I don't think I'm ever going to be happy. Seriously. I'd tried so hard for so long to live a fulfilling and exceptional life but it had only brought me to where I was today. Sitting by lamplight at the desk of my bedroom, with my face in my hands and a terrible headache.

If you were friends with me and talked to me often, you probably wouldn't be able to tell that anything was wrong with me. I do a good job of maintaining a good looking stature, my behavior is typically good and I am usually someone that people view as enjoyable to be around. And even I believe that I'm a fun person to be around, I don't have any doubts about that. In fact sometimes I think that I would be my own best friend, if I was a different person.

So why was I sitting there, doing nothing at my desk? I was trying to cry, or just pull some sort of act of emotion from my body one time, just to get all of this misery out of me before I would continue with what I was about to do. But it wouldn't happen, even if I closed my eyes and pushed the eyelids together as strongly as I could, nothing would do anything.

Eventually it had gotten pointless. I sat up and looked to my ceiling, and watched the fan as it spun above me. There was nothing I could do to make me feel better about myself, I was going to have to accept that I was a miserable fool. I started to feel my palms sweat and my legs twitch.

Ever since I was a child, I've been, for the most part, a fraud. Even though I'd put no effort forth to achieve any of the things I have, they all came to me as if it was only natural. Growing up in school, it seemed as if no one could compare to me. That's exactly what had taken me here today, why I was having some sort of existential crisis in the middle of the night.

Today, in my job and in my personal life, all I could see were people that were jealous or envious of me. I didn't understand what I had done that made me like that, it seemed to me like it was obvious that I was a fraud. No one like me could ever be so outwardly enthusiastic and interesting. People should have been able to tell.

I don't know. It's probably best that I get to my story and talk about what I was about to do. It took a while, but I was able to convince myself to stand to my feet and walk to my bed. There was something I needed under it. I got the shoebox from under the bed and took it to the desk, and then I sat for a while and breathed deeply again. I didn't want to have a panic attack right now.

So the shoebox obviously contained something of importance, right? Well, my whole life I've had to hide an extraordinary power from everyone, including my parents and the people closest to me, to avoid attention being drawn to me. When I was just four or five I discovered that I could shrink anything if I put my mind to it, and concentrated. It started out really hard to perform, and it wasn't worth all the time I would spend trying to do it, but when I reached puberty it slowly became easier and easier. Now I was here today.

The point of the story is, I had abused my power for the first time in my life. In some fit of selfishness, I shrank a living, breathing person who had bumped into me on the street and insulted me. When it happened, I was terrified, and I looked everywhere to make sure no one had saw, and to my surprise, it looked they hadn't. The person was too disoriented to move around or try to run, so I picked them up and put them in my purse and continued with my day.

That's how I got the first person. I kept them with me like a pet and tried to make their life easy, but it was too hard. You see, the vice to this power I have is that I cannot grow things after they've been shrunken. It makes the power mostly useless, so I've never used it for anything outside of random outbursts where I would shrink things just to feel good.

It was too hard, and eventually, I couldn't live with myself anymore. I didn't want to kill them, so I tried to set them free. I just left them at my doorstep and told them to be good. And I just went back into my apartment, like nothing had happened.

But the next day when I walked out, they were standing by my door, ready to beg to be let back in. There was a moment of fear in me, fear that I couldn't just let things continue as if I didn't do anything, but my first reaction was to say, "Stupid bugs," and step on him, as if he was nothing. And so I had taken a life, but I had to keep on living.

At first I didn't feel bad about anything, but as the days dragged on, I felt worse and worse, and soon I came to where I was now. Sitting in my room in the middle of the nights, trying to cry but being unable to. It was during one of these bouts that I came to a conclusion.

What I was trying so hard to accept was that deep down, I had enjoyed what I did. It was fun, and I wanted to do it again. Not the raising part, I wanted to kill someone, after they'd been shrunken. That was the first time I managed to convince myself to cry.

Over the course of about a month, I managed to shrink five people in secret. Each time I moved them to the shoebox under my bed, and I had been feeding them and keeping them okay for when the night that I finally went through with it came. I picked five because it felt like a good, round number to start with. I planned to shrink more people after this first amount.

I think that you're understanding me now. Let's get to the point, I opened the shoebox and was met with the five people. Four of them were asleep, and the fifth seemed to be too distracted with something to notice that I was now looking down at them. I decided that he was the best person to start with.

As gently as I could, I picked him up out of the box and took him to the surface of my desk. He was about an inch tall now. He had brown hair and a pretty slim stature, but I didn't find anything about him to be attractive. I guess it was easier to shrink ugly people than normal or attractive ones.

He looked up to me and started shouting, but at his size I would only hear him if I brought him close to my ear. And I didn't really care about doing that, I just wanted to get this over with.

In my mind I already had planned what I was going to do with all five people, and the first one would work as a sort of test run. I wanted to figure out the limits of these small peoples bodies, so I knew how much I could abuse the other four later. My first action was pretty simple.

I picked him back up after examining his body, and took one of his arms between my fingers. First I tugged gently, but soon I began to pull roughly. Even though he was small, I could at least hear his screams, incredibly quiet as they were. When his arm came loose from the joint and ripped off, he went silent.

The arm was interesting to look at, when it was disembodied like that. I took it between my fingers and bent at the elbow joint for a while, until it came apart and the arm was separated into two parts. I went back to the guy.

