Rami had a cocky half-grin on his face as he looked down at Tag and said, “We’re not done with you, yet.” His voice oozed with confidence, leaving no room for objection. And the way he said the words, it was as if he were talking down to a child.

It was patronizing. Belittling. Tag couldn’t help but bristle at the unsubtle implication that he wasn’t a threat.

He was a big guy. He was strong. He knew how to fight. He’d always used his size to great effect, whether that was to intimidate people into doing what he wanted, or trampling the competition in his football matches. There was a reason he made quarterback on his high school football team.

While Tag wasn’t sure he could take both Andrea and Rami down, he liked to think he’d at least be able to push past. “Like fuck you’re not done. I’m leaving and you can’t stop me,” he said.

Taking a breath, Tag mustered all the strength that he had in his body. Even if two big guys were holding him down, they couldn’t possibly be strong enough to stop him. Not when he really put his mind to it. He stood explosively from his seat on the couch, his muscles pumping with every dreg of strength he had within him.

It should have worked. He was no pushover. He was stronger than most guys his age and better built by far. But he didn’t budge. Not by an inch. Not even by a fraction of one.

Cold sweat trickled down the side of Tag’s face. All his strength had gone into the attempt and yet he’d failed to so much as move the two men by a hair. He hadn’t even felt their hands press down on his shoulders particularly hard.

He looked up. The corner of Andrea’s mouth was curled in a little, amused smirk. Rami was grinning from ear to ear, a predatory glint in his eye. Neither looked particularly strained. He had to wonder if they’d even noticed.

“Guess you weren’t as strong as you thought, huh, little guy?” said Rami. There was that tone again. Patronizing. Condescending. Tag hated it.

“That’s it,” Tag growled under his breath. He rolled his shoulder in an attempt to shake Andrea off and grabbed Rami’s arm by the wrist. “I’m fucking sick of you people. I’m plenty strong enough to FUCK. YOU. UP!” he snarled.

Andrea laughed. He squeezed Tag’s shoulder—Tag hadn’t managed to shake him off at all—and said, “That’s so cute.”

Wh—What the… Why isn’t it working?! Tag thought to himself. He was trying to twist Rami’s hand off of his shoulder but he might as well have been trying to move a concrete wall.

Rami’s grip wasn’t even particularly tight. His arm was just solid and unmovable—like a bar of steel clamped onto Tag’s shoulder. However much effort he put into it, he couldn’t make Rami budge even once.

“What the fuck are you made out of?” Tag blurted out before he could stop himself.

“That was adorable,” said Rami, though the words weren’t really directed at Tag at all. He was looking at Andrea with a stupid smirk on his face. “I think he was trying to twist my arm.”

“I am going…ugh…to twist your arm off!” Tag insisted. He strained himself to his limits, leveraging all the muscles he could to focus the force on this one small part of Rami’s body.

For all his efforts, the result he desired remained well out of reach. “What… What the fuck is happening?” Tag lamented as he tried to catch his breath following the exertion. “I’m stronger than this!” he said, more to himself than to either of the two men holding him down.

Tag glanced up at their faces again. It was a mistake. They didn’t look the slightest bit intimidated but he couldn’t really blame them. He wasn’t managing to show off his strength particularly well.

Andrea chuckled. “Did you even feel anything?” he said.

Rami shrugged and twisted his wrist back and forth in Tag’s grasp. “No. Not a thing.”

The two men were talking about him like he was some sort of child. Actually, no. It was worse than that. They were talking about him like he was some sort of pet. “Hey!” he said, but neither of the two brutes even looked at him.

“Not even a little?” The scorn and derision in Andrea’s voice as he laughed sent waves of shame, humiliation, and anger through Tag. He’d never been so insulted and belittled to his face and Andrea didn’t even seem the slightest bit scared of retaliation.

“Well, maybe it’s a little unfair to put it that way,” said Rami.

Tag didn’t know why but he felt a sudden surge of hope inside him. He hung on to Rami’s every word as if he were a puppy just waiting for praise. At the very least he wanted the validation that he was able to do something to Tag, even if it wasn’t a lot.

Rami chuckled. “I guess it tickled. A bit.”

“I-I’m right here!” said Tag. He was so angry he tripped over his own words—that was what he was telling himself, at least. The little squeak that came out of him when his voice broke was so embarrassing he refused to acknowledge it. He’d never felt so emasculated in his life.

“You sure you’re not holding him down too hard?” said Andrea.

Rami waved his elbow up and down for emphasis. “Nah, man. Look. Nice and loose.”

“S-stop talking like I’m not right here!” said Tag. He tightened his grip on Rami’s wrist and punched up against the big guy’s forearm with all his might.

Such a blow might have broken a bone on anyone else but he didn’t even leave a mark. If anything, it had hurt him more than it had hurt Rami. “Fuck!” he cursed under his breath. It felt as if he’d rammed his knuckles straight into a steel bar.

