Vaillant's Vanishing Volume (2) (Patreon)

[the main character of this story is a FICTIONALIZED version of a professional bodybuilder, based INCREDIBLY loosely on the real guy.]

After he parked his truck outside his doctor’s office, Antoine tapped out a text to his powerlifter friend Roy, who had a competition that day: “Show them who’s boss buddy!” Roy, just like the handful of others present the day of “the incident,” was six inches shorter now, but Antoine had urged him to still make it to his competition.

“We may be losing height, but if we quit the things that make us who we are,” Antoine had told Roy, giving the stocky, thickly built man–still solid as a cinderblock, despite only being 5’4” now–a peptalk a week before the competition, “then that’s when we REALLY lose. The TRUE measure of a man,” Antoine had said, standing up tall and throwing his muscular chest forward, “is in how hard he fights, NOT how tall he stands.”

He’d hoped he’d sold the words as a time-tested proverb, but the truth was he was making it up on the spot. They were what he needed to hear himself, as the future of his bodybuilding career hung in the balance.

Roy responded with a thumbs-up on the text only seconds after it was sent. Antoine sighed, truly hoping for the best for his friend, and hopped out of his car. The fall to the ground felt too far, something he was needing to get used to every week since this started. A glance back just before the truck door slammed showed how far forward he’d moved the seat. He shuddered. The doctor, he hoped, would have something helpful to say.

“Hop up on the scale, let’s see how you measure up," Dr. Chivers said. Antoine stood, awkwardly noting the fact that the doctor was a few inches taller than he was now. Perhaps he was being too paranoid, he thought, but there was something about the doctor’s tone that seemed patronizing. In the past, he’d always spoken to Antoine with a tone of reverence, but now it seemed like he was holding back a laugh with every breath.

Antoine stood on the scale as Dr. Chivers measured his height, sliding the bar down until it touched the top of his head. “Good lord!” he said, clapping his hands together. “66 inches! That’s unreal.” He pulled out his phone, aiming the camera at Antoine. “Would you mind if I, y’know, photographed this? Just to document. This is truly amazing.”

Antoine, wearing only a brand-new pair of underwear that had showed up that morning (along with the rest of the wardrobe he had rush-ordered, two sizes smaller than he usually wore), clenched his fists and bit his lip. “Yeah, actually I do kind of mind,” he said.

The doctor shrugged and sighed but put his phone away. “Still 231 pounds, though,” he said. “Wow. You’re fifty pounds heavier than me even though you’re half a foot shorter.”

“I can do math too,” Antoine said through gritted teeth as he stepped back. His hopes for an answer had plummeted when the doctor had greeted him by patting him on the head, and everything that had happened since had only served to make him feel more hopeless.

“It’s just amazing,” Dr. Chivers said, clapping a hand to his head. “I mean, you’re perfectly proportional. I’ve never seen anything like it! I’d imagine if the cause were biological, you’d lose muscle mass first, but… you may be lighter, but you’re still just as built as before! Gimme a flex, lil guy, let’s see those biceps!”

The “lil guy” was too much, but Antoine was eager to reassert himself in this situation, so he flexed his arms. The doctor cheered and Antoine reclaimed a shred of his masculinity–until the doctor asked Antoine to hop up on the table. Antoine floundered after he misjudged his first attempt, his glutes not quite making it up. He was red-faced when he finally hoisted himself up.

“Have you seen any of the other guys?” Antoine asked as Dr. Chivers moved a stethoscope around his bare pecs.

“Oh, they’ve all go their own doctors,” Chivers said as he made notes on his clipboard, “but we’re all in contact with this one government agency researching this. Their theory is it’s an environmental cause, something at the gym itself.”

“Yeah,” Antoine said with a nod. “They shut down the whole place. Only for a day.”

Chivers shrugged. “I guess the owner threw a big fuss and threatened to have his high-priced lawyers get involved.”

“Sounds about right,” Antoine said as the doctor moved behind him, moving the stethoscope across his broad back.

“But they checked for radiation, air quality, contaminants in the water… I guess the place is clean,” Chivers said.

“Then there must be something else we all have in common, OTHER than going to the same gym,” Antoine said. “Isn’t anyone curious exactly what happened the day this all started?”

Chivers shrugged again. “I’m just here to get a blood and urine sample. The other theory, since you guys are all big athletes and all, is drugs.”

“DRUGS?” Antoine shouted. “You fucking kidding me? They’re blaming steroids?”

“They’re investigating everything,” Chivers said. “Five men all shrunk half a foot. Nobody quite knows where to start.”

“They should interview us,” Antoine said. “Is there a phone number or something? Some way to get in touch with the people in charge of this?”

“They’ll get to you eventually, I’m sure,” Dr. Chivers said, handing Antoine a plastic cup. “Pretty sure you’re still big enough to fill this cup, right?”

*

Antoine waited in the gym parking lot as a crowd of college-aged guys in tank tops milled around the front door. He waited anxiously for them to disperse, cursing as they wasted time on their phones and exhaling huge clouds of vape smoke. They were all skinny dudes, guys he recognized from times they’d asked for a selfie or his autograph or tips on how to get huge. The unfamiliar pit in his stomach came from the idea of having to walk through the crowd to get inside; what if they recognized him? After the disappointing doctor’s appointment, he didn’t know if he could deal with the stares or the whispered comments or the thinly-veiled attempts to take a picture of him.

Worse than that, however, was the fact that two of the guys in the group, a blonde and one thick curly brown hair, were about 6’3” tall. Taller guys had never bothered Antoine before; he was always the size of each of these guys squashed together. They may have had a few inches on him, but his leg was the size of each of their waists. Now, though, he would have to stare up just to talk to him. His muscles seemed to matter much less from this lower vantage point.

