The man in a blue suit watched as people began exiting the counseling room.  After a few minutes the class had emptied, the clerk and officer exiting last.  The officer turned and told someone in the back of the room that she’d have to leave within 10 minutes so that she wouldn’t interfere with the janitors.  He smiled, his fingers probing the paper edges of the novel he’d brought, enjoying the feel of the pulp.  Physical books were few and far between, readers, long ago obsolescing them.  There had been many electronic devices Prewave, primarily tablets, and Postwave that had continued until Shrinktech’s Shrinktech.  Defining a word with the word itself was something that greatly offended the bibliophile, but in this case it was accurate.  Shrinktech was first named after the technology that propelled it to the forefront of technological innovation, shrinking humans.  It was a decade afterwards they that they truly revolutionized the world. 

        As the average home computing speeds neared the terabyte range, Moore’s Law had slowed, and eventually ground to a halt.  Nanotech and new materials could no longer advance technology as they had before.  Scratch that, it wasn’t that they weren’t advancing, it was that there was no longer a way to actually repair the electronics.  Even the circuit boards that weren’t the size of a period were more densely packed with parts far too tiny for humans to repair.  Added to this difficulty was new software located directly in the circuit boards.  While robots were capable of some repairs, sometimes just removing a circuit board resulted in damage due to the engineer touching the sensitive electronics.  Technology plateaued until a novel solution was found; mini-workers for the mini-repairs.

        Shrinktech opened up several facilities, where shrunken scientists and computer engineers were “employed” to repair new electronics.  A team of shrinkies could be brought to any location to quickly repair any hardware, or circuit located software, issues.  The system worked brilliantly, more and more teams were created to service government and tech company equipment.  Eventually private businesses started having Shrinktech train and provide them diminutive workers for individual customer repairs.  Soon most auto shops, computer stores, and others had Shrinktech qualified shrinkies working for them.   With the advent of the Shrinkie breeding facilities, larger pools of trained shrinkies became readily available.  The working conditions for shrinkies deteriorated more and more as their specialty became common place, only the higher end shrinkie experts were afforded any luxuries or consideration.

        There was a thud to the left, interrupting the man’s thoughts.  His fists formed instinctively as he swiveled to face the disturbance.  It was a male, two-foot short white shrinkie who had been thrown to the floor.  A black man stood over him, looking disappointed.

        “I said drink it all, Silky, I’m not wasting my time, walking over to the toilets when I have you!”

        There was a small puddle between his feet.  He fumbled with his junk before closing his zipper.  Silky trembled, waiting for his punishment.

        “I give you one thing to do, and you can’t even do that?  1 liter capacity my ass!” He exclaimed, slapping him with the palm of his hand.  Silky landed with another thud, skidding several feet further.  He looked up to see black boots and blackish blue pants in front of him.

        “Oops, sorry about that mister,” The man apologized, walking over and grabbing his property’s blonde hair.

        He dragged the sniveling shrinkie back to the bench.  Grasping the male by the throat with his left hand, he slapped him again across the other cheek with his right.  Picking up his books, the observer walked over to man preparing another more powerful slap.

        “Is that the Humphrey AMLE?”

        “Yup,” The black man replied, his hand completing its arc, Silky cried out, his left cheek now a cherry red.

        “How’d you know?” he interrupted his task to appraise the watcher, “You swing that way too?”

        He walked to the side of the tiny and squatted down, “No, but I do have a thing for specialty models.”

        The owner released his grip, “Hmm, first time seeing one up close?”

        “Yeah, I’ve read the specs, but being a British breed haven’t had the pleasure of observing one.”

        “Well, by all means, though as you can tell he’s a bit defective,” he gestured to the puddle beneath his feet, “Was supposed to be able to swallow and hold 1 liter, didn’t piss more than half that this time round.”

        The shrinkie’s owner released his grip and raised his head slightly to signal it to turn around.  It complied quickly, hoping to avoid another beating.  Tears were streaming down Silky’s face.