“Sweetheart, the men are talking,” said Andrea. He moved his hand up from Tag’s shoulder to pat him on the head. “It’s not polite to butt in when you’re not being spoken to, you got that? I don’t want to have to punish you.”

Tag wasn’t sure what hurt more, the ache in his knuckles or the bruise on his ego. He’d never felt more helpless in his life. “Don’t—” his cheeks turned bright scarlet “—don’t call me sweetheart!”

He turned away from Rami and threw his hands forward, hoping to shove Andrea away from him. Not only did he nearly miss, he didn’t even manage to make Andrea budge.

“Alright, princess,” said Rami as he shook his head. “There’s no reason to get violent. I get that you think you’re a big, powerful man, but maybe you just need to accept that you’re not as strong as you think you are.”

“This…” Tag felt the tips of his ears getting hot. “This isn’t my fault! This is you! You’re using black magic somehow!”

Andrea laughed. “Black magic?” he said, mocking clear in his voice. “Are you using black magic, Rami?”

Rami shook his head. “Nope. You, Andrea?”

Andrea shook his head. “Wouldn’t even know where to start, man,” he said. He patted Tag’s hair again and said, “There’s no such thing, cutie. And being in denial isn’t healthy. It’d be much better if you just accepted the truth.”

“You’ll feel a lot less confused if you just admit that you’re not as strong as you like to think you are,” Rami pitched in.

Both men sounded so smarmy Tag wanted to punch both in the face. “I swear… If I figure out how to break this curse, I’m going to fucking pound your faces in,” he said.

Andrea and Rami looked at each other. They weren’t the slightest bit concerned. They seemed amused, more than anything.

“Did you hear that?” said Andrea. “He’s going to pound our faces in.”

Rami laughed and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye—as if what Tag had just said was the funniest thing in the world. “That’s so cute. He thinks he’s a top.”

Tag’s face got so hot he was afraid his cheeks would burst into flame. “T-that’s n-not what I meant!” he yelled, his voice cracking with a squeak halfway through his sentence. That made the tips of his ears burn with embarrassment.

“We were just playing with you, cutie,” said Andrea with a laugh.

“Yeah, princess. Just a little joke,” said Rami, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head. “But seriously, princess. If you’re so strong, why don’t you show it? I mean, you can’t even move my hand off your shoulder, so…”

“Like fuck I can’t,” Tag growled. He pushed against Rami’s arm with all his strength but it just would not yield. For the first time that night, Tag started to wonder if maybe the two men were right—maybe he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was.

No. No. He was strong. He knew he was strong. He had to get his head back in the game. He couldn’t let the two men get to him. Although he’d found his resolve, it was too late.

All it took for the magic to find its way in was a tiny crack in Tag’s defenses. It took the slightest hint of doubt about his capabilities and exploited it to great effect and got to work.

Tag, none the wiser, took a few deep breaths. He was just off his game. Rami might have been a bigger guy than him, but it was obvious that Rami was a juicer. He was all natural, so he should have been stronger.

He tried again. He tried to shove Rami’s hand off of him, leaning into it with all his strength. He thought he was making some progress when he felt Rami’s hand shift but it didn’t take long before he realized it was just because Rami had changed his grip on his shoulder.

A cold knot dropped into Tag’s stomach. He’d taken his time and mustered all his strength and yet it still wasn’t enough. He shivered, feeling as if the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees.

Andrea smacked Rami on the upper arm. “Look what you did,” he said. “Now he’s upset.”

Rami rolled his eyes. “Well, what was I supposed to do?” he said. “You’re not supposed to entertain delusions like this, you know.”

Tag could feel Andrea’s eyes on him. There seemed to be genuine sympathy in the older guy’s gaze but that was what made it so infuriating. “I’m not a child!” he said.

Andrea chuckled. “We know, cutie,” he said. “But don’t you think you’re being a bit of a brat right now?”

“I’m sorry if I made you feel bad,” said Rami. “But honestly, princess, it would be much easier if you just stopped pretending to be someone you’re not. Just accept that you’re not as strong as a real man.”

Tag dropped his hands onto his lap and looked at them. He wanted to say something to defend himself—to insist that he was supposed to be stronger than this, that he was a man. But it was difficult to find the words.

He’d been brought up with the idea of what a real man was. Strong. Confident. Self-sure. Andrea and Rami fit the picture to a T, except perhaps for the fact that they’d obviously been turned into a pair of queers.

Tag liked to think he fit the bill. At least, he had, before tonight. Right now, he felt powerless. Helpless. Impotent. About as far from self-sure and confident as he thought a real man ought to be. So maybe, just maybe, Rami was right.

He shivered. The room felt a few degrees colder again. The image he had of himself was crumbling. He stared at his hands in wide-eyed disbelief as they shrank right before his eyes.

