“So what do you have for me?” Alyssia asked.
She knew better than to ask him about how shitty he looked. The man was obviously tired, with heavy eyelids seemingly being dragged down by the dark bags under his eyes. The tone of his skin was a bit pale, and the skin around his jawline sagged slightly. This assignment was clearly kicking his ass.
Alyssia wanted to thank Arnold for his hard work or check to make sure he was okay, but she knew he would only shrug off such praise or concerns. Having spent the past three years working with the director of Research, she knew that he just wanted to focus on the job. So the best way she could show her gratitude was to get right to the point.
“Right this way, ma’am,” he said.
Arnold directed her attention to the large TV screen in the back of the main room on the Research floor, the same one where he had shown Alyssia the footage of the girl with the blue streaks just four days prior. She watched as video footage started playing on the screen.
The angle of the camera was high, showing four gas pumps within the width of the shot. A dark blue, newer model Honda Civic pulled up to pump three, located at the top right of the screen. The driver’s side door opened, and a woman with curly, shoulder-blade length darker shade of hair stepped out of it.
“Meet Natasha Chalmers,” Arnold said with a grin.
The footage paused as the screen zoomed in on the woman’s face. Alyssia could tell the woman was in her early-to-mid 20s and that she looked tired.
“How did you get this?” she asked. “And how do you know that’s her?”
Arnold’s smile only widened a bit at the questions. He typed a few commands with a keyboard sitting on a desk just below the large monitor, causing the screen to split between the close-up camera shot and a photo of a woman with curly red hair frowning into the camera, only her head and shoulders in the frame. Clearly the same woman.
“I … requested the security footage of any gas stations within a two-mile radius of our three surveillance areas. Thankfully, there were only three that fit the criteria,” he explained. “I was watching last night’s footage from this morning and recognized this little lady from the photo that the DMV has on file for Chalmers.”
Alyssia’s eyes went wide as she stared at Arnold in disbelief.
“You’ve been watching that much surveillance footage this whole time?” she questioned. “By yourself?!”
Arnold’s tired expression managed a dry smirk.
“The people I usually have do this kind of work are watching the security surveillance at Voss’s apartment and Sanders’s dorm,” he said. “You taking this so seriously but not being able to give me details scares the hell out of me, so I’m doing whatever it takes to get this done.”
A feeling of guilt hit Alyssia. She had been working the department pretty hard, stressing how important this assignment was. They were all used to working under pressure, digging up dirt on corporate rivals or even potential business partners to have a leg up in negotiations with tight deadlines.
But this … this was so much more important than that. Not only did they have to help Duncan, but they had to make sure whatever happened to him never happened to anyone else ever again. Yet she never meant to scare them to the point of overworking themselves to such a degree. Fuck, she had to say something. Show her appreciation. Anything!
“But you interrupted me before I got to the best part,” Arnold broke Alyssia from her thoughts. “Guess who the car is registered to?”
Alyssia gave her head a slight shake, rejoining the conversation.
“You can’t mean ...” she trailed off.
Arnold hit a few more keys on the keyboard, splitting the screen into thirds instead of halves, with a new photo occupying the right third of the screen, this one also of a woman with only her head and shoulders in the shot.
“It’s her!” Alyssia shouted, ignoring the attention she was drawing to herself from the Research employees.
The woman was smiling brightly in the photo, unlike Natasha. Her straight blond hair flowed past her shoulders, pairing nicely with those bright blue eyes staring back at Alyssia. But it was the streaks of blue dye running through her hair that made Alyssia so excited. They had her!
“Her name’s Lyra,” Arnold said. “Lyra Dreibach.”
Alyssia could only nod in response, her eyes never leaving the picture of the elusive woman, Lyra, staring back at her.
“New York City native. 23 years old. 5’7”. 114 pounds,” Arnold recited. “That’s all we know about her so far, but I just figured this out about an hour ago. I haven’t even had time to tell the staff.”
Alyssia finally pried her eyes off the screen, turning her attention back to the man whose devotion gave them their first real break in the investigation.
“Fuck it,” she said. “I know you hate this, but thank you so much! Really, you being so hands on with this means more than you’ll probably ever know. For me and for Ms. Shale. This is amazing work!”
Then a realization struck Alyssia.
“Wait,” she said. “If Natasha is in town, then Duncan, Callie, and Ada could be in danger!”
Arnold shook his head.
“Duncan? You mean the guy from upstairs who’s been missing for eight months? He’s got something to do with this?” he asked. “But don’t sweat the other two. We’ve still got eyes on both Voss and Sanders’s places. Everything’s been quiet.”
Alyssia barely acknowledged Arnold as she moved past him, heading toward an area in the center of the room. She stopped at one of the legion of cubicles there, stepping inside to find a middle-aged man in a business suit staring at a pair of monitors. She recognized the entrance to Callie’s apartment on the left screen and the entrance to Ada’s dorm on the right one.
“Any activity at either site, Smith?” Arnold’s deep voice rolled over Alyssia’s shoulder.
The man at the desk explained that Callie and Ada had each left their respective homes a little bit earlier, both of them carrying book bags with them. That checked out to Alyssia, who knew that both of them had morning classes at roughly the same time. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief and step away when something stood out to her on the left screen.
“Arnie,” she said nervously. “What kind of car would you say that is parked just in frame near Callie’s apartment?”
Arnold stepped deeper into the cubicle, leaning in to examine the screen more closely.
“That’s a navy blue Honda Civic, one of the newer models,” he said. “Why do you …”
Arnold stopped talking, standing up straight with wide eyes that met with Alyssia’s own shocked expression. The two of them bolted out of the cubicle at the same time, almost colliding with one another, before sprinting toward the elevator.