        Silky couldn’t hold the salty tears back, pain he knew, pain he expected, it was how masters released their frustration and how they showed affection to shrinkies like him.  His training had been thorough, at the appropriate shrinkie age he had been taught fully what was expected of him.  He was trained how to orally stimulate men and women, though more so men as that was who he was marketed towards.  Before he was put on the market, he underwent 6 months of more vigorous training.  His anus was stimulated, long pencil-length rods used to stimulate him, nothing larger as most men preferred to break in their product’s asses for the first times themselves.

        He had been so happy to be bought by his master, Robert and his husband Charlie, they had said that his mouth was so soft, and thus called him Silky.  His name may have been merely a description, but a name implied significance!  In the facility he was H-AMLE-8777TZ.  He knew that when the pair used him roughly or struck him, they were showing him their affection.  Silky reciprocated, doing all that he was told quickly and eagerly.  Now, he was defective.  He couldn’t understand it, he remembered quickly gulping on the plastic phalluses in the lab, their amounts of liquid marked visibly in the containers above.  Silky had always been able to drink more than 1.2 liters of any human liquid, but now something was horribly wrong.  He had drunk his masters’ cum easily enough, and the briny yellow liquid tasted no better or worse from the lab, so why couldn’t he complete his task?

        His shaking intensified as he thought of his future.  Even if his master beat him black and blue, that would hurt, but that was expected.  Defective, those were the words bred and trained shrinkies like him feared the most.  He would be sent back to the lab, where if he indeed wasn’t physical able to fulfill his requirements, he would be “refurbished,” for some other use if possible, sent to the butcher if not.  Silky feared that future, but most of all he feared being sent back and found to be able to have fulfilled his criteria, but chosen not to.  Willfully Defective was the term for breeding facility shrinkies who chose to refuse commands.  Twice a week all shrinkies in the facility would watch live streams of the horrific punishments for that cardinal sin.  The management always found creative ways to slowly execute their problematic products.  The facility shrinkies rarely screamed when tortured, some even becoming aroused by it.  But Willfully Defective ones screamed nonstop during their fatal chastening, their pricks perpetually flaccid through the ordeal, a testament to just how agonizing that fate was. 

        “Feel free to touch it however you want, me and my husband already broke in its glory hole yesterday.”

        Silky looked up at the man, his face was serious, his eyes piercing as they seemed to ascertain his every blemish and flaw.  He tilted his head down, he was not to look in a normie’s eyes unless instructed, he must always know his place.  A right hand felt up his leg, moving up slowly towards the crotch, it caressed the balls before kneading the tiny prick between them.  Silky grew rock hard in seconds, the little man started humping between his sobs of failure.  He had to prove he still had value, sadly it took him a minute longer than normal to ejaculate, the stress robbing him of even performing that task adequately.  His master tsked again angrily, the tears turned into a torrent.  The cum coated fingertips pulled away while being cautious not to let the liquid fall to the floor.

        Then the left hand forcefully rubbed and squeezed his ass, Silky jolted, but uttered no sound.  Two fingers probed and entered his anus, rotating and stretching it in every direction before exiting.  The hand moved up to his face, pinching his cheeks together, his mouth forcefully opened.  The man’s right pointer and index fingers probed along the teeth, the inside of his cheeks, and began approaching the throat.  Silky tasted his own seed on the giant’s fingers.  He tried to clean it off with his tongue, until the fingers went deeper, to the knuckles, down his throat.  There was no gagging.  The man in blue pulled his fingers back halfway and the shrinkie began to gag, before ramming them forcefully back, halting the reflex.

        Wiping the excess cum off inside the shrinkie’s cheeks, he pulled his fingers out and looked at its owner, “I don’t think your model is defective, when you had him drinking, how far were you down his throat, relative to your length?”

        “Only about a third, I didn’t want his slobber on my pants.”

        “Yep, that’s the problem, The Humphrey AMLE’s gag reflex has been greatly reduced, but you have to deepthroat them, going in halfway or sometimes even a third of the way tickles the uvula, you need to jam that thing securely against the back of its throat with your cock.  Try it again all the way.”

        Silky’s tears stopped, he wasn’t defective?  His master scratched the side of his head as he thought.  Silky knew he was risking another slap, but even scarier was that what the other man had said meant he would certainly be labeled Willfully Defective.  He had to prove he still had value.  The shrinkie ran over to his master and quickly began unzipping his pants.  He reached in, delicately pulling the long black hose out from behind a pair of briefs.

