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Rylenne's Shrinking Research - Part 2.5 Micro on Giantess' Chocolate Bar
🕑 Added 2025-04-13 20:12:07 +0000 UTCHi everyone! This is a new story/research report I posted to DeviantArt yesterday, I wanted to give people a sneak peek at the new research report series im doing here, so other than this one, every report will be exclusive to Patreon! Here it is for those who didnt see it on DeviantArt. Lmk what the next report should be about!
In the last entry, Jasper was dropped onto some toast at 1 millimeter tall, and then 0.01 millimeters tall, to see how he would react and what would happen, and some interesting stats. I wanted to give him a rest, I did not want to do too much at once, making sure the serum is working as intended. While he is resting for a moment, eating a tiny crumb of bread i broke off for him and super small pieces of an apple, I had a sudden idea when I saw that Amber had left out a chocolate bar while she was in the bathroom. I figured she was probably just about to eat it, but had to run to the restroom real quick, so in turn, I run to my room, thrilled by this opportunity, and create a quick clone to drop onto the chocolate bar, and monitor what happens next.
My eyes flutter open, and a shiver rockets through me, sharp and unrelenting. I’m naked, my skin prickling against a strange, tacky surface that’s warm but not warm enough. The air feels thick, heavy with a cloying sweetness that clogs my nostrils. I blink, trying to make sense of the world, but it’s all wrong—blurry, vast, and alien. My heart thuds, a tiny drum in a chest no bigger than a pinhead, and I push myself to my knees, my palms sinking slightly into the ground beneath me. It’s brown, glossy, with a faint sheen that catches the light like a desert under a merciless sun. Where am I?
I stand, wobbling on legs that feel too light, too fragile. The ground isn’t ground—it’s chocolate. A chocolate bar, freshly unwrapped, its surface stretching out like an endless plain. I’m in the middle, I think, though the edges are so far they blur into a hazy horizon. I’m tiny—1 millimeter tall, 0.0394 inches, a speck of nothing. My mind scrambles, math tumbling through my head like a reflex: I was 6 feet once, 72 inches. Now I’m 1/1827th of that. The chocolate bar, maybe 4.4 inches long and 2.2 inches wide, is a continent to me. The nearest edge, half the width, is 1.1 inches away—2010 of my heights, like walking 2.28 miles if I were normal. My mass, once 150 pounds, is now 0.000000394 ounces, lighter than a dust mote. I’m a ghost in a world too big to care.
The surface under my bare feet is firm but yields slightly, like soft clay mixed with glue. Each step sticks, cocoa butter and sugar crystals clinging to my soles, forcing me to tug my feet free with a faint pop. The texture is gritty—microscopic ridges and air bubbles, each 0.001 inches across, loom like potholes or craters 1.83 inches wide in my scale. I kick a sugar crystal, no bigger than a grain of sand to a normal eye, and it rolls like a boulder, glinting dully. The smell is overwhelming, a tidal wave of cocoa, vanilla, and milk, so potent it’s almost a taste in the air. My stomach twists, not from hunger but from the sheer intensity of it.
I look up, and the room is a cathedral of giants. The table’s edge, maybe 12 inches away, towers like a cliff 1.83 miles high. Beyond it, furniture looms like distant mountains, their shapes soft and indistinct because my eyes—pupils a mere 0.0001094 inches wide—can’t resolve fine details. The diffraction limit blurs everything; I can’t see sharper than 14 degrees apart, so the world feels like a painting left out in the rain. Light floods the room, probably 100 foot-candles, but it’s dim to me, my tiny retinas starved for photons. The chocolate plain glows faintly, reflecting light in smears of brown and gold, but the horizon shimmers, untrustworthy.
I’m cold. My skin, once a shield, is a traitor now, bleeding heat 1827 times faster than before. The chocolate is 70°F, barely warm against my 98.6°F core, and the air chills me with every breath. My chest heaves, tiny lungs sucking oxygen in frantic bursts, diffusion barely keeping up with my needs. My heart races—maybe 1000 beats a minute, like a shrew’s—to fight the cold, but I know I don’t have long. Minutes, maybe hours, before hypothermia claims me. I have to move.
The edge. If I can reach the edge, maybe I’ll find safety, or at least answers. I start walking, each step a deliberate pull against the sticky surface. My muscles, scaled down but stronger relative to my weight, carry me well—strength-to-weight ratio 1827 times better than before. I could run 3 body lengths a second, 0.1182 inches per second, 0.00671 mph. At that pace, 1.1 inches takes 9.31 seconds, but the stickiness doubles my effort, like trudging through molasses. Call it 20 seconds, maybe 30 with obstacles. I push forward, weaving around a cocoa butter crystal the size of a basketball, its surface slick and glistening like a frozen pond.