“Fuck it,” he said, pounding himself in the chest to rev himself up. Flex Lewis never backed down from taller dudes! he thought. Lee Priest used to intimidate guys a foot taller than him! Franco freaking Colombu went toe-to-toe with Arnold for years! He took a deep breath, hopped out of his truck, and slammed the door shut.

When he turned, he found himself staring into the massive pecs of a MUCH larger man.

“Holy shit,” the massive man said. It was Leo Schulz, a 22-year old freak who had just moved into town. 6’3” tall and 280 pounds, the guy was an absolute MONSTER–and standing in the guy’s enormous shadow made Antoine feel something brand-new: he felt tiny.

“Oh, hey, uh… Leo, right?” Antoine said, reaching out a fist for a bump. Leo bumped back, gently.

“I… I can’t catch whatever it is that’s doing this, right?” Leo said, staring at the hand he’d bumped with.

“They don’t think it’s contagious,” Antoine said, swallowing hard as he realized he was going to be walking into the gym right next to this sweatsuit-clad goliath with his thick mane of blonde hair. He had to hasten his pace just to keep up with Leo’s stride.

“So is that it?” Leo said. “You just done bodybuilding? I was really hoping to step onstage next to you.” Leo peeled up the bottom of his sweatshirt to reveal his thick, cobbled abdomen. He bounced his pecs, right in Antoine’s eye-line.

“Looking huge, bro!” Antoine said, his voice shaking a bit.

“Yeah, I bet, especially from down there,” Leo said. Antoine froze in place, letting Leo get ahead of him. The crowd of 20-year olds parted as Leo entered, staring at his thickly built mesomorph body as he strutted through the doors without giving them a glance. When it was Antoine’s turn to pass them, they paid him no attention.

Mark wasn’t at the front desk when Antoine entered, but his office door was closed and Antoine heard some shouting from within. Some balding guy with glasses, a new employee, checked him in. Antoine stashed his bag in the locker room, chugged his pre-workout, then headed out to begin his workout.

“Don’t worry about weight,” he told himself. “Just chase the pump. It’s just about the pump.” He approached the rack of dumbbells, his hands passing by the 60-pound set he usually warmed up with. The 40s felt just as heavy.

After a single set, he felt good. Still strong, he thought. Doesn’t matter how tall I am. He hit a few poses in the mirror, excited to see veins already standing out on his bulging arms. He bounded over to the water fountain for a drink. As he stood, he found himself running right into a taller woman–his face colliding with her sports bra. He stumbled back, sputtering.

“I-I… geez, I’m sorry–” he stammered. He looked up to see Linda Towle. “Linda,” Antoine said in a whisper. Each time he adjusted to his new height, he had to reacclimate himself to the heights of those around him. Linda was 5’9” tall, seeming feminine and strong when he was 6 feet tall. Now she seemed like an amazon to him.

“Hel-lo, An-toine,” Linda said, separating syllables as she rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms. Her hip shifted to the side, her mouth curling down into a frown.

Antoine had no idea why she seemed so perturbed with him, but he’d been meaning to talk to her. “Linda, hey, I just wanted to talk about… y’know, the incident. I hate the way everything went down that day.”

Just past her shoulder he caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror. His tank top–which he’d bought specifically to fit his body at this size–hung nearly to his knees (one of the effects of being a short built guy, he was learning). Despite his muscles, he was starting to look like a runt, especially now that gorgeous women who used to fawn over him now towered over him.

Linda sighed heavily. “Do you have any idea how much people are talking about me since then?”

Antoine looked down at himself. “Probably not as much as people have been talking about me…”

“Do you know the story people have been passing around?” Linda said, bending at the waist to look Antoine in the eyes. “People have been saying that I was sleeping with you Clark. They said the whole thing was some stupid lover’s squabble.”

Antoine shook his head. “We only slept together once–”

Linda shushed him, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Do you think I want people thinking that about me? I purposely don’t mess around with people at the gym so I don’t have people in my business!”

Antoine took a step back. “Look, Linda, I feel the same way. I never told anyone we went out. It was a fun time, sure, but I swear, I never said anything–”

“You jumping in to be my little savior, though…” Linda said in a hushed voice. “I didn’t need you to get involved, and you come stomping over like some angry ape defending his territory…”

“Clark was being an asshole,” Antoine said. “I heard someone saying he was getting out of line, so I got involved. I didn’t even know it was you until I came around the corner.”

“Who said it was your job to defend me?” she spat. “There’s a hundred big guys here, but YOU had to be the biggest, didn’t you?”

Antoine winced. “I don’t… at all get why you are angry… would you rather I didn’t stand up for you when someone’s harassing you?”

“Clark wasn’t harassing me, he was just…” Linda took a breath, held up a hand and stared at her nails. “All I’m saying is, from now on, don’t get involved. Nowadays, you could get yourself hurt.” She turned and strutted off.

Antoine stomped to the dumbbells, grabbing the 60s and furiously pounding out twenty reps per arm. He tossed them to the ground with a growl, stomping his feet to the ground as he hit a most muscular pose. For a moment, he ignored how much higher up everything else seemed. In that instant, he just saw the gargantuan, superhuman physique he’d spent his whole life building.

Then the thoughts crept back in: that tank top is gonna be dragging on the ground soon. I’ll need to roll it up or I’ll trip over it.

He took a step back and his foot slipped right out of his still-tied shoes.