“... and you are IT!”

Jack let out a slight sigh of relief.  He had avoided selection until the end.  Gary’s cigarette rose to the sky in Grant’s clutches.  Gary’s fight or flight response kicked in, but with a hurt ankle and the tv tray keeping him in place, fleeing wasn’t an option.  So when Grant reached down to grab Gary, he got a bite on the finger.  

Grant recoiled.  He had dealt with his shrunken victims lashing out at him, but the bite still stung a bit.  The bastard ripped a good chunk out of his finger, so he went to go grab a bandage.  When he came back, he could see the tiny making a last ditch attempt to bail by climbing the glass inside the tray, but it was no use.  With his busted ankle, he wasn’t getting anywhere fast.  Grant was still upset that his plaything was trying to escape and grabbed him to keep him from evading him.

Holding this worthless reprobate by his arm in his right hand, he brought his lit cig to his mouth with the left.  “Okay, shitface!  I ought to reduce you into an unrecognizable mess for the crap you pulled, but I’m feeling generous today.  Who are you, and what do you think a little bastard like you can even make of yourself?”

Gary had spent every ounce of energy he had in that last ditch effort, and had only really managed to piss his cruel captor off.  With no other options available, he started crying and begging.

“Please, I’m sorry.  My name’s Gary Stewart.  My dad runs Stewart, Thompson, & Associates Brokerage.  I’m going to take over for my father at his firm.  If you want anything, I can give it to you.  If it’s money, I have that!  Position or prestige, I can do that!  Just please let me go!”

Gary’s declaration only really served to piss Grant off even more.  Grant had not had any great opportunities and never really made anything of himself despite how hard he tried.  So this snivelling little cretin having the good life served to him on a silver platter struck a bad chord with him.  And that was on top of the fact that he bit him, was trying to escape, and was getting his hand sticky with whatever it was on his body.

“Well, Gary, I’ll have you know that you hurt my finger really bad.  Even if I wanted to forgive you, you’ll have to make it up to me for biting me.

“Yes, of course!  Anything!”  He would quickly come to regret the use of the word ‘anything’ here, as the lit end of the cigarette approached his hand.  He screamed and convulsed as the smoldering cig was pressed into the back of its hand.

“Then surely you don’t mind doing at least this much.  After all, since you hurt me, hurting you would be the easiest way to even the score!  But I can’t help but feel you’re not taking this lesson to heart.  Maybe I really need to drive home the point.”

Grant turned Gary upside-down and grasped him by the foot.  Grant buried the burning end of the cig into Gary’s thigh.  Gary blubbered like a baby as he twitched in pain.  The only words he could manage were “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!” over and over again.

This was more to  Grant’s tastes.  “Was that all it took to throw away your dignity?  Come on, rich boy.  Grow a set of balls and man up!  Here, …”

Grant lowered him down to his crotch.  Gary was given an up close view of Grant’s hairy ballsack and twitching cock as Grant traced his face down its length.  

“... Is what real balls look like.  You should take this as an example!”  Then a devious smirk crept across his face as he had a very naughty idea.  Gary hyperventilated as the searing cigarette once again for him, but this time aimed between his legs.  “Though I suppose if you don’t need any…”

Gary couldn’t even think anymore as his head buzzed in pure pain when the cigarette made contact.  He frothed at the mouth as he let out an unearthly howl.  

Jack watched what happened and flinched.  He instinctively covered his crotch with his hands.  Though whether that was from empathetic pain or to cover his erection not even Jack could say.

Grant dropped the tiny man into his ashtray and returned his right hand to the work it had been doing on his dick.  His final act with Gary’s cig was to bring it down firmly onto Gary’s face.  He couldn’t even scream, as it started burning his lungs.  Finally, death showed mercy to the poor soul as Gary perished.

Jack and Grant knew what that meant.  Fate could no longer extend Jack’s life.  This is where the end had to occur.  Jack looked at the amateurish drawing of his own face on the last cigarette, just to confirm to himself that there was only one way this could go.

Grant looked down.  Gary had been fun, but he still hadn’t quite gotten off.  And his still had one more plaything to use.  But he was already on edge and ready to blow.  His hand descended into the pile one last time.

Four cigarettes down, only one to go.