost his grip. He slid helplessly down the cleft, his diminutive body picked up by rivulets of sweat and cum. The hole loomed larger as he approached, its wrinkled edges pulsing slightly with Desmond's heartbeat.
The first touch of his feet against the rim sent shivers through his entire body. The flesh was hot and alive, moving with subtle contractions that threatened to pull him in. He tried to crawl away, but the mixture of fluids made everything too slippery.
His last glimpse of the outside world was of the bathroom ceiling, impossibly far away, before Desmond's muscles contracted and drew him inside. The tight channel engulfed him completely, surrounding him with wet heat and darkness.
Jay's world became a crushing pressure of flesh and fluid. Every movement of Desmond's body sent waves of motion through the biological tunnel that had become his prison. His own cum, once a sign of pleasure, now threatened to drown him in its viscous embrace.
The reality of his situation crashed over him - this was how his life would end. His first sexual experience, his first moment of true freedom to express himself, had led to this bizarre fate. The cruel irony wasn't lost on him as he felt his consciousness beginning to fade.
Desmond blinked. Glanced over his shoulder. “...Jay?”
Desmond casually pulled up his pants, completely unaware of or unconcerned with Jay's fate. The massive muscles of his bowels continued their rhythmic movements, dragging Jay deeper into the organic maze that would become his tomb.
Darkness claimed him fully as Desmond's body absorbed what remained of his existence. His last thought was of the freedom he'd briefly tasted - the kiss, the touch, the release - before eternal darkness swallowed him whole.
Desmond straightened his clothes, ran a hand through his hair, and checked his reflection in the spotted mirror. He barely registered Jay's disappearance, writing it off as just another closeted man running from his desires. He reapplied his lip gloss, adjusted his yellow-tinted glasses, and headed back toward the thumping bass of the dance floor, leaving behind no trace of what had transpired.
The club had transformed in Desmond's absence. The once-crowded dance floor had thinned considerably, though the disco lights continued their mindless rotation over the lime green linoleum. Something had shifted in the atmosphere - a strange stillness that cut through the persistent thump of the music.
Danny "The DJ" Jefferson kept the music playing, though his usual smooth patter had fallen silent. His fingers moved mechanically across the turntables, his tinted glasses hiding whatever reaction he might have had to the changing scene below his booth.
Desmond made his way back to his usual spot, noting with mild interest how the remaining crowd parted before him. Their movements seemed charged with a new energy - not the usual deference he commanded, but something closer to prey animals sensing a predator.
He found Stacy's drink still sitting at their booth, the bright red booze now flat in the glass. Movement caught his eye - something small thrashing in the liquid. He leaned closer, yellow lenses reflecting the overhead lights as he peered into the glass.
Stacy's familiar blonde hair, now tiny enough to be mistaken for thread, whipped around as she struggled against the current her own movement created. Her miniature hands slapped against the glass walls, leaving marks no larger than water droplets. Her mouth opened in what must have been screams, but no sound reached Desmond's ears.
"Oh Stacy, you dumb bitch," he murmured, lifting the glass to examine her more closely. With Jay gone, he was left in a foul mood. Her desperate swimming amused him - like watching a bug trapped in amber, but with more personal significance.
Movement on the table caught his attention. Archie, also reduced to barely an inch in height, was running toward Stacy's glass. His slender frame looked even more ridiculous at this size, like a toothpick with delusions of humanity.
Desmond's lips curved into a smile as he raised the glass to his mouth. He took a long, deliberate sip, feeling Stacy's tiny body slide past his lips with the liquid. Her struggles tickled his tongue briefly before he swallowed, sending her to join Jay in the depths of his digestive system.
It was so easy, so casual. One second she was there, the next she was a memory, dissolving inside him. Desmond licked his lips, indifferent to the loss of a friend, curious instead about the strange thrill of it, the rush of control and power.
He set the glass down, empty except for the marks of Stacy's desperate fingers. Archie stumbled to his feet, shock and rage twisting his tiny features. "You bastard!" he screamed, tears mingling with the terror in his eyes.
"No!" Archie's voice was barely audible, like the squeak of a mouse. "You just... you just ate Stacy! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Desmond let his gaze settle on Archie, considered him for a long, dispassionate moment. He felt the stirrings of hunger again, but it was less literal this time, more about the enjoyment of his own unexpected superiority. He took a deep breath, held it, and let out a belch.
The alcohol-laden air rushed over Archie, the force knocking him back, pinning him to the table. The tiny man's features contorted in horror as his body began to dissolve, breaking down into nothing. Desmond watched as the vapor took hold, watched as Archie writhed and thinned and faded, disintegrating with a final, silent scream.
"What's wrong with me?" Desmond mused to the empty air where Archie had stood. "Absolutely nothing. Everything is exactly as it should be."
His attention turned to the dance floor, where more tiny figures scurried across the lime green surface. Former dancers, reduced to the size of insects, tried desperately to reach the exits. Their movements created patterns almost as entertaining as their dancing had been earlier.
Desmond stood, relishing how his shadow fell across the miniature exodus. He took one step, then another, each footfall accompanied by tiny crunching sounds and aborted screams. The platform sole of his boot came down on a cluster of former patrons, grinding them into the floor with casual indifference.
The music continued to play - "I Will Survive" now, without a hint of irony - as Desmond made his way across the floor. Each step eliminated more of the club's patrons, their deaths marked by nothing more than slight smears on his boots.
Sammy "The Bouncer" Morgan stood at his post by the door, now barely taller than Desmond's thumb. His professional demeanor remained intact even at this size, facing the approaching giant with the same steady gaze he'd used to deter troublemakers.
Desmond paused, looking down at the tiny bouncer. "You always did take your job too seriously," he said, before flicking the miniature man across the room with his finger. Sammy disappeared into the darkness, his fate sealed by physics and distance.
The club was nearly empty now, save for Danny in his booth, still dutifully spinning records.
Desmond made his way to the center of the dance floor, where the disco ball cast its fractured light over the evidence of his transformation. Bodies lay crushed into the linoleum, their tiny forms creating abstract patterns in the club's garish lighting. He began to dance, alone now in his kingdom of the damned.
His stomach gurgled contentedly, processing the remains of those who had once admired him. The night had changed everything, but Desmond remained what he had always been - the center of attention, the object of desire, the death of all who drew too close.
The music played on, and Desmond danced, sovereign of his new domain, stepping on any survivors.