The Prof

[Olo]

This story doesn’t have a happy ending. This is very much a The Bad Guys Win scenario. I’ve had this idea in my pile ever since a comment last year from @sloppy_amy, but now that I’ve written it out I cannot deny that it could also seem like what might have happened if Dr. Little from Out of their Element by @littlest-lily had triumphed.

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The Prof

You wouldn’t look twice at Jonathan as he walked down Boylston Avenue. White dude, average height, slim/athletic build, close-cropped brown hair, stylish glasses, light mustache and soul patch. He wore a dark hoodie and matching sneakers, white T-shirt, and black jeans, all clean and in good shape. His laptop bag might be larger than most, but you wouldn’t remember that. He walked with purpose, and you would imagine that it must be a legitimate one. You would be mistaken.

Jonathan was a very bad man, even taking into account that he was a pimp. The kind of man who could spot desperation in women and sell them a lie of economic and physical security, exploit their bodies for every last cent, then cut them loose when they were all used up is all-too-common in this world. It took a rare quality of evil to encounter world-altering technology and see only an opportunity for further monetizing human cruelty.

He still ran regular girls for regular johns, less out of strict financial need than keeping his enterprises diversified. Jonathan had learned long ago not to keep all his eggs in one basket. And the scouting part of the business was the same for both markets, as evidenced by the two girls he added to his stable last night. Iris was already walking the street, while Emma had been prepped for the Prof.

The Prof had lived at his condo on Boylston near campus ever since his divorce, before Jonathan ever made his acquaintance. He was a regular john back then, using a fake name that Jonathan couldn’t remember even now. Quick with his cash and no complaints from the girls. Jonathan had no reason to give him a second thought until the day the Prof had shown him the device.

A girl came back from the Prof’s condo saying he wanted a special arrangement. No details, but he had to speak with her “manager” in person. “He better make it worth my while,” was Jonathan’s only response. Over the year that followed that day, Jonathan’s net income after payoffs had jumped twentyfold.

Jonathan continued his brisk pace along the sidewalk. The latest wave of gentrification had yet to reach the Prof’s neighborhood, and his building was at least fifty years old. Jonathan had months previously memorized the Prof’s intercom code and he duly entered it when he reached the front door.

“Hello?” came the Prof’s jovial greeting, clearly anticipating Jonathan’s arrival.

“Delivery,” said Jonathan dully. The door lock buzzed promptly.

The condo developers had updated the lobby and corridors with contemporary wallpaper and fixtures, but the elevators were still slow and the floor was still spongy. Every time he walked down the hall to the Prof’s unit Jonathan half-expected to break through the carpet and put his foot in a hole in the ramshackle flooring.

The Prof greeted Jonathan at the door, wearing his favorite dressing gown. Jonathan didn’t know anyone else who knew what a dressing gown was, let alone owned one. It was primarily burgundy in color, with a dark foliage pattern that somehow reminded Jonathan of the jungle.

“Do come in,” said the Prof, opening the door and standing aside.

Jonathan didn’t know what subjects the Prof once taught, but from his home décor he imagined he was a professor of philosophy or history or something similarly squishy. Books everywhere, crammed into sagging shelves and heaped in disused corners. Dark wood paneling, delicate window dressing, and ancient plush furniture. A small dining table still bearing the remains of a single breakfast. In the study a well-worn high-backed leather reading chair, side table, and footstool occupied the position of maximum window light.

There was a distinct but not unpleasant odor immediately familiar to anyone who (unlike Jonathan) had ever patronized a used bookstore. A less-worn leather couch faced the reading chair across a low circular walnut table. The Prof used to offer Jonathan a cup of tea, but he eventually sensed Jonathan was annoyed by having to repeatedly decline and abandoned the gesture.

Jonathan lay his bag down on the couch and turned to look at the Prof waiting next to the reading chair, his hands clasped in front of his chest. Another white guy, the Prof’s physique was evidence of a sedentary career and even more sedentary retirement. Unlike most of his colleagues who had to be carried out of their ivory tower in a pine box, the Prof had retired in his early fifties, shortly after his divorce. His hairline had only just started to recede, making a small widow’s peak of his dark brown hair that was otherwise creeping down his collar and over his ears. His mustache and beard were more orderly if no less thick, closely trimmed with a bit of salt-and-pepper. Hazel eyes peered out from beneath arched eyebrows over a gently-sloping nose. His thick lips were restless.

