Jane's Toy...

THREE

I listen intently from high above, my perch atop your Christmas tree where I am helplessly bound while the young woman tells you her story. Parts of her tale I know well, while other things are a blur, half-remembered nightmares that I tried to blot out of my memory...

Her name is Monique, and you obviously know her as she is a guest in your home. Too, you seem to know that she works for the university in town, a Graduate student in the Science Department, to which you donate apparently. If she knows you beyond that, I can't comprehend. She called you Goddess, though why, I don't know. Obviously you are a Goddess to me, now in my shrunken state.

She explains about the research they were doing on something called the FAZE Unit; the glass cubicle that I recalled, and how it was designed to reduce things in mass. She got technical for a bit in her explanation, explaining how the test subject's body fluids were extracted- basically 'steamed' away, and in the process the subject lost mass, and stature apparently. She laughed at that. "An unexpected side effect," she said, and you both laughed looking at me, making me blush in embarrassment and writhe about in a new, useless bid for freedom. "We were trying to invent a 'weight loss' device."

You both laughed again, and I saw the woman pull something from her purse. It was slim and silver with a small glass touch screen. In fact, it looked like an I-Touch, but somehow I suspected it was something far more sinister. The woman licked her lips as she stared at it a moment, then smiling, handed it to you. You accepted of course, being the gracious Hostess, looking at it curiously, smiling in delight as you hit the power button and the screen started to glow.

"We call it the Fazer," the woman said with a shrug and a sheepish grin. "Stupid, I know, but we're sci-fi geeks, what can I say. It's basically a control pod that will affect anyone changed in the FAZE Unit." The woman looked at me again, her eyes sparkling as I squirmed under her scrutiny.

"You can adjust his size," she said, her voice a hushed whisper, though whether because she was becoming excited or realized that she was in a room full of people, I don't know. "Simply tap in the desired ratio and point it at him. He's enveloped by a dose of radiation- harmless to everyone else- that will either add or subtract to the water in his chemical make-up."

"That's incredible," I hear you say, and your voice seems almost as breathless as the other woman's. I watch as your thumb slides over the touch pad, your eyes sparkling in the glow as your smile widens, like a child on Christmas morning with a new, fascinating toy. And just how far is that from the truth.

"It's a camera too, and you can download mp3 music from the Internet." Monique chuckles and hands you what appears to be various cords and an AC adapter. "Rechargeable, but the battery life is short. Four, maybe five 'zaps' and it needs about six hours to be recharged.

"A couple other things," Monique went on, her brow furrowing in thought for just a moment. "Organics in contact seem to shrink with the subject; real leather, 100% cotton, pure silk, that sort of thing, but nothing blended. No plastics or metal, or man-made, really. No synthetics.

"And finally, the smaller he gets, the tougher he gets. The subjects seem to gain a resiliency with their shrinkage. Not invulnerable or anything like that. No, more they become sort of rubbery, like Silly Putty if you remember that stuff. Mash it up however you like and it eventually molds back into shape. We've actually done some pretty nasty things to little 'c' there, and our other surviving test subject, 'e'."

"There's another like him?" you ask, sounding intrigued.

"Yeah," Monique replied, then, "Yes, Goddess." I see you wave her off from formality, more interested in the story. She continues: "Two survived. Little c here, and e back at the Labs. There'll be others soon, once we isolate why they survived and others didn't. They're unique at the moment."

"And you're giving him to me?" You sound a bit astonished, if not flattered. I struggle again, futilely as you discuss me like I'm not even there, or worse, like I'm a thing, a toy to be passed around. I hate it.

"It was decided, for your contributions and favors. Not unanimously I should add. The dissident is even now undergoing prep for his own test study."

You both laughed at that as Monique leaned in close, showing you various things about the handheld unit. You walked away, head to head chatting until I could no longer hear what either of you were saying, and a feeling of impending doom washed over me.

I remembered the 'tests' as Monique had called them. Hours of torture really; poking and pricking and prodding with needles and tweezers. I lost track of the times that blood had been taken, and DNA from cotton swabs jammed into my mouth and up my ass. I recalled be taped to a glass slide and slipped under a microscope as the 'doctors' examined me. Eventually the tests became less clinical.

I remember flashes of pain and horror...

Taped to the floor while one of the Lab Assistants stepped on me repeatedly until they were satisfied that I could not be crushed at various sizes...

Dangling from a string wrapped about my wrists while one of the doctors held a flaming Zippo under me, watching and laughing while I danced and screamed, another taking notes...

There were electric shocks...

The frying pan...

One of the female scientists decided to test my ability to breathe in a degrading, though unique way and I spent a day trapped in her panties, half my bound body shoved up inside of her like a human, living dildo. Apparently I had to breathe, because I passed out, but like 'Silly Putty' as Monique put it, I sprang back to shape and life eventually.

And then the tortures really started, as everyone seemed to have some new, innovative idea almost every day. I was kept in a hamster cage at night, like a Lab Rat and fed vitamin pellets rather than food, at least at first. They determined that I did not need much to eat after a time, but I did need water to replenish my body, so they hooked a drip bottle to the side of my cage that I was forced to suck on at regular intervals.

And then this morning I woke up bound and in your Christmas Stocking. I have no idea how, and I suspect that I was put to sleep for transport. Now I know the why. I'm your gift, for services rendered, as tribute? I don't know.

I watch you from my perch, from afar as you mingle. You are beautiful, I admit, long legs and a gorgeous figure in your black dress and red sweater, your boots. Your face shines when you smile, and you seem sincere. I hope that you will help me, now that you have the means, but I somehow doubt it will be that easy.

Hell, I have no family to speak of, no real friends. No one will come looking for me. And worse, I signed my life away when I joined the Test Group. I pounded the nails into my own coffin.

But I'm a man, dammit- a person despite my size. I'm not a toy, or a pet, and I have to make you understand that. I have to make you see...