The light in the cupboard was dimmer than it had ever previously been when I awoke. I couldn’t hear anyone out in the lab, and I glanced in the direction of the NV camera. What did I expect to find there?
Without conscious decision, I sat up and spread my limbs out in the precise posture I had adopted when sitting in Irina’s palm. I tilted my head back and summoned my memory of her soaring, doting face. The grace of her kind regard still lingered, and I resolved to be worthy of it.
Eventually I hauled myself to my feet, found the dishes, and provided another specimen. For some reason, the darkness and the silence from outside the cupboard began to unnerve me. After I had retied my loincloth, I walked over to the door and held still, listening for any sign of activity. I couldn’t be sure that silence wasn’t to be expected, having no knowledge of the hour or the lab’s normal routine.
Did I dare venture out onto the tabletop on my own? It wasn’t like I was going to go very far. Might there be someone out there who didn’t know about me, like a janitor or something? Perhaps the darkness combined with my size would allow me to move about unobserved.
Could I even open the cupboard door by myself? No reason not to find out. I imagined myself proudly reporting this feat of strength to Irina, and I smiled in the dark. I set my shoulder against the door edge opposite the hinges, took a deep breath, and shoved. Gloriously, the door pivoted easily out for a quarter of a second, and then halted abruptly with a metallic clack. A latch.
I stepped back to confirm the slight progress my strength had achieved before hitting the latch. Had Irina ever latched the door before? I was sure I would have heard it and remembered if she had. Even allowing her the motive of trying to protect me, I still couldn’t remember her ever locking me in.
I shoved the door once more in frustration, then turned and glared at the NV camera. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. What were ya gonna do, bug boy? All you can do is sit tight. You’ve done it before.
Returning to the sponge, I lay down on my side and faced the wall. There’s nothing I needed out there anyway. Irina will be here soon with news. I curled up and tried to go back to sleep.
Sentry-duty flashback hit me as I came instantly alert. Someone was moving a chair out in the lab. Definitely more light seeping in from the outline of the cupboard door. I fought the instinct to roll off the sponge and hit the floor in a crouch.
Irina’s back. I looked blankly at the NV camera, waiting to hear “Good morning, Zack,” but it never came.
Someone inserted a key in the door latch and turned it, which was a sound I was sure I hadn’t heard before. Blinding light filled the cupboard as the door suddenly opened.
“Come on out,” a giant voice barked. It sounded feminine, but it was difficult to be certain at this scale. I could see part of their arm, but the white coat could belong to any of the lab’s staff.
“I haven’t got all morning,” came the voice again, a distinctly different and stronger accent than Irina’s. “Come out or I’ll drag you out.”
The fingers on the one hand I could see flexed against the palm, and I got up and walked toward the opening. My eyes had adjusted to the light by the time I had my new custodian in full view.
She wasn’t much older than Irina, probably in her mid-30s at most. Light skin, short dark brown hair (with a hint of red?), prominent nose and heavy, arched eyebrows. Dark eyes and pursed lips found me somehow disappointing.
“What are you wearing?” she sneered.
“Iri—Dr. Hart made it for me,” I said meekly. From her incredulous expression I wondered if she had heard my minuscule voice. Then she snorted and shook her head.
“Get rid of it at once,” she ordered.
“But why?” I sputtered. I bridled at her words and tone.
“This is a clinical examination,” she said, raising her severe eyebrows. “There is no room in science for convention or . . . sentiment. Dr. Hart seems to have forgotten that.”
“Where is Dr. Hart?”
“She is occupied with other duties. This project is not her only responsibility here.”
“I see,” I said, raising my head and squaring my shoulders, “and who, exactly, are you?” She cocked her head, startled by my impertinence.
“I am Dr. Parvisi,” she said slowly, confirming her accent as Persian in origin. She opened a nearby drawer and selected a sharp-looking pair of tweezers. “Now, are you going to remove that diaper or am I going to have to do it for you?”
A single glimpse of her haughty expression was sufficient to convince me of her sincerity. I untied my loincloth, wadded it up as best I could, and turned and tossed it onto the sponge.
