Ben became highly aroused as the paranoid tug-a-war team began to pull the tiny high school teachers into the swirling, merciless blender, one by one. He had then realized that there was a difference between the old "Pennington" that he was using, and the new "Multcherizer," that he had recently bought. Instead of liquefying, as the latter would have done, their bones were spared, stewing them into a creamy red, milky, and viscous slim that caused the blades to work harder, bogging down the motor itself. Then, Ben noticed that tiny heads with mutilated faces were bobbing up and down from the swirling whirlpool, each he could recognize, although more smashed up and contorted. There had been one tiny girl, much younger than the rest, who had been pleading with her side, not to start a tug of war; to stay calm instead and try to hold out, balancing on the popsicle stick platform. She was soon recognized to be, "Marcy," a girl majoring in psychology at the University in town, who came to aid the call of Mr. Truffle's, worried that his class was not starting out to well when he read the labored works of his students.
She still had her slim dark glasses on, that gave her the finishing touch for a confirmed intellectual, as she proved to be in the class in addition to the fact that she was such a good sport about the stories, to the point of becoming favorable to reading the stories out loud. She had not been touched by the swirling vortices of the blender when he noticed her, but as she could no longer hold on to the rim of the container, Marcy slipped down it's inner wall, quickly, and plunged into the whirlpool that took her down to the blades, suddenly stopping before she could have her ankles nicked by the passing swipe. She proved to be a good swimmer as she fought her way to the surface, at the same time that I dumped all of the gross contents into the sink, leaving her to sit with her legs stretched out, so vulnerable with her long, golden brown hair, slicked down with the slimy remains of the other women, and milk.
Ben knew that he respected her so much. He knew that she had been part of the group of teachers against Mr. Truffle's, as a political advocate for his class, who had intended to voice her point of view quite bravely amidst the popular censorship movement. She was a beautiful goddess, with her young college girl features; slim noise, beautiful smiling, brown eyes and thick eyebrows that composed a very serious, wise collection of lineaments that would earn her respect if she were smaller than a flea, observed under microscope. She moved him very differently than the other bitches he had captured, and remembering how she had once said, after reading many of the stories in class, "I fantasize about being inches high, but I would be too afraid in this crowd," which was followed by laughter around the class. After that, he could not see her as tiny, anymore, but as a sympathizer to the inspirations that lead to such stories. She, was so cool, and a friend to all.
Now that she was in such a state, he found her too beautiful to touch. My instant response to her unfortunate situation, was to pull her out of the indignity that landing in the sink would present to anyone. Now, for the first time, he was so scared that someone he liked so much could be broken and destroyed so easily. The remainder of the other team who had pulled every teacher in but Marcy, had fallen to the counter when he took the blender container away, leaving the popsicle structure to collapse as they discovered that such a fall did not offer a fatal, or even injurious impact. They were to horrified by the realization of pulling their comrades into the soup, before they themselves were. He set Marcy's very small thin, frail body on to the counter, before she stood up to recollect herself.
Putting each hand gently at a side of her, without dare touching, Marcy stared up at Ben in confusion about the motion he had made to confine her, indirectly, between his two hands. She knew that trying to run in either direction would mean touching his sensitive inner palm, pushing past the envelope that held her dignity before his eyes, while he felt the same way, hoping she could take the more civilized hint. Ben examined her for a minute with a fond obsession as she maintained a serious facade to him.
Marcy's upbringing had given her the highest of academic confidence in herself, while at the same time, repeatedly experiencing difficulties with others. Men often looked at her and counted themselves out at the start, while women despised her. She often looked into the mirror trying to find the flaws that deemed her so unattractive and undesirable as a friend, but somewhere along the way up through life's trials, she turned towards her dedication to her personal goals, making her own father proud that she was going to be capable of surviving for herself, instead of ending up with another man to early, and she dearly loved to please her father. She was aware that he had known her long enough to regard an aggressive touch, or containment of her, as the breaching of a deeper friendship between them, that would abominate into a monster capturing his prey. He wanted to separate the other aggressive bitches away from her, and in doing so, grabbed a paper plate from the shelf, to lay out on the counter where he would place each of the disoriented creatures he snatched between his thumb and fingers, as Marcy watched this trend and placed herself with them so that he would not find it necessary to snatch her along. She climbed in with dignity while he was opening the microwave oven, not noticing that she had climbed aboard, and placed them inside, before shutting the oven.
"Oh, dear, he wouldn't do such a thing," yelled out Mrs. Tanner.
Actually he did not plan on such a horrid thing right off. He wanted to keep them from running away and had no confinement set up within reachable distance, while he cleaned up the mess. He was rinsing the remains of the losing team down the drain, choking as he tried to say the first word to the seemingly quiet, Marcy. He ran the garbage disposal before noticing that Marcy was nowhere in sight. He looked down the drain, "Oh my, NO!"