        Robert looked down in glee, this was not what he expected.  He had considered waiting until he got home so as not to risk his Armani pants, but if little Silky loved his piss so much, who was he to argue?

        Silky held the lengthy beast up with both hands, he rubbed it, and licked its head, causing it to grow and the tip to emerge from the sheath.  His opened jaw swung to the right, and then left before there was a small pop and it dislocated.  He began taking the monster in front of him into his mouth, one soft gulp at a time. 

        Robert moaned, Silky’s mouth truly matched his name.  The expandable mouth took in his full length.  Robert grabbed the back of his pet’s head, ramming himself the rest of the way in before releasing a hot stream down its throat.

        Silky felt the hands on the back of his head and widened his mouth so that his teeth wouldn’t scratch his owner’s pride.  Robert’s cock was halfway inserted when he began to piss.  Silky tasted a little of the foul liquid, being forced to drink it as a child had acclimated him to the taste, but had not made it any better.  His small hands grabbed at Robert’s thighs, trying to force his member deeper.  Robert pulled his head firmly, closing the distance.  Moaning, he let the torrent fully flow.  He finished after a while, his shrinkie studiously noting that his stomach was nearing 3/4s capacity.  His owner looked down and smiled contentedly at the shrinkie.  Silky’s tears changed to joy, he had satisfied his master, he wasn’t defective!

        Silky felt the cock grow larger in his mouth, he began slightly bobbing his head back and forth.  Silky reached for the base of the shaft to further excite him, but Robert was too eager, an explosion erupted.  The ejaculate flowed viscously down his throat.

        “God that was good!” Robert winked at his new friend.

        He pulled back, allowing Silky to properly clean him before pushing him violently to the floor.

        His ecstasy evaporated when he noticed a long-legged woman seated far down the hall in a long dark gray skirt, pink blouse, and sunglasses reading.  Her nose was pointed at her book, but he felt her eyes watching him.  It wasn’t that he could get into any trouble, but he felt as though his private moment had just been cheapened by the unseen voyeur. 

        He turned to his helpful friend.

        “God, you were right, thank you so much!” He put forth his right hand.

        The stranger quickly reached his right hand into his suit, pulled out a bottle of Purell and sanitized his hands before firmly gripping Robert’s hand.

        “I’m Robert.”

        “Quentin.”

        “God, I was not looking forward to having to return little Silky here, so much of a hassle having to fill out the defective form and going to the post to ship it back.”

        “Yeah, time is money,” Quentin replied, glancing at the clock above the door.

        “Me and Charlie, my husband, we’re busy enough dealing with our realty business, don’t have the time to deal with another shrinkie issue.”

        “Another…?”

        “Yeah, well, semi-kind of, my sister stole a shrinkie from me recently, you wouldn’t believe it, my old crummy boss was having a meeting with me about buying a loft, when the asshole shrank right in front of me, one foot nine inches!  Goddamn, what luck, didn’t have a collar on me so I left him with my sister, by the time I got back she had a collar of her own on him.  Told me to fuck off, damned ghetto trash.”

        “Terrible when you can’t even trust family,” He gave a sympathetic look of loss.

        “Yeah, he was married so it wasn’t like she could claim any of his assets, but damn I would have loved to pound his ass, give him a taste of how he treated me all those years.”

        “You know, there are ways of reclaiming him.”

        “What, through the courts?  You a lawyer or something?  He had no collar, now he does, law’s pretty cut and dry on that one.”

        “No, not a lawyer, I’m actually a handyman.”

        Robert looked puzzled, so he continued, “I fix things, problematic things.”

        Robert nodded, realization creeping into his eyes, “Yeah, well, as much sentimental value as that would have, I wouldn’t be willing to spend much to get him back.”

        “Oh no, I wouldn’t require monetary compensation, I primarily deal in favors, often they prove far more lucrative to both me and my clients.”

        “Really?” Robert brightened, carefully assessing the man. 

        His clean-shaven face, short cut hair, save the top of his head, and confident demeanor gave a professional look.  His suit, obviously well-tailored, was unfortunately made of a rough looking, cheap fabric.  A professional wearing that surely wasn’t worth much.

