O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

A Jarring Experience

by Drakkenfyre

The sun beat down and sweat poured from Dave’s body as he pushed the hand mower over his front lawn. His shirt was tied around his waist, and stray cut blades of grass stuck to his bare damp legs. It was unusually humid this summer, he couldn’t wait to get to the iced lemonade that was waiting for him on the enclosed porch, when he finished the yard work. His mother had made the lemonade and set it there, before she and his father had taken off for their second honeymoon. Dave would have the house to himself for the next two weeks. His father made sure that all the neighbors knew that and would be monitoring Dave’s activities.

A mechanical click from the bushes, Dave turns to see the screwy neighbor kid Erick taking off down the sidewalk carrying his digital camera and butterfly net. The kid is at least 14. Dave shakes his head. He’d have yelled, but it’s just to hot to care. He resumes pushing the mower, thinking that Erick should be chasing girls not butterflies. A fly buzzes around his head. Dave stops, he has a sudden realization. Erick must be gay! There are no butterflies out in this damp heat, just a few flies and most of them aren’t flying. Erick was stalking him, not butterflies. That’s why Dave only saw Erick running with his camera after it clicked, and didn’t see a flash of colorful wings. Erick had been photographing him. He looked down at his slim slightly muscled body. At 20 he was a bit shorter than average, standing 5 feet, 6 inches. He weighed in at a respectable 140 pounds (64 kg). He looked down patting his smooth belly. He was kind of flattered that Erick seemed intrigued by Dave’s appearance. He smiled smugly and resumed pushing the mower.

Mrs. Olsen sat on her enclosed porch watching him the whole time. He knew she wasn’t admiring his body, but was taking notes to report to his parents when they returned. She’d probably say that he was rather lackadaisical as he mowed the lawn, since he kept stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow. He smiled, and chuckled. It wasn’t often that Dave was the center of attention, but today he was the focus of two different neighbors. He finished up, and wheeled the mower into the back shed.

When he returned to the front yard, he saw Erick disappearing around the front hedge again. He shook his head, that boy shouldn’t be running in this heat. Dave was surprised to find the screen door ajar. He stepped on to the screened porch and poured himself a tall glass of lemonade. He downed it in one gulp. He refilled his glass, and the phone rang. He shivered as the air conditioned air hit his damp skin. He walked to the kitchen drinking half of his second glass of lemonade as he walked.

“Davy?” it was Mrs. Olsen. He hated being called Davy.

“Yes, Mrs. Olsen?” he asked tentatively. What had he done now?

“Well, that nasty little Stevens boy, Erich was on your front porch. He put something into your pitcher of lemonade. Probably salt. Nasty boy, always catching butterflies with that net, and that awful killing jar. Well, I thought I should warn you before you drank it. Just being a good neighbor.”

“Uh, thank you, Mrs. Olsen. Wish you’d called sooner. Already - drank - it.” His mouth and throat felt chalky, and he spoke the last three words slowly. The room seemed to be wobbly. He hung up the phone and braced himself against the table.

Whatever was in the lemonade, it wasn’t salt or he was having a heat stroke. His body glistened with slick sweat. His pants dropped to his ankles. He looked down his belt was still fastened. He tried to step out of the them but only succeeded in falling over. He blinked, and passed out.

It was dark when he awoke, or so he thought. He must have gotten into bed since he was covered with a dark blue cotton sheet. He pushed upward tenting the fabric. It seemed to big for an ordinary sheet. He could see light at one end. Dave worked his way toward the light, and paused and stared at the pleated blue fabric and the two foot square patch that said “Jockey Boxer--Size Small”. He was inside his now giant sized boxers! He must be dreaming or hallucinating. He stepped out into the room. It was huge. He’d always thought of the living room as small, but now it was cathedral sized. He stared turning to take in the huge room filled with building sized furniture. Then a huge white mesh dropped over him like a parachute or a net.

A net!

Erick!

Oh, no.

