Dean's Lesson: Part II
By: Sparky

PART 2

It was almost 8 o'clock in the evening, and Dean still sat in his office, pouring over figures. He hadn't intended to be there this late on a Monday or be working this hard, but he had been suitably "motivated" by the 3 o'clock meeting with the president. Business was not good, and unless the managers trimmed their budgets and brought in more clients, there would be some serious fat trimming. Dean was mostly confident he was safe, as he had always been one of the biggest money-makers in the company, but he wasn't about to take chances with his standard of living. He would have to do all he could to make others look bad, like Bedford, so they canned their asses and not his. He may not actually get the pleasure of firing Bedford, but this would be close enough.

Still, it was late, and Dean felt he couldn't do any more for the day. It was time to pack up and go home. No, not home. Mike was home tonight, and Dean didn't feel like being domestic just yet. He once again logged onto Men4Men.com and began searching for a post-work fuck. The guy at lunch had been good, an expert oral servicer (even swallowing!), but he really wanted to have an all-out humpfest. Blowjobs were great, but nothing beat an aggressive fucking session.

Within minutes, Dean was getting messages from all sorts of guys responding to his profile. None seemed particularly appealing to him at the moment. Just as he was about to give up hope, an intriguing private message came his way.

Hello.

Hey, what's up?

Love your profile. Check mine out.

Dean clicked on the link to CaribStud's profile page. There before him was one of the hottest guys he'd ever seen. The picture showed a handsome, exotic dark man with amazingly strong features and, more importantly, an amazing body. Dean had a fetish for the darker-skinned types, and this man was stunning. Dean hated to admit it (he never would to anyone else), but the man was better looking than he was.

Great profile, extremely hot. I think we should get together and fuck each other's brains out

Sounds good to me. Can you join me?

Too perfect! Not only was he hot, he had a place! The day was looking up.

Where r u?

Chelsea.

I can be there in 20 minutes.

Excellent. I can't wait to have you here.

You got it. Give me the address.

Dean wrote down the building and apartment number and logged off. This could be one of the best tricks of the year for him, if this guy was everything he appeared to be. Yes, this would be one night to remember!

The door to Apartment 11G swung open slowly, revealing a dark, candle-lit interior. Dean stepped in a little warily, not being able to see the person opening the door. As he walked in, the door swung shut. Dean spun around to see the man at the door, but there was no one there. His heart began to beat a little faster.

"Greetings."

Dean spun around again, and sitting in a large, ornate chair was the man from the photo, and if possible he was even more magnificent in person. His large, deep eyes shone in the candlelight. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of slacks, and wore a gaudy necklace that looked like bone or something. His white, flawless teeth stood out from his rich complexion.

"Well, hello…" Dean moved forward a little, trying to put on his sexiest attitude. The man didn't wait, though, and stood up, majestically, rising to a nearly 7-foot tall stance. Dean gasped in astonishment.

"I am so…excited to see you here. Please, sit." The man motioned to a little chair to one side of the room. He spoke with a luscious Caribbean accent, his deep voice giving Dean an instant hard-on. Dean smiled and sat down, taking off his tie and suit coat as he did. He assumed the man wanted to start with giving Dean a blowjob in the chair. That was fine by Dean, just as long as they moved on to other things. He hoped there was a bed somewhere in this place.

When he had sat down, Dean looked up and saw the man was gone. He then heard the sound of glassware tinkling in another room. For such a large man, he seemed to move silently.

"What will you have to drink, my friend?"

"What have you got?"

"Everything."

"I see. In that case, a gin and tonic will do fine."

"Excellent."

After a few moments, the man emerged from a doorway carrying two glasses. By this time, Dean had taken off his shirt and undershirt, so he sat bare-chested like the man was. He had hoped to get a reaction, but for some reason the man didn't seem to even notice.

"Here." The man offered a glass filled with a slightly green-looking drink. Dean hesitated a bit.

"I asked for gin and tonic."

"It is. The gin is from my island, very rare. They color it green." Somewhat suspicious, Dean sniffed the glass. It smelled like ordinary gin, but perhaps a bit more…inviting. He felt like he really wanted to drink it. The man took his own glass, colored orange, and drank a hefty gulp. Dean was compelled to do the same, and swallowed most of the drink in one gulp. It tasted terrific.

The man smiled when Dean drank, and then wandered silently back to his large chair and sat down, affixing his eyes on Dean intently. Dean guessed he wanted him to be the aggressor, so got up and sauntered over to the chair in front of the man. The man didn't stop staring with his odd, beautiful smile.

"So, are we gonna get started?"

"Soon, my friend, soon. First, we should look in each others eyes for a while."

Okay, it's different, but kind of erotic, Dean thought. He would be happy to do it for a bit if it heightened the sex that followed. But he wasn't going to waste time, either.

After a few seconds of looking intently into the man's luminous eyes (did the man ever blink?), Dean was suddenly hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea. His vision blurred, but the expression of the man didn't change, despite Dean's sudden lurching around the room. His last thought before blacking out was that he had been drugged and was now going to be sold into slavery in some South American hellhole.

-----------------------------------

"I can't believe it. You did it."

"I told you to not doubt what I could do."

"But it's amazing!"

"It is very difficult magic, but has been well within my powers for a while."

"It's still incredible."

The voices were loud and thick to Dean and seemed to echo all around him, but he could distinctly make out the words. Something about the first voice was familiar. He tried to open his eyes and lift his head, but he was still weak and groggy. He was laying on a cold, hard surface, apparently completely naked. He wasn't bound or gagged, as far as he could tell. That will be their first mistake.

"He's trying to move."

"I will wake him up quickly."

Cold liquid drenched Dean's body, feeling like an electric shock. Somehow it seemed to energize him, and he shot up to his feet in a flash, ready to fight if he had to. When he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings, he nearly jumped in terror.

