As the armored convoy roared through the desert, Sana sighed a deeply satisfied sigh. Just 2 weeks ago, she was an entry level technician at a University lab, but now she was on an immensely important diplomatic trip that would both bring peace to her country but also greatly enhance her own personal power. Her middle eastern nation had been ravaged by a series of invasions, occupations, and civil wars for most of the 34-year-old woman’s life. She discreetly checked down her blouse and looked between her olive colored G-cup breasts. Fareed was still in there (where else was he going to go? Sana just liked the sight of her tiny boyfriend enveloped by her big soft tits, must’ve been paradise for him).  What about Najla, the young widow of her father-in-law? She looked down in her purse, containing no items but the woman and some tissues to conceal her. Najla smiled brightly and waved up at her. Good. She really adored her owner, Sana, and Sana loved it.

Sana’s daughter Malak had been born when Sana was just 16 years old. Sana had been a teenager (in an arranged marriage, of course). Her husband, scarcely older than her, had joined a militia and just weeks after marriage he’d been sent away, leaving her pregnant. He died before their daughter’s birth. It was difficult for women in Sana’s country to find work and Sana was sent to the household of her modestly wealthy father-in-law, Ibrahim, to live as a widow and give birth to her daughter, aged just 16. The wars continued to ravage the country, and one by one her late husband’s brothers were slain, in addition to a few of their cousins. Sana and her daughter became the only family Ibrahim had left, except for one nephew.

17 years on, Ibrahim received a grim diagnosis of a rare type of cancer. Preventative care was non-existent, even for the wealthy (why try and fix a problem you don’t know you have?). Sana was clearly a brilliant person, Ibrahim had slowly realized. She’d helped him effectively manage her father in-law’s business (particularly the challenging supply chain, security, and legal aspects in a war zone) and wealth better than he or any man could. Although conservative, he grew to respect her. She persuaded him to sponsor her to attend the national University, where her innate abilities gave her easy admission. She would work in a lab and try to find a cure.

After a few months of long hours, sneaking out supplies, constant complaints from her teenage daughter over the move, and resentment/stares from other students and researchers (the university was liberal enough to allow an occasional woman but only at the insistence of the western NATO occupiers of the capital city), Sana was well on her way to the cure. But she’d soon realize there were a few catches. She’d only been able to smuggle enough supplies to make 3  samples, and one of them would have to be used on a test subject. She’d only been allowed to test the treatment on a POW who appeared to be suffering from the same cancer that Ibrahim was. That was unethical, but typical in a country whipped up in the fervor of war.  She would also have little help, as the guard told her she would need to inject the prisoner herself. And the POW was violent. She was unhappy about this and very nervous, but what choice did she have? She knew the POW had requested treatment, so hopefully he’d be nice to her. He was also physically ill, so maybe she could fend off an attack. When she first saw the man, she was a little bit unnerved. He was perhaps a few years older than herself and had been a commander in the rival side of the civil war. She could see in his eyes he was a fanatic. Likewise, he seemed to take his imprisonment and illness well and was in great shape. She hadn’t been with a man for 18 years, since her husband went off to war. Like any feminine woman she was into commitment, and thought if a strong, resilient fanatic that could be the rubbed the right way….She had to put her horniness aside and try to test her sample. The prisoner was staring at her malevolently. She spoke quickly but firmly, “this is the potential cure you were promised. Please give me your arm”. He stared at her, then disgustedly said “they send me a woman?”. She said nothing, and he relented, sticking his arm through his prison bar and she injected him…..

She gasped. Within five seconds the prisoner was about 2 feet tall. He was opened mouthed, unable to speak (it was probably a good thing- she didn’t want to draw attention to this), within another 3 seconds she couldn’t even see him. His clothes shrunk with him. She slapped her own forehead, her big idea had been to shrink cancer cells/tumors, while not killing healthy tissue. But it turned out to shrink healthy tissue. A movement caught her eye, the little prisoner was attempting to run between the cell’s bars (between where he could now fit) in a direction away from Sana. She would need to study him, but she knew he couldn’t survive on his own at this size (being roughly half an inch tall). She scooped him up and looked in awe at the little man in her hands. He had been a military commander of effective death squads, someone who’s power she would look at with fear. Not anymore. She stuffed him in her purse. She doubted this would be noticed for a long time. The prison was understaffed and corrupt. It was not uncommon for prisoners to disappear.

She went back to her apartment. Her daughter was still at school. After she changed into more comfortable clothes, she scooped the man out of her purse and set him on the table. He looked up at her and then abruptly looked away. She crouched down so that her face was directly in front of him. “Hey, Colonel, I’m not going to hurt you” ….. “I’m not power-hungry like you”, she added. He still looked away. “You have no veil” he said through gritted teeth. She started at that, stood up to her full height,  but then stopped. ….Why should she care what this mite thought about her? She decided to tease him a little bit.  She grinned down at him malevolently “Do you like my hair?” she cooed, as she ran her hands through her curly and thick black hair. She added, “Maybe if this country wasn’t so prudish, there’d be a lot less angry and violent men”.  With that, the little man finally looked up at her. “You’d have less recruits” she added, and stuck out the tip of her tongue playfully and his face flushed red. “I’m a little warm right now, too…” and with that she slowly began to remove her shirt, giving him a great view of her brown midriff and  shapely G-Cup tits, with must’ve looked like mountains to him, barely contained by a white bra that contrasted nicely with her olive skin. He wasn’t looking away now. “My peace plan is two of these for every man in this country”….she said, grabbing her tits. “Let’s see if it works”. With that, she scooped up the man and careful stuffed him between her bra and her tit (it was very difficult, as she had trouble finding bras big enough). She felt him squirm for a little bit and felt his little dick poking into her. She let him squirm for a little bit, until she would have to leave to pick up her daughter. When the time was up, she scooped him out. She grinned down at him, her dark eyes full of pleasure. “What’s your name?” she asked. She forgot what his file had said. “Fareed” the little man said back.