The YouPet had only just managed to choke through the frothy swamp of Jennifer’s sour saliva and take a recuperating breath before she felt the probing fingers of her source pinching around her ankles and plucking her off the ground.  She hung upside in the air, too worn out after the stamping to flail, and was brought back to chin level with Jennifer as a few stray droplets of spit plopped off the ends of her red hair.

            “Disgusting,” Jennifer said, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head.  “Not sure I really feel like looking at you like this.  It reminds me too much of… me.”

            The YouPet gagged as the little gown now clung stickily to her body from the dispersed saliva, soaking her completely.

            “Let’s try paring you down a little.  Just so you don’t forget what you are,” Jennifer suggested, and pinched her fingers around the back of the YouPet’s gown, rending the sopping threads almost instantly with a strong tug.  The shorn fabric was flicked aside like a corner of moist toilet paper, leaving the dangled YouPet nude and damp from the residual fluid of Jennifer’s mouth.

            “Now that we’ve tested what your body can handle, let’s try out your head,” Jennifer grinned, reaching into her pocket with her other hand and rummaging her fingers around.  “I came up with this a week ago out of the blue.  We don’t want you cheating on this part, after all.”

            A frigid void overtook the YouPet’s mental state in that moment.  As painful as it was, she’d known about the previous steps before they arrived, at least allowing her to brace as best as she could for the onslaught.

            Now, she couldn’t anticipate with certainty what was intended for her, and the ignorance was even more terrifying than waiting for the crushing misery of her own enormous foot to stamp her into oblivion.

            At that moment, Jennifer’s other hand rose back up into the YouPet’s limited field of vision, most of which was just comprised of the jumbo-tron representation of her own blushing, conniving countenance.  Pinched between a colossal thumb and forefinger was a simple red thumb tack.

            “Know where this is from?” Jennifer asked.

            The YouPet nodded uncertainly, a lump forming in her throat.  It looked like it was from the corkboard Jennifer kept in her bedroom to pin up pictures.

            “I keep that board full of random stuff from parties, but I never have anything really interesting go up on it,” Jennifer explained.  “Nothing I could point at when people go in there and tell them I made it.”

            The YouPet was only half-listening, because her focus was now trained aggressively on the thumb tack, which to her was the size of a fire hydrant with a steel spear on one end, steadily inching closer toward her exposed and dangling body.

            “So maybe you’d make a nice addition,” Jennifer murmured.  Her fingers shot forth the remaining inches until the thumb tack, the sharp ended pointed outward, was touching the YouPet’s belly button.  “I could just stick it right through you and keep it there until I get sick of looking at you.”

            The tack teased against the YouPet’s skin, tracing a line around her belly button, not prodding her hard enough to break the skin, but enough to let her know it was there and then some.  Another nudge and the tack would be inside her intestines.  And certainly only the gentlest of pokes from Jennifer’s fingers was all that separated the two outcomes.

            “Maybe not there, though,” Jennifer continued, twirling the plastic end of the tack along the rounded rim of her thumb.  “It’s a little too obvious.”

            The harder the YouPet tried to focus on keeping her limbs from shaking, the more they quivered out of control.

            “Maybe we’ll go with somewhere that makes a little more of a statement,” she continued.  Jennifer’s hand tilted a few degrees upward with a mere twitch of her wrist, and suddenly the thumb tack was prodding at the inverted YouPet’s clitoris.

            “Open your legs wider,” Jennifer instructed calmly, her voice lilting and gentle as could be.  “Show me your little pussy better.”

            Hanging upside down over the same gut-churning drop as before, unable to do anything but swing her arms and one leg, with a point sharp enough to drive into her skin and impale her to a wooden surface now touching her labia, had brought the YouPet to her breaking point.  Choking back a few terrified sobs, she vomited, the tiny flecks plunging toward the ground until she could no longer even see them.

            “I guess that’s the winner, huh?” Jennifer chuckled.  “I figured that would do it.”

            “Don’t…” the YouPet whimpered dryly, trying to smack the horrid taste out of her mouth, her breathing laboring almost to the cusp of hyperventilation.  “P-P-Please.”

            “Who’s to say I don’t secretly have a masochism fetish that’s so secret even I don’t know about it yet?” Jennifer pondered aloud, glancing up at the ceiling for unseen clarity.  “Maybe I’ve been missing out all along by not getting fucked by a spike.  Maybe you’ll be the one teaching me something about myself.”

            “W-Why would y-y-you…” choked the Youpet, “…want to s-s-see that thing g-go into your own… y-your own…”

            “I wouldn’t.  It probably hurts a whole hell of a lot.  That’s why I’m not sticking this in my vag, I’m thinking about sticking it in yours.”

            “This w-w-wasn’t p-part of the p-plan,” the YouPet gasped, surprising even herself at her capacity for conversation or even coherent thought as the cold metal continued to stick at her delicate lips between her legs.

            “Well, who says I can’t improvise a little on the plan?  I’ve had two weeks thinking about you getting here, after all.  Who wants to stick with the same-old, same-old?”

            “B-B-Because I know that I wouldn’t do this!” the YouPet screeched with breathless panic.  “I know it would freak me the FUCK out to have to look at that thing going into me, even if it wasn’t me!”

            “Oh, you wouldn’t do this, huh?  So what?  You’re not me.  I can change my mind on a dime, and that’s one thing you do know,” Jennifer retorted coldly.

            “But what d-d-does this p-prove?”

            “What does it prove?” Jennifer snickered back, concentrating the tip of the tack with a little more purpose against the YouPet’s genitals.  The little woman sucked in breath, horrified that moving a single muscle would end with sliced flesh.  The tack still hadn’t broken skin, but any added pressure and it was going to start messily penetrating her in a spray of crimson and tears.

            “No…”

            “It proves you’re really goddamned boring when you’re not flying through the air like a little birdie, that’s what,” Jennifer concluded, withdrawing the threat of tack-raping her miniature at last.

            Her wrist arching downward, her fingertips clamping tightly around the YouPet’s ankles, Jennifer flicked her hand forward like she was tossing a Frisbee and flung her clone through the air with perfect form for maximum distance.

            Life for the unfortunate shrunken copy spun into a haze, like stumbling drunkenly through her living room after a real night-long bender.  Her vision blurred, her eyes watered, and her limbs flailed in the chill of her soaring trajectory.  Now that she was naked, every corner of her skin was touched by the rush, and it iced her to the bone.  As soon as she felt herself losing height, she wrapped her arms around her head and tucked her legs into her torso with detached resolve, already processing what was coming to an agonizing degree.

            The landing was not a single crash like before, where she’d been deposited straight downward on a nine-story fall.  Jennifer’s throw had provided even more height than before as well as an arc, and a solid one-hundred-and-twenty feet of gravitational yank collided with the YouPet’s body.  She bounced twice, skidding over the floor like a discarded marble and smashing headlong into a glass flower pot.