Chapter Text
"This is wrong. They're people too," Dan argued, pain obvious in his voice.
"Sure. People," Marc replied sardonically, making obnoxious air quotes around the word "people."
The two friends were hanging out at Marc's place and, as it happened, Marc's little brother Cole had just walked through the room. Poking out of Cole's lips, barely noticeable if not for the quiet cries for mercy, was the torso of what looked like a teenage boy, maybe 15, tears streaming down his face. Dan had tried to get Cole to spit out the teenager, but Marc stopped him. "They're Cole's fav snack, bro, don't be a dick," Marc argued before Cole slurped the boy fully into his mouth and walked past the two friends.
"How... how many people did Cole eat...?" Dan asked after some hesitation, visibly worried about the answer.
Marc vaguely shrugged. Deep down, he knew that shrinkees were technically "people," just ones hit by the shrinking disease going around, but it'd not feel so great to pop them into his mouth like candies if he bothered thinking about that. Starting at age 12, people just randomly shrank sometimes. It became less and less likely with each passing year; at age 23, Marc's chance of falling victim to the shrinking disease were almost nil. 1% at the most. Marc had never been smart enough for college, or he might have known that 1% is not 0. That was, in part, why he had so much fun bullying the shrinkees who did make it into college. The ones with careers and wives at home. Stacey didn't even want to suck Marc's dick even though they'd been dating three months, how did these bugs in human shape dare to be more Chad-esque than him? That was such real bullshit.
It was a surprise for Marc when Dan stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, looking grave. "Cole is your responsibility, bro."
"Huh, yeah, I know?" Marc replied, confused.
"Without your parents around, you're the one he will emulate as he grows up," Dan continued. "You need to teach him right from wrong. Killing people is wrong."
"How can it be wrong if it's not illegal? Think before you talk," Marc countered, annoyed. "Cole loves it anyway."
"Think about it, please!" Dan insisted, almost begging. "What if... what if it was Stacey shrinking before Cole, uh? Would you want her to be eaten o-or stepped on, or whatever else a bored 8 year old boy might do to a grown woman who fits in the palm of his hand?"
Marc's expression became almost dreamy. "Then she can't say no anymore, that damn prude. Fuck, Cole can't have all the fun, I'll get him to share her with me before he finishes her off haha, that'd be so rad."
The look of betrayal—no, disgust—on Dan's face made Marc feel the teensiest bit guilty. Dan stood straight, made a pained face at Marc and walked out, leaving Marc to stew in his own thoughts.
Marc had encouraged Cole's curiosity towards shrinkees ever since their mother passed. Before then, she'd been the sort of stupid-ass, bleeding-heart hippies who claim tinies are people; she used to run a shelter for runaway tinies out of their garage. The place looked like Willy Wonka's chocolate factory scaled down a hundred times, dioramas all over the place with houses, utilities, entertainment, parks and even a restaurant for her shrinkee proteges to live "normal" lives in. Because shrinkees are not protected by any law, anyone can do... well, pretty much anything they want to them. Not like there's a shortage of the little cunts, a thousand more shrink every day.
Marc's lips pursed at his most defining memory of their mother. He'd been barely older than Cole was now, and he constantly asked his mom for the authorization to play with all the toys in the garage. She always said no, and she insisted shrinkees weren't toys, which was absurd because he could SEE that they were toys, ripe for him to have his fun with. His old woman was so stingy, keeping them all for herself. So, one day, he'd snuck in. It took several hours for his mother to find him in the garage. By then, a dozen shrinkees had been pulverized under Marc's Converses, and his stomach was so distended from scarfing the tinies down that he could hardly move, so he was lazily playing action figures with a duo of shrunken brothers he found particularly fun when his mom entered the room. Marc would never forget the feeling of betrayal when she'd slapped him, over and over. It was so unfair! Nobody should ever slap their kid, that's abuse! And over some mere fucking shrinkees, on top of that! The anger of the memory still stung. So, at the first opportunity, the very day after his mother's funeral, Marc opened up the garage to Cole and told him to have fun. There were still shrinkees trapped in that toy village, they served as a reserve for Marc and Cole to pluck toys and snacks from, from time to time—but they were down to a few dozens from the thousands that their mother used to care for.
Marc struggled to understand people like his mother, like... Dan. Fuck, Dan was his last friend. The last guy from high school who still bothered to check in on him and worry about his wellbeing. Annoying as his hippie-ass friend was, Marc... genuinely did not want to lose him.
"Hey, are you in there, champ?" Marc asked after knocking on Cole's bedroom door. An onomatopeia that sounded vaguely like "yeah" came out from inside, and Marc cracked the door open. Cole was hunched over his desk; he didn't turn around to greet his big bro. "Hey, um, so, I was kinda talking with Dan about shrinkees, and, uh..." Marc said, tripping over his own words. How do you tell a child who has only ever known cruelty to tinies to be normal that, maybe, he should be a little less so? The very idea to ask Cole never to eat another tiny seemed insane—even at his highly impressionable age, Cole would definitely laugh at him and think it's a joke.
"Whatchizit?" Cole finally asked, turning his head to look at Marc. That allowed Marc to notice a trickle of—human, no doubt—blood dripping down his kid brother's chin. Cole had puffy cheeks like a hamster... how many shrinkees did he fit in there all at once?
"It's about... about h-how we've been treating shrinkees..." Marc stuttered, feeling supremely awkward.
