At least there are some ways this whole situation could have been worse. Standing before you is a very good-looking college-aged girl with medium-length blonde hair. She looks to be about 5'4", and she's holding a bottle of Amstel Light. She looks dressed to go out clubbing, and clearly she is not holding her first drink of the night. Wait, what time is this?
You're a bit too timid to start talking, given the circumstances, but the girl doesn't take long. "I guess you're my slave. You're kind of cute. You can call me Nat."
"Uh, hi, Nat," you say, still uncomfortable. For some reason this makes her laugh, and for some reason that makes her fall over a bit. She is REALLY drunk.
She's still laughing as she stands up. "Sorry about that, I've been having a few drinks," she says. "I was really nervous about this. I'm the first one of my friends to pick someone. They all say it's going to be awesome, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
You certainly have some suggestions on that front, but before you can form a sentence, something drops from the ceiling right in front of you. You jump back, and then see that it's a gun, pointed right at you, that has been lowered by some mechanical crane. Come to think of it, it looks a lot like the gun that got you started on all this. This is probably what's going to adjust your size. You also notice that a microphone has been similarly dropped in front of Natalie.
Then you hear a coldly neutral female voice over a loudspeaker. "PLEASE STATE DESIRED HEIGHT OF OBJECT."