The Unshrinkable Jack by Thatguy7244

‘Oddly large amount of downsized people we’ve been receiving as of late,’ Jack thought.

As Jack turns the corner to finally meet the familiar exit sign, he notices someone standing outside their apartment. The figure’s face turned away from Jack, but he knew the person given the lab attire they wore. They stood close to the door, practically leaning up against the entrance as if they were attempting to shoulder tackle down the door. Jack could see a set of boxes carefully cradling underneath the cusp of hooked fingers. Limbs awkwardly fiddling around while striving to firmly grasp the round, brass handle of the doorknob. They kicked up a leg, knee firmly planting under the cardboard base of the box. In a desperate attempt to grab the doorknob, the hand shot out. Unfortunately, their timing was too slow, and they had to immediately underhand the bottom of the box before it could fall. They’ve ultimately ended up in the same position they started in. 

Jack, who had finally decided to intervene, turned the handle. The door smoothly glided open with ease. Managing to peek inside as the door swung open, Jack caught a glimpse of the inside apartment. He wasn’t quite fond of peering into others rooms, much less prying into other people’s business. However, the sight of the room was something else to behold. A large variety of computers, technological gizmos, and chemistry sets carefully stationed within the small room of the apartment. Wires haphazardly strew across the floor as tangling bundles of it coated the carpet floor. The very covering of the floor is more cable wire than carpet. Beakers and test tubes with residues of unknown origin sat aligned on a table, ignored and neglected from cleaning. Evidently, from some of them, they were freshly used, and others to have sat there for an unknown amount of time. In Jack’s mind, it was less an actual living space, and more of a lab for experiments to run rampant.

“I didn’t ask for your help, you know!” The stranger–whose voice sounded very feminine–suddenly snaps at Jack. She turned to confront him, and Jack got to view a familiar expression of disgust. “Oh great, it’s you,” she replies snidely.

Valerie Reyes, or often referred to as Val, is a neighbor living on the same floor as Jack. Not that he’d say she is a particularly nice neighbor, which wasn’t the case at all. No, she’s a neighbor that is often neutral towards everybody else on this level, except for Jack. She had moved in some time ago to the apartment where she currently resides. Jack had assumed she was a nice enough lady at the time, and opted to address her. When he decided to play the part of the greeting neighbor, she gave him a shoulder cold enough to freeze any man in place. Ever since, Val made it abundantly clear of her attitude towards Jack whenever he was so much in a general line of sight.

Val set the box she was handling down onto the floor, landing with a light thud and the soft clatter of glasses knocking into each other. She turned to face Jack, beadlets of sweat slowly crawling down on the crease of her forehead. She quickly dabbed up the sweat with the sleeve of her shirt. Jack could instantly recognize Val from the lowest valleys and the highest peaks. It was the lab coat she wore. Val always parades herself around in that lab coat. In the hallways, laundry mat, and even at restaurants, she wore that coat like it was practically her skin. Val parts the sleeve off her tan skinned forehead, and a noticeable damp spot of sweat forms on the sleeve. 

“What’s up, doc?” Jack responds.

“Funny,” Val acknowledges. Her eyes squint at Jack. A suspicious stare appears in her eyes as she quickly scans him. Emerald colored irises darts from the top of his head to the very bottom of his soles. She gazes at Jack like he had come back from the dead. “Speaking of funny: Why are you at this size?”

Jack simply raises a brow at this. He took a moment to process the question before answering Val’s inquiry. “Because I am at the size I’m supposed to be at, I guess?”

“Unfortunately so,” Val notes. She steps closer in an awfully intrusive space for Jack. The finer details of her pores and skin magnifies in Jack’s field of vision with how close she currently was to him. Val begins to closely analyze Jack with her hand inspecting various aspects of his body. Her fingers first felt the fabric of his shirt by giving the arm holes a soft tug, and pulling on the hem which dangles loosely around Jack’s waist. Next, she prods her finger in various spots on Jack’s body. A dull, yet oddly cold, prick tickles the nerves and muscles of his torso. 

Jack, who had been standing there for an agonizingly awkward amount of time, simply had no idea what to make of the situation. What is a man meant to do when their neighbor begins to prick them with their finger, especially one that doesn't particularly like him at all? What does a man do when he’s being studied like some odd specimen discovered by modern mankind? Jack glances around for someone, possibly anyone, that would be able to break this awkward counter. Unfortunately, no one was around at all. It is simply him and Val. Jack stands there in thought, while Val continues to prod him with her digit.

Thankfully, Val stops her intrusive tapping and pulls away her hand. She stood there in deep thought, fingers caressing the jawline pensively. Although the moment had lasted a few seconds, Jack could have easily fooled into believing it was an eternity. He contemplates making a mad dash towards the stairs, even possibly risking Val chasing after him like a hound in the night. Thankfully, that wouldn’t have been the case, as she spoke up, thus breaking the painful silence between them. 

“Have you been experiencing any sort of these odd, and completely auspicious, symptoms: Nausea, dizziness, blackouts, and the disorientation of perspective? And on that note, have any of these symptoms occurred within the time frame of the past month?” Val questions with rapidfire pace.

“Um…no.”

“I need a sample.”