The world feels fast. Not time itself—clocks don’t care about my size—but my nerves do. Impulses zip across my 0.0394-inch body in 0.00001 seconds, 1827 times quicker than before. A fly’s wings, beating 200 times a second, would look like a slow flutter to me, each stroke clear and deliberate. The room’s hum—maybe a fridge or an AC unit—vibrates through the chocolate, its 60 Hz drone now a deep, pulsing rhythm I can almost count. I’m seeing more frames of life, catching details I’d miss as a giant. It’s not slow motion, but it’s sharper, like watching the world through a high-speed camera.
I’m halfway to the edge, maybe 0.55 inches gone, when I stumble into a crack—0.001 inches deep, a 1.83-inch drop to me. I climb out, fingers digging into the chocolate’s soft give, smearing cocoa on my hands. My breath catches; I’m tiring, the cold sapping my strength. The edge is closer now, a faint line against the table’s pale wood, like a coastline after a desert trek. I’m 10 seconds from it, maybe less. I can make it. I have to make it.
Then the world moves.
A shadow falls, vast and sudden, blotting out the light. My head snaps up, and I see her. A woman, her red hair a cascade of crimson threads, each strand a cable 0.183 inches thick to me. She’s 5.5 feet tall—10,048 feet in my scale, a 1.9-mile-high colossus. Her face, 12 inches away as she reaches down, is 4.7 miles distant, a blurred mountain of skin and color. Her eyes, each 152 feet across, glint like lakes, but they don’t see me. I’m 0.0394 inches, a speck below her notice, smaller than a sugar grain, my motion—0.055 inches a second—too slow to catch her gaze.
Her hand descends, fingers like skyscrapers, each 720 feet long. The chocolate bar lurches as she grips it, the surface tilting under me. I’m thrown forward, my body sliding on the slick cocoa butter, stickiness fighting my fall. The acceleration—maybe 20 inches per second squared, 500 times my height per second squared—pins me down, a rollercoaster’s pull I can’t resist. My tiny mass clings, surface tension my only anchor, as the bar rises. The edge, so close, recedes as the chocolate tilts upward, a brown cliff now vertical.
She lifts the bar toward her face, and the wind of her movement roars past, a gale against my fragile frame. Her lips, 1800 feet wide, part slightly, a cavern of warmth and breath I can’t fathom. She doesn’t know I’m here, a mote on her snack, my existence erased by scale. The chocolate steadies, held 10 inches from her eyes, and I’m staring into a cosmos of flesh and light, her features too vast to hold in my mind. I scream, but my voice—a whisper of air—dies in the sweetness.
I’m near the edge, 0.1 inches away, 183 of my heights, a sprint I’ll never make. The bar tilts again, and I slide, the sticky surface slowing my fall but not enough. I claw at the chocolate, nails scraping sugar crystals, but gravity wins. I’m falling, a speck in a world that doesn’t see me, the titan oblivious above.
The chocolate looms below, above, everywhere. And then—darkness.
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Alright so now lets get into the research report! Let's breakdown what happened and why
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The first effects after I shrink you to one millimeter tall.
I now have shrunk you to 1 mm tall, which is approximately 0.0394 inches (since 1 inch = 25.4 mm). For perspective, a typical adult human height is about 5.5–6 feet (66–72 inches). If we assume your original height was 6 feet (72 inches), your height has been reduced by a factor of:
Scale factor = New height/Original height = 0.0394 inches/72 inches≈0.000547 or 1/1827.
This means you’re roughly 1/1827th of your original size in linear dimensions. Since volume scales with the cube of the linear dimension, your volume (and roughly your mass, assuming constant density) is: Volume scale = (0.000547)3≈1.64×10^−10. If you originally weighed 150 pounds, your new mass would be: New mass =150 pounds×1.64×10−10≈2.46×10−8 pounds.
Converting that to ounces (1 pound = 16 ounces): 2.46×10−8 pounds×16 ounces/pound≈3.94×10−7 ounces. This is equivalent to about 0.000000394 ounces, or roughly the mass of a tiny speck of dust. Your body is now comparable in size to a small ant or a large mite. I then pick you up with some tweezers, and drop you into the middle of a chocolate bar that I just unwrapped from its package. Let’s assume it’s a standard Hershey’s milk chocolate bar, approximately 4.4 inches long, 2.2 inches wide, and 0.25 inches thick (based on typical dimensions). The surface is relatively smooth but has microscopic imperfections and slight ridges from manufacturing. The chocolate bar is at room temperature, say 70°F, typical for a freshly unwrapped bar in a comfortable environment. Milk chocolate has a melting point around 86–90°F, so it’s solid but soft enough to deform slightly under pressure. Its surface may be slightly glossy due to cocoa butter, and it could feel tacky or sticky at your scale due to surface tension effects.
