While showing some of my paintings at local art show, an attractive young woman approached me and began a conversation. She was asking me about my paint media, brush styles and different techniques, saying she was an art student and looking for a mentor to help her better her art. Then, she coyly asked if she could see my studio and watch me do a little painting. Her smile said something different and having grown tired of the bar scene, I haven't had much romance lately. So, I invited her to my home after the show.
I showed her around my home studio, explaining the reasonings for the paints and brushes I choose and the sources for some of my inspiration. While I was facing away, from the corner of my eye, I saw her reaching for my wallet which I had put down on the table. So.....it's not my artwork, or my charming personality and "Dad-Bod" she was after. I turned towards her and saw her hand jerk back from my wallet, but I pretended not to notice. I told her I wanted to show her some of my prize work in another room. She followed me in and I picked up the "shrink ray" I had borrowed from my friend, Professor Thorton, the microbiophysiologist at the university where I teach art. I turned and pointed it at her, and she asked, "You make toys, too?" "Not the kind you're thinking of, Baby" and pulled the trigger, shrinking her to about 5 inches tall. She shrieked as she looked straight up at me, towering over her. Reaching down, I grabbed her as she turned and tried to run away. She struggled and squirmed in my hand as I took ahold of the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and off of her. I hooked my fingernail in the waistband of her jeans and easily popped the button and zipper. She curled her legs and began thrashing about. I didn't want to harm her, of course, just teach her a lesson. I carried her over to one of my worktables where I had a small corkboard that I sometimes used to hold photographs that I am making a painting of. I tied a piece of string to each of her wrists and used a thumbtack to pin her arms to the corkboard. She was still struggling and screaming, but now I could more easily slip her sneakers and jeans off before tying string to her ankles and pinning her down spread-eagle like a butterfly on display.
I spent most of the next few hours fondling her and even though she tried to resist, she couldn't help but succumb to my touch with a couple involuntary orgasms. After releasing her from her bonds, I put her in a birdcage while I worked on a few of my paintings. I'll let her sit for a while, her imagination running wild as to her fate, then maybe tomorrow restore her to normal size. She won't remember anything about this incident, but the unexplainable photographs she finds in her jeans pocket of her pinned to the corkboard and in the birdcage, will stir some subconscious memories to resurface in her nightmares. Maybe she'll take them as a sign to find a new line of "work".
