There are no certainties over whether or not the things that each one of us most cherish, will be protected from those who wish to destroy it for profit, need for excess, or a will to wield despotic terror and absolutism by one who seeks to control the world, along with all that exists within it. Much too often these harbingers fail to be contented to stay inside of their own yards, and peacefully give thanks for all comforts at their disposal, but instead find themselves happy to intrude upon the lives of others for the mere thrill of changing others against the pursuits of their own happiness. They do all this without fear of real justice and the wrath of consequence, as long as their efforts are assured of success, by the buttressing of more powerful political forces. It is so rarely often that one, even less almost twenty people, can find the opportunity to tip balances not only into their favor, but well into very savory, lengthy scenarios of dark revenge.
So many who were now in possession of their own miniaturized woman, or in more cases, women, were each enjoying individual versions of horror and afflictions against the very pompous objects that provoked their play. Those who had pet cats were discovering that the only difference between being treated with affection and eaten like a mouse or goldfish, was purely size. This was found in a case where Troy, who was deemed in Mr. Truffle's class as the "Master of the Macabre," when it came to writing his "VSW" stories. He had wound Mrs. Zimmerman up in a strip of his dental floss before dangling her around like a toy for the cat to swat at, and had intended to limit this play to the innocence of cat teasing until, the cat clasped his claws and jaws around her just the same as he would with a plastic doll or toy soldier. Troy had seen him chew for a moment before releasing and should have expected the same, but once that cat had tasted flesh, better the sweet blood liquid, she had only the length of two chews to scream before the third chew crushed her tiny skull. Troy was almost in tears because he had only caught one and stepped on so many others, trying to catch more in his clumsy pursuit as he was well known for his lack of eye to hand coordination. Mrs. Zimmerman had been an easy catch because after her glasses fell, she was practically blind and feared running into a hard object in her attempt to escape the huge hands of fate.
Many were taken right into the bedrooms so anxiously by throbbing needs and long awaited, surreal passions that proved to be so hard physically, that puked guts were spilled over sexual organs so abrasive, they had torn the flesh of the victims who were so brutally rubbed against them for pleasure. Those who had always wondered what some of their sweeter captives would taste like in a shrunken state, had their wish. Before the end of the first day, most of the women, conspiring to make a deadstick out of Mr. Truffle's class, and "VSW" board had evaporated into their doom inspired by erotic lust for their physical shells, inspired by such prude dispositions.
Ben Ray had caught eleven tiny women, and aside from being the only one left without one single dead shrew on his hands, he was almost the only one who had any survivors. He had a gentle touch with his little ladies, that had charmed them into recollecting themselves and attempting communication with him on the same level. He was a shy kind of student who had taken classes from many of them. They had an interest recruiting him for support of the cause to abolish Mr. Truffle's class, but he always quietly averted the attempts, or returned polite empty promises to become involved. They were sure that their only chance for survival was with him. Although there was not much abrasive interaction with him, none after they had been caged and placed on Ben's dresser, they had also noticed little contact was made with Ben. He had been busy in other areas of his house which they assumed to be unrelated activities, occasionally shouting out to him in intimidating demands and authoritarian commands towards him that sounded off to Ben's ears. The human powers of reason, along with the complacency invoked by the trust in human compassion, appeared grossly underestimated by common societal standards, in light of the great tolerance that Ben proved to have throughout the day of smug calls from his former superiors.
At 6:PM, Ben walked into a room full of tiny teacher waving their fists as if they could intimidate the amiable kid, who was known to be an easy pushover. "Ladies, everything is set for your survival course."
A large busted lady named, Ms Haggard set her hand upon hips as she pushed herself forward in the cage, "We've had enough of this nonsense young man, you go tell someone who can help us out of this. You are still in good with us, so don't blow it!"
Ben reached each hand into the cage and pinched each tit between his thumb and finger, covered by a wool sweater and began to lift her up by them, tearing the sweater as she screamed out in agony. His eyes fixed hers as he held her in such a vulnerable squeeze, "I'll blow you if I get any more trouble, lady," as he held her feet inches off the ground, dropping her to the cage floor with a quick release, before lifting the cage itself to the obstacle course.
Some of the women were aiding Ms. Haggart as she painfully clutched her chest area, while the others stared, perplexed at the project that had been worked on with manic dedication, as well as the persistence of insanity. Kitchen appliances were all set into place with rope bridges made out of strings, blenders ready to blend, boiling stew pots, cheese graders, slicers, dicers, only making a small portion of what kind of terror lay ahead. Most of them fainted at the sight of this madman's work.