Mini-Dutching

Julie stood six inches tall inside a smoke-filled shoebox beneath her friend Heidi's bed. She was one of six naked women ready to partake in a night of pure debauchery. "I know. Pretty cool, right?"  

Louise experienced these mini-dutching parties before. Three of the women sat on large cushions scattered around the smoldering censer ball in the center of the room. Heidi, the party's host, walked up to her newest guests. "Hey, Julie. Hey, Lou." The three embraced.

Louise spotted the others and joined them in front of the censer. "So, Heidi. How's everything going?"  

"I don't know anymore. I mean, Ted's away on business all the time, and Randy's a moody eighteen-year-old."  

"You know, I'm sure it's a phase. Believe me, Heidi. I taught that kid Arithmetic for three years, and beneath all the doom and gloom, he a good person."  

"Yeah, I know. I just wish he'd get over it soon.”  

“Hey, what do we do at these parties?"  

"Oh, that's right! You haven't been to a mini-dutching before, have you? You're going to love it. Anything that happens in the box stays in the box, got it?" Julie nodded as Heidi draped an arm over her shoulders and led her to the rest of the girls. "We sit around and get super stoned, which makes us super horny, and, well, you can figure out the rest."  

Julie's eyes widened. "What? So, this is this some kind of sex thing?"  

"No. Well, not with each other. You'll probably get yourself off later tonight, but you don't have to do anything you don't want."  

"Okay. I'll give it a shot."

Hours passed as the women chatted the night away. They inhaled heavenly fumes until all six ran their hands over their naked bodies. Due to their inebriation, none heard Randy come home. Nor did they feel the rumblings as the giant teen sneaked into his dad's room, grabbed the box, and carried it to his room. Randy placed it on his desk with care, as his dad instructed. He didn't get why his dad said to be careful until he peeked inside. Six familiar-looking naked minis masturbated on bean bags around a smoking disco ball that smelt like marijuana. Randy closed the box and duct-taped over the makeshift door on the side. The boy scrambled into the garage, retrieved a plastic mouse cage, and smiled as he placed it beside the box of mini women. As Randy’s fingers lifted the lid once more, excitement brewed within him. “Hello, my new pets. Let’s get you into your cage.” The women knew the risks of minimizing and smiled in inebriated bliss as their owner began his fun.

Bag Of Sin

Noon struck, and I had nothing planned for the rest of the day. There wasn't even anything on television when I heard the front door. "Gene! Are you home? I found some things for you." Felicia came home. I loved her, but she got a little annoying at times. Her looks more than compensated for her air-headed personality. Especially when she tanned topless in the backyard. What more could a hormonal teen ask from his stepmom? She sauntered into the lounge room, sat beside me on the couch, and passed me her purse. "Thanks, but it's not my style. Whoa, what's in here?"

The purse squirmed. "I promise you'll like them."

A thought struck me, and I giggled. "You didn't stuff a cat in here, did you?"

"Mm, nope."

Inside, a small doggy bag wriggled. When I opened it, I saw a bunch of minis. "Thanks, Felicia, but you shouldn't have."

"But you said you wanted to see some up close. I saw these guys next to the road and figured I'd be safe if I didn't, you know, touch them. Plus, I trust you. You're eighteen now, and I'm up to date with my vaccinations, I think." Unvaccinated women have a much higher chance of becoming minis through bodily contact than men.

My eyes didn't leave the bag. Hundreds stared back from inside. Each looked about a fifth-of-an-inch tall. I grabbed a handful and recognized their faces as our friends and neighbors. As I studied them, Felicia looked in the bag. "Fuck, Gene! Look at this!" I poured the minis in my hand into the bag, leaned over, and looked where Felicia pointed. Dad waved from the center of the pile. As small as he stood, I still made out the tears that rolled down his face. Felicia pinched him between two fingers. "I'm c-"

She barely spoke before she shrank. After the mini pair landed on the couch, I popped my father between my thumb and forefinger like a blueberry. I wiped my fingers on my shirt before I grabbed Felicia, slipped off my shorts, peeled back my foreskin, dropped her inside, and pulled the skin forward. Felicia’s struggles pushed my senses into overdrive when I slipped on a condom and drowned her in my seminal fluid. Cruel fantasies flashed into my head as I stared into my bag of sin and pondered the fun I would share with its inhabitants.