Inside the oven, the hostile teachers, sure that their goose was cooked, turned against Marcy who barely had the size and strength to fight against any one of the bitch teachers, let alone the whole mob of them, growing in anger as they made comments like, "It's your liberal permissiveness, young lady, that has lead us to the point of becoming microwavable and eaten," and "this is all your fault. You encouraged this!"
Ben thought, without Marcy, "what are the rest of them worth to me??" He began setting the buttons to finish them off. It was time for other things in life, and his stomach was beginning to sicken from the violence, in a way he had not imagined before. "I'll pop them all," he thought as he set it on high, before looking into the window and saying, "Bye bye, bitches!" In the same breath he said to himself, "Oh no, Marcy!"
The other women had been pummeling her black and blue with their fists before one of them jumped on her, and was choking her to death. He wondered if he could save her in time. He had the great power of possession over them in most ways, but could clearly see his limitations in the factors of time, distance, and not having the ability to bring back a life from the dead. She was almost beaten unconscious and it made his heart cry with deep sickness as he thought she was surely dead. He opened the door and reached in with his fingers, flicking the women who posed the closest threat, in their heads, knocking them out as they flipped backward, until their were two, very softly dressed women who were standing there just watching, while allowing such pending atrocity to take place. In his mind they were just as evil and as he dumped the whole paper plate out of the oven, on to the counter, he plucked each one up, looked deep into the eyes of the first one, dangling by her tearing, flowery, native American style dress that covered her legs down to her ankles, until his plucking of her stretched them up like a high skirt, as he said, "This is going to be so delicious and savory." The other looked less ferocious, and more like a follower, but he said to himself, looking into her tiny brown eyes filled with terror, "What the hell," and tossed her down after her friend, closing his mouth, and soon they had disappeared. This was when he first noticed that Marcy had not died in the beating.
Her eyes peered into him with distrust, as well as curiosity as she said, "Y--You, ate them?"
"Swallowed them whole, they're jiggling on the way down, hmm, quite good." The more hyper one is clawing from inside me.
Marcy, in her naive thoughts, was sure that if two knock out women who could have been all his own, forever, were far more worth saving than she was. She thought, "Why would he hesitate, now?? An ugly worm like me is easy to swallow, if he's that hungry."
"And now, Marcy, oh Marcy," He said as he brought his hand towards her.
"I suppose I am next?" She said, moving away from his hand, more so in fear than in the civil violation of the act.
"No," Ben said with surprise, "no, never. I was going to say, 'and now it's time to find a way to restore you.' It's going to be awfully hard." He stroked her long, golden brown hair with his thumb, and moved his thumb thoroughly, although very gently, around her soft lineaments, and without saying a word, she was dizzy with the discovery that someone thought she was so pretty, so precious, like a doll far better than any ever made, from "Barbie," toys, to a fine collection of porcelains. He began to say, "I can't believe you think I would do to you, what I did to the others," but was interrupted as she was so overwhelmed, that her head became dizzy, and she fell back into the soft protection of his palm. How nice it felt to him.
Suddenly, she recollected herself and decided to use whatever pull, her attractiveness was worthy of, to persuade him to save the swallowed women, fighting at inner chest level. While he was caressing over her like a prize jewel, she interrupted with her typical, unladylike manners.
In her tiny voice she yelled, "Please, barf-em-out."
He was shocked by her blunt cry for their rescue. "What for, they were going to kill you."
"No, they were paralyzed with fear. They were shouting for the others to stop."
"I'd do almost anything for you, Marcy, but not that."
With the magic she was aware of possessing, Marcy gleamed up at him and said, "I'll be yours forever, if you do. Willingly. Big or small."
"Either way, really?"
"Your choice. It's more your disadvantage if I am stuck this way forever, and you have other choices later. I may not, but you must promise me now."
He looked her over, up and down, touched her gently with caresses, taken greatly by the thought of some beautiful work of nature, so cute, giving herself as if she thought the offer was so humble, in her inferior disposition.
"You have to decide now, and promise."
He didn't give it any time to think, "Of course, of course."
"Let them go before the acids completely destroy them. There's still a chance."
He puked the first wave out on the counter, that knocked Marcy back on her butt, unexpectedly, making a mess out of her body, already bruised up, but bravely shouted, "Again!" The second time, one of them came out, winded from the crush.
"C'mon, one more time, it's working," she yelled with cheer.
He ralphed up the second one, who fell out in humble breaths for survival, as Marcy kindly helped them both to their feet. They were so grateful towards her, even covered with smelly vomit and vile filth, that they immediate expressed a great need to return the favor.
Marcy smiled, looked up at him and said, "As a matter of fact, you can. I need two good bride's maids."
The two ladies were more than happy to oblige, and as they were all returned to the dollhouse, each took baths before helping Marcy become as cute as some tooth fairy goddess. They were even a little concerned as one spoke, "You might get eaten alive this way." Marcy laughed it off with confidence in herself as the one thing he would not harm.