To maintain what little dignity I had, I chose not to look Parvisi in the face as I stepped down onto the tabletop. I could only stare at the metal surface for so long, however, before I raised my gaze to her waiting smirk. Standing before this towering woman, holding my hands before my junk, I felt even smaller than my three inches of height.
She set the tweezers down on the table and reached back into the drawer, bringing out a magnifying glass and raising it to her eye. She leaned forward to bring her scrutiny to bear.
“Hands at your sides,” she commanded.
I cringed inwardly as my arms reflexively obeyed. It was already absurd to try to parry her gaze, but the distorting lens made it unbearable. The focus of her attention roamed over my naked body like a beam of contempt.
Finally she lowered the magnifying glass to the table and sat back up. She gave an audible sniff, then reached into a shelf and brought down a standard petri dish, setting it on the table before me.
“Some data is missing from your reports.” “We need your sperm motility. Give me a semen sample.”
I hesitated while I convinced myself I had heard her correctly. Her fixed eyebrows quelled all doubt.
“Now?” I asked incredulously.
She sighed impatiently. “Yes, now.”
Still I balked. “You want me to…” I grabbed my cock and gave it a half-hearted tug.
“I can extract it with a syringe if you prefer,” she replied with a mirthless smile.
My chest ached as my breath deserted me in defeat. I shuffled over to the edge of the petri dish and held my cock over the lip.
“At your size we can’t afford to lose any,” she interrupted me before I began. “Get in the dish.”
I swallowed hard, then placed one hand on the lip of the dish as I lifted one leg then the other inside. The plastic was warm against the soles of my feet. Another deep exhale, and then I spat in my shooting hand and got to work. Early on I made the mistake of glancing up at Parvisi and was rewarded with the sight of her staring impishly down at me and licking her lips.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself anywhere else, with anyone else. Images and memories flashed through my mind, but they are all eclipsed by Irina’s kind eyes and soothing voice. She held me and comforted me and encouraged me to my joy.
I came hard, but I kept my eyes closed until I was finished pulling and squeezing, desperate not to let Parvisi into any part of that sweet new memory. I finally opened my eyes to see that I had jizzed up to three feet away, subjectively reckoned. It had been a while.
Above me, Parvisi’s snort was audible. “Is that all? How pathetic.”
She didn’t wait for me to meet her mocking glare before plucking me about my upper torso and lifting me out of the petri dish.
“There’s sure to be a few more drops,” she said, pinching my deflating cock between the rough pads of her thumb and index finger. She milked me like an unproductive cow until I thought she was going to rip it off. She gave a disappointed sigh.
“I know,” she said, finally releasing my bruised member and spreading my legs apart. She rammed her pinky into my ass, pressing and probing for my tiny prostate. Her first jab made me see stars and almost knocked the wind out of me. It was like riding a pile-driver for a bicycle seat.
I looked up into the face of the giant woman torturing me. While I could see she was certainly enjoying this on one level, she was also quite serious about extracting my every last drop of cum. Eager to end my torment, I closed my eyes and gently grasped my aching cock and tried to coax out an emission that would satisfy her.
There was nothing erotic about the process; it was purely hydraulic. Parvisi’s pounding was an unhelpful distraction, and I can’t swear my bladder didn’t make a contribution. In the end, I was able to squeeze the last dregs up and out, just a small pearl perched on my pisshole.
Blessed relief as Parvisi’s digit withdrew from my anus and swooped up to my abused prick. I don’t know how she spotted my puny production, but she delicately eased it onto her fingertip and brought it up under her exacting gaze. My jaw dropped in disbelief as she inserted her pinky between her lips and licked it clean. The twinkle in her eyes as she watched my reaction was unmistakable.
“You actually thought we needed your pitiful jizz for our data?” she cackled at me, licking her lips. “I knew you were stupid enough to volunteer for this experiment, but that is truly moronic.”