Jonathan knew from experience that the Prof wasn’t wearing anything under his dressing down other than some long-suffering padded slippers. The gown was already loose enough to expose a bit of the Prof’s hairy chest, and his irrepressible paunch would not be ignored.

At a nod from Jonathan, the Prof hastened to clear the circular table of all items, then crossed the study to open a closet and retrieve a small empty fish tank, which he placed in the center of the tabletop. Finally, he turned on the reading lamp next to his chair and reoriented it so that it illuminated the tank.

Jonathan brought his bag over to the table and set it next to the tank, then opened it and transferred its contents to the floor of the tank one by one. He tried to distribute them evenly so they could each be clearly available to the Prof’s scrutiny, but as always they refused to stay put. To be fair, such behavior was probably to be expected from most any young woman who had been abducted, stripped, and proportionately reduced to two-inches-tall.

The Prof claimed to have invented the size-altering device. He didn’t look like an inventor or engineer to Jonathan, but he was familiar enough with the operation of the device when he first demonstrated it for Jonathan. It was the size and shape of a thick mobile phone or perhaps a mobile phone in a thick case. It was even operated via a touch screen on one side, and on the other side there was what looked like a camera lens. You unlocked it with a numeric code, typed in a percentage, then held it up as if you were taking a photo, sighted the target through the screen display, and pressed the big red button.

Targets of the device changed size in proportion to the specified percentage. A target’s size could be changed more than once, but it could never be made larger than its original size. The Prof had first demonstrated it on his dining table, reducing it to 5% of its original size and then restoring it. The Prof had then invited Jonathan to try it out, and Jonathan had targeted the Prof’s reading chair, successfully reducing and restoring it on the first attempt.

“That’s amazing, uh, Professor,” said Jonathan, “but what’s this got to do with me?”

“I want you to shrink women and sell them to me.”

Jonathan didn’t hesitate at all to entertain the appalling proposal.

“How do I know it works on people?” he countered.

“Well, I could demonstrate it on you,” replied the Prof, “but I suspect it would injure our business relationship.”

“Damn right it would. Why don’t you let me try it on you?”

“Be my guest.”

Jonathan blinked, then grinned and raised the device to target the Prof and triggered it. Nothing happened except an error message on the touch screen: “ACCESS DENIED.”

“I programmed it to lock up if anyone tried to target me,” said the Prof smugly, holding his hand out for the device, which Jonathan warily returned.

Jonathan had to revise his estimation of the Prof, but he didn’t let that get in the way of imagining other possibilities. However much the Prof was willing to pay for shrunken girls, he knew someone just as kinky and undoubtedly richer. He had recently started supplying a john named Greg, a techbro who had the girls do all kinds of weird shit; roleplaying characters from video games, creepy costumes for both the girls and him, you name it. Greg would very likely pay top dollar for living dolls.

The Prof and Jonathan worked out a deal. Each month Jonathan would discreetly shrink six girls and present them to the Prof. The device would be programmed for only six uses before the Prof had to reset it. The Prof would take his favorite of the girls, and Jonathan would keep the other five to sell.

As expected, Greg was all-too-happy to pay handsomely for what he called his “pocket waifus.” The Prof wanted all the girls in his selection to be shrunk to 1/32nd (3.125%) of their original size, but Greg inquired if he could get some at varying sizes, so the Prof started resizing some or all of the girls for Greg after he had made his selection. As the Prof was more dependent on Jonathan for his services than Greg was, Jonathan was careful not to disclose anything about the Prof’s identity to Greg lest the techbro try to cut out the middleman.

The arrangement had become a routine. Jonathan took his habitual seat on the couch to watch the Prof choose this month’s girl. While Jonathan had been transferring the shrunken girls to the display tank, the Prof had retrieved his magnifying glass, through which he was now peering at the latest catch.

The first girl Jonathan had shrunk that month could have been a stripper; in fact he had met her sitting at a club watching other girls going through the moves. Jonathan thought she was on a break or perhaps a friend of one of the dancers. Tall, blonde, and top-heavy with long legs, Audrey was actually a dental hygienist looking to make a career change. Jonathan told her he knew the owner of another club and could get her a favorable audition, and when she showed up he shrank her right outside the club door.

He spotted Deirdre at a bar. A thicc dark girl, black but something else also in there, Puerto Rican maybe. He could have used her in either of his businesses. She didn’t fall for his “you could be a model” approach and he moved on only to run into her a couple of days later at a grocery store. Encouraged by the second chance, he followed her to an out-of-sight corner of the parking lot and shrank her before she reached her car.

