"Rank Establishment"
We see how his life is changed now that she takes him home at night.
His dollhouse now lives in her bedroom, while by day he works on fixing machines in a drawer in her office.
We see (some) morning he's slept at her home. She has to wake him and urge him to get ready or he'll make her late. We see his transit to the office inside a padded jewelry ox in her purse -- which she poked holes in for air. When he gets to work,. he complains about the bumpy ride. She hurriedly says she'll try to do something about that, but has to head to a meeting.
after their personal moment, a few things have changed...
She is much more "familiar" with him as she prepares for her day.. making no attempt to obtain privacy as she talks to him and gets dressed for work. She talks about how management is so impressed with them they want to expand the operation. How valuable his work is for the company. How she has several more machines for him to fix.
He starts to think more critically about his situation. How many machines has he fixed? How much is that worth to the company? In a few minutes, he remembers previously hearing them talk about the broken machines and losing millions. He quickly estimates how much his little "predicament" is worth to the company, and becomes suspicious. He "wants to talk to management". She's in the bathroom and goes quiet. A minute later she returns to "collect" him for their trip to work. He repeats his request to "talk to management" when she's handling him.
"Ohh, I heard you the first time, but I think you need to see this from my perspective. They want results, and right now I'm giving them results. Management is trusting me to handle the little details, and I'm handling them. I understand this situation is stressful for you, but I assure you, you're better off with me handling this than management. I'm keeping your family well taken care of. I'm keeping you clothed, and fed, and as of last night, maybe even a little happy." She let out a little smirk. "You and I are a team. We are doing what a dozen scientists couldn't figure out how to do. We're fixing millions of dollars of broken company assets. We're putting them back in the black. Don't you see. They need us."
"You mean they need me." His words were aggressive given his predicament. Held in her hand, suspended a distance that to him felt like forty feet off the ground, he regretted his boldness as soon as the words loosed from his mouth.
"Well. About that. I know this has all been very stressful for you; for your own good, I haven't been entirely forthcoming. You see, they believe you're gone. Dead. Our use of this technology is strictly regulated. An employee casualty is one thing, but if anyone found out we shrunk living organism, we'd be shut down immediately. Billions in investment and potential shareholder profits would evaporate into thin air. As you can imagine, I have very clear instructions from management about how important it is that such a thing never happen. And so you see, it never happened."
"What! You can't just. You have to tell them what happened." What he was hearing was alarming. He no longer cared for his safety. This was a travesty. A violation of his freedom.
"I don't think you are hearing me clearly. I told them what happened. They told me what I just told you. They asked if I understood the importance of the situation. They asked me if I could handle it. If I handed you over to them, you would be dead. You should be thanking me."
He was now stunned silent. He had no retort. It was no surprise his company would sacrifice him rather than billions in profits. He should have known -- back when he signed all those forms about hazardous work, back when he accepted the exceptional pay for exceptional risk, back when he recorded that video to his family -- he should have known. "I know that's a lot to take in. Just think about it. We need to get to work." And with that she gently placed him into the modified jewlery case that served as his transport protection, and in turn, into her purse.
--
The quiet trip to work gave him time to think. Time to come to grips with the fact that he was captive. That his family probably thought him dead. That his employer wanted him erased. That however he was being taken advantage of, at least he was alive. Was it enough? By the time they reached her office, and opened his transport case, allowing him to step out onto his work-shelf, he had rehearsed his next words over and over. "I want to know my family is okay. I want proof. You've been lying to me for months. You and the company have been profiting handsomely from my situation. How do I know anything you're saying is true? I'm not fixing any more machines until I have proof. I am not a slave."
"How interesting." She pauses for a moment, as if considering how to respond. "I assure you, you're family is well taken care of, and I'll get you your proof. However, let's be straight." Even the small amount of dominance in her tons had a powerful effect coming from a woman who seemed fifty feet tall to him.
"You need me. Thanks to me you're alive. I keep you fed; I keep you safe; you have someone to talk to morning and night; soon you'll see that it is me, not the company, financially supporting your family. This little partnership of ours is very good for my career as long as you are fixing machines. If you stop, you're just a dirty little pet that I have to feed and clean-up after twice a day. Have you ever had to clean the crap out of a dollhouse's water basin? You keep talking like that and you will." Her giant hand approached, and a finger half as tall as he was tapped gently on a broken machine next to him. "But if you keep fixing machines, and we keep getting bonuses from upper management, then I'll continue to make your life comfortable, perhaps even pleasant. Speaking of which, I trust you slept a little better last night?"
Her final words caught him off-guard. His face flushed red at the memory, masturbating to the sight of her giant naked breast, thinking she was asleep, seeing her eye peering in on him -- the sinking feeling of knowing she'd been watching him all along.
"Good. And by the way, I prefer the term little helper. So much more pleasant than slave, don't you think?" With that she closed the dresser, leaving him trapped and alone in his miniature work studio. Nothing but tools and broken machines all around him. He knew two things. She was right, and he had to somehow find a way out of this. But how?