He seemed to be close to passing out, so I had to make the rest of this process quick and simple. I took a safety pin from my drawer and took the sharp end out of the protective area, and brought it to him. I didn't know if he knew about it or not, as he had started yelling again, so it wasn't clear if he was yelling about his arm or the pin. I didn't really care.

I placed the pin on the right side of his body, over his rib cage, and began to drive it through him. The ribs were of little resistance, and eventually I had fully put it through his body, then with a tiny push, it exited out of his other side. I wasn't trying to kill him, but as his struggling stopped and he went limp, it seemed like I did. I had probably poked too close to the heart.

When I removed the pin and set him down, blood began to pour out of the two holes, as well pieces of the organs I had minced with the force of the pin. There was even some gurgling within his mouth.

Although he was dead, I wasn't done testing yet. I did the same test I had done with the arm on his leg, which came off just as easily. When I was done with that, I placed my thumb over his head on the desk, and pushed down. The skull was surprisingly difficult to rupture, but when I did, it provided a satisfying pop. His brains came from a hole at the top of his head, splattering across my desk for a distance of several inches.

When I looked at his mutilated body, I felt a lot better. The result of my pressure on his head was very interesting, it seemed as though it had become completely unrecognizable, there was nothing about the head that resembled what it had once been. Even his eyes seemed to have popped under my thumb, becoming sagging blobs within the shallow remains of his orbits.

I walked to the table next to my bed and took a box of tissues from it back to my desk. I used one to wipe his body off of the table, and it took another to clean all of his blood and brain matter. I tossed them into the small trash can next to me. My nose was stuffed a bit from the weather so I blew it into another tissue.

The box was still open next to me. The lamplight had clearly awoken all four of the rest, and they were sitting around in a circle, talking to each other. When they noticed, they all looked up at me, and one of the girls began to try shouting at me. I wanted to be honest, so I said to her, "I can't hear you, you're too small. I just got done experimenting with your first friend, and I'm going to use you next. Come here."

She backed away and tried to run to the corner of the box, but I got my finger under her and scooped her into my hand. I squinted, looking down at her. I had always wondered what a person would taste like.

I had always wondered what a person would taste like. After I had taken her into my hands she was running around, trying in any way to escape from me. I held her to my face and tried to examine her to the best of my ability, but it was hard due to her constant movement. It was easy to tell that she was wearing a red shirt and jeans and that her hair was brown, but I couldn't make out her facial features. I guessed that it wouldn't matter in a moment.

Once I finished my looking over of her, I moved her down and pinned her to the table under my index finger. She still struggled to escape, pushing away at the top of my finger and kicking her legs, but it wasn't of any use. I took a stapler from my drawer and placed it over her right arm then stapled it to the table.

Her struggles had become much stronger and more panicked. When I looked at it, it seemed that I had broken her arm, the area under the staple was completely flat under the staple. She could escape by pulling the arm off, but I doubted she had the willpower to do so.

I repeated the process with her other arm. All she could do was kick her legs now. I was going to eat her soon, but I still had to experiment and see the limits of the human body out of my own curiosity. I moved my head over her, so that it was all she could see now, and then let out a large string of saliva from my mouth, and it slowly lowered until it completely covered her.

Now she was immersed in the liquid. I could see that she was still kicking, but as I watched, these kicks became weaker and weaker. Of course she was unable to breathe, I wondered if she was experiencing pain from the saliva burning her skin. I eventually grew bored of watching her within the saliva, so I took a tissue and wiped it off of her.

Somehow, she was not yet unconscious. There was still a layer of mucus covering her, so I wiped harder until she seemed relatively dry. Now I wanted to eat her. I put my enameled fingernail under the left staple and pried it off of her, then did the same with the right one. She didn't seem to have the energy to stand up and run, so I picked her up off the table.

As I brought her closer to my mouth, I began to hear her shrieking. When I felt a small bit of guilt overcome me from this, I brought her to my ear to hear her speak. She stayed there for somewhere around thirty seconds, but instead of talking to me she only gasped loudly and continued yelling. I brought her back around to my mouth.

Since her arms were already broken and useless, I began by placing my left incisor over one and biting it off. She was so close that her screams were now relatively loud and almost overwhelming. I licked at the stump I had left and tasted the blood.

I moved the arm in my mouth toward my molars and began to chew. I was met with a burst of incredibly unpleasant flavor, so much so that I took a tissue and spat the chewed arm out onto it. Maybe it was a better idea to swallow her whole.

So I was going to do just that. I opened my mouth wide and exhaled onto the girl, just to see her reaction, and then I placed her onto my tongue and began to run it over her slowly. She didn't have much flavor to her at all, which I was fine with after biting into her arm.

I let her lay on my tongue long enough that a string of drool ran out of the corner of my mouth and fell onto my hand, so I decided to close my mouth and get the action to begin.

When she was completely trapped within my mouth, I felt her struggles finally resume. She moved rapidly around my mouth, probably lost within the darkness, until she reached the front of my mouth and started to kick at my teeth. To make her stop, I scooped her up with the tip of my tongue and then started to suck on her.

Although she had no flavor, it was interesting to feel her constant movement within my mouth. I continued to run my tongue over her, then moved her to the area under my lower incisors and prod at her with the front of my tongue. It was interesting to make out her shape with my tongue.

