Louis opens his eyes. Everything is blurry. He only knows he’s lying down, naked, and his body hurts a lot. Also, his mind is at best fuzzy, so Louis is struggling with trying to remember what happened after passing out. Or even before.
Soon the pain eases, and Louis forces himself to get up. As he stands, his vision gets clearer. He looks at his surroundings, but he rubs his eyes, because everything is wrong. It must be, because the scale… No, it can’t be right. He pinches his arm in case this is a dream, but nothing changes. He’s awake. Very awake.
Somehow, due to the shock, Louis recalls what happened before fainting…
The gang boss told Louis to assist Anton with his new product. He wondered why she sent him with the young man, but testing—and tasting—Anton’s new drug would be worth it, and for free.
Anton, the gang’s chemist. He’s been manufacturing their drugs for not too long, but he knows his stuff. And it’s pretty good. His latest invention is no exception: Louis remembers its flavor on his tongue, how the pill dissolved in his saliva and his mind started to fly away. Louis was already tripping when he suddenly fell to the ground, unconscious.
That drug… His current situation is because of it, that’s for sure. Anton is a twisted genius…
Some footsteps take Louis back to reality and the room. A door opens and then closes.
There he is. Anton. Slim and moving with grace. But, like everything else, he is… Louis shakes his head, still not believing it. He remembers being almost a foot taller than the younger man, and now it’s Anton who towers him. The difference in scale is terrifying. Now Louis realizes how small he is.
And he doesn’t understand why Anton is carrying a notebook and is dressing like a surgeon. He isn’t wearing any mask yet, but his outfit gives Louis a bad feeling. And those eyes, staring at him, make Louis shiver.
“Good to see you’re awake,” the young man’s voice is soft, despite the size difference.
Louis tries to speak as well, but no sound comes from his throat.
“Lost your voice?” Anton writes something in his notebook. “I didn’t foresee that side effect. Oh, well…”
Anton leaves the notebook next to Louis, along with a pencil —it’s bigger than him. This is unsettling, and Louis wonders if this is temporary… or if it’s irreversible. He doesn’t want to stay like this forever. It’s… unnatural. “Hold still…”
Anton’s hands are now holding a measure tape. After a few seconds making sure he’s taking the right measure, he notes it down.
“Three inches… Smaller than expected. Now then… Shall we go with some tests?”
Anton puts the mask on and walks up to another desk. From where he is, Louis can smell the latex and hear how it snaps against Anton’s skin. The chemist mentioned some tests, and Louis is scared, more than he’s ever been in his life.
He must escape. He doesn’t know how, but he must. It’s clear he’s on a table, so there’s quite a fall from the edge. Is he really trapped? He must find a way out or else…
Louis looks up and there he is. Anton stares at him, moving his latex clad fingers with impatience.
“Please, don’t move.”
His right hand approaches, and Louis tries to run away. Yet he’s too small, and Anton is a giant now. Those fingers close around his body, as if Anton doesn’t bother about Louis and his safety. The large fingertips press the small torso and Louis feels how he can’t breathe for a few seconds. He’s afraid Anton will break his ribs, but despite the giant’s efforts, that doesn’t happen at all.
“Interesting…” Anton takes Louis closer to his face, examining his torso. “The shrinking process has compacted your body so much it has increased your durability. I thought that would be enough to break a rib or two at least.”
Anton proceeds to pinch harder. Once again, Louis can’t breathe, and he feels the pain going all over his body. It isn’t like when he woke up, this is deeper, starting from his torso. Nothing is broken, but this is excruciating anyways. Louis tries to scream, but again, he can’t. And Anton keeps pressing, harder and harder, as if he expects the ribcage to give away.
“You’d be a good squeaking toy,” Anton jokes. “Let’s try something else…”
With his free hand, the chemist pinches the shrunken man’s right arm. Even though Louis tries to fight back, he can’t do anything. Anton starts pulling the arm, effortlessly, as he watches Louis wriggling in his right hand. As he keeps doing so, Anton can hear the muscles and tendons stretching beyond their limit.
“I admit, this would be better if you could scream.”
Louis is trying not to pass out. He looks at his arm. It should have been torn apart at this rate, but it’s still attached to his shoulder. The pain, however, won’t go away. Louis is in tears now, he tries again to struggle. No use.
Finally, Anton lets the arm go. Louis sees as how it flails by his side. He now realizes it’s been dislocated, and it’s still hurting a lot. How can Anton call this a test? This is nothing but torture. Why is he doing this?
“Yes, you’re pretty durable. I should apply more pressure…”
And after saying this, Anton twists the dislocated arm, and pinches its biceps with two fingers. As the pressure on his arm increases, Louis opens his mouth in a desperate attempt to yell. Still nothing, but it has the very same effect for Anton. The younger man is enjoying this torture disguised as pseudoscientific tests.