        “Your suit…”

        “My attire may not be top of the line, but its functionality is unrivaled.  Handymen must be two things, skillful in their trade, and always willing to get their hands dirty.  The style of my clothing has never affected my work.”

        Robert nodded in newfound respect, his mind trying to think of what methods a man like that might possibly employ.  The stranger pulled a deep blue business card, reminiscent of his suit, out of another inner pocket.

        “Unfortunately, I’m booked up for the moment, but please call me next month and we’ll see what we can arrange.  Again, don’t even think of payment.  Should I fail, all consequences legal, or otherwise, will fall solely upon myself.”

        Robert took it with his left, his right hand meeting his acquaintance’s for a second firm shake.  He glanced at the business card, brevity outstanding beyond its hue of blue, Quentin Sharp, Handyman/Debt Manager, and a phone number all set in difficult to see black. 

        “Debt manager?”

        “A side business of mine, I erase debts.”

        Robert looked at him in disbelief, debt was permanent.  The only way to remove debt beyond paying was to have all your goods repossessed and be shrunk for auction to try to cover the deficit.  He reached for his wallet and attentively placed the blue card inside, before handing back one of his own.  Robert Jones, Appaloosa Realty in giant bold letters followed by a paragraph of other information.

        “Until we meet again, Robert,” The handyman/debt manager stood to leave, pocketing the contact card.

        “Wait!  Can’t promise you that call, so how about at least letting me repay you for helping me with my other problem?”

        He gestured towards Silky, “Surely you’ve wondered just how good the Humphrey AMLEs are, why not have a quickie?”

        Quentin stood uncertain if he should, he looked at the clock again.  There was time, but still, he had one more matter to attend to before he could leave.

        “Come on, obviously you’re impressed with the specs, but let me tell you, until you’ve experienced it, you have no idea just how great they are.”

        He gazed thoughtfully at the door marked security towards the end of the hallway.  He looked back at Silky, now standing at attention.  He smiled, there was much to do, but this would make the next conversation more plausible.  The best devils mix their lies with the truth.  He sat back down, reaching for his pant zipper.

        Silky was taught to serve any and all giants that his master ordered him to, though his training included lessons in restraint.  It was important that his owner know that he was singular to Silky, in the hopes that he made an attachment with the model.  This would better his treatment, while more importantly satisfying the expectation of loyalty.  Silky considered this during the conversation, but made a swift decision.  This stranger had saved him, had prevented him not only from being painfully done away with, but had guaranteed his purpose in life.  He had earned Silky’s full potential.

        The two-foot man ran over to Quentin’s crotch, his eagerness causing him to emphatically swipe away the larger man’s hands.  Silky gasped in shock, he had just swatted a superior.  His body trembled as he looked up, expecting to see a glare of indignation.  Instead, Quentin’s eyebrows were raised in surprise, but his lips turned upwards.  His hands raised palms out, in a gesture of surrender.  Silky cried a tear of joy, beaming as he unzipped the man’s pants and set about giving him an experience he would not soon forget.

                                                                             BBB Paid Advertisement

        BBB, Blue Brit Breeding, would like to showcase to you our top of the line models, The Humphrey AMLE, and The Veronica VAMLE.  The Humphrey AMLE comes fully stocked with what the discerning lover of the male form craves:  Striking blonde hair and baby blue eyes set on a 2-foot frame complete with expandable, but still virgin tight, ass and mouth.  For the discerning lover of the feminine, our Veronica VAMLE cannot be beat:  Lustrous long blonde hair and the bluest of eyes set on a 1-foot 10-inch frame complete with expandable, but again still virgin tight, expandable vagina, ass, and mouth.  Both models will allow you to live out all your fantasies tightly, without fear of getting stuck or damage to the model.  They are the latest in our line of fine breeds, replacing our now obsolete AME and VAME classes.  The L stands for large, meaning that our more well-endowed customers and/or their strapons should now have no difficulties, while our old clientele will continue to have no fears of purchasing a loose product.  Supplies are limited, place your order today for next month delivery!

        *As per most expendable models, breeding is not possible due to space constraints.  For breeding stock please peruse our full catalog.