It didn't take long for me to grow bored with this, so I took her with my tongue and tilted my head backward, allowing her to slowly slide into the back of my throat, but unexpectedly I felt her dash forward and then I was choking on her. I coughed violently and ran out of my room to my kitchen where I turned on the tap and drank from it to swallow her.

I felt her running down my throat, still struggling the whole way down. That feeling of her movement within me was interesting and I felt good as it happened, but now my throat was sore from all of my choking. I poured myself a glass of water from the pitcher within my fridge and drank that, then returned to my room.

I laid down on my bed and lifted my shirt to my breasts, and looked at my tummy and stomach area. It was interesting to observe the flesh and navel, like I had never looked at them before.

She had to have been in my stomach by now, so I began to poke at the area on my tummy. I wanted to know if she could feel what I was doing. I kept poking and eventually said, "If you can hear me, I'm the one who's doing that."

Soon enough this grew boring so I left my bed and returned to the chair by my desk. I looked into the shoebox and searched for who I would experiment on next, but what I saw surprised me. Instead of three shrunken ones, there was only two. One of them had to have escaped. In anger, I told the two remaining things, "One of you tell me where the other girl went, or else I will kill you both."

I took one of them to my ear and received no response. I didn't actually want to kill them yet, so I took the other one to my ear and listened to them as well. They gasped loudly and said, "Under the bed," and I quickly placed both of the things back into the box.

I got to my knees and looked under the bed. It was dark enough that I couldn't see anything, so I went to the desk next to my bed and took my phone off its charger, then turned on its light. I laid completely flat onto my tummy and pulled myself under the bed, and began to move the light around.

Entwined within the white carpet was another one of the shrunken ones. I reached over and untangled them from the strands of carpet and grabbed them, then slid out from under the bed as best as I could.

When I stood to my feet, I noticed that I had gotten burns on the flats of my arms. I sighed and looked at the thing in my hand. She was cowering, sobbing like an animal. All I felt for her was contempt, upset that she had climbed out from the box.

I walked to my closet and took out two loafers from work and placed the girl within one of them. I tilted it so that she would slide to the furthest toe. When it seemed like she was deep within it, I put the shoe down and walked back to my chair.

I sat down and felt at the temples of my head. I felt my stomach quietly gurgle, likely beginning to digest the girl I had eaten earlier. It was weird to think that she would soon go from a living person to a homogeneous soup mixed with the other things I had eaten that day.

The shoebox was still open. I looked inside of it and there were still only two people, both sitting next to each other and conversing. I couldn't tell with one of them had been the one to tell me where the girl was, so I just left my gaze unfocused on either of them and said, "Thank you."

There was a weird sensation running along the length of my spine. My entire body felt renewed, or some other word you could use to describe it. I suddenly let out a loud, long belch. By the end of it I laughed at myself. I slowly stopped laughing and looked at my feet. I started thinking again.

I don't know. Maybe what I was doing wasn't right, but sometimes you have to do what's wrong to make yourself happier. That's something you learn as you get older. So take this advice if you're still young and you're still figuring your life out, even if what you're doing doesn't always seem right, it might be what's best for everyone regardless. Do what makes you feel better.

You know, I could be completely wrong, but I just want to help people. I want them to know themselves, so I'm saying what I've been thinking for a long time. I'm sure a lot of other people have said it. But forget that, you don't have to listen to me. I'll get back to my story.

So I looked back over to the shoes, and I felt excitement. I took off the beaten pink slippers I was wearing and took two black socks from the dresser next to me and put them on. Grinning, I began to walk back toward the loafers.

Grinning, I began to walk back toward the loafers. I took the one with the girl into my hands and observed its leather body as well as the hard leather sole then nodded and slid it onto my foot. I took time to move into it to add to the suspense for the small woman, until I felt my contact with her and I immediately embraced her with my toes and pulled her within.

She immediately began to squirm and fight underneath my toes, and I took care to press into her and quell her rebellion. When she had ceased movement I used my smaller and more nimble toes to force her beneath my big toe. Soon I had positioned her head underneath it and I began to drum up and down onto her. It felt good to be subjugating someone.

When I had drummed enough that I couldn't feel a single bit of shifting from the girl, I was satisfied enough to put on my other shoe and return to my seat. I would leave the girl in my shoe until I felt she should exit it.

After I had sat back in my seat I looked into the box at the other two people. They were both men, and one of them was dressed in a business suit, similar to the ones that people in my office would wear. He looked into my eyes and squinted and I picked him up, cradling him between my hands. He started trying to talk to me, but I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want to hear anything.

I got exhausted with his shouting, so I pulled him in for a kiss. My lips covered the entirety of his body. I pressed him down, deeply into my hands, and then I moved away and looked at him. He was now damp and covered in lip gloss which gave his complexion a slick sheen. It was funny to look at so I laughed in his face.

I put him back into the box and took the other one, another man who was dressed in a plaid button up and jeans. I had shrunken him in the corner of a book store while he was browsing for Joyce. The choice in literature interested me but not enough to strike up a conversation. Like the others I shrunk him without a word and put him into my purse where he stayed until I took him home and left him within the shoebox.

Remembering this, it made me realize that for the most part I hadn't spoken any words to the people I had shrunken and for that I felt guilt. The first person I had shrunken didn't hear a single word from me before he died and perhaps that gave his life zero purpose. Maybe that was cruel of me. As I sat staring at the shrunken man I felt a light squirming under my big toe, and I pushed downward with my toe roughly until it stopped again.

