This is unbelievable, Tyler thinks to himself, slumping against the cool glass wall of the jar. Not only did Dr. Park’s stupid machine inadvertently shrink him, now she’s leaving him in this fucking jar like a lab specimen on the coffee table while she makes herself dinner. Supposedly the facility she needs to take him to is already closed so he has to spend the night here, but is the jar really necessary? This is dehumanizing. 

The small dishcloth she gave him to cover himself up with is slipping down and he adjusts it, keeping it wrapped around his waist like a bath towel.

The worst part is that she didn’t even seem surprised when it happened. Just gave him the most perfunctory of apologies and then put him in the jar with the dish towel. This must be why she does these appointments at her home clinic. He wonders how many other people have been shrunk as a side effect of that stupid machine. 

He looks up at the opening of the jar. She left the lid off thank goodness but there’s no way he can make it up there and climb out. Even if he did, where the hell would he go? 

“The chicken’s almost done,” she calls from the stove. “I’m gonna cut off a nice chunk for you to eat but you’ll have to just eat with your hands. We don’t have tiny cutlery unfortunately.” 

Did she just chuckle a little bit? Does she think this is funny? Fuck this. He promises himself that when he gets out of this he’s going to sue her for everything she owns. 

“Actually my daughter might have small cutlery in her doll house come to think of it. You remember Abbie? She’ll be home any minute, you should ask her.” 

Oh god. It hadn’t even dawned on him that that fucking brat would be showing up. He’s met her a few times at previous appointments and he’s not looking forward to encountering her like this. 

He hears the front door open and the Abbie’s voice calling out. “Hey mom, I’m home!” 

“Hey honey.” 

“Hey so tomorrow I’m gonna go pick out my grad dress with some of the girls after school, okay?” 

“Okay sure. Hey, Abbie, honey? No crazy afterparties after prom okay? I don’t want a repeat of your behaviour at your eighteenth last month.” 

“Oh my god mom chill, it was like literally fine.” 

She comes into the living room without taking her shoes off, her wedge high heels clip clopping on the hardwood floor as she strolls in, looking at her phone. 

She’s very pretty, intimidatingly so, and walks with a bubbly self-assuredness that makes her presence even more overwhelming. He forgets himself for a moment watching her walk in. She’s wearing a tight pink crop top, short enough that it’s little more than a bra, and a tight black leather skirt with a slit up one side. He can’t help but watch her crossing her incredibly long, smooth legs as she takes a seat on the couch right in front of where his jar is on the coffee table. The skirt is so short that as she’s crossing her legs, he notices with a weird mix of shame and fear that she’s not wearing underwear. 

She’s still looking at her phone. Watching her nervously, he instinctively covers more of himself up with the dish towel. His heart is pounding in his chest and he hates himself for it. This is stupid, he’s a thirty year old man. But despite what he tells himself, her beauty makes her even more terrifying than she already would have been given her size. 

“Honey?” 

“Yeah,” she calls, eyes on her phone. 

“Are you playing with him? Don’t do anything we could get in trouble for, okay? I’m serious, he’s not a toy, he’s a patient.” 

Abbie looks up quizzically. “What? Who…” 

His stomach sinks as her eyes settle on him, her lips slowly curling into a delighted smile. 

There’s a pause. 

“Honey?” 

“Mm hmm?” Abbie responds, already reaching for the jar. 

“Just leave him in the jar, don’t take him out.” 

She puts the jar down heavily in her lap and to him it feels like a falling elevator. His towel falls down and he scrambles to recover it. 

“Ugh, why? It’s fine! I’m not gonna like, hurt him or anything.” She lifts the jar up to her smiling face, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “He’s too cute for that.” 

She slowly lifts the jar to her lips and kisses the glass, leaving a greasy pink lipstick stain. Looking through it at his terrified expression, she winks at him. 

“I’m not going to tell you again!” Her mom calls from the kitchen. “We can’t keep them!” 

