Basket Case (size)
by Drakkenfyre
Reggie glanced over his shoulder a third time as he walked home from the bar. He must be getting paranoid. He was sure that the dude in the hoodie had been staring at him in the bar. That guy was weird. Earlier that night he’d bumped into Reggie. True the bar was busy, but Reggie was sure that the guy rubbed against him too long, and with too much attention. Reggie was confused, but it suddenly registered that the guy had felt him up, and that the body rubbing against him had been sporting a boner. Reggie didn’t know what to do. He glared over the shoulders and heads of the other patrons at the grinning face sticking out of the hoodie. The hoodie turned and disappeared in the crowd, and Reggie tensed and drank the beer in his hand.
It tasted flat and a bit bitter, but Reggie figure the bad taste was due to the man in the hoodie freaking him out. Several more times that night he caught sight of the hooded man staring at him from across the bar. He’d tried confronting him once, but lost him in the crowd. His night spoiled, Reggie - a bit drunker than usual - staggered home early at 11:30 pm. Several times while walking he thought he’d heard someone behind him, but when he turned he didn’t see the man in the hoodie. Though there were many shadowy doorways and trees along Reggie’s route that afforded protection to a would-be stalker.
Reggie tripped twice on his pants legs walking home. He rolled up the legs on his jeans. He figured his diet was paying off, the jeans were looser around the waist. The fact that he’d lost 2 inches around the waist since he left for the bar 5 and half hours earlier just didn’t register with the inebriated 20 something.
He fumbled with his keys. It was like someone had moved the key hole. Eventually he got the door open, and stumbled into the lobby and up the stairs of his apartment. He didn’t hear the door click shut behind him. He stopped on the stair and started to turn back. The door slowly swung shut and latch as he reached the bottom step. He thought for a second he heard something under the stairs, but the TV was blaring from the manager’s first floor apartment. Reggie figured it was just his active imagination, and headed up to his apartment.
This time when he dug back in his pocket for his keys, his jeans fell down to his ankles. He laughed and found himself reaching up to unlock his deadbolt. He must be drunker than he thought, he thought. Reggie staggered into his apartment. The Easter cards from his friends and family were sitting on the chest next to his front door greeting him home.
He gave the door a shove as he entered to close it behind him. Again there was a longer pause than there should have been before the latch clicked. This time when Reggie turned around with his jeans still around his ankles, there was somebody there.
The guy from the bar stood there holding a multicolored Easter basket filled with plastic eggs. He was taller than Reggie had remembered. The guy pulled off his hood and unzipped his sweatshirt. He looked familiar. The shirt was a bit tight on the lanky young man, but it too was familiar. THE FALCONS was emblazoned on the shirt with the high school logo for North High. That was Reggie’s old high school. He’d been on the football team, a star player - at least so he thought. The guy’s face looked familiar. Those dark brown eyes, the short cropped egg-shaped head, but he was too tall. Maybe he had a growth spurt?
Reggie stepped out of his jeans and moved toward the 10 foot giant. He banged his elbow on the table leg, but he was still standing. His own jacket hung on him like a robe with the bottom brushing his shins.
“Petey?”
“It’s Peter now, Reggie, and it’s payback time,” Pete answered lifting the basket as though it was significant.
“What you’re going to egg me? Man, that was 8 years ago at least,” Reggie said. “Now get out of my apartment, if you wanna talk come by tomorrow after 10. Got it, twer - Peter,” Reggie paused “twerp” was what he’d called Pete in high school among other things, but the term no longer seemed to apply. Reggie’s stomach rumbled and he ran to the bathroom.
Reggie leaned over the porcelain receptacle and vomited. And vomited and vomited. He couldn’t believe how much stuff was coming out of him. At last it out rush seemed to abate, and Reggie focusing realized that he was standing on his tiptoes to reach the edge of the bowl. He was also naked. His jacket and shirt lay in a heap around his feet. Two giant boots loomed up to his waist, he recognized them as his boots. He turned at saw giant Peter standing in the doorway. He was leaning against the door jamb and looked to be 40 or 50 feet tall now.
Cover his eyes with his hands, Reggie rubbed his eyes. He felt something hot and fleshy wrap itself around his torso. He opened his eyes and screamed. Peter lifted him with one hand and put him in his sink.