And now I'd realized that when I kissed the business man, that was the first kiss I'd had since high school and I had to force it upon someone who I didn't find attractive. Perhaps that was a waste, a mistake. But regardless it made my heart flutter and I smiled, directing my eyes back to him. I hoped I wasn't blushing.

It sucked to graduate, I don't think I'd grown much since then. No one told me that after school all of the popularity you had was superficial. In the real world it becomes a lot harder to find men that are willing to approach you and get your number. I just miss that feeling so much, seeing that someone found you attractive enough to hit on you.

Is it weird that I'm jealous of the younger women who get cat called? They complain so much but sometimes I wish that were me. I don't think I received enough attention as a kid, call me melodramatic. I should get back to my story...

So I closed the shoebox and removed my loafer. I felt the girl plastered to the bottom of my big toe, glued with sweat. I slowly peeled her off to avoid injuring her, then looked over her body. She was slick and covered in the black threads of my sock. Seeing that gave me the idea to drop her into my sock as well and see how that would go, so I did. When I put the sock back on I arranged her between my second and third toe then squeezed tightly onto her until it seemed like she was about to burst.

There was no purpose in doing that unless I walked around to abuse her, so I stood and returned to my kitchen. I opened my fridge to see if I had anything to eat or drink and my eyes wandered to a bottle of Cîroc. I don't know, but it seemed funny to give the person in my tummy something to drink, so I took the bottle out and poured some into a shot glass then drank.

Of course that made me feel worse, but it didn't matter. I walked from the kitchen to my living room and sat onto the couch. I set the foot that contained the girl onto my table and then bumped the bottom of my loafer onto it while pushing my toes down so that the ball of my foot lifted and the girl dropped beneath the arch of my foot and then I returned the bottom of my foot onto the insole of the shoe and felt her squirming under me. Again I felt the positive feeling of subjugating another human.

You know, it gets boring to sit in your living room doing nothing within ten minutes but I chose to sit for an hour. I wanted my foot to get hot and sweaty and potentially drown the girl in my shoe. I should have turned the thermostat higher but I wasn't thinking. Occasionally I returned to the kitchen and did another shot but for the most part I sat in the living room and thought.

I thought a lot about work, and eventually I felt buzzed enough that I started getting emotional. Crying becomes a lot easier when you're drunk. Soon I lied on the couch curled into a ball while I silently wept. I don't know what I was crying about other than work, but work didn't make me sad. So I guess it was for nothing.

When I saw on the clock that it had been an hour I realized how I hadn't felt any movement from the girl in my shoe for a while. It seemed like it was a good time to remove her so I slipped my loafer off and removed my sock then removed the girl into my hand. She looked dead, but after I pressed my thumb into my stomach and squeezed she returned to life, she was only unconscious.

She seemed to be muttering, trying to speak to me. In a moment of compassion I brought her to my ear to listen but it only sounded like delirious babbling so I took her away and looked at her to see her condition. The light from my ceiling fan was painful and blinding after spending so long with my eyes closed, but I could make out that she was coated from head to toe with toe jam and it had filled her mouth as well. That was likely why she couldn't speak well...

I had wanted to have her try to climb my foot or massage it, but it seemed like there was nothing she would be capable of doing now. It seemed like she could die at any time. I walked back to my room with my sock and loafer in hand and returned the girl to the box where she could rest. Another person would have to do it.

I decided to use the other person instead of the man I had kissed. I wanted to try to talk to him even if he couldn't speak back to me. We went to the living room where I placed him onto the table and put my foot in his face then told him to climb it or else he would be killed like the other two people. Immediately he ran to my heel and embraced it but he couldn't seem to go any further. I told him that it didn't matter and he had to find a way up or else he would die. Maybe that would motivate him into an innovative idea.

Eventually I felt compelled to speak with him as I had planned. I told him that he had good taste in literature despite it being entry level for genre fiction. I told him that I was sorry that he wouldn't get to finish Ulysses or whatever he had planned on reading then laughed at myself. I apologized and told him that I didn't actually care.

Being drunk not only makes you emotional, it also makes you open up more easily. As he kicked and punched at my heel in frustration I talked to him about work and what I had been thinking about and soon I was crying again. It was cruel of me but I told him that I wouldn't kill him because I liked his dedication to climbing my foot and I wanted to talk to him more, but that wasn't true. He couldn't be changed back so the only thing I could do is kill him. It didn't matter anymore.

When I fell silent I guess that his thoughts became clearer without my ranting. I watched as he moved to the area above my ankle and quickly scaled my leg using my leg hairs that I often neglected to shave. That was cool I told him, and soon he used the hairs on the top of my foot and toes and he reached the peak of my big toe and sat on top of it with his arms crossed. It seems like he was proud, and with the news that he wouldn't die he was in a better mood.

I told him that I had lied about him living then I tipped my foot over and he fell onto the table. He stood and tried to run so I moved my foot over and slammed it next to him so he would trip. Before he could stand I placed my shoe wearing foot onto the table as well and trapped him between them.

Then I stood to my feet and kept my shoe wearing foot beside him on the table and when he tried to run I began to hover my foot over him. I taunted him and said that he should have climbed faster and maybe I would have had sympathy, then I said that I was sorry and that was a lie too. I put my foot down roughly and crushed him beneath the thick heel of my loafer, then ground in a spiral until his body had completely given out with a series of pops and cracks.