What Would It realistically Look Like and Feel Like?
At 1 mm tall, your eyes are now proportionally scaled down. The human eye’s resolution is limited by the density of photoreceptors and the size of the pupil. If your eyes scale proportionally, your pupil diameter would be:
Original pupil diameter≈0.2 inches (5 mm, average in dim light)
New pupil diameter=0.2 inches×0.000547≈0.0001094 inches (0.00278 mm) This tiny aperture limits light intake, reducing visual clarity in low light, but in a well-lit room (e.g., 100 foot-candles, typical indoor lighting), you’d still see reasonably well. However, the diffraction limit becomes significant at this scale. The angular resolution of your vision is governed by:Θ ≈ 1.22λ/D, Where λ is the wavelength of visible light (~550 nm = 2.17× 10^-5 inches) and (D) is the pupil diameter ((0.0001094) inches). Converting to consistent units: θ≈ 1.22 2.17×10^−5/0.0001094 ≈ 0.242 radians ≈ 13.9∘ .
This means you can’t resolve details finer than about 14° apart, making your vision somewhat blurry compared to normal human vision (which resolves ~0.017°). The chocolate bar’s surface would appear like a vast, uneven brown plain, with microscopic ridges and cocoa butter crystals looking like small hills or boulders (on the order of micrometers, or 0.000039–0.00039 inches, now appearing as 0.07–0.7 inches to you). In the distance, the edges of the chocolate bar (2.2 inches away at the center, or ~5570 times your height) would be faintly visible as a horizon line, assuming no obstructions. Nearby objects, like a table edge or the wrapper, would loom like massive cliffs or mountains. The room itself would feel like an enormous cavern, with furniture appearing as colossal structures miles away in perceived scale.
The chocolate’s surface at 70°F is solid but slightly yielding. To you, it feels like a firm, sticky terrain, similar to walking on soft clay or tacky rubber. Surface tension and van der Waals forces become significant at your scale. The chocolate’s cocoa butter and sugar crystals create a slightly gritty texture, with imperfections (e.g., air bubbles or cracks, ~0.001 inches across) feeling like potholes or small craters (1.83 inches in your scale). Your bare skin would sense the chocolate as warm (70°F is close to your body temperature of 98.6°F, but you’d lose heat rapidly due to your high surface-area-to-volume ratio—see below). The stickiness might make each step slightly adhesive, requiring effort to lift your feet, like walking on drying glue.
Your surface-area-to-volume ratio scales inversely with size: Surface-area-to-volume ratio ∝ 1/linear scale = 1/0.000547≈ 1827. This means you lose heat 1827 times faster than normal. At 70°F, you’d feel cold almost immediately, risking hypothermia unless you could generate heat rapidly. Your metabolism would need to increase dramatically to maintain 98.6°F, but oxygen diffusion limits at this scale make this challenging. You’d likely feel sluggish and chilled, with survival time limited to minutes or hours without an external heat source. Breathing is feasible since air molecules (oxygen ~0.0000001 inches) are still accessible, but your tiny lungs have less capacity, and diffusion dominates over bulk airflow. You’d breathe rapidly, like a small insect, to meet oxygen demands. The chocolate’s aroma (volatile compounds like vanillin) would be overwhelming. At your scale, you’re closer to the surface, where these molecules are concentrated. If you touched or tasted the chocolate, its sweetness and fat content would be intense, though you’d need only a tiny amount (e.g., a sugar crystal ~0.001 inches across, equivalent to a 1.83-inch cube to you) to feel satiated due to your minuscule stomach capacity.
Would you perceive time differently? Would any normal sized person appear to move in slow motion?
The perception of time depends on neural processing and metabolism, not just size. Smaller animals (e.g., insects) often have faster reaction times due to shorter neural pathways and higher metabolic rates. If your brain scales proportionally, your neurons are ~1/1827th their original size, reducing signal travel time. For example, a nerve impulse traveling 300 feet/second (normal human speed) over a 0.0394-inch body would take: Time = Distance/Speed = 0.0394 inches/300×12 inches/second = 0.0394/3600 ≈ 1.09×10^−5 seconds. Now lets compare that to a 6-foot body: Time = 72 inches/3600 inches/second = 0.02 seconds. Therefore, your neural latency is ~1827 times faster, so reflexes and sensory processing could feel accelerated. However, conscious perception of time is complex, involving memory and attention, not just raw processing speed. Studies on small animals (e.g., flies) suggest they perceive more “frames per second” (up to 200 Hz vs. human ~60 Hz), making fast events (e.g., a hand waving) appear slower or more detailed.
