This is the first part of a shrinking story I'd like to continue. The story is told from the perspective of Jay, a grey wolf, as he moves in with his older brother after high school.

His brother isn't too happy about the new situation, and the two seem to have grown apart. However, one of their housemate's inventions is going to turn their world up-side-down.

Let me know what you think of this first part as well as what you'd like to see in future installments of the series.


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They say that life really begins after high school, that’s when all the big changes take place. Move out of the house, go to college, get a job –whatever. It’s scary and exciting, but, you know what? It’s normal. Those were the kinds of things I expected when I moved in with my brother and his friends. It was supposed to be fun.

Now, let’s be clear: waking up to find that the clothes you’d warn to bed are more than a dozen sizes too big is not normal. For that matter, realizing that you’re no bigger than an action figure or that the relative height of the bunk beds –on which, of course, you had to have the top bunk– is now comparable to the Grand Canyon is not fun. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.


What will probably come to be known as the single worst day of my life, actually began the day before as a what I thought would be the start of the rest of my life.

“Oh, we should visit the school store to make sure that Jay has all of the books he needs for class,” said mom, unhelpfully tidying a closet of cleats and jerseys while dad and I struggled to bunk the two beds. Mom has always been a clean freak; not a single speck of dust or dirt could escape her lupine vision. In two shakes of the tail, she removed a wipe from her purse and cleaned the window sill without moving an inch of fur out of place. “Watch your back, dear.”

Dad’s teeth grit under his graying muzzle and flicked an ear. “Whatever you say, honey,” he grunted under the strain of lifting. Everybody says I look like my dad, and somewhere underneath the pot belly I could see myself as a younger, better-fit version of him. I had the same timber of his coat, though a little less grey as well as his yellow-green eyes. Who knows, maybe thirty years ago my father and I could be passed off as twin wolves.

“I thought we were supposed to be moving you into the upstairs room,” he barked, dropping the bed posts into place.

“It’s only temporary, Dad,” Chris, my other brother replied with a corrective sigh. “Max already claimed that as his workspace before we got back from break. He didn’t know we’d found someone to take Jon’s place.” Chris stacked another box crudely labeled “school supplies” in the corner next to mom.

“Chris, I wish you’d let me take the time to clean up for you.” Mom brushed Chris’ whiskers and attempted to tousle the fur atop his head into a more presentable position, no easy task considering the height difference, but somewhere between standing on her toes and Chris reluctantly bending down the ritual was completed.

In a family of wolves, Chris is easy to spot. Just look for the big orange cat with stripes. Trust me, you can’t miss him. Christopher T Coleman, the tiger, my adopted older brother, and much to my mother’s chagrin, not exactly the cleanest person in the world.

“It’s fine, mom. Really.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Martha,” called Dad, still out of breath. “Come on, let’s let the boys settle in.”

Mom’s ears drooped. She looked from my brother and back to me. “My boys are growing up so fast.” She squeezed us both in a single hug. “Be good,” she whispered in my ear. “And look after your brother,” she instructed Chris.

That was it. They piled into Dad’s truck as we watched from the front porch, and with two beeps of the horn, they were gone.

Chris regarded the small stack of boxes next to the dresser of what used to be his room. He scratched his head and frowned like he’d just opened a cereal box to find someone already claimed the prize.

“Just like old times,” I said sheepishly, trying to break the mounting awkwardness. Surprise, it didn’t work.

“Yeah.” He mulled over the word reluctantly. “Listen, Jay… we’re going to need some ground rules if this is going to work out.” He said “ground rules” like it hurt.

I climbed the bunks to my own unfurnished bed and sprawled out on the limited space. “Ok,” I said suspiciously. “Like what?”

“Like-”

He never got the chance to explain. Directly above us, ceiling pounded to life with the muffled staccato of falling objects. Chris placed his head in a paw. “Max,” he mumbled. “Come on, we’d better see whether or not this one killed him.”

Chris moved towards the stairs without urgency, and seemed to count this interruption as reason enough for a tour. “Kitchen and living room are on the first floor.” He pointed to doors as they looped around the top of the stairs. “Kevin’s room. Max’s room. Bathroom. And this…” He held the last syllable we came last door with a hand-written sign that read “knock first.” “What’s supposed to be your room.”

From inside, someone shouted, “Don’t come in!” But, it was already too late. Chris pushed open the door. There was a flash of green. I moved to cover my eyes. It vanished just as quickly, but it still made my fur stand on end. “Man, can’t you read the sign?” a German Sheppard asked. He was bent over the floor, picking up an assortment of tools. I took it upon myself to help.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Chris replied. “This is my brother, the one who’s taking Jon’s spot for the rent.”

“So, you’re the one.” Max, the dog, took the wrench gratefully from my hand and smiled. We exchanged names.

The room was an absolute mess –sorry, I get it from my mom. A number of shelves nailed to the wall housed books with loose papers protruding from the corners. In fact, if you could find a surface not covered with paper, you’d win the grand prize. Every electrical socket was filled, and milk crates were used in lieu of actual furniture to support a desktop computer. However, by far the strangest feature of the room was the collection of wires and metal arranged into some sort of device in the center of the room. It was roughly bottle-shaped with a long telescopic tube with a lens pointing towards the door.

“What’s that thing?” I asked. “Looks like something out of Frankenstein’s lab.”

Max evidently took this as permission to geek out over the device. Greedily, he loomed over it. “This, is the molecular compactor, my pride and joy. Been working on it all summer and I’ve almost worked out the kinks.”

I just blinked to convey my lack of understanding, not that the German Sheppard needed it. I think he would have continued talking whether or not I was still there.

“Well, what it does is it takes the electro-magnetic force between molecules that holds them together and alters the distance between those molecules across the entire body.”

Nope, still wasn’t following, but Max’s tail wagged incessantly like a duster.

“It alters the volume of a given mass, makes it bigger or smaller.”

“It makes something bigger or smaller,” I repeated skeptically. “Does it work?”

The dog bobbed his head, weighing the explanation as he uttered it. “It still needs some work,” he admitted. “Here, let me show you.”

Chris placed a hand on his shoulder just as Max was about to manipulate a console of red and orange buttons. “Not right now. Jay’s got to unpack, and I’ve got to get to practice soon.” Chris was on the college’s soccer team. Classes wouldn’t start for another week, but the sports teams didn’t let that get in the way of their drills. “We were just wondering when you’d be ready to clear out the room.”

Max’s ears fell. He turned to his cobbled-together lab and frowned. “Well, I suppose I could clean it out when I get back.”

“Back?” Chris echoed. “Where are you going?”

“Back home for the weekend. Just wanted to pick up some things.” Chris eyed the Sheppard. “I promise,” he assured us, “I’ll move it all into the garage when I get back.”

Chris sighed, but seemed to accept it. “Alright. We’re holding you to it.”

“Cross my heart.” Max traced the appropriate motion around his chest. “It was meeting you… uh, Jay, was it?”

The fur of my skin stood on end again as we left the room, and a tingling sensation trickled throughout my body. However, the only thing I thought at the time was how weird my new housemates were.