Janey was this short blonde with a huge caboose who came up to Jonathan hoping to score some fentanyl. She must have needed them for someone else, because she didn’t go into withdrawal after being shrunk and spending two weeks in his beer cooler.

The Y was not one of Jonathan’s usual hunting grounds, but as he realized that he only needed a few seconds out of sight and alone to grab a girl for the Prof, he had become much more opportunistic. Rebecca was a chunky redhead with glasses that he caught just as she was leaving the Y after her workout. Her glasses got knocked off when he grabbed her, so she couldn’t see more than an inch in front of her.

Jonathan was planning to set Barb up as one of his regular girls, primarily as she was willing to get into his car and she didn’t look like the Prof’s type. A skinny white chick with very short dark brown hair, Barb was already drunk when she sat down next to Jonathan and told him to take her to his place. It was only when she said “I bet you’ve got a giant cock” that he impulsively decided to show her just how giant it was.

Emma had been a waitress at a noodle place not too far from the Prof’s condo. Jonathan hadn’t really noticed her until he was leaving the restroom and the kitchen door swung open, affording him a momentary glimpse of Emma bending over for something on the floor and pointing her round ass at him. He scoped her out further when she walked by his table a few minutes later: short, chubby, some kind of Southeast Asian girl with long dark brown hair. Emma was the subject of Jonathan’s first experiment with using the device at long range. After her shift was over he followed her at a distance of around fifty feet and when she went around a corner he saw that no one was about and he shrank her without hesitation.

[Nyx]

@Olo A Bad Guys Win scenario?! Guess I’ll have to read something else…

Just kidding. I’m attracted to those scenarios like a moth to flame or a kaiju to a heavily-populated city. It’s an intriguing premise and I’m definitely interested to see where this goes

[littlest-lily]

@Olo Oooo intriguing indeed! And I’m so flattered if you were the least bit inspired by anything I wrote But this feels like something all on its own and I look forward to more! (Although I do appreciate the “bad ending” warning, I enjoy darker scenarios at times, but if I know there will be actual death then I need to strap myself in lol)

[Olo]

@littlest-lily Yup, there will be at least one death, and many more implied “off-screen” deaths. Don’t let Evie or Aiden see it (Moira might be interested, idk).

[GhostWriter44]

@Olo wow! I’m so excited for more chapters to this!

[Olo]

All six tiny girls now stood inside the fish tank for the Prof’s inspection. Barb and Janey stood apart from the rest, facing each other while occasionally glancing up at the Prof. The four other girls huddled together whimpering every time the Prof loomed close while Deirdre explained to Rebecca what was going on. The Prof moved around the table to look at the girls from various angles, the fingers of his free hand twitching and rubbing against his palm.

At last the Prof stood up over the tank and shot his hand down to pluck Janey about the abdomen with his thumb and forefinger, bringing her up for closer inspection. He first examined her face and chest, holding the magnifying glass right in front of his eye. After a moment he inverted her, using a single finger to pry apart her flailing legs so he could scrutinize her pussy and asshole. Finally he lowered the magnifying glass and brought Janey’s splayed crotch right up against his mustache and under his nostrils for a deep whiff.

Familiar with the Prof’s habits, Jonathan waited for his tongue to make an appearance. He could see the muscle flexing in the Prof’s throat. The Prof took another deep sniff of the tiny girl’s snatch, then pursed his lips and returned her ungracefully to the tank. He brought the magnifying glass up again and leaned down to peer at the girls clustered around Rebecca. Jonathan knew what it was like to have a handful of shrunken girls look up at you in terror, and he understood why the Prof drew this process out.

The girls shrieked when the Prof stood up over the tank again, and Audrey broke from the pack in an attempt to evade his descending hand. Her flight was in vain, however, as the Prof’s hand instead dove into the herd of the three other girls and fished Emma out of the tank. The Prof shifted his grip to her torso and repeated the same inspection he had performed on Janey. This time his tongue did indeed participate, the tip making a single dab at her furry little pussy. The Prof closed his eyes and savored the taste, swallowing and smacking his lips. He then opened his eyes and nodded to Jonathan.

As the Prof carried Emma in his pinch over to a nearby bookshelf, Jonathan resettled on the couch to consider how much Greg would pay for each of the five girls not chosen. Greg’s tastes were not as idiosyncratic as the Prof’s, but they were still a bit narrow. Audrey should definitely get enlarged some, although her quickness argued against making her legs too much longer. He’d want to see Deirdre’s assets a bit bigger, too.

