-A story route requested by another user-
Lana felt her body tensing up in terror at the sight of Gant smirking overhead. She couldn't imagine any way this could end well for her.
She made a panicked sound as she was abruptly rolled over in palm of his hand. She wound up on her back, trying right away to get upright.
"Ah-..." Gant began, pressing a heavy fingertip to her stomach and pinning her down. "No need to rush." he said.
Lana tried everything she could to force the heavy digit off of her body, but she couldn't budge it an inch. She was carried across the office until they reached Gant's desk.
He took a seat, and things got worse. Lana shrieked at the sight of Gant's other hand approaching her. He brought two fingers in close to her, and they settled on the sides of her head. She thrashed, but he was far, far too strong for her to push his fingertips away.
Gant's huge fingertips ran down the sides of her head, trailing through her long hair, which was splayed in his gloved hands. Then, to her further horror, he brought his fingers up to her chest. She screamed in protest, attacking his index finger with everything she had. Gant ignored her protests, teasing at her breasts with his fingertips. He pressed her chest one way and then another, squeezing at her breasts as he went.
Then, he trailed down her sides and toward her waist. Still trapped underneath his other hand's weight, Lana couldn't stop him.
Gant brushed a fingertip down the length of her leg, bending her legs by force. Lana rolled her head aside, still screaming every protest she could manage, even as her shoulders ached with the effort to shove his heavy fingertip away.
"S-stop, you-..."
She could barely even get the words out. Her mouth was then forced shut as Gant rolled her over in his palm. She ended up face-down, struggling against his glove. She flinched, thrashing desperately as a fingertip began to tease at her exposed rear.
This was even worse than she'd imagined. She was being toyed with, like she wasn't even human.
This torment continued for a few full minutes. Seemingly every last inch of Lana's helpless body became victim to Gant's incessant teasing and prodding, and when he finally relented, she could only collapse against his gloved palm, red-faced and exhausted.
"Wh-why... are you doing this...?" she panted, too worn down to try and escape. Her hair was scattered across the leather glove beneath her. Her coat had been forced open, her scarf was torn, and her shoes were missing.
Above, Gant gave a satisfied chuckle.
"Oh, I simply wanted to check on your body's... physical state." he answered. "You've become so small that I had to wonder if anything about you had changed. Don't worry, Lana -- I think you're doing just fine."
She wanted to scream every obscenity she knew, but it wouldn't help her.
"Thank you for cooperating." Gant went on, clearly enjoying all of this.
Somewhere in her mind, Lana felt a brief moment of hope. Was he really done with this torture?
"Forgive me if this sounds... demeaning, Lana," Gant continued, "But I think you're a lot more fun like this than normal."
She cursed under her breath, wanting nothing more than to escape, regardless of any consequences.
Gant sat back in his chair, thinking to himself. He couldn't properly describe the thrill he'd felt, drinking in the total control over Lana that he now possessed.
So, what to do now?
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