“What did you–”

Before Jack could even finish his sentence, Val lunges towards him. Her hand shoots out and grapples around the throttle of Jack’s neck. Her fingers clutch around the gullet with a slight force to restrain, but not completely choke out. Short, rapid breaths of air crept through the windpipe of Jack’s gullet. A straining wheeze coughs its way to attempt to form words, but only comes out as a raspy croak. With Jack’s mouth open, Val quickly snatches a q-tip from her back pocket and inserts it into his open maw. The q-tip swirls uneasily inside of Jack’s mouth. The cotton end jerks from one side to the other, forcefully maneuvering against the walls of his cheeks. The end of the q-tip scraping up and down the inner walls to collect saliva and loose cells. To add to the already stacked pile of bewilderment, Jack’s eyes shoot open with disturbing distress. 

His arms desperately try to push Val back in retaliation. Hands placed firmly against her shoulder, and elbows ready at the bend to give Val an almighty push backwards. Before he could push Val away, it seems she was already a step ahead. Val quickly moved away from Jack, her hand lighting up on its forceful grip. She removed the q-tip from Jack’s mouth, a string of saliva forcibly broken as she moved away. Val ducks back into her apartment and slams the door behind her. A word never even muttered to Jack. 

Jack leans back against the wall with an obnoxious wheeze escaping his mouth. His heart rate shot up, breathing rapidly, huffing in what little air he could salvage, and worst of all was his mouth. The phantasmal feeling of Val’s q-tip still rests from inside of his mouth. Every scrape and movement still carries some semblance of feeling from inside. Almost as if his muscles couldn’t forget the forceful invasion of it. He rests upon the vine patterned wallpaper until his breathing stabilizes, and he picks himself up. 

“Oh great. Now my day is complete,” He comments as he heads on his way outside. 

Jack strolls his way out to the parking lot. It didn’t take too long to locate his car, as the lot was scarcely filled. As he approaches his car, Jack outlines an indiscriminate course along the side. Index finger carelessly drifting along the worn paint job of his car, as it drew some nonsensical line across the hull. The finger dips and ascends aimlessly, but always avoids any spots where rust forms over chipped holes through the paint job. Jack reached the driver’s door and swung it open. The familiar scent of his car’s interior wafts into his nostrils like the aroma of a candle. He plops himself down onto the wool seat and inserts the car key into the ignition, turning it clockwise.

The engine sputters to life with a few loud coughs, but never jumpstarts alive. The revving of the engine dies out with a climatic pop. To anybody else, this would sound particularly concerning to hear. However, for Jack; this was a rather normal occurrence. He tries to start the car again, and the engine emulates the same order of events as before. The irritating game of aiming to bring the car’s engine to life continues for a solid minute. Around the fourth attempt, the stubborn engine finally caves in and decides to function. The metallic hull of the vehicle shakes as the engine roars into animation. Jack eases back into the seats, and drives off onto the road towards his fixed destination.

As Jack was busy driving, he decided to tune into the radio, as the silence inside of the car was too deafening for him to withstand. He fiddles with the knob a bit, switching from station to station for any music. Unfortunately, nearly every station appeared to be stuck with a different radio host and their morning talk show.

“The shrin–”

“–iru–”

“–epide–”

“Please show–”

“–uation when in contact with–”

“C’mon, play some tunes! I don’t care about any of that crap, I just want some music!” Jack cries out impatiently. His fingers kept readjusting the knob around, the radio constantly flipping between a variety of stations and static. Quite fortunately, Jack’s luck took a turn for the best, as he thankfully managed to land upon a channel that was actually playing music. He stations his right hand back onto the wheel at the usual 2 o’clock position. Jack comfortably sat back into his chair, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally.”

“Hey hey hey, people! This is your talk show host, Jeff Beckson, for the Mix ‘96 Variety Hour on 107.3 Kiss FM. Before we start our non-stop rock hour, where we play your favorite hits during the noon with no breaks, we have some important news to share for you,” Jeff Beckson chats after the song had just ended. Jack lightly slams the handles of his car wheel and curses to himself. He fishes his hand around inside of the console box while his eyes are focusing on the road. Meanwhile, Jeff continues to talk his head off. “It’s been an entire month since this whole fiasco began, in case some of you have been living under a rock. Statistics show that nearly 75% of this city’s population has been affected by the epidemic. Except, of course, for yours truly. Eggheads at the M.N.O.W. research facility have assured the good denizens of Macropolis that they are busy at work on a possible ‘fix’ for this recent outbreak. But hey, I want all you beautiful listeners to know this: Big or small, there’s always enough room for you on the Mix ‘96. Now, before we get back to your regularly scheduled classic hits, we’ve some important information on the recent shrinking vi–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack interrupts while inserting a CD into the player, “Very riveting stuff, but I don’t care. Honestly, it is so much trouble for a guy to listen to his favorite music.” Jack waits for the stereo to read the disc. It didn’t take too long as music started spilling out of the mics. He taps his fingers along to the beat of the song Blister in the Sun, as Jack drives towards Ms. Applebottom’s house.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Nothing out of the ordinary nor anything too exciting. Just a short thirty minute drive towards his destination, and nothing else. Jack discovers that his drive has led him towards the suburb of Macropolis, located just near the outskirts of the city. A large lot of nearly identical, hefty houses lining up one by one. It made Jack wonder how anybody, let alone anyone, could possibly distinguish a single house from another. Outside of the addresses and minor lawn decorations, every house was cursed with the conjoining appearance of unparalleled mediocrity. 