On the heel of the shoe was a fine red paste. I went to the kitchen and grabbed some moist towelettes from a container in a cabinet and cleaned the shoe off and then with the other side of the towelette I cleaned the table then threw the towelette away. I returned to my room.

Back in my room I looked into the shoebox which I had unintentionally left open. The girl was awake now, and neither of the two had tried to escape. Instead, the girl was resting her head in the man's lap, and he was hunched over her, hugging her body and cradling her gently. They both cast a long shadow in the lamplight. I shouldn't have drank, seeing that made me keel over and vomit onto the carpet.

Seeing that made me keel over and vomit onto the carpet. My eyes were closed and it felt like I couldn't stop myself, vomit kept coming from my mouth and my nose and eventually I was crying. It slowly came to a trickle and then I had occasional convulsions that lead to me vomiting over onto the puddle that had already collected across the floor. I leaned back in my chair with my legs splayed out and held my hands on my stomach that felt impossibly empty now.

In the box the two people were now upright and staring at me. I looked at them and blinked tears from my eyes, then returned my face to my hands. I needed to take a break from all of the violence and just chillax.

Somewhere inside of myself I wanted to look through the vomit on the floor to find the remains of the small person, but I wasn't interested at this point. Sorting through the big mess would take too long, and it would be disgusting. Already there was the sour smell permeating through my room. I would clean it up whenever I felt like I had the power. I sat up straight and realized that I had to piss.

Actually, I needed to piss more than anything I ever needed to do on Earth. I stood up and ran to the bathroom, stepping directly into the cold vomit and tracking it through my room and the hallway until I reached the bathroom where I pulled down my pants, sat onto the toilet and started to pee for a good, long time. I set my right hand onto the counter that held the sink and relaxed my head back and closed my eyes, giving a sight of relief. I felt a lot better.

When I finished I stood up and started to change my tampon. I took off my pants and pulled the string from my vagina to remove the bloodied and filthy tampon then took a second one that was wrapped in plastic from the box next to my toilet. I set my foot up onto the toilet seat and was just about insert it but an idea came to me and I took my foot off then pulled up my panties and walked back to my bedroom.

I came back to the shoebox and looked into it. The two people that were left sat together again, talking to one another. When I approached they seemed to stop talking and look up to me. I must have looked so weird to them at this size...
The two were starting to interest me so I took the girl into my hands and looked at her for a long time, thinking of a good question, and then I said, "I want you to tell me what that boy means to you, after you've talked to him for so long."

She looked confused or distraught then started to speak, so I brought her to my ear and told her to start over. She told me, "I don't know, what is he supposed to mean to me? All five of us were getting along just fine, he's all that I have left, please, please..." and then I took her away and set her down onto the table. I flicked her in the tummy so that she fell onto her butt then I took the man out of the box and talked to him too.

"She just told me something really personal, and I wanted you to know before you died that these past couple of days she's never felt more alive and excited while talking to a man. She said that all that she wants you to know is how much she loves you, and how sorry she is that this all happened. I thought I should tell you that, it's what she said."

I took him to my ear and he said, "So what are you going to do now?" and I smiled then took him away and stood up then walked to my bed. I still had the unwrapped tampon in my other hand. I laid down onto it and held my legs out, splayed open to expose my crotch, and I told the girl, "I hope you enjoy watching this."

With my hand I took the man and pushed him into the opening of my tampon and then brought it to my crotch and lowered my panties. I spread open my labia then pushed the tampon partially into my vagina, pushed the applicator forward then pulled out the lower tube. This brought the man into my vagina along with the tampon.

Immediately I could feel his struggling within me. I crossed my legs together and pushed into my vagina with them and contracted my pelvic muscles. He seemed to be unmoving within me, possibly stuck within the tampon. He was essentially lost inside of my bloody snatch.

I stood up and made my way over to my chair then sat down. Now that he was within me I could take my time and keep talking to the girl. I picked her back up and started to talk to her again.

"Hey, what's your name?"

"My name is Charlotte, what did you just do to him? Did you just put him into your vagina with a tampon?"

"Yeah... yeah, I did. And I can feel him inside of me, he's struggling and trying to get out but he's stuck to the tampon."

"Oh my God, oh my God, let him out! He's going to die in there, please, listen to me..."

"I know he's going to die in there, I want you to know that he's struggling and trying to get out for you... or something like that..."

"Why would you tell him that I loved him? What the hell's your problem, I just don't want him to die!"

"I don't know... I don't know why I said what I said, maybe I just wanted him to die knowing that someone loved him. He's not very good looking, so maybe it would make him happy."

"Please... please, listen to me, you don't have to do this, you don't have to do what you're doing right now. You can still change us back, I promise I won't tell anyone ever what you did, just let me go and take him out of your vagina and just, please!"

"I can't even change you guys back, you're stuck like this, so there's no point anyway."

That's funny, when I said that she stopped talking to me. I tried to say some more stuff to her but she didn't want to talk anymore so I sat her back down onto the table and told her that I was gonna finish this all off.

I went back onto my bed and laid down then pulled my panties off completely. I arranged the blanket so it wasn't under me, I didn't want to make it dirty. I set away the string of the tampon and then brought my hand to my clitoris and began to masturbate.