My heart froze and it was a struggle not to void my bowels. Parvisi easily sensed my distress and tightened her pinch. My horror anticipated her widening grin. I frantically searched her eyes for some respite from her scorn, but I accomplished nothing more than inviting more mockery.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” she sneered. “Dr. Singh has finally accepted that finding the inverse resonance is impossible. Accordingly, your test case has been terminated.”
My blood pounded in my ears as each terrible word raked my brain. My lungs ached to breathe as her pinch amplified her sadistic glee. Somehow, I blurted out a despondent protest, “No!”
“Oh, yes,” she said with supreme satisfaction. “The team is moving on to more rewarding avenues of research. This farce is over.”
With her free hand, Parvisi reached into my cupboard and swept the contents out onto the tabletop. I lost all orientation as she desultorily tossed me into the cupboard. I landed painfully on my left shoulder. Darkness enclosed me as the door was shut and locked.
Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.
I huddled in the corner of the cupboard directly underneath the NV camera by the door on the hinge side. I doubted they were actively monitoring me at that point (if they ever were), but I guessed that the impromptu nature of my accommodations meant that they hadn’t made sure that the camera view completely covered the entire cupboard. Even so, a diligent observer could probably deduce my location. They weren’t going to think I had escaped.
I rubbed my throbbing shoulder. I knew what a dislocated shoulder looked like and mine wasn’t, but it still hurt like hell. Everything did. I had already looked for broken bones, but my despair at my impending doom made me less than methodical.
What happens to me now? Parvisi’s callousness implied I no longer held any scientific value to them. Even if they had given up on restoring me, couldn’t they learn something from observing a permanently shrunken person? Who knows what the real goals of the project were.
In any event, my life was over. I was stuck at this size forever, and no one knew where I was or cared. Lab animals are not placed in good homes after the experiment. They are destroyed.
How would they do it? I had no doubt that Parvisi could come up with a dozen entertaining methods. They almost certainly had an established protocol for disposing of specimens, even personnel assigned to the task. It was probably beneath Parvisi’s station. I almost vomited in horror when I realized the task would likely fall to Igor.
Well, they won’t take me without a fight, I thought grimly. My position by the door maximized my warning time before someone opened it. I planned to race out of the cupboard as soon as the opening allowed and then evade capture as long as I could, even jumping from the tabletop if given the opportunity. I had absolutely nothing to lose by being defiant until the end.
I shifted onto one side to prevent my legs from cramping. Fuck, my hips hurt. The prospect of actually running anywhere seemed ridiculous, but desperate people can surprise you. Anyway, I was sick of this damn cupboard.
Fear and outrage chased each other around my head, stiffening my resolve along with my limbs. Time still had no reckoning. Who knows when Igor or whoever would get around to disposing of me. Perhaps Parvisi would have time for one more humiliation. I was thirsty but I also had to piss.
I literally crapped on the floor when an enervating alarm started buzzing throughout the lab and the faint light around the cupboard door cut out. I had been so alert to any sound of someone approaching that the raucous alarm stabbed me in the chest. I stood there frozen in the dark, my heart pounding, until the stench of my own shit reached me.
I remembered seeing some shredded wipes on the floor that Parvisi had neglected to sweep out. I found them and though they were mostly dried out I was able to clean myself while waiting for my pulse to come back down. I was totally unprepared to bolt when I heard the cupboard door being unlocked.
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness sufficiently to see the giant hand enter immediately as the door opened. It groped blindly and hurriedly, but there was no room for me to dodge it. The implacable fingers found me and shoved me into the palm.
I remembered my defiance and pressed against the digits, but it was futile. Something about the scent of the enclosing skin tugged at my brain as I was swiftly extracted from the cupboard and thrust between tight fabric and the heat of a giant body. As I was pinned by more and more of my captor’s flesh, it became apparent that they had stashed me inside an undergarment. At last I recognized the familiar scent: Irina.
I was in constant motion and could hear the rapid clicking of her heels on the tile floor. From the hydrodynamic swaying of my enclosure, I eventually deduced that Irina had tucked me deeply into one of her bra cups. I finally embraced the identity of my rescuer and let relief flood over and through me.