Jack inevitably arrives at the customer’s house after a solid five minutes of patrolling the road for the correct house. Despite living in the city for a solid year, Jack was rather unfamiliar with the suburban area. It was never a place he intentionally wishes to visit, nor did he have any other reason to visit outside of the occasional odd job, so it was foreign to his memory. Ms. Scarletson’s house, like every other house in the neighborhood, was unimpressive. The main notable distinction of her house in particular were various pink flamingos scattered about on the front lawn. One safely tucked amongst the bushes, one planted indiscriminately near the driveway, and two perfectly aligned so the tip of their beaks kiss each other. 

He walks up to the front door. An opulently ornate door with an intricate, rigid shape grooves into the fine wood. To further warrant the idea of fancy embellishment, the door even had a brass knocker embedded into it. Jack grabs the handle, and it utters a terrible creaking noise as it is lifted into the air. With a swift swing, the brass flung hardy against the fine wood. Jack waits around a bit for a response. From behind the door, he could faintly hear some muffled noises shuffling about from inside. After a quick second, the door swings open. 

Standing in front of the open door was (presumably) the house’s owner, a woman adorning crimson yoga pants and a white dri-fit shirt. She was quite possibly a woman in her late thirties, maybe going on forty. She was also rather curvaceous, although Jack was rather disappointed in himself for noticing that detail first. Although by no means fat or chubby, it was certainly a body type that most women her age would probably kill to obtain. An hourglass figure that was kept well in shape through vigorous training, exercise, and most likely luck. She leans up against the frame, elbow perching neatly upon the wooden material as her balled fist rested up against the side of her head. Her free hand glided through her chocolatey color hair, brushing aside a long, wavy portion concealing nearly half of her nubile appearance. The beautiful stranger stares at Jack with cautious curiosity with light sky blue irises. 

“Can I help you with something?” She asks. Her voice was soft and pedantic. A kind of soothing tone that lulls the woeful ailments of any man. Any man except for Jack, that is.

“Hey,” he greets. He waited for a response from the lady of the house, but didn’t receive any. She simply stares at Jack like he were some conman peddling his snakeoil to her. Jack reaches down into his pocket and materializes his phone. Tapping on the text app, he presents his screen to the woman. “I’m Jack. You contacted me earlier this morning. I’m here to clean.”

Her face lit up with astonishing surprise. “Oh, you’re Jack! I’d thought you’d be arriving pretty soon. Why yes, I’m Miss Scarletson, but everybody just calls me Scarlet. God, I feel so embarrassed for not recognizing you at first. I mean, I hadn’t any idea of what you’d look like when I saw your ad. I do have to say, what with recent events and whatnot, you’re nothing like I pictured at all. If anything, I’d expected you to be…well, y’know.” 

“No, I don’t,” Jack answers bluntly.

Scarlet was hesitant at first. Her words seem to clog in the back of her throat like a congesting sink drain. It almost appears as if she were afraid to say what she intends to utter. Her mind mustering all the mental capacity to stop herself before complete and utter embarrassment. However, she finally musters up enough courage to say it, “Small. You’re a lot taller than I expected you to be. To be frank, I thought you’d be a lot, lot, lot, lot shorter.” 

“Oh, really?” Jack muses aloud, “Well, sorry to disappoint.”

“Honestly, that’s no problem at all. Far from the case,” She replies with a bright smile. She steps aside from the front entrance, and offers entry for her hired help. Jack receives the message and happily steps inside, tools and cleaning supplies in tow. As he advances indoors, Jack could faintly pick up some muttering words under Scarlet’s breath. The finer details were unknown, but Jack could definitely hear something about ‘the right size’.

“‘Ey?” Jack asked, his head turning towards Ms. Scarletson. He wasn’t entirely certain if it were his ears playing tricks on him, or she actually said something. “You say something?” 

“I said that it’s better if we get a move on. Come on, I’ll show you around the house,” She replies with a nervous smile. Scarlet quickly scurries past Jack at a cursory pace. Before he could even process her words, Scarlet latches her grip around his wrist, yanking on his arm like a chain. Jack aims to politely free himself from her clutches by attempting a delicate removal of her grip. However, he found that her clasp was a lot more iron like than he anticipated, and Jack is involuntarily dragged along for this impromptu tour of her house.  

The tiny claws at the white fabric of the couch. Nails dug deep into the linen material as she cautiously attempts to climb. A herculean task for somebody at the diminutive size of four inches. The downsized girl carefully locks her fingers around the checkered pattern of the linen while she meticulously makes certain of her own footing. One small misstep or slip up could spell quite a drop. Nothing to necessarily cause death, but it would warrant some bruising. Through trial and tribulation, the top of the couch cushion was in near reach. Hand clasping around the edge of the cushion, she hauls her body over onto the couch. Arms straining with pain from the tedious and long journey. 

Far too exhausted to actually pick herself up, the tiny teenager opts to simply roll her way to the center of the cushion. After finally positioning herself, she let her muscles relax. A soothing sensation washes over her. Every muscle in her body gave way to a beautiful release of pent up pressure. It was like a colossal weight was finally left off of her. A feeling that was often regular to her, but it felt amazing nonetheless. The pillow-like softness sunk underneath the weight of her tiny body. She stretches out her arms and tucks them behind her head, fingers interlocking with each other while catching wild strands of her hair. She closed her eyelids and exhaled deeply.

