It is not easy to recount what my life was like for the next few weeks. I was handed over by Justin, in exchange for a good amount of money, to a guy whose appearance alone was already nightmarish. He looked like one of the evil characters from a Charles Dickens novel. Old, wiry, one-eyed and toothless, he ran a miserable club, located in a basement, where the worst people in the city gathered. There he had set up a thriving clandestine business of renting out tiny men and women. The unfortunate ones of us were exposed in a large cage and the clients of the place would choose one of us to take with them for a few hours or a few days. The only condition was that we were returned alive to the establishment. Whether we returned whole or not... that mattered less.
There I learned firsthand how far human cruelty can go. In the den they organized bets based on terrifying games with the shrunken ones. For example, they would leave us on the floor and release a few starving mice, or huge spiders, and once they even did it with a cat. The giants would bet to see how many of us would survive the attack of the monstrous animals, or who would be eaten first. In these club games it didn't make any difference whether we died or not. Sometimes they were even crueler and would release us into a large tub, which they would then fill with fish or crabs equally ready to devour us while we frantically swam for our lives. Many times they didn't even need animals. They themselves would set up competitions to crush us under their huge feet and see who was the first to get it. You can't imagine how much fun those giant monsters could have with those games.
In those days I did establish contact with several fellow sufferers, as we were all in common cages. We all had some terrible story to tell, most of us an infamous betrayal by a friend or family member, someone we thought loved us. Others had been kidnapped, in an oversight by their owners in some public place. Fortunately I never became intimate with any of those unfortunates, for our friendship would have been short-lived. Each night the number of us was dramatically reduced in the dreadful gambling games, until new shrunken people were bought and incorporated into that terrible slaughterhouse.
Things were no better when you was rented to a client and he took you to his house. The string of perversions I knew then is hard to relate. I remember one guy who only got aroused by using the little guys as toilet paper. He would cum wildly as he ran me repeatedly over his dirty ass. Another one hung me from a hook over his desk and, as he read, kept giving me small bumps with his hand, over and over again. I thought it would cause serious brain damage. And I was still lucky, others were hung over a lit candle or over a container with acid or lye. There were also people who put you in their underpants or their shoes, and there they kept you all day forcing you to caress or massage them, while they went about their normal lives, all the time aroused, of course, to know that they were carrying a tiny man serving them. Many of the little ones ended up crushed or suffocated, but the only consequence was that the customer had to compensate the club financially, or else get them another little one, which also led to an active network of kidnapping of poor shrunken human beings. These were the consequences of a program born, in theory, to help poor people reduce expenses. Such is human nature.
I miraculously escaped death for many days, although my body was full of bruises and wounds made during the dreadful competitions or by the giants who were renting me out. In addition, I felt tremendously weak, as we were barely given a few crumbs from time to time to eat. And, of course, it was not only my body. My soul, already broken by the betrayals of my boyfriend and my brother, was shattered by the extreme cruelty. I hardly felt or thought anything anymore, I really felt and behaved like an object, like a plaything. And there came a time when I just wanted to die, and I was willing to let myself be killed first in the next deadly game in which I was forced to participate.
One night a client took me to his house. It was a toothless, smelly old man who had just rented me. He was quite drunk, so he put me in a tiny cage, in which I barely fit and, after telling me that in the morning he would take care of me, he went to sleep. Then a woman crept in, also older and disheveled, though a little less so than that guy. She approached my cage and said:
-Poor thing. You're so cute! I don't know how you got into this situation, but I want to help you. I don't want my brother to hurt you. He's a real monster. You know he does terrible things to the little ones he buys and then, while they're still alive, he dissects them? I wouldn't want that to happen to you.
So that was my captor's sister. It was like a Dickens novel again. I was touched to find someone who at least felt a little pity for me, but by then I had almost no feelings left. The giantess took me out of the cage, brought me close to her huge face and asked me:
-Tell me, little one, do you have someone I can take you to, a friend, a relative...?
I began to speak. Naturally she did not hear me. At last, getting very close to her ear and shouting at the top of my voice, I was able to give her my father's name and address. Then she returned me to the cage saying:
-Tomorrow, before my brother gets up, I will come for you. Try to rest.
I dropped into the cage, exhausted by the effort and, truth be told, without any hope anymore. That would probably be part of another ruthless game. This time, however, I was wrong. With the first light of day the giantess did indeed come to my cage, took me in her giant hand and put me in a small purse, dirty and tatty. A long time passed, during which I was tossed to and fro in that smelly bag, and bumping into the objects in it, which made me terribly dizzy. When I thought I was going to faint, suddenly the purse opened, the giantess' hand grabbed me again and, as if in deja vu... I saw the huge figure of my father in front of me!
I can't explain the happiness I felt. I thought I was dreaming. The giantess, without saying a single word, left me in the titanic hand of my progenitor and left quickly, without even allowing us to thank her. It was clear that she did not want to be identified. To this day, I still look for her to thank her for saving me. My dad, on the other hand, who could not believe his eyes either, began to kiss me frantically as tears ran down his cheeks and he said over and over again:
-Artie! My son!... You're alive!... My God!... You're alive!
He took me inside and looked for the intercom, which, fortunately, he had kept despite having left me for dead, probably prompted by the story Axel and Justin had told him. Then he put it on me and asked me what had happened. I only had time to tell him very succinctly what had happened before, completely exhausted and shattered, I lost consciousness in his huge hand...
To be continued...