Dave gasped as the giant round blond haired face of his 14 year old neighbor filled his view. His hands grasped the thick nylon ropes that made up the mesh of his prison. He was surprised that his arms could fit through the mesh openings. It was sobering as the giant hand rose up beneath him. He was startled by the heat that radiated from Erick’s sweaty palm as he wrapped his fingers around Erick’s tiny body. He’d never felt so helpless before. He’d never felt so small.

Erick raised his prize up to his fast opening his hand enough to examine Dave’s naked form. He smiled lasciviously or was it greedily. Dave was worried.

“Gotcha!” roared the whisper escaping from Erick’s lips.

He lowered struggling Dave into a jar. Mrs. Olsen had called it a killing jar. Dave slipped on the slick surface and passed, and fell on his butt. He looked up to see Erick screwing down the vented red plastic lid. He watched as Erick picked up Dave’s clothing, and went through Dave’s wallet pocketing $150.00 in cash. It was supposed to last Dave two weeks. He was glad the rest of the cash was hidden in his parent’s bedroom closet.

Erick collected Dave’s clothing, and picked up the jar. Dave was violently thrown across the floor of the plastic container. He bounced violently against the walls of the jar, as Erick ran upstairs to Dave’s room. He dumped Dave’s clothing in the hamper, and sat down at Dave’s computer. He turned it on, and logged into Dave’s account as a guest. He entered a password protected website that Dave could read in 15” high letters was called Tinyauctions.xyz. Dave had never seen that suffix before, North America had .com and .org and .net, Europe had .co, Australia had .au , and Canada had .ca…where was .xyz. Erick entered his password, and Dave gasped. There larger than life was a photo of him bare chested working in the hot afternoon sun. He was amazed at how good he looked. Then he noticed the billboard sized numbers next to his photo. US$23, 400.00 and then it flickered and read, US$25,001.00.

Erick turned from the screen beaming, and looked down at his tiny captive. He said, “Not bad, you’ve only been online a couple hours and we’ve already had 8 bids. It started at $9,000. I’d like to say you were going to a good home, but the high bidder right now is Brunothebarbarian. He’s notorious as a gourmand. And in case you haven’t guessed, he’s bidding for his dinner. SpudzMcKenzie bid earlier, and he is into tiny pets sexually, so if gets back in the bidding you may have a good home yet. Not that I care either way, as long as I get paid.”

Dave sat down hard. It was a sobering thought to think that he was going to be sold like a commodity and might well end up as a sex toy or appetizer. As he thought about it there had been a number of disappearances of people in the area over the last few months. The FBI had even been called in, but had ruled out a pattern.

Erick seemed unusually talkative. Until today, he hadn’t said two words to Dave. Now he seemed to want to spill his guts.

“I was tempted to keep you as a pet myself, but Ivy League Colleges are so expensive,” he sighed. Dave was being sold to fund this annoying kid’s college fund! He wanted to scream, but he was still partially denying what had happened to him.

He brightened up. He still had hope. Mrs. Olsen had seen Erick, and had called and warned him. Perhaps she would call the police, thank heaven’s for nosey neighbors.

Erick noticed the change in naked Dave’s posture. He was sitting straighter, and hope had appeared on his face.

“Oh, thinking you’ll be rescued? Mrs. Olsen is probably cat food by now, if you’re counting on her for help. I saw her when I left earlier, and sneaked into her kitchen while she was on the phone with you. I heard everything. I even watched as she added two heaping spoons of my special powder to her iced tea. You see I spiked her sugar bowl,” Erick looked kind of cute as he winked. It was like a practical joke, except for Mrs. Olsen’s hungry cats. Everyone knew she kept them on strict diets, so that they were always hungry. She didn’t like fat cats, and she liked mice even less. A hungry cat guaranteed no mice. Thanks to Erick, she was now mouse sized. Dave grimaced, and swallowed hard imagining her fate, and reconsidering his own. He looked up longingly at Erick begging him to spare him. Erick just watched the monitor and grinned.