“Ah yes, the couch,” She said to herself aloud, “The solace of luxury and bliss. The best place for a downsized person to lounge around on, as nothing erotically fantastical happens here to a tiny. Nope, no sir, not a couch of all places. It’s not like some giantess is gonna sit on me. No, that’s just ridiculous. Since when has that ever occurred. Never, because it’s just unheard of. Nothing bad ever happens to a tiny person on a couch.”

Despite her eyes being shut, the miniature woman could instinctively tell something was above her. A large object clearly blocking out the radiant light from the bulbs hanging from above. She opens her eyes to see what obscures the gleaming beams of the ceiling light. 

“Oh.”

“And this is our living room, as well as a personal yoga space for me. It’s quite spacious, as you can see,” Scarlet introduces the room to Jack, who was still being dragged about by her hand like a ragdoll. He had been forcefully hauled to nearly every single room in the house, and begrudgingly endured a long-wind list of interesting facts about each living space. The only room that Jack had yet to visit was the room desperately needing cleaning, for which he was hired for in the first place. Yet, despite attempting to bring it up, he is swiftly cut-off by Scarlet as she jostles him away to a different room. 

True to her words, the living room was certainly extensive and roomy. All four sides of the area were occupied with some variety of furnishings and equipment, yet there was plenty of space between them. One corner was practically a dedicated workout space for her to use. Yoga balls, a treadmill, cardio bike, and dumbbells of varying weights. It could practically be like a micro-gym given how much room was committed to it, despite the fact it didn’t take up too much space. 

Scarlet walks towards the couch with Jack in tow, eagerly rushing him to sit down as they both pass over the laid out yoga mats. Before she could offer a seat to him, she quickly took notice of something sprawling out on the couch. A squared photo frame laid out on the linen material of the couch. Levelled flatly on the sofa, the frame was presenting the backside of itself while obscuring the actual picture. Scarlet gingerly lifts the frame off the sofa and brings it closer to her. Underneath the fallen holder, much to Jack’s surprise, was a downsized person. A young woman who appeared to be late into her teenage years, possibly entering young adulthood. Her body was sprawling out in an eagle position, looking dazed and confused.

“Oh my goodness!” Scarlet cries out, “My photo frame!” She lifts it up close to her. A distraught expression contorts on her face as she assesses the damage. The protective glass that shields the photograph had shattered. A noticeable splinter that shatters the single panel into multiple pieces, luckily holds in place within the borders. She gently lays down the broken frame onto the coffee table. “Oh damn it! That frame really complimented the wall decorations as well.”

Jack, who was more concerned for the young woman’s health, hovers over her body. The young woman’s body hadn’t moved at all, and was seemingly dead, given all appearances. Jack brought his index finger close, prodding at the sides of the young woman. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” the young woman croaks, her voice rather raspy. She wraps her tiny hands around the enormous digit. With a light tug from Jack, she was instantly up and on her feet. She staggers on her balance, but is able to maintain it after a short while. Jack mentally sighs in relief as the miniscule woman was perfectly fine and without a scratch, despite her reduced size.

“Gwendolyn!” Scarlet chides aloud, her voice a stern mixture of harsh strictness and peeving agitation. Her arms interlinking across her chest, a telltale sign of any parent ready to have a firm talk with their child. 

The young woman, who Jack guesses is Gwendolyn, jumps back in surprise at her colossal mother’s tone of voice. Her body begins to quiver uncontrollably, shaking with unparalleled ferocity comparable to a terrible cold. Gwen quickly bolts off the couch, leaping off the edge and latching onto the pant leg of Jack’s jeans. She hastily scurries down the pant leg, nimbly maneuvering downwards like a squirrel on a tree. By the time her legs hit the carpet floor, she turns tail towards the opposite direction of her mother. Her miniature legs sprinting at the maximum capacity for someone her size. She rounds a corner that leads into a hallway, and is spared from her mother’s fury. 

Scarlet turns towards Jack, an almost embarrassing expression forms across her face. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. My stepdaughter can be quite a handful at times.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” Jack answers, hoping to reinstate some assurance. The last thing he ever hopes is to make other people feel uncomfortable. 

“Are you a bit parched? I could go grab a glass of water if you want?” She asks, entirely out of nowhere. Jack didn’t even have time to process the question at first. He simply stood there, a bit dazed by the spontaneity of her inquiry. Jack stares at Scarlet with eyes that hide a brain attempting to process her sudden choice of words. After no response, she spoke up, “Okay, I’ll go grab something to drink from the kitchen.”

“Wait, maybe I should start the job that you hired me to do, and the drinks could possibly wait until after…” Jack’s sentence trails off a bit as she was already gone before he could finish. Swiftly power walking her way towards the kitchen area, and leaving Jack by his lonesome. He sighs and sits back onto the couch. The soft material pampering his hardy landing onto the foamy components. It gently caresses his weight, and is practically like sitting on top of a cloud. He sets down his cleaning supplies onto the floor, and pulls out his phone. It had been nearly an hour and a half, and his job hadn't even begun yet. 