Cole made a hand gesture that seemed to mean "wait a sec" and he started chewing. Screams of despair, screams of pain, however muffled, immediately reached Marc's ears, making him cringe. What a way to start a lesson about being more mindful of tinies. On Cole's desk, there were a dozen more shrinkees in different positions—one was stabbed through the navel with a thumbtack and left to dry on a piece of paper, but she was obviously still alive and pawing at the metal spear going through her; another was hanged upside-down by a shoelace, his face a bright shade of purple while his legs were pale white; another yet, sprawled like a starfish right in front of Cole, had been taped down to the desktop with Cole's teddy bear-imprinted school tape, and Cole had seemed to be in the middle of tearing her clothes away from her, leaving deep bloody gashes across her limbs. She was crying. Fuck. Cole swallowed heavily and sighed with obvious contentment. "So, wazzup bro?"
Marc's phone vibrated at that very second. Instinctively, he pulled it out, only to see a text from Stacey that made his heart sink. "We're done, Dan told me everything" followed by a middle finger emoji. Marc was still a virgin, to his great shame... and for once that he found a girl willing to give him a shot, that TRAITOR Dan just went and ruined it all for him? Rage boiled in Marc's belly—suddenly, he wished that Dan had shrunk before him earlier today. If he ever found either of these ASSHOLES shrunken, he would enlist Cole to make it hurt, make them regret treating him like some incel.
"Bro? What is it about shrinkees?" Cole asked again, eyes wide with innocence.
"We've been way too kind to these little dipshits, don't you agree?" Marc replied with a dark grin, looking at the naked woman his brother had been studying. He patted Cole's cute mess of brown hair. "How about we teach those fucking runts who RULE this world, uh? It's important to make them hurt before we finish playing with them, or else they'll just die and move on without learning their fucking lesson!"
Cole seemed surprised at first, but he followed up with a grin and a confident nod. That boy truly believed whatever his big bro told him. Marc couldn't have been prouder.
"Like this?" Cole asked as he turned around towards the taped-down shrinkee. With his right hand, he picked up a sharpened pencil from his school supplies and casually stabbed through the shrinkee's arm. She let out a shrill cry of pain, making Marc's little soldier stand proudly at attention.
"Fuck yeah..." Marc exhaled. She looked enough like Stacey to feel like justice, to him. He bent closer to her. "Now spit on her."
Cole chuckled at the suggestion, as if it were a funny development in a simple game, but he complied. He hacked up something deep in his nose then spat, the projectile becoming like a bullet before it crashed, hard, into the small woman. Her cries of pain turned to barely-audible gargles as the spit and snot combination forced its way down her throat, waterboarding her with the smelly fluids with a gigantic 8 year old boy.
Marc's hand was in motion before he even decided that it should. An instinct was taking over him. His hand nimbly opened the elastic waistband of the boy's shorts and underwear. Cole protested uncomfortably at first, but as his brother's fingers wrapped around his rapidly-hardening cock, it turned into quiet whimpers.
"They're beneath us, Cole," Marc whispered in his brother's ear as his hand started slowly pumping up and down. "Never forget that, bro. They exist for us to have fun hurting them, and then we kill 'em. That's their purpose in life. They complain, but deep down, they love it. You only shrink if you're the kind of pervy loser who wants to be stepped on by a real man, believe me..." By now, he was openly wanking Cole off, his brother's face buried into Marc's neck. Marc didn't even know if Cole was pubescent enough to cum, but he'd discover it soon, he figured. If he couldn't have a girlfriend since all femoids were such fucking prudes, he could have Cole; fuck Dan, too, only Cole would never judge Marc for how he treated shrinkees. Shit, maybe his brother was a good lay, too? Not like he had any experience, but Marc could...
It was a brand-new and sickening sensation that forced Marc to let go of his bro's little Cole. It started as sudden, violent nausea, followed by heartburn, and then vertigo out of nowhere. Marc took a few tentative steps backwards, worrying he might collapse. Cole's face was crimson-red, with some drool flowing from the corner of his half-open mouth, and his unfocused eyes were seeking Marc, seeking release after being brought to the edge for the first time of his young life.
"Bro...?" Cole asked... before it happened. Marc's perspective shifted suddenly as his clothes rapidly became too large, then collapsed into a ring around him. More like a mountain range of fabric. No fucking way. "Bro? What happened?!"
Cole jumped to his feet and ran towards where Marc had just been standing. For Marc, it was like a series of earthquake rapidly approaching and increasing in intensity, before the looming shape of his god-sized little brother eclipsed the ceiling lamp. At first, Marc couldn't see Cole's face... because of the gargantuan, absolutely gigantic, mythical-sized tent in the little boy's underwear. That hard-on was the stuff that civilization wrote legends about. Marc wanted to puke. But Cole, when he bent forward, revealing his face to the newly-appointed shrinkee of the house, was beaming. Cole's eyes were sparkling with stars, and he was biting his lower lip to avoid letting out a cry of excitment.
"Broooo! You never told me you wanted me to step on youuuuu!" Cole squealed, followed by a series of quakes that Marc soon realized was the boy dancing on his tippy toes.
"No... no, wait, that wasn't..." Marc tried to argue, but Cole's spread palm was descending on him the next second. Marc's base instincts led to him trying to run away, only to be snatched anyway.
Cole burst out laughing seeing his great and mighty brother act exactly like every single shrinkee he'd ever mocked for running away. "They know they're prey and we're predators," Marc had always said to explain why they always ran away. Cole's dick strained the fabric of his underwear even further, thinking of Marc as his prey. He licked his lips then grinned at Marc. "Don't worry bro, I'll give you the full treatment! You're a special one, after all!"