Even the continuing alarm buzzing faded as Irina’s breath and pulse surrounded me. Her pace became less steady as she started navigating crowded corridors and stairwells. Other giants shouted questions, but Irina only answered, “I don’t know.”
Irina’s exertion and proximity to others raised the temperature dramatically. Her perspiration and mine mixed freely, creating an intoxicating humidity. I hoped she was too preoccupied with evacuating the facility to notice my tiny stiff prick pressing against the underside of her breast.
Eventually Irina came to a stop and I could hear a confused hubbub all around her. The giant voices were both loud and muffled, but I’m pretty sure I heard the word “fire” several times. I felt my limbs stiffening from holding the same position for so long, but I dared not shift around lest I reveal myself or disturb Irina.
I gasped in relief when the alarm finally ceased, so deeply had I internalized it. Shortly thereafter Irina began to walk again, somewhat slower than before. Then her pulse accelerated as she slowed and stopped, and I could tell from the ambient sounds that she had entered a smaller space than previously.
A single giant voice, probably male, began interrogating Irina.
“Do you know anything about this fire?”
“No.”
“Where were you when the alarm sounded?”
“Uh, north ladies’ room, sublevel F.”
“Did you see anyone coming out of the green wing?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What did you do after hearing the alarm?”
“I headed straight for the stairs. Stairwell B.”
“Give me your purse and empty your pockets.”
A slight swaying and a series of clatterings as Irina complied with the directions. Another giant loomed close, either to collect her purse or ensure that her pockets were empty. An awkward pause for rummaging, and Irina’s heart raced and she fought to control her breathing.
“Fine,” the voice barked finally. “You may go.” I’d heard friendlier dismissals from my company CO.
Irina walked briskly again, and then we were outside. Her heel clicks shifted from concrete to gravel, and I pictured the isolated parking lot at the end of the road through the woods.
She slowed and stopped, and I heard what must have been a car fob. I grunted as more of Irina’s mass fell on me when she lowered herself into her car seat. More compression as she reached for the seat belt and pulled it across her body. It was like being tossed by a warm and soft yet unstoppable surf.
Irina started the car and my puny mass was unaffected by the reverse acceleration and then forward motion. After about five minutes of driving, I resolved to squirm upwards for some answers and fresh air.
I hadn’t made much progress when two of Irina’s fingers reached into her bra and pushed me back underneath her breast. Not gonna argue with that.
I don’t know how long she drove with me buried in her bra cup. There was no other distinctive sound, not even music from the car stereo, so I might have dozed off. Eventually we slowed down and started a series of low-speed turns, then finally came to a full stop. Irina shut off the engine and got out of the car, subjecting me to another tidal wave.
More steady walking as Irina seemed to be navigating a large space filled with (giant) people, including what seemed like children. Food smells filtered into my enclosure, including the unmistakable scent of popcorn. A pang of hunger struck me so hard I gasped.
Through all this time, Irina spoke to no one. Certainly not to me. While I still felt immensely relieved by Irina’s rescue of me, I remained puzzled at her conduct since we first got in her car. I finally decided I had to stop trying to figure everything out. There were bigger things at work here.
The ambient sounds changed reverb as we passed through tighter and then more open spaces. Occasionally faint mechanical sounds like compressors and automatic doors loomed close but did not linger. Irina’s steady pace produced a regular sway that rocked me into a trance, for which I was grateful.
I returned to alertness when Irina stopped again. The jingle of keys and the rattle of a car door being unlocked. No fob this time, I noted. I braced for the tumble as Irina boarded the vehicle. She closed the door and I waited for the crush of the seatbelt only to be surprised by Irina’s fingers invading my torrid repose and pulling me out.
“Oh, Zack, are you alright?” Irina’s hushed by insistent voice cut through the mental fog and filled my heart. Her cradling hand and caring face were the same, but everything else was different. Her hair was contained and covered by a dark purple headscarf like a babushka, and her lab coat had been replaced by a navy-blue windbreaker. Instead of the lab we were in the cab of a rather old pickup truck.
“I’m better than alright!” I shouted up at her. “Thanks for getting me out of there! I owe you my life!”