He lounges around a bit. The drinks had taken more time than he expected, as from the kitchen area, he could faintly hear Scarlet rummaging through the cabinets. Stifling sounds of miscellaneous kitchen supplies lightly clinking against each other as she shuffles about through them. Probably searching for some cups, but it was difficult to say. Nonetheless, Jack’s simply bored. His eyes wander around the living area in search of something interesting. Nothing stood out that isn’t typical to the living room nor anything remotely exotic. Television set, bookcase, and various potted plants, but nothing out of the ordinary. His eyes then follow down at the broken picture. The hostile exchange between her and Gwen was still fresh in Jack’s mind. He too would be pretty upset at something broken, but a picture frame? It could be easily replaced, and didn’t even cost a king’s ransom to purchase another one. 

He leans over to pick up the picture. The adhesive force that kept the glass from falling out was beginning to loosen. Jack carefully steers the photo closer to him without some shard of glass disappearing amongst the carpet. Despite the fragmented glass panel, Jack could view the picture with crystal clarity. It was a picture of Scarlet, or at least her lower half. She’s down on one knee with the other leg extending outwards behind her. The focus of the shot was definitely meant to highlight the more bulbous features of her rather risque position. A firm backside tightly straining against the airtight fabric of her white yoga pants. Which, now that Jack looks at it, is the same clothing that Scarlet is wearing today. Red yoga pants pairing with a loose dri-fit white shirt.

“Drinks are ready!” Scarlet chimes out in a cheery tone. She walks towards Jack with two glasses brimming with water and ice cubes. She places both cups down onto wooden coasters, ice cubes gently rattling against another from the motions. As she sits down, Scarlet notices Jack with the photo in hand, and flashes a nice smile at him, “Like it?”

“You just keep a framed photo of your ass in the living room?” Jack questions.

“Well, of course,” She answers earnestly, “How else are guests supposed to know my ass is fat?”

Jack opens his mouth to respond, but pauses for a moment to come up with a retort. The logical cogs of his brain begin to stagnate, grinding to an eventual halt. Stuck mid-process as if they had all spontaneously rusted on the spot. Jack closes his mouth and sets the picture down onto the coffee table. He grabs the glass of water, icy coldness transferring onto his palm. He replies to Scarlet in an effort to change the subject, “So, um, your kid. I’m kinda curious to know about them. Stepdaughter, eh?”

“Oh, Gwendolin?” Scarlet asks, an intriguing tone in her voice. Jack was rather happy that the change of subject went by as smoothly as it did. “Again, sorry about what you saw before, but yes, she’s my stepdaughter. She’s actually my ex husband's daughter, so that way it’s less weirdly incestuous when we get into coincidentally erotic scenarios.”

“Wuh?”

“Do you have anybody living with you?” She queries.

Jack mentally does a double take on her words, but quickly disregards them as his ears playing tricks on him. He replies, “I do live with somebody. They’re kinda small and–”

Scarlet’s eyes lit up with curious content. “Oh! You have a little person living with you? Let me guess, is it a relative of yours, or one of your neighbors? Ooh, maybe it’s someone you knew at work, or possibly one of those borrowers that lurk around inside of the walls?”

“I live with Mouse,” Jack answers earnestly, almost entirely bluntly.

“Oh, really!” Scarlet chirps. She smiles abashedly, like it was a stupid question to ask from the get go. “Well, I guess having a pet mouse is very similar to keeping a tiny.” 

Jack didn’t even bother to correct Scarlet on her misconception of Mouse. He simply dismisses the comment, and opts to move on with their conversation, especially with his task at hand. Before Jack could bring up the topic, he raises the glass of water towards his mouth. A faint droughtiness had overcome his throat. The dryness tingling the inner walls of his esophagus for something to cure his ailing exsiccation. Lips touch upon the crystal glass, and Jack tips the bottom upwards. Water slowly trickles down towards his gullet in eager anticipation. Practically crawling to escape from its glass confinement, and makes its way down the throttle into his stomach. 

Streams of cool water found themselves sailing down the passageway of Jack’s mouth. Icy cold water smoothly cruising as the drink quenches his thirst. Jack put down the glass after satisfying his need for it. Swiping off any residual droplets, an odd taste left lingering on his taste buds. He thought that the taste isn’t awful, not by any stretch of the imagination, nor is it pleasant. It’s just a bizarre tang. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the water has a different taste to it. 

‘Probably got it from the tap,’ He thought.

Scarlet kicks her legs over the side of the couch, her posture leaning towards a more sultry position. She scoots over closer to Jack, practically touching him with her body. He squirms uncomfortably in his seat with her intolerable body heat radiating off of her.

“So, Jack,” She starts, “Do you ever get lonely just being by yourself? I mean, I can’t imagine how lonesome it gets with just yourself and a mouse.”

Jack took another swig of his drink, and states, “Well, I guess some extra company couldn’t hurt. It does get a little boring sometimes with just me and Mouse.”

“Oh, is that so?” Scarlet chimes, her voice lowering into a more sultry tone, “Well, I guess you and I are kindred spirits. Y’know, I’ve been alone something fierce myself. Gwen is a good kid to play around with, but I need a real man to take care of my personal needs. A man to pamper me after a long, hard day of cleaning. A man who really knows how to fill all those nooks and crannies. A man who’ll help keep me clean after all those sweaty, hot workout sessions. You know what the best part of him is?”

“No.”