They had a formal, but small wedding, and it was shortly after that he had found two remaining pods, shaped like marshmallows, that could restore two women. He thought, of course, it would have to be Marcy, and one other, of Marcy's choosing. There would have to be some other alternative for the remaining tiny lady. Maybe she could be granted as a possession of her bridesmaid, partner. Marcy had to be first. He had the power to decide, and Marcy deserved it more than most women on the planet, in his mind. Ah, what she would be to him, as a lover, full sized. He slept on it, the night before the day of size restoration and had heavenly dreams of Marcy laying next to him in a king sized bed, making love, talking softly into the quite, still darkness of night. Their dreams, their hopes.
When Ben waved the pod in front of Marcy's face, she cried out, "Let them have it! Please, restore them."
"No way, I'll squish out one of them first before denying you."
Marcy cried in horror, "Don't say such things. You are not a hater of women. You've taken care of the beastly bitches that needed to be done with."
"NO! I will not deny you. Stand right there we'll get this over with before we talk any more about it."
Marcy cried in wails. "No, please, hear me out, please," she said tearfully, "either one of those women will surely die. They have nobody. I know them. They have a knack for being terrible judges of character when they date. Either one will surely become tormented by whoever receives them. In my case, I have you. If I had to be your little pet for life, I would not mind at all."
Ben's compassionate side, as well as rationalizing powers, had been reached and he knew she was right. It was the best for everyone. Regretfully still, he zapped the other two back to their size right in their living room. Each one, walked up carefully, and took Marcy's hand in thumb and finger, gently before turning to him and saying, "You take good care of her."
He stood awkward before two full sized women, formerly destined for his digestive system as they appeared to feel assurance of Marcy's safety, was so important that they forgot the indignity of being expelled out so roughly. He didn't receive a slap in the face, or jeers from them. They waved good-bye at the door and walked out.
"Do you think he'll keep treating her right." One asked,
"If she has any chance with anyone, it's with him."
"Maybe we should call the police or something, and tell them about all this. We are the only ones, I presume, restored."
"Who would believe any of this. They'd lock us up in an asylum."
They both walked away, from the sight of him and Marcy, forever, out into the major surface street area.
Years went by, as the kid who was near graduation, grew up into ripened adulthood as they both were in their thirties, Marcy, five years older than he was, but much less of a difference than when they first met. He had build some fine furnishings for him and they had never argued about anything, even though she was well respected enough to if she had felt, so moved to have disputes with him.
As they began into the decade of age forty's, Marcy had lived so well taken care of, spoiled in many ways, that she maintained her lovely young, dollish appearance, while he looked more tired, battling the stresses of every day life. An insidious thought was finally dispelled into words one night.
"If you ever want to make love to a woman, full sized, it's all right. In some ways I feel like I've denied you that for so many years. I'd rather you do that, than resent me." Marcy said in a melancholy expression, more noticed by her aged lineaments, Later, she would have nightmares about Ben meeting a normal sized lady, finding herself downgraded as a family pet, confined into a cage until she was passed off to one of the kids, to be taken care of by them, and peered at occasionally in humiliation, by Ben. She told Ben about the dream and decided to try something new. She convinced him, aside from the danger of being rolled on top of, to let him allow her to sleep in the big bed with him, easily, but she climbed into his pleasure spot to offer a vigorous pleasure rub as Ben was dozing. In a more aggresive manner, he did something rare by gently pinching her between his thumb and finger, placing her back in her little house, and as he was moved to tears he would say, "I know of your dreams, and they are not ever going to be true. You can't do this to yourself. Become a sex slave." Marcy was moved to paralyzing thought. She realized that Ben was right, and felt much safer as she stopped having those terrible dreams. Then, she felt a need to please him the same way, out of loving submission. She snuck in under the covers, after a long adventurous climb down the dresser, and up the bed. Ben awoke, turned on the light, and in that moment she made a gutsy statement, never attempted before. She held up her tiny left hand and shouted, with authority, as she showed the tiny ring, "You're rightfully mine and I have a right to do this!" Ben saw her angle in a different aspect, then from her last attempt, and laid back as she cheerfully did the work. He did not think it would work at first, and was sure he would offend her by being slightly moved, but to his surprise, her tiny fingers worked like magic, and he climaxed like never before. Marcy lay there in the pubic grass surroundings, as he cupped his hands over her. They both fell into a deep, comforting sleep, together.
Often, when he desired her, a favorite of his was to request her to dance for him, while he touched himself.
She would smile and perform the most erotic dance, as he stroked himself into a deeply sensuous trance and said, in the thralls of passion, "This is the best kind of love making, I know about."
Marcy stroked her tiny hands along her silky dress, peeling it off, piece by piece as she replied, "I want to lie in your hand and be stroked with the pencil again, when I'm done." The thought of having that to look forward to made her wet, and intensified her naked dance of this tiny seducing lady. It was a fire between them, some sort of magic, maybe fueled by the smallness of her to him, his hugeness of him towards her, that kept it so alive, but it survived, as if for an eternity.