Before he could process what was happening, another thing changed. Tag felt as if the atmosphere was getting heavier. It pressed down on him, squeezing every bit of his body.

The sensation was intense but not entirely uncomfortable. At least, not at first. The first time he clued in that something was wrong was when he felt his muscles literally deflate.

Tag’s eyes widened when his shirt became loose on him. He’d always been broad-shouldered, barely managing to fit in standard shirt sizes, so it was a bit of a mind-fuck to suddenly feel like the fabric was draped over him instead of stretched over his muscles.

“W-what’s happening?!” he said, his heart gripped in a panic unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

Andrea grinned and squeezed Tag’s shoulder. “Nothing you should be worrying about, cutie,” he said. “It looks like you’re finally acknowledging the truth.”

“The truth?!” The words came out a bit more shrill than Tag had hoped. “What truth?!”

Rami laughed. “What other truth? Obviously, the fact that you’re not a real man,” he said.

Tag gulped audibly. “T-that’s not true!” he said. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. But no matter how hard he tried to deny it, he couldn’t. His mind kept going back to the way that Rami and Andrea had made him feel.

If he were a real man, he wouldn’t have let them get under his skin. He wouldn’t have doubted himself, even when his strength failed him. He wanted to believe that Rami was wrong but as hard as he tried to convince himself, there was a part of him that couldn’t help but look at his shortcomings tonight and doubt.

A low whine escaped Tag as the pressure returned, compressing his body even further. The pants he’d worn tonight had been snug on him at the start of the evening. They weren’t anymore. The waistband was loose. Had he been standing up, the pants would have barely been hanging on his hips.

“See?” said Andrea with a light laugh. “Your body certainly agrees.”

“S-stop…” Tag groaned. Dread was a cold knot in the pit of his stomach. He could feel himself getting weaker, his chance to escape slipping away moment by moment. “Please…”

A pang of shame shot through Tag. He sounded so helpless, so pathetic. Even if he had fit the image of a real man he had in his head, he certainly didn’t, anymore.

A real man would have never begged for relief like he was doing. A real man would have fought until the bitter end. But as he felt the hard work of years practically evaporating off of his body, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d already lost.

Rami laughed. “Oh, man. This shit’s amazing,” he said as he lightly prodded Andrea with his elbow.

“You’re not wrong.” Andrea chuckled. “This look really suits him better, doesn’t it?” he said.

Tag’s chest felt tight. His arms and legs felt tight. Every bit of his body felt like it was in a vice, his muscles compressed and wasting away.

He wasn’t just losing bulk and getting thinner, either. He was shrinking. Had he been standing, his shirt would have looked more like a skirt on him, to say nothing of his pants, which would have fallen straight to the floor without anything to hold onto.

“He almost looks like he’s drowning in his shirt. It’s adorable,” said Rami.

Tag’s cheeks burned. The two men had gone back to talking as if he weren’t there. And while his body had certainly gotten smaller in the few minutes since the two had come over to hold him down, his presence had practically vanished.

It used to be that he could walk into a room and command the attention of the people inside. He’d pulled a couple of chicks that way, giving them a dashing little smile to let them know he was aware of all the attention he was getting and that he was interested in them in particular.

Right now, Tag was having to fight the impulse to pull away and disengage. He had shrunk enough, he didn’t need to make himself even smaller and less noticeable. But it was difficult to resist, especially in the domineering presence of the two men that were holding him down.

“You should help him with that,” said Andrea. “Wouldn’t want him to suffocate.”

Rami laughed. “You know what, man? You’re right. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t help the damsel in distress?”

At the implication that he was a damsel in distress, Tag couldn’t help but instinctively recoil. “I-I’m fine! I d-don’t need your help!” he said.

Eyes widening in surprise, Tag clutched his throat with both hands. The voice that had squeaked out of him wasn’t his own. It was higher by a few octaves, and a lot less unsteady and hesitant than his typical confident, relaxed timbre.

“It’s okay, princess,” said Rami as Andrea stepped aside to give him space. “You don’t have to pretend that you’re strong or independent anymore. You don’t have to tell yourself that you don’t need a man. Because you’ve got two right here who would be happy to take care of you.”

Tag flushed. He didn’t know why but he’d felt his heart skip a beat. A small part of him yearned dearly for the promise in Rami’s words, imagining his slight new body cradled in the thick, hairy arms of the big man tugging at the bottom hem of his shirt.

The moment passed quickly. Mortification replaced the feeling of butterflies in his stomach. He held the hem of his shirt down but could do nothing against Rami’s strength. He held on until it was pulled up over his head and tossed aside.

“S-stop!” said Tag. His first instinct was to cover up, crossing his arms over his chest. They were frightfully slim now, utterly devoid of any of the bulk he used to be so proud of.