“The best part of him is…” She pauses while leaning closer to Jack. Face in full view of his peripheral view, blotting out everything until her own features were barricading the whole scene. Scarlet inclines over to Jack, her voice softly whispering into his ear hole, saying, “He fits right into the back of my pocket.”

“That is an awfully big pair of pants,” Jack comments.

They both sat on the couch staring at another with an expression of puzzlement. Scarlet was staring at Jack, as if she were waiting for something to occur. Like a startling metamorphosis in which a person’s whole entire mass and height is suddenly altered to be the size of an insect or doll for instance. Jack’s thoughts were just generally confused by the whole situation. What could he make out of this situation? Nothing, really. He simply scoops away from her until he reaches the armrest lying closest to him. He notices Scarlet repositioning herself into a more formal sitting stance. 

“Um, are you waiting for something to happen?” Jack questions with an uncertain tone to his voice.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

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“Well, uh, I’m sorry that you feel so alone. I’m not entirely certain what I can do about that, but I was kinda wondering if we could back onto the subject of the job I’m supp–”

“It’s just not fair!” Scarlet suddenly spouts out aloud, interrupting Jack, “How come all the women in my yoga circle get a small man for themselves, but not me! All I have is Gwen, but I want a little man to hold close to me. But so far, this whole shrinking virus affair hasn’t even offered me anything remotely close to that.”

Jack pauses after hearing what Scarlet says. Her words gave a sense of undoubtable skepticism for Jack’s ears. He slowly rotates his upper half to meet the sky-blue eyes of the hostess. His head cocks to the side in muddling uncertainty. “I’m sorry, was the last bit you were talking about?”

“The shrinking virus,” she replies with the utmost seriousness, “You know? The virus that causes infected people to shrink. It’s been a thing going on for the past month or so. There was a whole epidemic about the thing. Have you seriously not heard about it?”

Scarlet waits for a response from Jack as he contemplates this new shocking revelation (at least to him). Jack’s index finger strums along his jawline as it brushes by prickling, stubby hairs. “No,” he answers, attempting to fight back a torrent of fits and giggles. Inevitably, he caves into the ridiculous idea of a virus that shrinks people, and begins to have a nice chuckle at the thought.

“This is a real thing! I’ve had to be quarantined off from work, and I've been trapped in this house for a ridiculously long three weeks because Gwen got it,” Scarlet protests. 

“Well if that’s such a big deal, then why did you invite me over? Wouldn’t you also be at risk for catching this ‘shrinking virus’?” Jack retorts.

“I take my supplements. I think I’m more than healthy enough to resist it, unlike some people that I know of.”

“Okay, look,” Jack starts, “I can completely believe that we, as a society, have become scientifically advanced enough that we have created–as well as perfected–technology that shrinks people and objects. I can completely believe that this technology is accessible enough to ask a doctor to prescribe it. I can completely believe that we can bypass the square-cube law, and tinies are now as durable as steel and without risk of dying via a boot. But a virus that shrinks the host it infects, that’s just stupid. I mean, what’s next, the virus is gonna suddenly mutate and only affect men. I mean, that just sounds like some highly improbable explanation for somebody’s fantasy. It’s ridiculous.”

The familiar brass knocker of the front door locks eyes with Jack once again, but not before following the loud slam of the door. Scarlet followed Jack behind with a strong push of her hands, and a long string of berating. Her quick series of light, yet oddly stark, taps kept pushing Jack towards the front entrance until he was completely through it. Before the door could be rudely shut by her, Jack noticed an extremely peeved look on her face. Nothing appearing outright ballistic, but a clear indication of being mildly miffed. 

Jack’s head hangs low, and he tackles the first step on the walk of shame back to the car. His eyesight consistently keeping track of the ground and his footsteps. With a hop, skip, and a jump through the cement walkway, Jack made his way to the car. He plops down onto the seat, and starts up the ignition with ease. 

“Damn it,” He curses, and drives off back to his apartment. 

The drive back to Jack’s apartment was much quicker than the drive towards the destination. Without sparing a second, Jack finally reaches his apartment room and opens the door. Barrenness. A common sight for Jack to witness whenever he steps through the door. A small flat that has little to no furniture, paintings, or anything else to compensate for the overwhelming negative space. One might be given the impression that the entirety of the apartment is abandoned. The only saving grace for the pitiful coop were the few bits of furniture Jack was lucky enough to salvage: A mattress (no bedspring), an old 2000s CRT TV (no stand for it, as it sits on the floor), a bean bag chair, and some beaten up drawer. But material possessions were only a piece of the whole problem for Jack, the rest was simply a matter of money. Never having enough to buy the things he needs, the things he wants. Always scraping by on the skin of his own back, but never enough to simply spend on himself. 

Jack sulks over to the bean bag chair. Carefully surveying the chair as he sees that Mouse was nowhere to be found lounging on it. Safe to sit down on without the risk of sitting on someone else. He flops backward onto the cushy material, indenting his body frame into the buoyancy of the chair. Jack’s body slouches as his body carelessly slides, causing his back to curve at an exponential angle. Legs kicking out across the expanse of the carpet, feet lazily slumping to opposite sides. His arms left dangling limply over the arm rests as his hands gently rocks in a motion. He let out a deep sigh, and stared at the blank television set. 