“$75,000. Cool. I’ll be able to buy a new car when I’m 16 and still have enough cash for college!” Erick exclaimed.

Shadowmaster was the current winning bidder. Dave stared off into the darkness of his open doorway, and wondered what his future held.

Dave sat hunched with his knees drawn up to his chest, with his arms tightly wrapped around his knees. He rocked slowly back and forth. He was trapped by the neighbor kid in his own bedroom inside the kid’s bug collecting jar. It was impossible. He shivered. He was naked, but not really cold. He was in shock. Who wouldn’t be? You don’t go from being a man to a toy in a few minutes, well, you aren’t supposed to…

He rocked back and forth and stared at the strange tote board on his giant computer monitor. No, he reminded himself, the computer is normal sized. I am reduced. It’s impossible. Not impossible, just highly improbable. When you eliminate all the other possibilities, the only possibility remaining, no matter how improbable or implausible must be true. He had been shrunk to action figure size, and was about to sold to the highest bidder by a creepy 14 year old kid.

The screen flickered the gourmand had raised the bid to $75,750.00. Did people really eat people? And who would pay over $75,000 for somebody bite sized?

The bid changed again $80,000.00 to Shadowmaster. What would he do with a tiny man? Dave shivered again in fear. His folks would be gone for two weeks. Mrs. Olsen was cat food by now, if Erick had told the truth. And who would suspect a wimpy 14 year old of doing in big strong 20 year old Dave?

A new bidder: Q-man raised ante to $85,000.00.
The timer was ticking down. The bids started flashing faster. Shadowmaster $86,500. Q-man $88,000. Shadowmaster $90,000. Q-man $95,000. Shadowmaster $96,000.
Q-man $99,000. Shadowmaster $101,000. Then silence, except for the timer running down. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

The screen flickered. “SOLD” appeared superimposed over his bare chested image.
“Auction Winner: Shadowmaster”, read the banner across the bid screen.

“YOU’VE GOT MAIL!” proclaimed a notice accompanied by a chime.

Erick clicked and opened the email. It was a wire transfer confirmation, and an address in Australia.

“Well, Davy, guess you’re going down under in more than one way!” chuckled Erick.

Dave just stared slack jawed.

“Wish I’d sold you sooner, then I’d have known what the market wanted. Let’s see,” Erick reached up and lifted down Dave’s swim team photo. There were 15 guys in Speedos, “I just need to track down these guys. But first, I’d better get you ready for shipping, Davyboy!’ Erick winked knowingly.

Dave stared upward in terror at the cherubic face that looked down malevolently at him. The magnitude of the danger facing him was starting to sink in. He looked down at himself and up at the photo. It was sobering to see himself standing 8 inches tall in the photo and realizing that the photo was now larger than life. He thought of how the postal service and UPS handled packages, and thought about what condition he’d arrive in alive if bounced and battered half way around the globe. It was not a promising future.

Erick removed something in a plastic sandwich bag from his backpack. It looked like another jar lid, only without air holes. Erick put on a pair of latex gloves, and opened the plastic bag. Suddenly, the jar rocked. Dave could hear the sound and feel the vibration of the lid being screwed on top of the lid with air holes. He’d suffocate. Maybe the auction wasn’t for alive toy at all. The smell of rotten eggs permeated the confined space of the jar. Dave’s eyes started to water, then sting, and finally burn. It was getting hard to breathe. Dave rose up and jumped at the ceiling of his prison. Then his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor of the jar. He could no longer see straight. His vision was blurry from his tears. He could make out the colors and shape of his captor Erick. He raised his hand in a plea for mercy and lost consciousness. Mrs. Olsen’s words haunted his restless slumber, “killing jar”.

Dave first sense of being alive was the bright light, and the pressure around him. He was surrounded by something warm, and solid except for the front of his naked body which was exposed to the open air. Dave’s whole body felt numb. His jaw felt the same way it did after a day in the dentist’s chair. He tried to move his jaw, to move an arm to cry out, but he couldn’t he was totally immobile.

