With a lighter/wand, Gen. Medrano lights the top of a glass of white Tuscan wine. Its flame is tall, and bright.
From a small glass dome, Camille Montes, less than a thousandth her normal size, gapes in horror and despair. She knows just what the General plans to do with that wine...
Across the room, jars sit. Each one contains a pickling human appendage. Camille knows them very well. They used to belong to her relatives. (The appendages; NOT the jars.)
Slowly, the General approaches her. He's already too big for her...but he gets bigger and bigger as he approaches. Camille is helpless. She's got nowhere to run.
With the flip of a switch, the General opens the dome. With a long pair of tweezers, he picks her up by the panties.
She hangs from her ass, as the floor passes beneath her. It's a nice floor. She imagines this high-tech block, in the Atacama Desert, will be his palace, when he finally destroys the Bolivian government.
He stands over the wine, and holds her over the open flame. Here, Camille screams like a girl.
This would be more dramatic...if the General could hear her better. But she's small; any noise she makes is missable, to normal-sized human ears.
Shivering, she looks down into the flames. She's hot...but that's not why she shivers. It was flames like these that consumed her family, once. And Medrano caused them...with a ground division, of 2,187 armed privates, behind him.
"Look down, my sweet Slavic bastardess," he sneers, "and recordare! You recall what I did to your family, because of their revolt. I can just as easily do the same to you. You're lucky I have such a violent affinity for you."
She still shivers. The fire on that wine never goes out...
"I know you think I'm violent by nature. You're right. They teach us shit in ROTC that you'd never understand. You are woman. I am man. I am destined to wield a rifle, and defend my nation, like some political figure of my nation. You are destined to stick to my kind's undercarriage. You nourish us, when we go too far. And we ALWAYS go too far."
At this, Camille vomits. Alas, at her size, there's no amount she can vomit that'll put out those awful flames.
"Recordare, perra," he hisses. "I am your war god, and your sex god, and your dominus. I control you. I own you. Your ass is the crowning jewel of what will soon be my stratocracy."
With that, he throws her back into the dome, and locks her in. She presses herself against the glass, and gapes. She feels so small, and so powerless to fend for herself against the wrath and power of a great Latino Generalissimo. That's because she is.
"Invest in your luck, bastardess," Medrano orders her. "It's all you've got now." He looks around, and addresses his AI. "Commence sand flow in hourglass."
"Si, Senor," the AI responds.
From above, a stream of sand dumps itself all over Camille's near-nude body. She holds up her hands, and struggles to stay sand-free. But then, there's no hope of that now. The first of the sand has filled her panties.
All around her, it gets worse. Soon, she'll be buried. When she finds her way out, she'll be like an ant on a mound. She'll feel even more helpless to rebel against the mean General than she does now.
Out there, in the Atacama, a drought persists. It's about to get worse.