Dean took in his new rubber self. The feeling was intoxicating. So free, so clean, so tight.
So tight, in fact, that it began to pull Dean inward. Dean began to pull his underwear over his rubber crotch, then applied his jeans, but as he went to reach for his shirt, his pants fell clean off. At first, he shrugged it off, and pulled his pants back up, but try as he might, his pants refused to stay.
Next in line was his underwear. He was previously wearing briefs, since his boxers were in the wash (he was often too lazy to run a cycle over his clothes), so they were quite tenacious in holding to Dean's rapidly diminishing frame. Try as they might, however, eventually they found themselves right into Dean's pants laying on the floor. Dean was in shock. Something was wrong. He looked down, and noticed the floor approaching him at a rapid pace.
Then it stopped. As quickly as it began, it found itself at rest. Dean picked his head up and looked around. He surveyed a foreign land, resembling his bedroom, only much larger. His chin could stick itself clean on his chair, so long as it remained fully lowered. He now needed a step ladder to get onto his bed, and while he could easily reach up for his door handle, if he were any shorter it might have became a hassle.
His shrinkage affected him in more ways than one. His appendages became stubbier. His equipment was diminished to a hollowed shell of what it once was. His once lean build was now stocky and rounded. He barely felt human anymore.
And to top it all off, he had nothing to wear. He was now a little naked rubber man, and looked to be stuck that way for a while.