Slowly, through his tearing eyes, Erick came into focus. He seemed to be studying something intently. Then the boy picked up an artist’s paint brush. He dipped it into something, and moved it toward immobilized Dave. He started whistling a catchy tune. Dave recognized it as the tune to Ricky Martin’s “La Vida Loca” song. “Crazy life!” that’s for sure, he thought. The soft wet bristles touched his chest. Erick paused.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good, time for your next injection. Then, I’ll finish painting you in case customs opens up your package. The first injection reduced your metabolism. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not breathing. The oxygenated formula keeps you from dying. The next injection will stiffen you so you’ll have the consistency of hard rubber. It lasts about a week, then you’ll start to soften and breathe normally. The next injection will also make you sleepy. You’ll be unconscious for most of the trip, which is just as well since you won’t see anything from inside the box. He set the paint brush aside, and picked up a syringe filled with an amber liquid. The needle plunged downward and right into Dave’s abdomen. Slowly, Erick depressed the syringe’s plunger. The cold liquid flowed into Dave’s tiny body saturating his internal organs. His skin tingled like he’d been swimming in salt water and allowed it to dry on him. Erick pointed to the box lid. It took Dave a minute to register the label that was affixed to the lid. It was the picture of him shirtless mowing the lawn, except Erick had used Dave’s computer to reduce the photo to a cgi charcoal sketch. The caption read in big letters: “Dave The Gay Action Figure”, and in smaller type, “100 % Anatomically Correct.” In tiny print at the bottom of the label, it read, “Made In The USA…Copyright Patent Pend. ECF, LLC.”

Erick smirked, “ECF: Erick’s College Fund. Get it? Well, you’re ready for your final cote, Davy. Just like a butterball, your indicator popped up to tell me it’s time to baste you. You always were such a turkey,” Erick sounded mean. Dave wondered what he’d done to earn Erick’s enmity. Violently, Erick painted his tiny captive. He started to sniffle, and Dave realized Erick was crying. He finished painting, and laid a square of cellophane over Dave, then lowered the box lid. Before the light was snuffed out, Dave thought he heard Erick mutter, “If only you had…if only it had been…oh, who cares!”

The lid closed. Dave heard some strange noises, but everything sounded so distant, so alien. It must have been the injection, Dave thought. Thud, thud, thud, thud, ….pounded lightly against the box top like a light hail. Styrofoam peanuts, reasoned Dave. The box swayed, Erick must be carrying him. Between the drug and the rocking motion, Dave dozed off.

He awoke in darkness several times. Once he heard the sound of an engine, and felt some bumps. Then he dozed again.

Finally, he’d reached his destination. He heard the Styrofoam peanuts spilling out, and felt his box shaken and lifted out of the larger container. His body was tingling again. He felt like he needed to piss really badly. His box was set down, he lay flat. There was a scraping noise of cardboard against cardboard. He saw a dim grey light appear, and grow brighter. “Shadowmaster!” Dave thought, and he heard his lips say it. He was thawing out of his artificial stasis.

 

Shadowmaster Revealed

Through the cellophane, Dave could see blonde hair, and pale skin. The cellophane was removed, and Dave’s newly beating heart skipped a beat. He recognized the features of the giant smiling down on him. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or concerned. It had been three years since he’d seen Darren. They’d been best buds most of their lives, but their split had been acrimonious. Darren had been having problems at home, and he’d come to Dave for moral support and maybe something more. Dave was only 16 at the time, and he freaked when Darren told Dave that Darren was gay. A week later, Darren’s mother remarried, and they all moved away. Dave had written to Darren at his old address apologizing for his reaction, but he never heard from his old friend again. Now he was staring up into his hazel green eyes, and gleaming white teeth.

In the distance, Dave heard some music start to play…he had a sinking feeling as he recognized the song. It was by Depeche Mode. The one called “Master and Servant.”