Peter didn’t say anything. He went straight to work on Reggie. Reggie’s tiny voice was only audible because he was shouting, but at his size only Peter was close enough to hear him. He ordered. He cajoled. He pleaded. But Peter ignored his words, and proceeded to lather up Reggie’s naked body under the hot tap water. He scrubbed hard, and he used Reggie’s own toothbrush in ways and places that horrified Reggie. His cock was red and hard by the time Peter turned the tap off. Reggie blushed with embarrassment at his humiliation by the kid he and his buds had abused in high school. He looked up at the sides of the sink. His head had been above the edge of the sink when Peter had started washing him, now its edge loomed above his head. He had shrunk even more.
The giant hand set a huge tub of white paste over the sink drain. Two giant fingers slipped under Reggie’s arms and lifted him squeezing his ribs as it carried him over to the giant jar. Reggie was soon up to his chest in the thick paste. He waded through it with difficulty. He slipped and was completely cover in the white dense paste. He wiped the stuff from his eyes. It burned. He leaned over the opposite side of the jar and read the label. It was hair remover.
A giant finger pushed Reggie back under the surface of the paste. He couldn’t breathe. About a minute later, the finger let up and Reggie broke the surface gasping for breath. The finger dunked him again. This went on for nearly 15 minutes. This last time when he emerged from the gunk, which was now burning his skin, Reggie was plucked out of the jar. The jar was removed and the tap’s hot water spilled down on him washing the depilatory away.
He had never felt more naked and helpless than he did now. Reggie looked down at his hairless body. He actually looked more muscular with his furry covering removed, but he also looked like a little boy. His bald head totally freaked him out, especially when a last drop dripped from the tap and landed on his scalp. He shivered from the cold and from his fear.
Peter reached over by the toilet and retrieved one of Reggie’s smelly sweat socks. Reggie only owned four pairs, and did laundry once a week, so this one had over 2 days of sweat soaked in to it. Peter dried Reggie off with the smelly sock and then his hand closed around Reggie.
Reggie totally freaked as he futiley struggled to free himself from the meaty paw that covered all of his body except his head.
Peter carried him back into what Reggie now considered his spacious studio apartment. It was now as big or bigger than his high school gymnasium. Definitely bigger. He shuddered.
Reggie was startled to hear sounds coming from the basket of Easter eggs. He noticed for the first time that numbers were marked on each of the plastic colored eggs. Peter picked up a yellow one labeled 24. Twenty four was Reggie’s old jersey number. Reggie was shoved into Peter’s pocket while he unscrewed the plastic egg. It was fancier than the usual snap variety, it would take a firm grip and a strong hand to extract the prize from this sort of egg.
Retrieving Reggie from his warm dark sweatshirt pocket, Peter carefully examined his trophy. Reggie looked totally scared. Peter grinned evilly. He spoke to Reggie for the first time since shrinking him, as he lowered him into the bottom half of the opened plastic egg. Reggie’s feet slipped on the curved smooth plastic surface, and he soon found himself on his butt inside the egg, as Peter moved the upper half to seal him inside.
“You know you look so cute now Reggie, I almost hate to wait to Sunday to take you out of your egg. Still I haven’t decided whether I’ll play with you and your team mates or eat you all up,” Peter’s voice boomed.
The sounds from the other eggs became suddenly discernable as shouts for help and pleas not eat them muffled by the plastic prisons. The upper half of the shell closed over Reggie, and he heard the screech of the plastic rubbing against plastic as it was screwed shut imprisoning him.
He suddenly tumbled backwards as the basket was hefted into the air and the eggs rolled within the basket. Reggie thought about the numbered eggs. They each must have contained a team mate. Surely, Peter wouldn’t eat them? Surely, he knew that the jocks were only kids when they’d used and abused him? Surely, Petey, was just going to scare them as punishment and then return them to their normal size? Surely, he’d forgive the championship team for gang-raping him? Recalling all the ways he and his team mates had tortured little Petey, Reggie felt a lot less sure.
Well, he’d find out soon enough, Easter was only one day away. Reggie hiccoughed. He decided he was drunk and hallucinating, and he curled up and went to sleep.
“Oh,” moaned Reggie. His head ached. What a nightmare! He stretched, and his hands hit hard smooth curved walls. He opened his eyes to yellow tinted light. It wasn’t a dream, he was really living this nightmare.
Happy Easter! Hope you find a nice surprise inside your Easter basket. If it’s named Reggie, Peter was very generous to you. Enjoy!
Oh, and if you should have a tall thin guy in a hoodie stalking you...be careful what you drink. Sometimes it's good to be a bit paranoid.