Even after so long the man was moving around in me, only now it had become sporadic and stuttered. The feeling of something squirming within you, it was like a warm mass filling me up just a tiny bit. As I continued to rub at my clitoris my vagina began to moisten and I felt the muscles within my vagina start to contract, bringing the tampon and the man further into my body. Just the man alone made me feel like I was having actual sex, like there was a connection...

Sweat collected onto my forehead and soon my legs began to lose the will to stay elevated, and I let them lay slack. The muscles in my feet and thighs twitched and contracted more and more until eventually I felt like I was nearing climax, and I closed my eyes and I felt more right than I ever have until the struggling within my vagina stopped, and in an instant all pleasure was lost as it came over me what I had done.

I stopped masturbating before I even had an orgasm. My stomach felt gross again, but not enough for me to masturbate. I sat up and looked at the string coming from my vagina. There was a stain left on the bed sheet under me. As I slowly pulled my ass off of the bed the sweat left some of it clinging onto me, especially on my butt. Even my shirt was damp around the collar.

When I sat back onto my office chair, still without panties, I tasted a saltiness in my mouth. I pushed my tongue out and licked at my top lip and tasted snot. It seemed that masturbating had cleared my nose, or something. I took a tissue and blew my nose into it, and out came a large amount of sticky snot, but I still felt like my nose was runny. I threw it into the trash and then looked back down to my vagina.

The tampon wasn't going to come out until I soiled it. Having masturbated like that could have left the string so wet that it would snap, and that would have left the tampon stuck in me, and now thinking of all of this I felt so shortsighted and stupid. Maybe I was still just a stupid kid. I don't even know how to grow up.

For a second I had felt like there was a connection, closing my eyes and approaching orgasm I had felt like for the first time since high school managed to have sex. It's been so long, I'm so exhausted with no one even wanting to give me a chance anymore. It seems like it's just impossible to find anyone in the adult world. I'm not cut out for being an adult.

It's so hard to please myself anymore. I had set up the perfect situation and I still chickened out just because someone had died up in my snatch. Who even cares, I'd already killed three others and I was about to kill a fifth. I don't see why it mattered now or why I was suddenly afflicted.

When more snot started running from my nose, I decided to get up and do something. I left my room and took a towel from my laundry room and used that to clean up the vomit in my room, then I used some baking soda on it and left that to sit for a while. I was back in my chair after about ten minutes of work and I finally looked to see the girl.

She was sitting there silent, looking into her lap. I reached down and poked her and she looked up. I couldn't smile or anything, I just looked down at her with my mouth open, breathing through it so I wouldn't be making gross snot sounds. It took me a long time of staring at her to finally look down at my lap too and say that I was sorry, and again I started crying.

"I'm a wreck, I'm such a wreck, what am I doing to my self, I don't know what I was thinking, man..."

She stood and tried to talk to me, but I didn't want to hear any of it. I flicked her back down and kept sobbing like an animal, growing louder and louder and then snot was coming out of my nose so much that I had to close my mouth and quietly cry into my hands. I looked through my fingers and said, "You probably hate me, don't you? Everyone hates me, no one can help me anymore but all I want is someone to help me, I need someone here..."

I kept talking but soon I had said so much that I grew exhausted with talking and I fell silent. I took another tissue and blew my nose, then threw it away and looked back at the girl. I had to get rid of her too, but I hadn't even planned on what to do once I got this far.

I hadn't even planned on what to do once I got this far. Staring at the shrunken woman made me feel sick to my stomach, even more sick than I had already felt. I didn't know what I was doing anymore. Even though I had went into this night feeling renewed and like everything would magically be fixed by the time I woke up tomorrow morning, I was now emotionally exhausted and completely spent. It only made me feel worse and worse to be looking at the last person I had to kill in the eyes, as if evaluating them for what to do.

So what was I supposed to even do with them? Up until now none of the people I had killed had even been that experimental, I didn't feel like I had learned anything from any of this. Maybe I had learned how to emotionally abuse people better, but that's not something that you really ever need to learn. Nothing that I had picked up on this night was something that you need to learn in any life or another.

When she stood up and started walking around, looking at the room and down over the table I pushed her back down and put my head into my hands. Looking at her just made me feel like I was going to kill a real human. I needed to isolate myself from any of those thoughts and think of her as an insect if I was going to make any progress and finish this tonight.

It's worth mentioning how old I've been getting. If you're reading this I bet that you imagine I'm just a kid who's lost and confused with her own identity and ended up expressing her depression in a more harmful way than most, well no, that's not true. I'm in my thirties, my god damned thirties, and I was making a fool on myself in front of this girl and probably looking like a psychopath. Oh wait, it didn't matter if I looked like a psychopath, I already was, wasn't I? I'd already proven that to her.

I'd proven that I'm lacking in morals and severely troubled, how would it feel to know that you've fallen into the captivity of a crazy girl and then suddenly all of your friends are disappearing around you until you're all that's left? I don't know, I don't know anything do I? I'm just so stupid.

Some people just learn differently, huh? This all taught me something, ultimately I could tell myself that it would be okay because ultimately their deaths weren't pointless, I had learned and gained something from this experience. I had changed, you know, I was essentially a different person, so goodbye to whatever happened before this, right? And shout out to whoever I used to be, though.

I took a tissue and blew my nose into it, and when I drew it away from my face bound by a long string of snot I looked into it and started to think. If I was going to experiment then now would be my chance.