Hell, he almost couldn’t bear to look. He had never been the most modest person. Being on a sports team meant being comfortable with being naked in the locker room. He’d stood balls-out naked in front of other guys before and never felt even the slightest bit shy but on this occasion, he felt like his cock was going to crawl back into his body. He was so embarrassed.

“See? Doesn’t that feel better?” said Andrea with a confident smirk.

Tag shivered. The air felt cold against his naked torso. But for some reason, it did feel better. He felt a lot less constrained than when he’d been swaddled in his now too-large shirt. He didn’t feel any less shy about his body, though.

After a little while he managed to force himself to look down. The first thing he noticed was the way his pants draped over his legs. They’d been skinny jeans to start with, but now his legs were the ones that looked skinny instead of the pants.

The thick pair of pecs that he used to have was gone. His chest was flat, devoid of any hard definition. If he’d had more meat on him, he might have looked like he had a pair of tiny, soft breasts. His abs were gone, too, replaced by a smooth, flat tummy.

“Why are you covering up, princess?” said Rami with a laugh as he sat down beside Tag.

“S-shut up,” said Tag. As he scooted away, he realized that perhaps the only part of him that hadn’t shrunk was his ass. His cheeks felt as full as they had ever been, though perhaps softer and less muscular than before.

Bright red bloomed across Tag’s cheeks. If they stripped him of his pants too, he was sure it would reveal that he had a fat bubble butt. And considering that every last strand of body hair had somehow disappeared off of him, he was sure his pale ass would have looked smoother than anything.

“Come here.” Rami leaned over and grabbed Tag by the armpits. He lifted Tag into the air with relative ease and planted him on his lap.

Tag had never felt so light. It made sense from a rational perspective, but he hadn’t really gotten a feel for how much mass he’d lost until Rami picked him up.

More to the point, the fact that he’d been manhandled so easily was messing with his mind. He was usually the one tossing people around—whether that was shoving the other team’s players out of the way on the field, or to excite the girls that liked things rougher.

Tag had never been on the receiving side before. His size and bulk had made it difficult to move him without his consent. Now that he didn’t have much of both, it was easier.

And as much as he refused to acknowledge it, there was a part of him that enjoyed the feeling. When Rami plopped him down on his lap, he couldn’t help but think to himself that he was starting to realize why some of the girls he’d been with had liked being tossed around so much.

The feeling of Rami’s hands on his wrists interrupted Tag’s train of thought. The bigger guy was tugging his arms away from his body. He resisted instinctively, not wanting to expose his naked torso. But Rami was too strong to be denied.

“You’ve got nothing to hide, princess,” said Rami as he moved Tag’s hands down to his sides. He released Tag’s wrists and moved his hands to Tag’s waist, cupping his sides in his palms. “You’ve got a beautiful body. You should be more proud of it.”

Why he didn’t resist more, Tag wasn’t sure. He felt like a warm haze had fallen over his thoughts and Rami’s touch had made him feel tingly all over.

He sharply sucked in a breath as he felt Rami’s calloused fingertips trace lightly up his sides. It felt good. Unfairly good. He only just managed to hold back the moan that threatened to spill from his lips.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” said Rami. His hands continued their way up until they reached their destination. He caught Tag’s nipples in his fingers and squeezed. “Doesn’t that feel right?”

Though he managed to stifle the moan, Tag couldn’t stop the soft whine that escaped him when Rami rubbed his nipples. He felt like a bolt of lightning had struck him, electric pleasure crackling through his whole body.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but nod. It did feel good. It did feel right. Even though he knew that it couldn’t be right. Because he was straight. He wasn’t a faggot. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy the touch of other men.

The couch shifted as Andrea sat down as well. He reached over and placed his hand on Tag’s belly. He splayed his fingers out, lightly stroking the sensitive skin there.

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. However hard he tried to fight it down, Tag couldn’t help himself. He tilted his head back and moaned, body awash in foreign pleasure.

In the back of his head, he knew that he should have been fighting. He didn’t want to be touched all over by a couple of muscled-up queer freaks and yet what they were doing to him felt so good he couldn’t bring himself to tell them to stop either.

“See?” said Andrea, his fingers slipping lower to tease the spot just above Tag’s waistband with light-handed rubbing. “Didn’t we tell you it would feel so much better to just admit that you’re not as strong as you like to think you are? That you’re not a real man, after all?”

Tag whined again. The noise was unfamiliar to him. He was usually a lot gruffer in bed. He grunted. He groaned. He growled. But as Rami and Andrea touched him, a new kind of noise came to his lips—he mewled.

And as much as he loathed to admit it, to acknowledge that he wasn’t as much of a real man as he liked to think, it did feel better to concede that he wasn’t as strong as he liked to think he was. And the small voice in the back of his head that told him this was all wrong was growing tinier and more distant the more the two men played with his body.