Matt screamed, "Yeow!" as he father's huge thumb and index finger started to crush him.
"Hm? Well, I want to teach you a lesson son, but I don't want to kill you."
"Please make me big, I promise I'll behave," whined Matt. His father could almost hear him whining, Father never let's me have any fun. Fun, hm?
Mr. Laird said, "No not bigger, but rubbery. I wish my shrunken son was rubbery and indestructable."
The fingers descended again, and pinched Matt tight. This time his muscles and bones gave, and he was squished into a quarter size circle. His father chuckled, and set him on the workbench and then flattened him into a half dollar-sized wafer.
"I'm due at the club for a handball match in 20 minutes, so I just need a place I know you'll be safe," said Mr. Laird taking out his wallet and slipping his flattened son into a compartment next to a condom. Matt thought he was going to be sick. As all light vanished and old leather pressed against his face and cold foil wrapper pressed against his back. As the closed wallet slipped into this father's hip pocket the pressure increased. Matt could feel his body sticking to the foil wrapper. In permanent darkness, he rocked back and forth. He felt seasick, but apparently being flattened rubber didn't let a person vomit, which is what Matt Laird desperately wanted to do.
Suddenly, the pressure increased, as did the temperature. His father must be sitting on him now. Driving to the club, no doubt. There was a thunderous noise followed by a gawdawful stench like a sewer backing up. His father had farted.
Mr. Laird surpressed a giggle of embarrassment, he hadn't meant to fart. He felt sorry for his son, but he also felt it was a fitting punishment. After all he'd shrunk a 13 year old boy, if it had been someone his own age, well that might have been different. There were kids when Richard Laird had been going to high school he wouldn't have minded shrinking. But innocent kids, that was just wrong, and Matt had to be taught a lesson.
He parked the car and headed into the changing room.
Matt breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure on him decreased. Then few minutes later he felt even less pressure and a drop in the temperature. His movement then ceased. Oh great, he must be in his father's locker. He prepared to be bored silly for the next hour or two. However long it took his father to win his handball match, shower, socialize and get back--no necessarily in that order.