Instead of crinkling it up and throwing it into the trash, I left the tissue on the top of my desk. I took the girl into my hand and told her, "Look, it'll be easier if you don't struggle, I'm just doing what I have to do." She kicked and pushed at my thumb that was on the front side of her and screamed but I brought her to my nose and then pushed the top half of her into my nostril and spun her around then took her out and she slipped out connected to another string of snot. She immediately began to scrape at the mucus bounding and suffocating her and I watched.

After observing long enough I put my thumb onto her face and wiped the mucus away so she wouldn't suffocate and die. She spat repeatedly onto my thumb and started to try talking to me, but I couldn't hear, and at this point I wasn't interested in hearing either. I sat her back down onto the table and wiped the snot from my finger then looked at her again.

"Alright, stay here. If I come back and you're out and about, I'm going to make your death as cruel as possible, you hear me? Just... be good, don't be a dick."
I went to the kitchen and opened up my fridge. There wasn't anything that I really had wanted to eat, but I had looked into the fridge compulsively regardless. My head was starting to hurt. I closed my eyes and squeezed them intensely for a moment, then went to my bathroom and retrieved a pill bottle of 800 mg ibuprofen and took a pill with a glass of tap water. It wouldn't make me feel better yet, but it was all that I could do.

Even though I was still trying to avoid it, the best thing for me to do would be to return to my room and kill the last girl as quickly as possible. I had had my fun with her in my snot, that was enough to learn in one night. Or enough to learn about people and snot ever...

When I came back into my room the girl had gotten off of the table to my expectations. I didn't want to live up to my promise, but despite my warnings I would have to. I groaned and rubbed at my left temple, the weight of the bags under my eyes had become incredibly painful.

The first place that I checked was underneath the bed, but she wasn't down there. I pulled myself out from under the bed and spat dust out of my mouth, then I looked underneath my dresser and inside of my closet. She was nowhere to be found. That probably mean that she had actually left the room, and while I was looking for her she had gotten out and now she could be anywhere in the apartment. There was no way she could have gotten any further, the guard on the bottom of my door would prevent that.

So she wasn't in the bathroom or the hallway, I had been in there. Neither was she in the kitchen after I checked, and she wasn't underneath any of the couches in the living room nor the table. I sighed and went to the last destination and the one I hadn't been looking forward to: the laundry room.

As I entered I had to kick aside the various articles of clothing that were scattered across the floor. I flipped the light switch on and the room was illuminated and I could look over all of the heaps of clothes. The laundry machine was posted against the wall to the right of me, and the first place I checked was underneath it. There was nothing there.

That meant I had to check under all of the clothes. I began to throw them aside and look inside of the pockets of pants and in the cups of bras, anywhere I could possibly check to find someone, but my efforts returned nothing. As I worked through the room I split the pile into two around me, like parting the Red Sea. Finally I had reached the end of the clothes and gotten to the wall. At that was left were a couple of shirts and underwear, the last place she could be hiding.

I threw them side and there was nothing. Immediately I stamped my foot and yelled out, "Fuck you!" I went back to my room and saw that she had been sitting on the opposite side of the table than the one I had placed her on. She hadn't run away at all.

That pissed me off, I decided that I would kill her however I damn wanted to. I took the tissue I had left and put it next to her, then said "Eat it." At first she only looked at me, appearing confused, but I repeated myself then picked her up and dropped her onto the snot. She looked down and then took a blob of the snot into her hand and took a nibble. I told her to eat all of it, all of the snot on the paper within ten minutes or I would shove her up my asshole.

She finished in about six. When she was done she laid onto her back in the sticky residue and began to sob and eventually vomit onto herself and the tissue around her. This continued for the better part of half of an hour, her standing up and vomiting thick portions of snot onto herself until she finally calmed down and seemed to have fallen asleep or gone unconscious.

I took the tissue into my hands and then blew my nose back onto it as hard as I could I continued blowing, pulling my nose away then blowing again until there was too much snot for me to touch my face to it anymore and then I blew snot from a distance until the girl was completely buried under a huge collection, totally unable to escape. I watched her spring back to life and thrash around, movement slowed by the snot she was stuck in.

Watching her struggles slowly dissipate and peter off into nothingness temporarily captivated me. Toward the end of her life she seemed to manage to stand up and push her hand further and further out of the snot until she had finally died, frozen into a position of horror.

The snot eventually all dried and became, for the most part, solid. I took a pen and poked at the semi solid mass, trying to touch and move the body around and maybe dig it out, but it proved too difficult to do without possibly mutilating the body, so I took my pen away and wiped it off on my pant leg. I picked up the tissue and looked into it, and at the shiny snot encapsulating the body.

It looked like the toys that I had played with as a child, a plastic container that held a large collection of goo with a figurine in the center. Remembering that was funny.

Soon it wasn't interesting anymore, it started to feel disgusting. Feeling sick to my stomach again, I started folding the tissue onto itself, shattering the solid portions of snot and slowly compressing the woman until she was either pierced by solid snot or possibly she had burst and the tissue became a deep shade of crimson and small drops of blood leaked off of it. I took another tissue and wrapped the bleeding and snot filled tissue within it and then went to throw it away again.

That didn't feel right. I felt like I should pay some respects to the body. Hesitantly, I unfolded the tissue and set my eyes upon the contorted horror that was a minced body spread throughout a mixture of blood and snot. I groaned and then set it onto the table.

Regardless of its appearance, I said a prayer upon the tissue, and then I looked back over it again, feeling more disappointed by myself than ever I had before.