“We’re not safe yet,” she said worriedly. “They’ve been watching me and it’ll get even worse now.” She placed me in a cup holder suspended from the dashboard with a swivel that pivoted with the truck’s motion. “We need to keep moving.”
Irina put the keys in the ignition right above my perch and started the truck.
“I left my phone in the mall, but it can’t stay there too long or they’ll figure it out.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere they don’t know about.” She furrowed her brows, then gave me a sidelong glance. “I’m afraid I have to leave you there alone for a while.”
A buzzing started in my ears as I stood there rocking in the cupholder, looking up at this immense woman driving the truck. I was going to lose her again so soon?
Irina looked down at me past her knees, dangling next to an abandoned mount for a CB mike. Her jaw was set and her eyes wide with seriousness.
“We have to plan on them searching my place. I’m sure it’s bugged, my car too probably. I’m their prime suspect, so I got a lot of acting in front of me.”
Perhaps it was the motion of the cupholder, but I felt dizzy trying to take in all the threats Irina had been contemplating and devising countermeasures for. I wanted to protect her, but of course I couldn’t.
“This truck belongs to a neighbor,” she continued. “I asked to borrow it this morning—to move some furniture I said—and when I return it I’m going to leave you in her garage.”
My apprehension must have been obvious.
“Don’t worry, Zack. Her name is Dorothy, her husband’s gone, and her children have all moved out. She spends most of her time in her garden and then posting pictures of it on Instagram. She’ll never know you’re there.”
A garage? How safe is that? I tried not to look too stunned and let her proceed. She had clearly given this plan some thought.
“There’s some shelves in there that haven’t been disturbed since her husband died,” Irina explained. I can put your crate up high where no one will see it. You can hide out there until I can come back for you.”
It sounded safe enough, but I was still struggling with the concept of being separated from Irina indefinitely. My crate? Irina’s resourcefulness so far made that sound intriguing.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “For how long?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she replied, shaking her head. “It could be weeks, even months.”
She watched for my reaction, and I didn’t want to say or do anything to alarm her. Pausing too long might raise unhelpful doubts.
“Okaay…” was the best I could manage. She exhaled and gave me a faint smile.
“We’re almost there,” she said, her enormous arms pulling the steering wheel into a turn above my head. “We don’t have long before Dorothy comes out to get her keys. There’s three gallons of water and a bunch of food, and a kind of cabin that you can latch from the inside—you’ll see what I mean.”
Another slow turn into a driveway. As soon as she engaged the parking brake Irina jumped out of the cab and raced around to the passenger side. She hauled the door open and bent over the seat to collect the crate on the floor I hadn’t noticed until then. It was an actual plastic milk crate filled with what looked like old cardboard boxes. She slipped her hands into the grips at the top and lifted it out with ease. She then vanished from my view, but I heard the sounds of her hastily shelving the crate behind other items.
With no less haste Irina reappeared at the open passenger door and leaned into the cab, this time reaching for me with a smile. I practically jumped into her hand. Walking back to the shelves in the garage, Irina held me so close to her face that it filled my entire field of vision. Her expression was a mix of tentative relief, selfless concern, and deferred anxiety.
“Zack,” she started, only to be interrupted by the sound of a door opening at the rear of the garage. Irina pursed her lips then quickly raised me to the dust-covered top shelf. My heart was as dry as the shelf as I clambered onto it out of Irina’s hold.
I hid behind what looked like an ancient tackle box as Irina turned to greet Dorothy. She was a white woman in her sixties, wearing jeans and a pale green blouse. Her short hair might once have been auburn, but it had mostly gone to gray. I still had no standard for judging giant voices, but Dorothy’s seemed startlingly deep.
“Did Ron’s truck give you any trouble?” she asked.
“The lack of power steering was difficult at first,” replied Irina, “but I got used to it.”
“Great.”
“Thanks again,” said Irina, handing over the keys. “I gotta run.”
“Anytime,” said Dorothy with a wave as Irina trotted down the driveway.
And like that, I was alone again.