“Remember when we used to work out to this music in the school weight room, Dave?” Darren said with a huge grin. He peeled off his baggy oversized tee shirt to reveal a well developed smooth tanned chest. His broad shoulders, guns and abs were a testimony that he continued to work out. The strains of Depeche Mode’s “Master and Servant” grew louder, as Darren aimed a remote off to his right.

“Back then, I’d’ve gladly been your slave,” Darren sounded wistful, and his eyes got a faraway look in them. He blinked, and his features hardened, “But that was along time ago. Now in my fantasy, and your reality, I am your master.”

Darren said it calmly. In an even matter of fact tone. Dave had expected maniacal laughter, or gloating. This was more terrifying, that Darren should describe their new relationship with the emotion one might use to read the sports scores aloud sent shivers down Dave’s spine. The sudden bodily movement startled him. It had been so long. Dave struggled to free himself from the Styrofoam casing.

Now Darren laughed. Not maniacally, but the way you might laugh at someone trying to do something impossible. Dave had to do something.

He paused and waited until Darren stopped laughing. Then Dave shouted,
“Thank God, it’s you, Darren. I was sure I was doomed, and then I saw your friendly face…”

Darren’s jaw dropped, and his tongue hung out. The expression on his face was disbelief.

“Ha, ha. Man, I always knew you had balls. Even if they’re smaller than my boogers right now, you’ve still got them. Though if we’re going to get along, you’re going to have to lose that attitude real quick,” Darren said harshly setting his square jaw. It was Darren’s game face, and soberly Dave realized that he was now the shuttlecock. He swallowed hard and stared silently wondering what the giant would do to punish Dave.

Darren was silent too. Apparently, thinking. His expression changed from pensive to decisive, and the smirk returned to his lips. He reached down and pried Dave from his Styrofoam prison. Then he strode across the room. The swaying of Darren’s arm and moving body made Dave nauseous. Images shifted of bookcases, carpet, ornate furnishings, and finally stopped at a granite table top with a large metal and glass device in the middle of it.

With his free had Darren opened a side panel. Dave thought it looked like some kind of terrarium or glass cage. The floor of the cage was metal, and so were all but one wall which was glass. There were large black cables coming out of the box, and a dull matte silver and black box on top of it. He extended Dave toward the opening in the side, and just before he tossed Dave in, Darren said, “It’s good to be rich!”

The metal panel clanged shut. Dave saw Darren’s giant fingers start to adjust a rheostat. A high pitched whirring sound came from above. The metal floor started to vibrate. Tiny comets trailed through the air. Dave recalled in science class the teacher had used a cloud chamber to demonstrate the existence of microscopic particles. Dave was inside some kind of cloud chamber. The comets seemed to be increasing. Soon they became a swarm of fireflies. He started to feel light headed and closed his eyes to the bright swarm of lights. Dave could feel them passing through his body like living organisms. Like tadpoles swimming through his flesh. He felt that he was changing. He felt like he was floating. Dave opened his eyes, and was startled to see that he was in fact floating in a see of light. He could vaguely make out Darren’s attentive face through the glass, but the bombardment of particles was so exhilarating that it drew the focus of Dave’s attention. Dave tumbled head over heels, and swam in the electric sea. He’d been captain of the swim team in his senior year. He seemed to be home. The crackle of electricity drowned out Depeche Mode and all other sounds. Slowly, Dave started to descend toward the floor, and the crackling became weaker, and the flashing lights fewer. Through the view port, Darren could be seen adjusting the rheostat. Dave felt strangely weak, as his body came to rest on the cold metal floor of the chamber.

“While you steep, Dave,” Darren’s voice boomed in the silence left as the crackling and whirring ceased, “I’ll fill you in on the last few years. Mumsey met a wealthy Australian rancher and financier while on a cruise. They got married, and he adopted me. That’s why I left so suddenly, that’s why I had to come out to you before I left. I had to let you know that I’d been in love with you. I was really obsessed with you. Remember we had all our classes together, I’d made sure of that,” he winked, “I’ve always been a bit of a computer wiz, and cracked the school board’s computers. Fast forward to last year, Mumsey and Papa crashed in the company jet,” Dave notices that Darren doesn’t sound to sad, “apparently the navigation software malfunctioned, and they flew into a mountain,” Darren smirked. Dave felt really afraid deep in the pit of his stomach.

