You tumble out of the jar and onto her hand like a little morsel. As if being entirely at her mercy, literally within the palm of her hand, wasn't bad enough; you slip about on her palm, that's damp with sweat, until she suddenly swings her hand around into a fist. You're only just poking out of the top of it — your body pinned between her fingers and palm — like you're a little toy in the hands of a bratty child. That's certainly how Charlotte sees you. You're completely immobile, your arms tucked into her closed fist.
There's an evil grin on her face; wordlessly, Charlotte begins to apply pressure by tightening her grip. You can only wince and spasm, gasping and attempting to cry for help — trying to pry yourself loose but to no avail. Charlotte giggles at your expense and your attempts. She's surely causing your internals no pleasure, your ribs feel like they're about to break. Even more pressure. Your skin is on the verge of tearing as you feel as if you're about to burst at the seams. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears.
Thankfully, she soon lets up. You're panting like you never have before, now that you're free of the insurmountable torture — that had your fearing for your life only moments earlier. Charlotte giggles. "That was fun, wasn't it?" She knows full well that you weren't having a great time, but that's exactly why she was. "Why Charlotte?" just about manages to seep out in between breaths. "Why?" she repeats, not certain of exactly what you said. "Why? Well, why do you think? Why did I shrink you and make you my little toy?"
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