The Prof took an empty pint glass down from the shelf and lowered Emma into it, letting her drop the last couple of inches. He set the pint glass on the side table next to his chair, then turned to the desk on the other side of the lamp and unlocked a low cabinet door, which folded down to form a horizontal shelf. The bottom of the cabinet featured several small shelves and containers, none higher than three inches.

“Miss Menzies, if you would be so kind,” the Prof said ritually.

The interior of the cabinet extended into the desk to the left past the opening of the door, and it was from this direction that Miss Menzies appeared. She was just over four inches tall, white skin and long curly auburn hair down to her ass. She had heavy breasts that had started to sag, and it was her wide hips that Jonathan looked for when picking girls for the Prof. At one time, Miss Menzies had been the secretary for the department where he taught at the University. Now the Prof had her all to himself.

One of the little containers in the cabinet held a supply of lube, which Miss Menzies extracted and began to apply to all of her limbs and the whole front of her torso. The Prof reoriented the lamp back toward the reading chair, then opened his gown as he sat down, letting the burgundy fabric drape over each arm of the chair. The Prof liked to have an audience, and Jonathan had found that the other girls were more obedient once they had seen how bad it could get.

The Prof leaned back in his chair and spread his legs so everyone could get an eyeful. The graying thatch on his chest continued down over his prominent belly, thinning only somewhat, then vanished underneath his drooping gut and sprouted up again around his cock and balls before thinning again along his thighs and shins. His wrinkled cock was probably average size when hard, but soft and in the shadow of his belly it seemed puny.

Miss Menzies signaled her readiness by walking out onto the platform created by the open cabinet door. The Prof smiled and leaned across one arm of the chair to pluck her about the hips and bring her to him, level with his chest.

“A pleasure as always, Miss Menzies,” he said, lowering her to the seat of the chair and standing her between his legs. He then selected the pint glass and poured Emma into his waiting palm. He held her wriggling in front of his face, his hazel eyes twinkling and his lips rolling over each other. Without further ceremony, Miss Menzies mounted the Prof’s ballsack and began massaging his dick with her slippery limbs and torso.

By now Jonathan had a pretty good idea of what the Prof was gonna do, but he still didn’t quite understand it. The Prof was quite content to enjoy the sight of the two-inch-tall girl struggling in his grip. Miss Menzies was pacing herself, as her labors could take a while to bear fruit.

“Please let me go!” Emma wailed.

The Prof’s face split into a supremely self-satisfied grin. He raised Emma above his head, tilted his head back, and opened his mouth wide. Emma’s cries blossomed into raw panic and her legs flailed furiously. Jonathan was pleased to see all the other girls were watching raptly, Deirdre still unhappily narrating for Rebecca.

It seemed to Jonathan that the Prof took an unbearably long time before dropping Emma into his mouth, but drop her he did, snapping his jaw shut and muting her screams. The girls in the tank jumped in alarm, but Jonathan knew it was far from over. The Prof brought his head back down to face the tank and regally laid his arms on the chair rests. On cue, Miss Menzies increased the vigor of her ministrations to his cock, which had acquired some definition.

From the movements of the muscles and tendons in his throat and jaw, it was evident that the Prof was using his tongue to give Emma a kinetic tour of his mouth, pausing in favorite locations to suck the fluids from her body. As always, Jonathan looked to see if he could spot any indications that the Prof might be chewing her, but he never could.

Twice, the Prof puckered his lips and extruded part of Emma outside his mouth. First came her legs still kicking and then her round little ass, glistening with who knew how many different fluids. That time the Prof slurped her back into his mouth slowly, so her kicking seemed to accelerate as more and more of her legs vanished between his lips.

The second time Emma emerged only her head and shoulders were visible. She seemed to have exhausted her capacity for screaming, but Jonathan could still hear her tiny gasps for fresh air. The Prof leaned forward slightly (mustn’t disturb Miss Menzies) and held Emma between his lips until the girls in the tank noticed her. He let Emma try to call out to them for a couple of seconds before sucking her back into his mouth with great relish and relaxing back into his chair.

At some point during the proceedings Miss Menzies always shifted from hugging the underside of the Prof’s cock to straddling the top so he could see her grape-sized ass. Jonathan looked and saw that she had already made this transition, her eyes closed as she embraced his shaft and rocked her tits and pussy back and forth along it.

The Prof had been making intermittent low moaning sounds ever since Emma had fallen into his mouth. Now Jonathan could hear a series of grunts originating from the Prof’s diaphragm, seemingly exhorting Miss Menzies to greater exertions. How Emma was experiencing them was anyone’s guess.