Your metabolism, if scaled like small mammals (e.g., a shrew, ~0.5 ounces, heart rate ~1000 beats/minute), might be extremely high to counteract heat loss, further enhancing the sense that external events (e.g., a person moving) seem sluggish. However, without specific data on a 1-mm human, it’s speculative—time wouldn’t slow dramatically, but you’d notice finer details in rapid motions, like a flickering light appearing steadier.
Traversing the Chocolate Bar: How Long Would It Theoretically Take?
You’re in the middle of a 4.4-inch by 2.2-inch chocolate bar. The shortest distance to an edge is half the width, or: Distance = 2.2 inches/2 = 1.1 inches.However, to you, this is: 1.1 inches × 72 inches (original height)/0.0394 inches (new height) ≈ 2010 of your heights. So that means, If you were 6 feet tall, walking 2010 body lengths is like walking: 2010 × 6 feet = 12,060 feet ≈ 2.28 miles.
Human walking speed is ~3–4 mph. If muscle strength scales with cross-sectional area (∝size^2), your new strength is: (0.000547)^2 ≈ 2.99×10^−7. But your mass scales with size^3, so your strength-to-weight ratio increases: Strength/Weight ∝ size^2/size^3 = 1/size ≈ 1827. This suggests you could move faster relative to your size, like insects (e.g., ants run ~3 body lengths/second). If you walk at 3 body lengths/second: Speed = 3×0.0394 inches = 0.1182 inches/second. Time to walk 1.1 inches: Time = Distance/Speed = 1.1 inches/0.1182 inches per second ≈ 9.31 seconds. However, the chocolate’s sticky surface slows you down. Assume it doubles the effort, like walking on soft sand, increasing time to:
9.31 seconds×2 ≈ 18.6 seconds. Traversing 1.1 inches is realistic in 18–20 seconds if you’re healthy and not hindered by cold or fatigue. Obstacles like surface cracks (0.001 inches, or 1.83 inches to you) might require climbing, adding time, but none are insurmountable. Your high strength-to-weight ratio helps you overcome stickiness or small ridges. Total time to the edge, accounting for minor detours, is likely 20–30 seconds.
Now for the moment of truth. If you wound up on a chocolate bar, only 1mm tall, would I, or any woman notice you? What would I look like from your perspective?
No, we would not notice you! You’re 0.0394 inches tall with a mass of 0.000000394 ounces, on a 4.4-inch by 2.2-inch chocolate bar. To the naked eye, you’re a speck, smaller than a grain of sugar (0.04 inches). Human visual acuity resolves objects ~0.01 inches apart at 10 inches (typical viewing distance). You’re just below this threshold, so you’d be nearly invisible unless I inspect closely (e.g., within 4–5 inches, where 0.0394 inches is resolvable). If you move, motion might catch my eye, as humans detect moving objects better than static ones. However, your speed (0.00671 mph) is slow in my frame—1.1 inches in 20 seconds is ~0.055 inches/second, barely noticeable unless I am staring, but I would not, since I do not usually inspect my food before eating it, nobody does, especially not a quick snack like a chocolate bar. When I pick up the bar, you’d experience a ton of acceleration. Any waving or jumping would be too small to notice without magnification. Realistically, unless I use a magnifying glass or you’re in bright light and moving vigorously, I wouldn’t notice you. I am about 5.5 feet tall, so I am 1827 times larger than you. My height in your scale is: 5.5 feet×1827 ≈ 10,048 feet. This is like looking at a mountain or skyscraper ~1.9 miles tall. If I hold the bar 12 inches from my face, that distance to you is: 12 inches × 720.0394 ≈ 21,930 of your height ≈ 24,900 feet ≈ 4.7 miles. My face would appear as a colossal, distant structure, like a billboard or cliff face. Features like my eyes (~1 inch across, now ~1827 inches or 152 feet to you) would be discernible but blurry due to your reduced visual resolution. My movements (e.g., blinking, ~0.3 seconds) would seem slightly slowed due to your faster neural processing, but not dramatically. My hand reaching for the bar might take 1–2 seconds, appearing deliberate but not sluggish. The bar’s motion when lifted (e.g., accelerating at 10–20 inches/second², or ~250–500 times your height/second²) would feel like a massive elevator ride, potentially pinning you to the surface unless you grip tightly, due to your low mass and high surface adhesion. So in summary, if I shrunk you to one millimeter tall and dropped you onto a chocolate bar, then walked away and my friend came over and picked it up, you would not survive, and I know for a fact, if you wound up on my chocolate bar without me doing it, and I did not previously know you were there, you would definitely be eaten, since I do not inspect my snacks, especially not for tinies, but maybe I should.
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Also heres a bonus video and images to check out, to get a visual of what its like to be micro on chocolate https://youtu.be/Z9YYjzlMsfE?si=mr4EMZYg8FwjtCJn
The next research report will be coming out within the next few hours, finishing it up now!