And there it is, at last. The snap of small bones and the desperation on Louis’s face. His lips are begging for his life, even if he has no voice. Anton doesn’t react, he simply puts Louis on the table and goes back to this notebook. He writes as if this is nothing but routine.
“Good… now for the next test…”
Anton goes back to the secondary desk and brings something with him. It’s a scalpel. Louis tries to get up and desperately throw himself from the edge of the table —better that than endure more of this torture—, but the pain of his broken arm forces him to lie down. Anton is delighted with this.
With only two fingers, he makes sure Louis won’t get up. The fingertips on the shrunken man’s chest add more to his pain. Louis starts to kick, in a desperate attempt to free himself. Anton doesn’t care and waits for Louis to exhaust himself. It doesn’t take too long before Louis, painful and tired, stops.
Anton takes the chance and the tip of the scalpel touches Louis’s left thigh. It doesn’t penetrate the first time, as if it’s trying to get through iron. He insists, ignoring Louis and his silent pleas. A minute later, the cold edge cuts through the flesh, going down the knee. There’s a lot a blood. Anton moves the little blade, making the wound wider, watching the inner tissue, the muscles, the femur. The tip of the scalpel scratches the bone.
Louis wishes he could kick the scalpel with the other leg, but he’s too weak now to even lift it. Meanwhile, Anton keeps scratching the bone, the microscopic splinters covering the bleeding inner tissue.
“The bone is very resistant… I think it’s even harder than in your regular size.” Anton then laughs. “But then I can snap them with my fingers.”
As he speaks, Anton makes sure again that Louis won’t move. The shrunken man is exhausted, tears cover his cheeks and there’s a bit of blood coming out of his lips.
“You might be wondering why I’m doing this… or if the boss knows,” Anton says, taking the mask off. “She knows. Why do you think she chose you to help me and test this new drug? Oh, you thought no one would know what you do, right?”
Louis gulps. They know.
“The boss knows you’re taking more than your share of the benefits. And you’re stealing our merchandise. Do you know how long it takes to make these drugs? How much they cost? And then you come and eat them like candy. I told the boss of this experimental new drug and how I needed some test subjects. She loved the concept. And let’s say that she considers you… expendable.”
To reinforce that, he presses on the femur with the scalpel. He’s scratched enough bone to break it. For Louis, this is even worse than the broken arm. But Anton ignores his voiceless screams, puts the scalpel away and places Louis on his left palm.
“You’re my test subject, sure. You might wonder if this is reversible, and it is. But… Do you think I’ll let you be back to normal?”
As he observes Louis’s diminutive body, he notices something. The younger man laughs.
“I can’t believe it! Look at that boner!”
Louis looks down to his groin. There it is, his erected penis. How can it be? He doesn’t find this exciting… or is it? He’s being tortured, his body is slowly becoming a bloody and broken mess…
A gloved finger touches the tip of the tiny dick. There’s something sticky there.
“Precum…” Anton grins. “Poor thing. Let’s relieve that.”
He licks his thumb and index fingers. With no further ado, Anton starts masturbating Louis.
The shrunken man is confused: should he fight back or let him do it? After all this pain, maybe this is the last bit of mercy he’ll ever get. The fingers move up and down, his cock throbs with every passing, the saliva lubricating the tiny genitalia. And for an instant, Louis no longer feels the broken bones, the bleeding wound and the torn muscles. He breathes rapidly, knowing he’s getting closer to the climax.
When Louis is in the verge of coming, Anton stops. The younger man’s fingers are still closing around the dick, though. And then, the pain is back. Louis looks down again, as those latex fingers keep pressing. His penis is ready to come, now denied in the very last minute. He can feel the blood and cum accumulating inside his cock, as it throbs violently, and how his balls ache. Once again, he begs with no voice, it’s clear Anton is far from finished with his… tests.
Despite his useless efforts, it’s too late for him. There’s a small, fleshy explosion. Blood and semen are all over Anton’s gloved fingers. If Louis had a voice, his would be the loudest cry they would ever hear in this room. But again, his face, deformed in a silent scream, is enough to know the pain he’s going through. Louis doesn’t want to but ends looking at his groin again. There’s nothing left but blood.
And those fingers… Anton is smearing the wicked mixture in them, and suddenly he takes a lick. He’s delighted.
“I could go on,” Anton says, smiling. “But I think that’s enough for today. Be glad you survived. Now, I’ll clean your wounds, I want you to be fresh for tomorrow.”
He places the shrunken man on the table before leaving to get what he needs to treat those wounds. Lying down on the gigantic table, Louis mutters something. Maybe he’s recovering his voice, maybe it’s his imagination. But the words his lips form are clear:
“Kill… me… please…”
But no matter what, he’s sure Anton won’t please him. Louis has been too good of a test subject for Anton to off him. Louis is afraid of what might come next. Anton has proved how cruel he can be… and it might get even worse.