From their Tupperware prison, several dozen tinies watched in horrified anticipation as John worked on something they couldn't see. Snatched from the mall the day before, the two and three inch women (and not quite yet women) had simply been out on a Black Friday shopping trip when they'd found themselves shrank to a fraction of their old selves. The youngest of them was a mere thirteen, the oldest in her forties.
John hadn't been picky on his own shopping trip, merely making sure his targets wouldn't be noticed if they suddenly vanished. He'd gotten a good haul too: enough of the two and three inch tinies that he didn't even bother to keep count. Two six inchers, one of whom he'd already put to use three times as a stroker toy (his new favorite thing), and he still had a dozen half-centimeter micros that he'd been experimenting with as food spices.
So far they were too tough to really add any flavor, but they gave every dish and drink he'd tried a great texture and tingling sensation as they tried desperately to escape his mouth before he swallowed them down. He'd even checked his stool before sending it down into the sewer and it looked like most of his seasonings had survived his digestive tract completely unharmed. John merely shrugged before flushing and watching them vanish.
Adjusting the toughness of the tinies he made was John's latest struggle. He'd tried for years to get his shrinking technology to work. The shrinking itself went just fine. Then he refined it to get his targets to different sizes. Next came shrinking the target's clothing as well to make cleanup easier. Tomorrow he'd work on tweaks to just vanish the clothing entirely.
"But today," John said to the six inch tiny he had on the table next to him, "I think I can fix your invicibility problem."
His other six incher, now known as the stroker, was safely in her own Tupperware container on the coffee table in his man cave. This one had seen what he'd done to her same-size counterpart and had already tried twice to flee. So she'd essentially volunteered for this. John was really looking forward to getting this setting correct and this little blonde who had previously been a secretary at a small law firm was just the unfortunate test subject.
She would have ran again if her feet, which had carried her on two half-marathons before, hadn't been taped to the top of the table. The woman looked up at John who towered over her even as he sat on the tall rolling stool he used to glide around his basement lab. He smiled at her and held up his shrink-ray.
"The Phaser is ready to go!" he said cheerfully. She tried to scream again at him to stop and let her go, but when she started he merely flicked her head. The tiny blow was nothing for John to administer but for her it was a roundhouse punch to the face from a body builder.
"No more of that," he told her as she fell backward awkwardly. Her feet being stuck down kept her from even attempting a recovery.
The shrink ray entered her vision as the stars cleared from her eyes. There was a brief whining noise from the tip as John pressed a button and she put a hand in front of her face to defend herself. When nothing happened she lowered her hand in confusion.
But John wasn't confused.
"If everything worked like I hoped then this," John held up a long sewing needle so that she could see it, "Will keep you from running awawy again."
Her eyes widened and she desperately began pulling at the tape that held her down. He'd already tried piercing her with the sewing needle and while it was painful there had been no penetration. Just a bizarre stretching. She couldn't help but feel thankful though that she wasn't being used as his stroker. It was horrifying to watch a woman be stretched around a massive penis until she was little more than a skin colored condom, only to be used for a giant's pleasure.
Anything had to be better than that.
But she was wrong. Her imagination didn't run the same way John's did. So when the sewing needle pierced the skin at her ankle she cried out in pain but didn't realize he was going to run it through both of her ankles. Suddenly her legs were essentially held together by a thick iron bar. The pain of it was so intense she barely noticed him take another needle and grab her arms until there was a massive flash of pain from her wrists as well.
In a matter of moments before she could recover from the shock John took a pair of wire cutters and snipped off the ends just beyond where they stuck out of her skin, then used a tool she wasn't familiar with the widen the ends of the bars so that they couldn't slide out of the holes they had made.
John leaned back, satisfied with his handiwork. The tiny woman was in shock, clearly, but he was happy with how he went, if a little surprised. He leaned over to his computer and typed a few notes.
"Skin pierced, no blood, immortal but no longer invincible?" he said to himself as he typed.
The tiny stirred as he brought his attention back to her. He doubled checked the ends of the needles and felt them to be rounded off by his crimping tool, just as he had hoped. As she started to move more, automatic movements as she got used to the incredible pain she must have been in, John grabbed another thin iron bar and rolled her onto her stomach. The bar had tiny clips at either end (John had actually made this at full size then shrank it to its current state to make production easier) which fit around the tiny bit of exposed needle between her wrists and her ankles. Then he held her up to get a better look.
"You look just like those girls in the old monster movies when they were sacrifices," he said to her. She was coming back to her senses but not fast enough to really understand what he was saying. She did notice though when John gave her entire body a long slow lick. Sputtering, she tried to struggle but there wasn't a lot of room for movement with her arms and legs held together the way they were.
She began to scream again.
"Oh right," John said over her tiny screams, "One more thing." He set her back on the table and picked up a sodering iron and wire. The iron was already hot, and with a quick movement John melted some of the wire straight into her mouth. Her eyes bugged out as she tried to scream around the rapidly cooling metal.
John ignored her once the wire was melted in place and instead watched his wall clock. The second hand went around once. Twice. Three times. When it approached four minutes and his latest experiment was still squirming, John typed another note on his computer.
"Still needs no oxygen. Mechanism?"
"Anyway," he said to her struggling yet immobilized form, "It's time to put you in your place."
He picked her up by the lengthwise bar and walked over to the corner of the basement he'd turned into his man cave. The stroker shrieked when she saw him coming but he ignored her as he went to the wall. From the wall he removed an old-fashioned cuckoo clock, the very first thing he'd ever made.
Even at sixteen he was a skilled craftsman and this clock was a testament to that. He unscrewed the top and pulled out the little wooden bird and the board that it stood on. Then with a few simple adjustments he put his new bird into the clock and replaced the lid. The clock went back on the wall.
Ten minutes later John was busy using his stroker again, pulling the little brunette up and down his cock slowly as he enjoyed the sensation of her entire body being a mere toy for his pleasure. He was approaching orgasm as the woman in the porn on his massive television was trying to get unstuck from under the sink while her step-brother was quietly taking his pants off unseen behind her. His little six-incher was far and away the best feeling toy he had.
Not quite as good as sex, he thought to himself, but damn it beats my hand.
Then the clock struck three.
There was a pleasant cawing of a bird, a wren which was John's favorite bird, and then the new bird came out suddenly. John was glad she wasn't able to scream as the tiny woman was thrust out into the open. Held the way she was she looked just like a carved mermaid on the prow of an old ship. She came flying out once, her eyes wide in terror as she realized what had happened. Then she was yanked back in and thrust out again, this time taking into view John sitting on the couch with his hands on his cock and...she was pulled back in then thrust out once more.
She got a fast view of John stroking himself rapidly as he looked at her form, reduced to an accessory for an old clock, then his eyes went wide and he was obviously cumming into his stroker. The poor girl's head swelled rapidly as he filled her full of semen. Before she could see anything else she was pulled back into the cuckoo clock and the little door shut tight in front of her.
Everything was darkness.
Until the next hour struck. Forever.