He didn’t particularly feel like watching any television. The downward sway of his emotions greatly hindering his mood for anything enjoyable. Jack blankly beheld the dark screen in front of him. His eyes staring with nothing behind them expect a vacant thought. It was like something that was stuck in between the realms of full consciousness, and a corpse. In other words: The lights were on, but nobody was home. He stares at the black screen of his old television, eyes gazing with a dead look and empty thoughts behind them. His reflection mimicking the same action, and staring right back at him. 

He sometimes had the thought that maybe he wasn’t gazing at his own reflection, but a different one. Jack wasn’t entirely certain of the image itself, as it appears murky to him. It was like looking into muddled water that was rippling. A blurry visage that was nearly impossible to properly decipher, and yet, was definitely present. Was it really Jack that was staring into his own reflection, or was it someone else entirely?

Jack snaps out of his trance when he feels something tug on his finger. Leaning over his side, he found Mouse right behind the bean bag tugging at his middle finger. A clear sign of pining for Jack’s attention, as he did just arrive not too long ago. Not only did Jack know that Mouse was there to welcome him after a long day’s work, but also to inquire about it as well. Jack’s hand elevates upwards towards the edge of the cushion. Jumping as high as he could, Mouse desperately attempts to latch onto the digit as he would be brought as well. Unfortunately, he’s too late, and the hand went port side. Jack lays out both arms on his lap, and addresses Mouse.

“Hey Mouse,” he greeted defeatedly. Despite the failed attempt to reach him, Jack saw that Mouse was yet deterred. He quickly scampers to his extended leg, and crawls on top of it. Jack hasn’t flinched or twitched to accidentally flick Mouse off, as he trains himself to not do. Mouse carefully balances himself on Jack’s leg. Each step as cautious and precarious as a trapeze performer in the circus. Eventually, Mouse makes his voyage across the leg and to Jack’s lap, where his hands lay lax. 

Mouse holds his small hands around Jack’s pinky finger. Extremely miniscule digits softly squeezing the flesh of column-like fingers. Mouse looks up at Jack, and despite his eyes being obscured, Jack fully knew the expression that Mouse had at the moment. Mouse is concerned about him. Jack knew Mouse could sense the unease that was currently strangling him like a python with its prey. Of course, he would want to know what was eating at him, and the time worn answer of ‘It’s nothing’ wouldn’t suffice. No, Jack fully knew that Mouse would simply keep bugging him until he inevitably cracks. Jack thought, ‘I might as well just humor the stubborn little tike.’

“In case you’re wondering, I screwed it up,” Jack answers bluntly. “I drove all the way to the suburbs, and didn’t even get a single dime out of it. She got all pissy at me and rushed me out of the house before I could even start the job. Money’s still gonna be tight around here. Rent’s been paid this month, but food is a different can of worms. Mouse, what am I gonna do? I-I…God.”

Jack fell slack once again. His head hangs back to face the white blankness of the ceiling as he mulls over the situation. Jack felt Mouse swath his small arms around his finger, hugging it tightly as if it were his body. He could feel the tiny hands of Mouse gently rub and pat his digit in an attempt to relieve him. It was comforting, in an odd sort of way. It felt like a caring hug despite the obvious size difference. Jack drapes his other hand behind Mouse in an attempt to bring him closer, smothering the tiny borrower in between his palm and forehand. For a few moments, it was pleasant and soothing. Until, of course, Jack felt something off with Mouse.

There was definitely something on Mouse’s back. It felt round, and crunched like a wrapper when pressing upon it. Jack sneaks his fingers underneath the burly felt of Mouse’s coat, and snatches away the hidden object. Mouse let out a loud squeak as Jack’s colossal fingers forcefully penetrates his garments, seizing the concealed possession. Jack holds the object in view and easily identifies it. It was the snack he was saving for later. A rich, creamy cheese snack that is wrapped in a wax covering and wrapper. The outside of the plastic covering had a large strand of tape attached to it.

Jack stares at Mouse with a disappointing expression. Of course the borrower, dressed like a mouse, would attempt to steal his cheese. A melancholic look appears on Mouse’s face. His head hangs low with the guilt of being caught red-handed. The black, beady buttons on the hood stood agape with remorse–despite the lack of actual expression. It was clear to Jack that Mouse was repentant about the cheese situation. He simply sighs, and drops the cheese snack next to Mouse.

“Go on,” He insists, “You can have it. I’m not really in the mood to have anything at all.”

Mouse looks with uncertainty at first. A quick reassuring nod from Jack giving him the OK to dig in. The borrower unravels the wrapper with a lingering hesitance. Plastic crunches with each grasp from his small hands. With the wrapper gone, next came the wax sealing. Mouse grabs the exposed piece of paper at the top, and heaves downwards against the red colored wax. A thin line of white, creamy cheese fully exposing itself from the peeled line. The rest was easier said than done, and Mouse extracts the fresh snack from the sealing.

Jack simply lays back. Not to sleep, or watch whatever was on television, or even read anything, just to lay back against the cushy material and be there. He felt something small prod against his gut. A minute, yet still very noticeable, poke trying to penetrate through the flesh and fat for attention. Following the odd prick, Jack found Mouse standing by with the cheese held up to him. 

“You want to share it?” he asks. Mouse simply nods in response. He reaches down and pinches half of the cheese, but doesn't tear. “Okay, let’s see who can get the bigger portion. We’ll pull on the count of three. Ready? 1…2…3!”

