Keeping it professional
Family's New Shrink Ray
chapter 12
by
copier
· original author:
ozstriker
Debbie froze, her breath catching as the figure clawed at the surface, thick slime streaming from its face. The eyes, now unmistakably visible locked onto the lens of the camera, and a chill ran down her spin. Clara was right, It was a miniature echo of Derek. The same tousled hair, the same sharp lines of bone beneath the skin, the same athletic build, shrunk down as though someone had pressed his six-foot frame into a pristine imitation crafted to mimic her son and planted for her to discover it.
Her breath left in a sharp awkward laugh, half relief, half outrage. Breakfast skipped, the odd request for a ride, the recent shifty attitude toward her and his sisters, it all made sense now. Her son hadn’t vanished; no he’d orchestrated this ridiculous prank, and she had walked straight into it. There was no other answer, people can’t simply “shrink”, and if by some bizarre reality he had, he was far too intelligent to get himself entwined on the wrong end of her fork.
“Ah, the saboteur reveals his calling card, I just wish he’d put this level of detail into his studies.”
Debbie eventually whispered to her assistant, not taking her eyes off the animated decoy. The prankster had really outdone himself, but the determined mother was not going to be derailed this time.
“So, Derek made a tiny model… of himself?”
Cara questioned, unable to fathom her superiors obscure family dynamic, but her professionalism was unmatched. Cara wondered if she’d even waver if she believed it was her actual son.
“Trust me, this is his work, he’s trying to get a reaction out of me, that’s all this is!”
The nurse eagerly responded, but it almost felt like she was talking to the figurine itself. Cara found it best not to press the subject as the response seemed to reflect some underlying frustration, instead she decided to push the presentation forward:
“Maybe we should just focus on the science then Deb, you’re body is putting on quite the show by itself…”
Debbie nodded, but her grin lingered as she turned back to the audience:
“Of course. let’s not forget… our work is serious, yes, but it’s also human. And sometimes, humanity sneaks in through the smallest cracks. Even if it’s just a silly prank with a tiny figurine.”
She gestured toward the screen once more, her tone shifting back to professional, even though the line seemed more addressed to herself.
“Now, notice how my stomach wall has reacted to the influx of food. The peristaltic waves, the mixing motions, this is the choreography of digestion. Our little guest may be stealing the spotlight, but the real star is the human body itself. The 47-2X really does allow us to see details we’d never witnessed before!”
The students, still buzzing with laughter and muttering, dutifully turned their attention back to the folds and contractions displayed in vivid detail. Yet the tiny figure remained visible, bobbing in clear view like a mischievous mascot amongst some celebrated science.
Debbie took the defiance as an opportunity to finish her intake assessment and unload the remaining spoonfuls of oatmeal into her mouth. It was by her standards, a fairly sizeable portion. She drew her spoon and started gulping the remaining slurry down in quick succession in a dedicated effort to simply drown the irregularity, watching it fill the pink chamber on the screen in real time until the bowl was clean and the quivering sack was nearing capacity. Onwards danced her rippling walls as the thick sludge swirled in an ever impressive visual performance. Her tummy was feeling satisfied now and her free hand had absently wondered down to gently rub the small predictable breakfast bloat through the material of her scrubs, a warm contentment that she could now inspect from multiple angles.
“Well that hit the spot!”
She proudly announced to the room as she continued to stroke her hand over her belly, the audience briefly laughed once again, but focus remained on the kaleidoscopic mixing of the consumed food, yet, the tiny figure refused to submit and remained frustratingly resistant to her breakfast barrage. Her weapon depleted, she had to concede things over to her own biology:
“I guess I can let my stomach do the work for a bit, do we have any questions so far?
A few hands emerged from the crowd, and Cara helped her pick who to ask. A mature doctor from the back enquired on some of the technical capabilities of the camera, that fell outside of the presenters interest or expertise, but they muddled an answer between them. An experienced specialist commented on Debbie's exceptionally healthy rugae, like it was a quality he looked for in a woman.
“Does the camera have sound?” A scruffy student in the third row then asked, resulting in immediate mockery from his surrounding colleagues. Cara was quick to jump in for this one and quash any misguided judgement.
“Actually, that’s a really good question James! they are planning on including a microphone in the next model as it could help diagnose certain intestinal issues, unfortunately this one doesn’t..”
Cara looked towards the monitor and then to the elegant figure they were exploring.
“it’s a shame, I would imagine Nurse Jordan’s gut to sound exceptionally healthy.”
Debbie smiled at her assistants flattery once again, but the notion had ignited a mischievous thought within the mature nurses mind that she felt unable to resist, in the moment, she was no longer presenting the expensive pill, she was pandering to the congregated demographic.
“Well, I suppose I can give you all a quick sample:”
Before anyone could react, Debbie carefully unclipped the tiny microphone from her collar and firmly pressed it into her abdomen. At first, the room filled with the rustling of material as her scrubs applied an audible barrier to the tune she desired. She briefly withdrew to pull her scrubs all the way up to the base of her bra, revealing to all, the studied caverns smooth skinned exterior. She reapplied the microphone deep into her soft belly, watching the stomach distort on the monitor from her external pressure.
There was silence initially. Then, a faint gurgle rippled through the speakers as she pressed the mic deeper into her skin, a living, organic sound, raw and unfiltered. The intimate murmur of her body amplified and undeniable, perfectly matching the visuals on the screen.
*grruarrgle* *borrg*
Of course, the audience lapped it up once again with students laughing and some even applauding.
*Glorp, graarg*
Another sound followed, deeper, a rolling churn that echoed across the hall. Debbie closed her eyes, letting the audience hear what she herself felt: the hidden orchestra inside her. The microphone caught every shift, every rumble, every whisper of digestion and breath.
