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Author's Chapter Notes:

Not a lot of explicit content in this one either. The next chapter will get back to business. For now, enjoy learning a bit about John's day!

John sat at his dining room table, sipping coffee as the sun was still rising. The table was tall but he was still reveling in his bachelor status and used tall barstools as chairs. It had taken him awhile to get used to his feet not touching the ground but it was worth it. 

The coffee was still a little hot for him so he grabbed his creamer and the little ceramic contain from where they had been sitting in the center of the table. A little creamer went in and he stirred his drink with a little spoon. Well, to be fair it wasn't a little spoon. It was a shrunken-down version of a fancy kitchen ladle.

Over the past years, and the past couple weeks specifically, John had been perfecting shrinking technology. And it had been a very exciting couple of weeks. Once he'd figured out how to make the basic machine work it had been easy to adapt it into a handleheld device with all the same functionality. He'd already had quite a few successful outings with it, and not just with shrinking common objects. Though it was tempting, he was no thief! John always paid for things before he left the store.

Things though. That was the kicker. 

As the creamer was slowly swirled around the coffee John lifted the lid off the small ceramic jar. Setting the lid on the ground he picked up the entire jar and slowly tipped it over his coffee. At first nothing happened, then he tapped the bottom.

With voices too small to hear beyond a faint squeaking, dozens of tiny people fell out of the jar and into his coffee. They disappeared into the steaming liquid as it kept being stirred. He shook it a little more causing dozens more to fall to their ends. As John watched some struggled to stay afloat but his spoon and the massive (to them) waves pulled them under one by one. 

Once they were mixed in John stopped stirring and blew steam across the top of the coffee. He knew the tinies were quickly going to come back to the surface but there was something immensely satisfying to him about mixing them into his drink. A couple dozen lives ended just to give his coffee a better flavor.

The tinies' recovery and non-solubility was deliberate on John's part. One of the settings he had perfected was just how tough to make the tinies.

Early on the tinies were nigh-immortal. His first few subject were still ensconced in various fluids in his basement. Some were finally getting a little worse for the wear down there but he was excited to see how much damage could be done to them before they stopped moving of their own volition.

But these little sugar substitutes? They were resistant to almost everything - except for stomach acid. Which was what a few of them were about to be struggling to swim in.

Satisfied the coffee was cool enough John took a nice long drink. There was a little flicker of something extra as he savored the flavor on his tongue before swallowing. Then he picked up his everything bagel and took a big bite. Again there was the faint sound of people screaming but John was getting used to that.

Micros, the tinies that could be mistaken for poppy seeds, were just too delicious to let a little thing like screaming get in his way. There was a brief flash of saltiness and some vague yet excellent flavor as these weaker tinies were smashed between his teeth, adding a perfect balance to his breakfast.

It was surprising, John thought to himself, just how incredible bringing tinies into his life had made it. Another drink. Another bite. He'd added tinies into tons of parts of his life.

There were these for seasonings, some for cleaning, some for experiments. But most were for pleasure.

John shook himself out of his reminiscing as he finished his bagel. A couple of tiny forms had fallen off and were running across his plate in a desperate attempt to escape their fate. Licking his finger John casually scooped them up and sucked them off his finger. Then he used the last of his coffee to wash everything down.

Then he went downstairs to his laboratory. The lights turned on automatically, revealing rows and rows of machinery and computers. On a pedesta that he walked by sat his 'phaser,' the portable shrinking machine he used to get most of his toys and seasonings. It was charging, yesterday had been a very productive day.

On the larger table in the middle of the room sat a broad, shallow tupperware container. It was next to several larger glass jars, which themselves were full of various fluids and several earlier tinies that were finally starting to degrade. Before he turned his attention to his latest acquisitions John took a few notes on the subjects in the jars.

He clicked his teeth when he got to the woman in the basic substance. It appeared the fluid had finally worn away enough of her that she wasn't able to move anymore. Knowing that experiment was at its end John took the jar and poured it out into the large metal sink. When the tiny finally fell out, a mere shell of her former bombshell self, John saw a flicker of movement as she tried to raise her head with muscles that couldn't quite work anymore.

Without a second thought John aimed the faucet at her and washed her down the drain. He thought briefly about hitting the switch for the disposal but didn't want to accidentally spray any of the chemicals around so he didn't. The faucet ran briefly to wash the rest of the solution down. Considering what John was into he was a surprisingly clean and tiny man.

Not that any of his subjects appreciated that. His favorite butt plug currently swam in a light cleaning solution on his coffee table in the corner of the basement he'd set up for his entertainment. His stroker collection, currently there were three, all had been carefully pulled onto and secured to a device that would fill them with lubricant as they were pulled off. When they weren't mounted the device resembled a device used to fill donuts with filling. 

It was a good idea, John had thought, why not just adapt it? It kept things cleaner and he liked the look of his strokers being stuck on the machine better than he had just letting them hang around yet another container for leftovers.

These newest subjects, collected from a cheerleading convention, were particularly exciting for John. Because he had almost ran out of ideas. He had seasonings by the hundreds, micros for sugar substitutes, two butt plugs (the other he had inserted yesterday and she had accidentally panic-moved herself further into his transverse colon), strokers, practically everything he could think of. 

While he looked at the panicking group of naked teenagers, the tallest of which measured four inches, he casually popped two inchers into his mouth. After a moment of enjoying their delicious flavor and movements on his tongue he swallowed them down. John gave the new group a quizzical look as an idea entered his head.

"Who wants to earn their freedom back?" he asked as he leaned over them.

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