The show I'm watching on the tele ends and I turn over to look at you. You're turned away from me, looking out my window at the street beyond. I glare into the glass tank, my eyes burning a hole in your back. You turn around and jump back at my presence. You look kinda cute, being so small and all. I silently pick you up and drop you between my legs. You recover for a moment before curling up into a fearful fetal position. I flick you with my fingernail and you roll across the bed. I leap onto my belly, landing inches away from you. My weight on the bed creates a large valley for you, and you roll into my t-shirt covered breast.
You let out a minuscule scream and I drop a bit of my weight onto you. I faintly feel you struggling to push me off and I feel it a good time to torture you for it. I sit up and boom, "What did I say about resisting me?"
You respond, meekly, "I couldn't breathe!"
I say, abusively, "Oh well. If you thought that was bad, then you are in for hell." I watch you scoot back, and I put my hand over your body, your finger in your mouth, blocking off air. I feel the air from your nose pulsing heavily. Not wanting to let you have relief, my thumb comes and pushed your nose in. "Heheh, wonder how long you can hold your breath." I grin and look at the digital clock on top of the tele. Then I feel you biting my finger.
You see me suddenly glare down. "You fucking cunt! You do not bite me!" I hop off my bed and walk over to my dresser. You see me grab a vial out from a drawer. When I turn around I snatch you up from running. "I do not like your resistance. Since you think it's okay to bite me, we'll just have to make your bites nice and weak."
I dunk your head into the vial and watch you lose consciousness and then lose size. When you diminish to a mere inch in height, I pull you out and drop you back in the tank. Knowing you may try to escape after being reduced further, I put a lid on the tank, securing your position.
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