*blooorrggg*
Joy rang out across the hall, but something amongst the woman’s internal grindings was strange, even unsettling, like something chilling was brewing, something final, something powerful, something about to be witnessed by an entire hall of people.
Her breath left in a sharp awkward laugh, half relief, half outrage. Breakfast skipped, the odd request for a ride, the recent shifty attitude toward her and his sisters, it all made sense now. Her son hadn’t vanished; no he’d orchestrated this ridiculous prank, and she had walked straight into it. There was no other answer, people can’t simply “shrink”, and if by some bizarre reality he had, he was far too intelligent to get himself entwined on the wrong end of her fork.
“Ah, the saboteur reveals his calling card, I just wish he’d put this level of detail into his studies.”
Debbie eventually whispered to her assistant, not taking her eyes off the animated decoy. The prankster had really outdone himself, but the determined mother was not going to be derailed this time.
“So, Derek made a tiny model… of himself?”
Cara questioned, unable to fathom her superiors obscure family dynamic, but her professionalism was unmatched. Cara wondered if she’d even waver if she believed it was her actual son.
“Trust me, this is his work, he’s trying to get a reaction out of me, that’s all this is!”
The nurse eagerly responded, but it almost felt like she was talking to the figurine itself. Cara found it best not to press the subject as the response seemed to reflect some underlying frustration, instead she decided to push the presentation forward:
“Maybe we should just focus on the science then Deb, you’re body is putting on quite the show by itself…”
Debbie nodded, but her grin lingered as she turned back to the audience:
“Of course. let’s not forget… our work is serious, yes, but it’s also human. And sometimes, humanity sneaks in through the smallest cracks. Even if it’s just a silly prank with a tiny figurine.”
She gestured toward the screen once more, her tone shifting back to professional, even though the line seemed more addressed to herself.
“Now, notice how my stomach wall has reacted to the influx of food. The peristaltic waves, the mixing motions, this is the choreography of digestion. Our little guest may be stealing the spotlight, but the real star is the human body itself. The 47-2X really does allow us to see details we’d never witnessed before!”
The students, still buzzing with laughter and muttering, dutifully turned their attention back to the folds and contractions displayed in vivid detail. Yet the tiny figure remained visible, bobbing in clear view like a mischievous mascot amongst some celebrated science.
Debbie took the defiance as an opportunity to finish her intake assessment and unload the remaining spoonfuls of oatmeal into her mouth. It was by her standards, a fairly sizeable portion. She drew her spoon and started gulping the remaining slurry down in quick succession in a dedicated effort to simply drown the irregularity, watching it fill the pink chamber on the screen in real time until the bowl was clean and the quivering sack was nearing capacity. Onwards danced her rippling walls as the thick sludge swirled in an ever impressive visual performance. Her tummy was feeling satisfied now and her free hand had absently wondered down to gently rub the small predictable breakfast bloat through the material of her scrubs, a warm contentment that she could now inspect from multiple angles.
“Well that hit the spot!”
She proudly announced to the room as she continued to stroke her hand over her belly, the audience briefly laughed once again, but focus remained on the kaleidoscopic mixing of the consumed food, yet, the tiny figure refused to submit and remained frustratingly resistant to her breakfast barrage. Her weapon depleted, she had to concede things over to her own biology:
“I guess I can let my stomach do the work for a bit, do we have any questions so far?
A few hands emerged from the crowd, and Cara helped her pick who to ask. A mature doctor from the back enquired on some of the technical capabilities of the camera, that fell outside of the presenters interest or expertise, but they muddled an answer between them. An experienced specialist commented on Debbie's exceptionally healthy rugae, like it was a quality he looked for in a woman.
“Does the camera have sound?” A scruffy student in the third row then asked, resulting in immediate mockery from his surrounding colleagues. Cara was quick to jump in for this one and quash any misguided judgement.
“Actually, that’s a really good question James! they are planning on including a microphone in the next model as it could help diagnose certain intestinal issues, unfortunately this one doesn’t..”
Cara looked towards the monitor and then to the elegant figure they were exploring.
“it’s a shame, I would imagine Nurse Jordan’s gut to sound exceptionally healthy.”
Debbie smiled at her assistants flattery once again, but the notion had ignited a mischievous thought within the mature nurses mind that she felt unable to resist, in the moment, she was no longer presenting the expensive pill, she was pandering to the congregated demographic.
“Well, I suppose I can give you all a quick sample:”
Before anyone could react, Debbie carefully unclipped the tiny microphone from her collar and firmly pressed it into her abdomen. At first, the room filled with the rustling of material as her scrubs applied an audible barrier to the tune she desired. She briefly withdrew to pull her scrubs all the way up to the base of her bra, revealing to all, the studied caverns smooth skinned exterior. She reapplied the microphone deep into her soft belly, watching the stomach distort on the monitor from her external pressure.
There was silence initially. Then, a faint gurgle rippled through the speakers as she pressed the mic deeper into her skin, a living, organic sound, raw and unfiltered. The intimate murmur of her body amplified and undeniable, perfectly matching the visuals on the screen.
*grruarrgle* *borrg*
Of course, the audience lapped it up once again with students laughing and some even applauding.
*Glorp, graarg*
Another sound followed, deeper, a rolling churn that echoed across the hall. Debbie closed her eyes, letting the audience hear what she herself felt: the hidden orchestra inside her. The microphone caught every shift, every rumble, every whisper of digestion and breath.
*blooorrggg*
Joy rang out across the hall, but something amongst the woman’s internal grindings was strange, even unsettling, like something chilling was brewing, something final, something powerful, something about to be witnessed by an entire hall of people.
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November 12
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