Spring break was almost over. I wasn't ready for it, of course, but it had rudely ignored my wishes. I'd spent the last week or so hanging out in my apartment, blessedly roommate-free and living the college student dream: staying up to all hours of the night, destroying pizzas and bags of ramen, and drinking more beer than my waistline could possibly survive.
But it was spring break, ya know? You gotta have a little fun, even if you're stuck in your apartment by yourself. My friends had rudely abandoned me to my own devices while they jetted off to some compsci convention that I probably wouldn't have gone to even if I
did
have the money for a trip like that—most of the friends I'd made were programmers and gamers, despite being an English major myself.
Regardless of my own precarious financial situation—not that I was destitute, by any means, but my family had never been wealthy—I did get to enjoy a fairly decadent apartment. My living situation had been figured out for me by my parents when I'd gotten accepted to the local state university after finishing my AA. One of my father's childhood friends also had a son attending, and he most definitely
was
wealthy.
Unfortunately, Ian was also a huge fucking asshole. Who really didn't want a roommate, despite his parents' decree that they would only pay for his room and board if he had one. Enter me, stage left, and Ian's resentment and entitlement stage right.
En garde.
To say that Ian had no concept of self-awareness would be a truly egregious understatement. In no way was I responsible in any way for his situation; given the choice, I probably would have just lived in my van, or the campus dorms at best. But our parents had all been delighted by the idea of us rooming together. And honestly, I'd been a little excited at first as well. Ian and I had seen each other a few times over the years, and while he'd always been a bit self-centered, we'd always gotten along fairly well, and called each other friends. I'd assumed things would go smoothly enough between us, and the apartment
was
nice
. Really
nice.
Ian was not.
He'd spent about eighty percent of his time totally ignoring me; which I honestly didn't mind that much. But the other 20% he spent tormenting me in whatever shitty way struck his fancy that day. Calling me fat, throwing chips and popcorn at me from the couch, locking me out of the bathroom while he was gone, eating my food, and various other physically harmless but emotionally abusive behaviors. My parents cared, but didn't think it was worth giving up a free luxury apartment for it.
So I'd stuck it out and ignored him as much as I could. But deep down, I fucking
hated
that smug sack of trash. He had everything in the world stacked in his favor, and rather than take a mild inconvenience in stride and learn to cohabitate with a friend, he preferred to obsess over hating being controlled by his parents, using me as a scapegoat.
As I sat on the couch, staring wide-eyed at the apartment door, all of those things flashed through my mind... every little snide comment, every time he tripped me as I walked by...
You see, Ian had just gotten home early. As he stepped through the doorway, his "'Sup, nerd—" was interrupted by a yelp of fear, and I watched in disbelief as he
literally vanished into thin air,
his clothes slumping empty to the floor
.
Only, I could still hear him. Yelling and cursing and demanding that I... release him?
My heart was pounding in my chest, and my throat had constricted as I jumped up from the couch, a mixture of fear, confusion, and curiosity driving me up. There on the floor were his clothes, right next to his ridiculously expensive leather duffel bag. But the clothes weren't as empty as I'd at first thought; between the small lump shuffling around under them and the angry yelling coming from that general direction, my incredulous mind had only one possible conclusion to draw.
Ian had... shrunk?
My brain swirled as I tried to reconcile a seeming impossibility with the reality in front of me. My head suddenly felt hot, and I almost had to sit back down involuntarily before logic dragged my mind back to pragmatism.
If Ian really did get shrunk... I might have room for a little payback.
A twinge of guilt tried to peck at me as my body jerked into motion, but I ignored it and continued dashing toward the clothing. As I reached for his t-shirt, Ian suddenly found an armhole and jumped to his feet, the shirt falling away from him. I had a moment to gulp as his naked body came into view and he staggered, trying to regain his balance. Fuck that guy, but god did he have an amazing body. Every muscle perfectly defined, but not overworked, the perfect dusting of hair in all the right spots, and a beautiful uncut cock bouncing and swinging.
I mean... it was only half an inch
long
at this point, but who was measuring? He had definitely been shrunk, that much was clear. His normally tall frame had been reduced to a mere six inches, smaller even than a Ken doll—though
significantly
more endowed.
After each of us had a moment of disorientation, I finished the motion I'd begun a second earlier and scooped the shirt up, ignoring Ian's squawk of protest as he was unceremoniously bundled into a makeshift sack.
"FUCK YOU, YOU LITTLE RAT, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO T—OOMPH."
His tirade was cut short as I flicked him through the shirt. I immediately felt a little guilty, realizing that I had probably hit him harder than I intended.
"
I
didn't do anything. I have no fucking idea how you ended up like this. And, uh... sorry about the flick. I didn't mean to hit you that hard," I said, and nudged the lump in the shirt lightly.
"Don't fucking