"...Shrunk to 3 Inches Tall"
You stare at him for a moment, certain you misheard. As you look up to ask him what he meant you find yourself staring into his grey eyes, they hold an odd shine in them and the perculiarity holds your gaze.
You start to feel odd, lighter somehow. But your gaze stays fixed on his eyes, even as they start to rise above your line of sight.
When you finally become self-aware again you find yourself sat cross-legged on the chair, no more than three inches in height. Before you have a chance to panic a massive hand encircles you and you feel your stomach heave as your feet are lifted from the ground.
When light once more enters your world you see Mr. Duthie's face smirking down at you, he drops you onto the desk where you collapse in a heap, he sits back in his chair relaxing and cupping one hand to the bulge decorating the front of his tight shorts.
"Write."
A small desk, pen and several sheets of paper are on the desk beside you. You wonder if they were there before and for the first time wish you didn't spend so much time gazing at the man's magnificent glutes.
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