Through the glass walls of the jar he watches her enormous smile melt into a pout. “Ugh, like, why! It would like, look better for you anyway. It’s like embarrassing that the machine keeps doing this. We could just pretend he never showed up for his appointment or whatever.” 

She smiles down into the opening of the jar and whispers, “And then you could be my little pet.” 

Her words echo loudly against the glass around him, sending a chill up his spine. That’s it, he’s had enough of this. 

“Put me down you little brat!” he shouts, as loudly as possible. “Dr. Park! Dr. Park!” 

Abbie giggles. “She can’t hear you, silly. Your little voice is just like, too tiny! Super cute though.” 

Horrified, he starts banging on the glass, still shouting. “Dr. Park! Your daughter is…!” 

“I like your little outfit, cutie,” she says. She’s speaking under her breath but to him the sound is huge. “But you know…” She tosses her head to the side. “Yeah I think you’d look better without it.” 

She playfully shakes the jar, tossing him around inside until he can’t hang on to the towel anymore and it slides down. 

“Aww!” she squeals. “Look at you, you’re like, perfect!” 

He scrambles to grab the towel but she’s too quick. 

“Ah ah ah,” she admonishes playfully, turning the jar upside down.

He barely manages to keep from falling out, watching helplessly as his towel slides down the glass walls and out into her lap. 

She keeps holding the jar upside down and shaking it gently. “Don’t you wanna come out and play, little guy?” 

“Just leave me alone!” 

She giggles, allowing him a moment’s rest by turning the jar onto its side in front of her face. She speaks into the opening, her warm breath washing over him and smelling like bubblegum. 

“I’m gonna make you my pet,” she whispers conspiratorially. 

“No you’re not!” he shouts. 

She giggles, putting the jar down onto her lap. He watches her huge fingers absentmindedly stroke the glass, as if she’s petting a little animal. 

“You know, this happens to Mom’s patients like, literally all the time. But she never lets me keep them.” 

“What! I mean…” he stammers. “Why the hell would she!” 

She giggles. “Because little people are adorable! I think it would be like, super fun to keep a little tiny person as a pet.” 

“What the hell! Why!” 

“You… you…” he stammers, unable to find the words through the horror and rage he feels at this little brat. 

She giggles. “I mean like, just look at you! You’re literally like, a living doll! And you’re definitely the cutest one we’ve had.” 

“What would you even…” 

“What will I do with you?” She lowers the jar to her lap and leans back on the couch, toying with her hair as she responds in an infuriatingly casual tone. “Well you know, like, I can dress you up in little dolly clothes, you can paint my toenails while I watch TV, stuff like that.”

He scoffs. “I’m not going to…” 

She cuts him off by lifting the opening of the jar to her face again. He watches her enormous lips with terror as she whispers conspiratorially. “You know I actually have like, this fun game that I play sometimes with my dolls when nobody’s around. I’ve been doing it since I was little.” 

“I don’t care! Just…” She cuts him off easily by shaking the jar until he shuts up, then continues whispering to him. 

“I like to pretend that they’re real live little people trying to get away from me, but then I always catch them. And then guess what?” 

He gulps. 

“Then I punish them for trying to get away from me, by putting them in my panties. Or if they’ve been really bad, I put them in my butt.” She pauses for a moment to let this sink in before continuing. “And I keep them there while I walk around. All day.” 

She leans back again, resuming her casual demeanor. “They always learn their lesson,” she sighs happily. “Are you a fast learner, cutie?” 

He gapes. “I… I…” 

She giggles down at him. Rage swells up in his chest. 

“I don’t want to be your fucking doll! You little brat! Do you hear me? I don’t want…” 

“Aww, you don’t want to?” she giggles. 

“No! I don’t…” 

She casually shakes the jar again, shutting him up. Then she lifts it to her lips again and cheerfully says, “That just makes it more fun, silly!” 

Her phone buzzes and she puts his jar down on her lap to check a text.