The Glass Terrarium: A Micro Shrunken Companion Bound and Displayed
You were listed online. She paid the high price for you. She brought you home to a custom glass enclosure on her desk: clear walls, soft sand, a dish in the corner, moss so the box would not look bare. Vent holes already drilled in the lid.
This afternoon she documents you from above.
Lid down first, so the room shrinks and her palm is the ceiling. Lid up so she can work. Dropper at your mouth — three drops of water, two of feed — while she watches your throat and writes down that your cock jumped when the tip touched your lip. Soft brush for the sand on your knees and shaft. Damp cloth over your face, chest, cock, inner thighs. Tweezers and pale thread: left wrist, right wrist, drawn together in front of you, cinched, tested. Hands stay bound for what comes next.
Then one fingertip. Just the pad. You fit under a single print. Slow strokes. If you chase, the finger lifts. She wants the view from above when you spill over and cum on your belly, on the sand, on the ridge of her skin.
You stay in the glass. She stays looking and watching you.