The cold surface he had been on was a metal table. Standing by the table, looking down on him, was the exotic man and, to his astonishment, Jeremy. The man wore the same strange smile he always had, while Jeremy had a look of wonder on his face. Dean's terror, however, was sparked by another fact.

The man and Jeremy appeared to be about a hundred feet tall.

More precisely, Dean realized, he was merely a few inches tall and standing on a small table that, to him at least, was the size of very large room. It was unbelievable. What had they done to him? Was this a hallucination induced by the drug? It had to be! Yet, he felt so conscious and awake.

"Hi there, Dean," Jeremy finally said. His voice was now thunderous. Dean trembled in his nakedness on the cold table. All he could do was look up at the huge men.

"I guess you're wondering how this happened to you, Dean. It's not too long a story. You see, back in Brazil, my mother dabbled in the occult and witchcraft. She also explored Voodoo. I was never really allowed to know what she did, but one day Enrique," Jeremy put a hand on the muscular shoulder of the dark man, "came to our home, having heard of my mother's abilities and knowledge. They taught each other for months. Enrique and I became close friends, as he was about my age, even though I didn't share his passion for all things mystic."

A Voodoo witchdoctor? This was too much. Dean felt like he was trapped in a bad short story or something.

"Anyway, we kept in touch over the years when Enrique went back to his island and I went to America for school. By chance, we both ended up in New York. He always said he would protect me and make sure those that tried to fuck with me got what they deserved. So this morning, after our friendly conversation, I called him and told him the story. He then told me he had a way to make sure you learned a lesson. I told him how to find you online. Lucky for us you didn't waste any time in moving on to your next trick. So here we all are."

By this time Dean had gone pale and was quivering with rage. How dare these backwater immigrants think they can "teach him a lesson." He wasn't sure how, but he swore to himself he would make them both pay as much as possible once he got out of this mess.

"If you wanted to frighten me, you did well. I am terrified." He would say whatever they wanted to hear to get out of this. He didn't want to know what sick things they planned on doing with a 4-inch tall man. Being a human dildo was one possibility, he realized, and that didn't sit well at all. Jeremy looked at Enrique with uncertainty.

"Did he say something? I couldn't hear him."

"Of course you can't, his lungs and voice box are now minute. Does it matter? You said he has a silver tongue. Better he not talk you into something rash."

Something rash? As if shrinking him wasn't rash enough!

"But I wanted to listen to him grovel a bit. Can you amplify his voice?"

"I don't have microphones. This isn't a studio."

"What about your magic?"

"Nothing within my powers."

All through this, Dean increasingly realized how helpless he was. He couldn't even make himself heard! His anger was quickly growing into abject fear. What did these guys plan to do with him? Was this state permanent? He could report them for kidnapping if he escaped, they had to know that.

"So," said Enrique, his eyes always fixed on Dean, "how do we take care of him? You could step on him like a bug." Jeremy's eyes bulged and he opened his mouth in surprise.

"What? I wanted to scare him, not kill him." For the first time, Enrique's gaze moved away from Dean. He looked back at his Brazilian friend.

"He is scared, you can see that. But what is done cannot be undone."

"What?! You mean he's stuck like that?"

"Of course. My magic is permanent."

"You didn't tell me this would be permanent!"

"You never asked. You said you were angry and wanted to teach him a lesson. I think he now knows never to cross you."

"How can he learn a lesson if he's dead? Jesus fucking Christ, Enrique…"

"The spirit is immortal. Death teaches the soul many things. In his next life, he will be more careful."

Dean was now ready to wet himself. So it was permanent, he'd be a mouse-sized man forever. That was provided Enrique didn't convince Jeremy to squash him.

"This is insane! Enrique, we could be put in prison! It's murder!"

"I don't think American police will look for a bug-sized body. Besides, you can destroy the evidence easily."

"Like how?"

With a suddenness that took him by surprise, Dean was snatched up by Enrique's massive hand and dangled in the air. Enrique carried his squirming handful over to the kitchen sink and hung him over the drain.

"There's this, my friend." Enrique flipped a switch with his other hand, and Dean was deafened by the roar that came up from the black hole in the sink. The garbage disposal.

"Holy shit, no!" Jeremy rushed forward and shut off the disposal. "That wouldn't be human!"

"He's no longer human, if he ever was. He is an insect. Remember, you are not the only one he has treated this way. He treats them all this way, you can bet."

"That doesn't justify…that, no. It…it shouldn't be so messy."

Dean couldn't believe his ears. Jeremy had gone from defending his life to just saying he wanted him taken care of cleanly! This was monstrous!

"Ah, I see. We could flush him, that would be clean. Well, until he hit the sewage pipes."

"They could still find the body."

"True. Ah, I know. There is one thing that will dispose of the evidence and satisfy another need as well!" Still dangling Dean, Enrique rubbed his rock-hard abs with his other had. Dean nearly passed out again.

"Eat him? Oh Jesus, that's sick."

"Digestion destroys evidence. And he has muscles, good protein."

"Well…it would be the perfect solution. Then you can flush him, once he passed through."

"And I don't think many would recognize him then."

"Hehe, no, but he'd really be the piece of shit I said he is!"

The men both laughed. The roar vibrated through Dean, sickening him. So he was to be made a meal for the witchdoctor? It was beyond sick, it was…terrible.

"I will go consult my books for some recipes for tiny man. Come." Enrique got a tupperware container from the cupboard and deposited Dean inside. There were small airholes in the lid, just big enough for Dean to stick his fist through. Enrique put the container on the table and left the room with Jeremy.

Dean still trembled. How could he get out of this? More so, how could he get his revenge in this state? He was red with fury.

The End

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