Finally the Prof tilted his head back again and Jonathan, who knew to look for it, saw the Prof swallow. If any of the girls in the tank saw it and had a vocal reaction, Jonathan couldn’t hear it over the Prof’s grunts. Reflexively, the Prof shot a hand underneath his balls and pressed hard on his taint; perhaps Miss Menzies could use an assistant to handle prostate duty.

At last the Prof came, an anticlimactic couple of spurts without even the velocity to spray Miss Menzies, although she got smeared when he gripped the base of his cock and pinned her to his hairy underbelly and squeezed out the final drops. Jonathan wondered if Miss Menzies could hear Emma, buried deep within the Prof’s gut.

The demonstration was over as far as Jonathan and the girls in the tank were concerned, but the Prof insisted on first licking Miss Menzies clean and returning her to her quarters. Only then did he wipe himself off and close his dressing gown. Jonathan might have thought he was waiting patiently for the Prof, but his posture indicated otherwise as he thrust the device at the Prof for resetting.

The girls in the tank fled at Jonathan’s approach, but he easily collected Audrey and Janey in one hand and Deirdre and Barb in the other.

“Gonna put you on the floor,” he said. “Hold still so we can enlarge you.”

“What about Rebecca?” Deirdre shouted up from his fist.

“Four at a time, max,” he replied, setting them on the Prof’s grimy hardwood floor. He stepped back as the Prof entered his code into the device and targeted them. A moment later they were 1/16th their original size, twice as big as they had been when Jonathan had taken them out of the tank.

“You said you were gonna enlarge us!” protested Barb. Jonathan snickered.

“Didn’t say by how much.” That trick never got old.

He bent down and gathered the despondent girls back into his grip, then walked over to the table and returned them to his bag. Finally he collected little Rebecca, blinking and bewildered, and put her in the bag as well.

“Six more shots enabled,” the Prof said, handing the device back to Jonathan.

“Great.”

“You left one at two inches.”

“Yeah, she can’t see without her glasses, and my guy has a thing for redheads. He’ll probably get a kick out of her stumbling around his desktop.” The two men shared an evil chuckle.

“Did you work out a maximum range for this thing?” asked Jonathan. “That one you picked I zapped at over twenty yards.”

“Really?” marveled the Prof. “No, that circumstance was never envisioned.” Jonathan didn’t know the term “the passive voice,” but he recognized it in use and distrusted it all the same.

“If I had more shots I could experiment more with the range,” Jonathan said.

“I’m sure, just as I’m sure you could sell even more girls and increase our exposure. I do hope your buyer is showing discretion.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” replied Jonathan vacantly.

“Let me remind you,” warned the Prof, “any attempt to tamper with or disassemble the device will be catastrophic for the tamperer and anyone within approximately 300 feet thereof.”

Jonathan raised his hands conciliatorily.

“I ain’t gonna monkey with it,” he said. “I was just trying to expand our opportunities.”

“Our opportunities are quite sufficient,” the Prof said coolly. Jonathan knew better than to let his face show dissent.

“Same time next month, then,” said Jonathan.

The Prof’s convivial demeanor recovered quickly. “A consummation devoutly to be wished,” he said with a jaunty tilt of his head and opened the door.

As he made his way out of the Prof’s building, Jonathan reflected—not for the first time—that the Prof had enlarged multiple girls with what seemed like a single shot. Up until now Jonathan had been careful to shrink girls only when they were alone. Combined with his discovery of the long-range effectiveness of the device, he imagined that he might be able to increase his monthly catch beyond what the Prof had originally “envisioned.”

Only one way to find out.

[Olo]

That’s it for now; that’s as far as the original idea went. I have no immediate plans to continue this story; in fact, a couple of nicer stories are next up in the queue.

If I ever return to this, you can probably guess that this criminal enterprise—like so many others—will fall apart due to greed, impatience, and short-sightedness.

[littlest-lily]

@Olo Finally got around to reading the second part and man, how chilling! The quiet performative nature of it all added a disturbing layer to the whole thing. I’d certainly be curious to see more from this world - perhaps other customers and other victims - if you were ever interested in revisiting this.

[Olo]

@littlest-lily Thank you! Yeah, inside Jonathan’s head is not a happy place to be. You’ll recognize it (and meet an early version of Greg) when you get to the final act of A Little Trouble in Big Sky.

I expect to get back to this eventually, if only to see these guys screw each other over.

[littlest-lily]

@Olo I would relish in seeing this empire crumble. But also whatever you feel like writing I’ll be happy to read~