“Dahlia… it’s PLAAAAYTIME,” the giant shouted, voice dripping with innuendo.
“No! Not again!” she squeaked, backing away in tiny, frantic steps—but it was too late. His fingers were already closing in.
She let out a yelp as his hand wrapped around her shrunken body, lifting her with terrifying ease. Her fists beat uselessly against his skin.
“I’m not a toy! You have to reverse the spell!” she cried. “People will notice I’m gone!”
He didn’t seem to hear. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
Held firmly in his fist, Dahlia could only gasp as his finger dragged across her tiny curves, exploring her like a doll he couldn’t wait to unwrap. She writhed in his grip, every touch overwhelming, every squeeze a reminder that she was completely, utterly his.
“Please,” she whimpered. “Not again…”
But playtime had only just begun.