“So anyway, I inherit, being a bit older than you, and discover that one of Papa’s engineering firms had tried unsuccessfully to develop a stasis device for use in long distance space travel. For that purpose it was a failure, but you should have seen the side effects and spin offs that the program generated. Oh, you already have, but you don’t know it.” Darren nodded toward the chamber that surrounded Dave.

“Well, bro, how’d you like to go for a swim?” Darren already shirtless, removes his slacks and underwear.

“What no suit? That’s okay, I’ll just wear you!” Darren put a metal head band around his head, and then opened the panel and retrieved Dave.

Dave languished in Darren’s firm grasp. He walked over to a full length mirror that reflected the palatial room, and held Dave up so that he could see himself.

The red diode on Darren’s metal head band shifted to amber, then to bright green. A broad grin crept across Darren’s face, and he looked down concentrating on his old friend in his hand. Dave felt weird like butterflies in his stomach, except it was more than his stomach. Darren shook him violently, and Dave gasped as he watched his body lose its shape. He got thinner, and as he hung from Darren’s hand, the green light on the head band switched off. Dave recognized the shape in Darren’s hand, but it took a few moments for it to register that it was his new shape.

Darren was holding a flesh tone Speedo, and Dave was now that Speedo.

Another hand grasped Dave, and spread him wide. He watched the mirror in terror as first one leg, and then the other entered him. Slowly he slid up Darren’s legs. Flesh and hairs tickling him as he rose closer to the semi hard eight inch uncut cock with the low hanging balls. Darren’s foreskin slipped back to reveal the purplish pink head emerging like a human face from a brown monk’s cowl. A single clear wet droplet glistened in the sunlight.

“I’ve dreamt of the day, you’d cradle my balls, Dave, and now my dreams come true!” Darren laughed. Dave’s body stretched to accommodate Darren’s bubble butt and swelling cock and balls. His flesh was pulled into the ass crack, and his form clung to the balls and penis head, as the erect penis pulled his waistband four inches from Darren’s toned belly. A wet spot expanded across what had once been Dave’s face. He sighed, as he realized how hot Darren looked wearing him.

Darren ran down the marble steps, and out to the pool. A curly headed, dark haired young man lounged in the sun. He wore a black and red Speedo.

“Hey, Rob, bet I can beat you across the pool. I’m wearing my lucky suit!”

The two toned men plunged into the pool.: One tall blonde muscled and wearing a tan swimsuit, and the other not-so-tall dark haired and wearing a black and red Speedo. Dave hugs Darren tight protecting him from the cold water as best he can. The contours of Darren’s buttocks bond with Dave’s flesh, the movement of the glutes as Darren kicks thrusts his now shrunken tight penis and scrotum into Dave’s flesh with each kick. Dave finds the whole embracing of his old friend very pleasurable. He feels safe for the first time since he’s been shrunk. He feels secure on Darren’s body. Dave knows he was meant to be with Darren.

White water splashes, and the dry concrete is now wet. The blonde jumps out of the water up to his thighs in triumph. His beige suit glistens gold in the sunlight.

Rob laughs, and says, “Good swim, Dare, but I bet I’ll score more goals tomorrow at the soccer match!”

“Not if I wear my lucky jock!” Darren answers patting his crotch. Dave realizes that he’ll be that jockstrap. Mentally, he licks his lips. The suit tightens on Darren’s crotch. Dave finds the smell and taste of his old bud, and his new situation terribly satisfying. He trembles with the realization that he not only is accepting his new role as Darren’s plaything, he’s actually enjoying it.

The End of Dave…The Beginning of A New Life…

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