What a fucking joke. Lee and I had been together since high school and he threw it away to be with this brainless basic bitch I had knocked out on my table. He was playing us at the same time like a child, thinking I wouldn't notice the frequency of weird calls he got, and the coming home late, and everything else... I guess at first I was sad but now with the two shrunken and in front of me I just felt spite.

There was a cup over Lee to trap him. He was in there, awake and trying to scream through the glass to talk to me. I couldn't hear him, and I wasn't listening anyway. I felt like there aren't a lot of people I would never lie to, but I was always myself to him. Someone who was now probably going to sit here and lie to me to try to survive? Definitely not. I was still mentally preparing myself for what I wanted to do; sometimes I would shoot glances or make faces at Lee to elicit a reaction. I don't know, it was pretty funny to me.

Well, the white bitch Melissa was out in the open and mostly asleep, but I was going to shake her awake anyway. I used a finger to roll her side to side, kinda pushing hard enough to make sure her little body was getting battered up. She started gasping for air and crying out for a moment as she totally awakened, so I took my finger away.

I already had told them that, basically, they were fucked while I was on the way to the apartment so I didn't have much to say to Melissa now. She yelled out, "you bitch!," to me then stood and ran -- or, like, limped-ran -- to the cup to meet Lee. Since I wasn't paying much attention to them anymore I don't know if she could even hear him trying to talk to her. It didn't matter that much since I was going to kill them soon anyway. Shoving my pointer finger between her and the cup, I yanked Melissa back onto the desk and pinned her down. Lee started banging on the glass in a pretty pathetic way.

Melissa fought against my finger, kicking and screaming like the bitch she was. Using my left hand I pinned her to the table by her chest. "You need to chill the fuck out," I said to her. Instead of chilling the fuck out like she should have, she kept thrashing at me then started actually shrieking. What a fucking spaz! I clenched my fist then drove the weight of my pointer finger's second knuckle into her lower legs. She screamed out even louder, yelping desperately in pain. It had felt cathartic, like I was tearing legs off an insect.

Soon those yelps turned into slurring sobbing. Oh shit, I remembered, she was gonna bleed out. Getting my focus away from the intoxicating scene I looked at the glass, at Lee, and asked him if it was worth it. I felt kinda scripted, but I didn't know if he was listening anyway. He was completely and stupidly still just looking at Melissa. Oh well, I was gonna give him a good sight to pay attention to soon anyway!

Moving quickly since she was gonna pass out from blood loss any moment now, I pulled her body out of the pooling blood that was gathering around her on the table and brought her to my face. Looking at her, I saw her face looked slack and unaware. The dying bitch wouldn't understand a word I said. Instead I looked back to Lee and said, "Say bye." Into my mouth Melissa went, pressed to my tongue first then I deftly swallowed her. There was maybe a taste of pennies (blood, duh) and gross perfume; I still felt her slutty essence in my esophagus like a frog in my throat. Or maybe I was just getting anxiety from murdering someone, that's funny. Lee finally snapped out of his comatose state and started banging at the glass again, screaming out. I paid attention now: he was crying, "What the fuck, what the fuck, what!," repeatedly then he started wailing like the sad little boy his cheating ass always was deep down.

I drank some water I had near me on the desk and washed her blood and, uh, slimy skank essence down my throat as well. Knowing she was in the pit of my stomach, disconnected from reality and left to burn away in there was a gnarly fucking feeling. Maybe I should have made her suffer more, but I suppose she wasn't really aware I existed. Too bad she had to go, but it was so sweet to look at Lee, sitting and watching me blankly now. Absolutely worth it.

But now I wondered what to do with him. I guessed I could eat him too, but isn't that boring? To me, he seemed more like a bug. A roach. That gave me a lightbulb and ideas flooded to me, most of them actually very obvious all along.

Lifting the glass I quickly plucked the dumbass off the table, brought him sorta close to my face, and spat on him. Mucus and everything... it wasn't necessary, but fuck him. I swiveled my chair then leaned down to deposit him before my socked feet. They were just plain grey ones, not the cutest for me to crush him with, but cheap enough to throw away. Or I could psychotically keep them somewhere, oh my God, I started to laugh at myself. Lee laid on the ground cowering now as I hovered over him. I hoped I was menacing.

Should I have stomped him quickly? I don't know, I put the ball of my right foot over him and pressed down a bit... It felt like he was gonna break too soon, I really didn't want that so I slid my foot further down -- probably skinning his whole damn naked body -- and rolled him beneath my toes. He was scrunched up between them all, fighting and jerking around as I held him there. Honestly he really didn't have any chance to fight against toes that were nearly his size so I didn't get the point at all. Whatever.

I began to stand up and focus more weight on the right foot. I could feel the resistance his body gave under me, creaking under my toes. The last throes of Lee's sad little life was screaming out its expiring breaths into the smelly fabric of my gym socks. Yikes, it's what he deserved. Again I shifted, rolling him under the ball of my foot then pressing and grinding his weak body under me. He collapsed, compacting and compressing wetly into mush under the weight of my foot. Now the screaming and fighting was over. I just felt the rush over me, heart racing. That was liberation.

There was a gross sticky feeling of blood all between my toes and dredging my sock. Thank God for hardwood floors though, a small W for me. Now I'd put that part of my life behind me. Too bad I had a mess to clean up now. And would eating a whole human raw, like, make me sick or something?