Jack and Mouse began prying at the small, round piece of cheese. Mouse tugs at his end with all the might that a borrower could give. Muscles straining against the colossal strength of his roommate. Jack, on the other hand, didn’t need to exert as much force as his miniscule friend. Yet, the overwhelming difference in size and brawn didn’t save Jack from tearing off a bigger portion. Jack’s fingers begin slipping through the slick surface as the opposing force of each other. In a split second, Jack’s grasp manages to snatch off a small chunk of the round cheese. Mouse fell backwards on his lap with a more than generous wedge of the wheel. 

Jack simply chuckles at this. He extends out the smaller piece to Mouse. “Don’t suppose you’ll mind if we traded?”

Mouse eagerly accepts the smaller, and hands off his larger chunk to Jack. The borrower didn’t hesitate for a moment to begin nibbling into the piece. Jack pinches the felt poncho and hoists Mouse into the air. The tiny man slightly swaying in the grasp, but for panicking or even displaying any signs of fear, he shows none. He simply just continues to nibble into the cheese chunk within his hands. Carefully maneuvering Mouse, Jack deposits him into his left breast pocket. 

“Alright,” Jack said, a smile cracking on his face, “Why don’t we see what's on TV?” Two button eyes peek over the barrier of cloth, eager as well to see what was on the boobtube. And so, both Jack and Mouse went on enjoying their evening watching television. 

Meanwhile, Val peers through the lens of her microscope. The invisible world of the microscopic in a crystal clear image for her to witness. She was busy studying the current sample underneath the lens. Little blobs of residue microorganisms swim aimlessly around on the saliva sample. Directionless and blissfully drifting around in the small world they inhabited. Unaware of the godly eye that peers above them, who studies them with curious intellect. Shifting the slide around, Val carefully analyzes the environment to locate the virus.

It appears to be an almost fruitless endeavor. However, Lady Luck shines down upon Val, as her eyes bulge with excitement. The robotic shape of the bacteriophage came into view of Val’s sight. The virus swims directly towards the amoeba with vigorous intent. Little appendages kicking with fierce momentum. Reaching the cell in no time flat, the bacteriophage readies to inject the left-over organism. The phage shifts its body down, and injects the syringe-like needle into the cell. After a few moments, the phage begins unlatching itself and drifting aimlessly with other cells. 

Val waits for the process of shrinkage to occur. And she waits. And she waits. And she waits. Nothing.

“Damn it!” She curses aloud. Val pushes away from the desktop, and rolls on her office chair towards her phone. Her digits rapidly inputting the number from the dial, Val patiently waits for someone to pick up on the other end. A crack of light suddenly came flooding into the room, breaking away any natural darkness in its path. 

“Hey, Ms. Reyes,” A chirper voice rings out. A young black woman steps through the door carrying two coffees with a bag of bagels. Adorning in a similar attire to Val, she set the coffee next to her superior. She peers over at the microscope with mystifying interest. Moving her thick, black framed glass on her forehead, she peeks through the lens of the microscope. “Whatcha got working on here, Ms. Reyes?”

“Nothing, Mel. Nothing but a failed experiment,” Val replies.

“Oh, sorry,” She said with a tinge of embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it, Mel. It’s just the natural process of the scientific method,” Val reassures. She takes the coffee in hand and sips out of it. A smooth blend of cream and sugar washing down her throat, and pleases the senses of her taste buds. “Thanks for the coffee as well.”

The long hold music of the phone suddenly came to an abrupt end when a voice pops up on the other end. It was a bland, all around normal voice that picks up the call and answers, “Hello, who is this?”

“This is Valerie Reyes, lead scientist at M.N.W.O. I have news about the shrinking virus case on Jack.”

“Oh,” the voice piped up in attention, “I assume the virus worked as intended on him?”

“Take one guess as to how it went,” she asks sarcastically. 

There was a brief moment of silence on the receiver’s end. The voice was probably contemplating the answer as if the answer wasn't obvious enough. “It didn’t work, did it?”

“No, the virus successfully managed to infect and shrink him–OF FUCKING COURSE IT DIDN’T WORK! He somehow gained an immunity to it!” Val shouts. She leans back into her chair, and pinches at the bridge of her nose. 

“Well, what do we do now?” The voice asks, although somewhat timidly, “Should we administer the vaccine to the populace?”

“How effective is the vaccine?”

“Well, the vaccine does manage to successfully fight against the virus. Patients manage to return to their natural height. The regrowth process is pretty slow, but they get there”

“Might as well administer it,” Val says, punctuating it with a long sigh.

There was another moment of pause. The bland voice was silent while they’re most likely gathering their thoughts, “Well, what do we do now?”

Val sighs deeply once more. Her free hand clasps around the face and begins to rub the temples. A dull, throbbing pain courses through the confines of her mind with the painful grace of a bullet through the skull. She opens the top right drawer of her desk. Miscellaneous office materials and other junk freely furling around the small compartment. Val nabs a small bottle of headache medication and pops open the lid. Two small, marmalade colored pills fall out of the unsealed bottle, and are placed onto Val’s open palm. She quickly lobs the small pills into her mouth, and guzzles it down with her coffee.

“We’ll just have to move onto the next plan,” She answers. The migraine medication’s magic kicking into effect as the headache quickly vanishes. “The Macro New World Order project has to be put into effect, and the stone will get rolling when Jack’s out of the equation.