“Chalmers must be waiting for something,” Arnold said as they reached the elevator. “My guy would have said something if she had entered the apartment.”
The elevator doors opened with a ding, and the two stepped inside, pushing the button for the ground floor.
“You have your gun on you, right?” Alyssia asked.
Arnold nodded, the perplexed look on his face making clear that he had no idea what he was about to get into.
“Good, we might need it,” Alyssia said. “I know you have a ton of questions right now, but right now all you need to know is that we have to stop Natasha from doing … whatever it is she’s planning on doing. The sooner we get there, the better.”
A grunt in the affirmative was all she needed to hear to know that Arnold was going to be a professional about this, just like he always has been. Just as the elevator doors opened to let them off on the ground floor, another thought came to mind.
“And Arnie,” she said as she pulled out her phone, ready to warn the appropriate people about the situation. “If we end up having to go inside Callie’s apartment, watch your step.”
********
Monica pushed the microfiber mop across the rich, dark red flooring of her kitchen, her thoughts drifting back to the past few days.
She had sent home the maids she usually hired to take care of cleaning her home. Taking on these household tasks on her own for the first time in years gave her a chance to process everything she learned from Kristie … and about herself.
Kristie. Just thinking the name used to put Monica in a foul mood. Now, it only brought her confusion.
When Monica first saw Kristie at her new size, she thought it was fitting, a just punishment for what she assumed was a lifetime of vulgarity and meanness. Then, when she learned the truth about what Kristie did to Duncan, a rage she didn’t even know was within her boiled over, and she did … something she immediately came to regret.
Kristie’s confession that she had actually goaded Monica into performing that terrible act brought the executive little relief. Sure, Monica was grateful that Kristie wasn’t traumatized by being forced inside her. But that didn’t change the fact that Monica now knew that she was capable of doing something so terrible.
She moved out of the kitchen and began working on the hardwood floors of the living room. As she entered the room, she eyed her couch, the one on which she had spent so much time moping and feeling sorry for herself, in stark contrast to her typical hard nature.
It was Kristie who had pulled her out of that rut. The same Kristie she spent so much time despising. The same Kristie who shared her heartbreaking story of abuse and cried over her own unforgivable sin, forever changing the way Monica thought of her. The same Kristie who had looked so cute climbing Monica’s body just the previous day, who had gripped the side of her breast, made her wet …
Stop it! Monica chided herself. This should be the last thing on either of our minds right now. Besides, she clearly still feels some sort of connection with Duncan, so she has to be straight, right?
She picked up the pace, shutting down her thoughts and focusing on mindless cleaning for the next several hours. Once she was finished, she decided on a shower, walking down the long hallway to her room with her eyes on the ground. Along the way, she passed the guest bedroom she had given Kristie, her curiosity getting the better of her as she peeked through the cracked door.
Light shining through one of the second story windows of Kristie’s tiny house signaled that the tiny Korean was inside her new home. Monica debated stepping into the room. She had so much to say to Kristie but no words with which to say them. She may have been feeling better than she had for the past few days, but now she was a mess for an entirely different reason.
Monica shrugged off those feelings and resumed her trek to the en suite attached to her room. She wouldn’t allow Kristie to dominate her thoughts like this, like she was 14 again suffering through her first crush. She had long since evolved past that stage, sacrificing such feelings in the name of success, and she would do so again this time.
She took off her sweatpants and t-shirt in two quick moves, tossing them randomly on the floor for once, before sauntering into the bathroom. A quick voice command activated her shower at her preset temperature preference, the shower head hanging directly above the walk-in shower raining down water where she would soon be standing.
A minute later, Monica was behind the translucent glass, washing away all those confused feelings as beads of warm water ran down her creamy caramel skin. It was so relaxing, so soothing, just like always. No matter how stressed out she would get, this was her one sanctuary from it all.
She pushed all thoughts of Kristie, of the mystery surrounding Duncan, or even of her return to work the next day out of her head. As she stepped out of the shower, a calm washed over her. She would dodge Kristie for the rest of the evening, opting to enjoy a good read in bed while she kept herself in her room.
Or, at least, that was the plan until she spotted a nude Kristie standing on her vanity.
Thankfully, Monica had grabbed her towel before stepping out of the shower, so her slender body was tightly wrapped from breast to mid thigh by a white towel. She had just stepped off her maroon bath rug when she laid eyes on the puny naked girl, the loud smack of her dripping-wet right foot slamming onto the tiled floor echoing throughout the room as she froze in place.
Kristie’s own towel was at her feet. She stood there with her arms crossed underneath her breasts as she looked Kristie in the eye.
She’s not even trying to cover up! Monica thought. I-I need to look away or … or something!
But she didn’t look away. She couldn’t look away. She studied every bit of Kristie’s exposed body. Monica hoped that Kristie being so small would make it harder for the tiny woman to notice her giant wandering eyes.
“The plumbing’s fucked up at my place,” Kristie said, leaning a little extra weight on her right foot. “I figured I could use your sink for a bath.”
Monica didn’t respond right away. She was too focused on Kristie’s bell-shaped tits. Each boob stood defiantly on its own, refusing to rest on the tiny girl’s crossed forearms directly beneath them.
It wasn’t until Kristie started to tap her right foot impatiently against the countertop that Monica realized that it was her turn to speak.
“Where are your clothes?” Monica asked, Kristie’s request not immediately registering with her.
Kristie stopped tapping her foot. She uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips.
“Do you think I was going to haul extra clothes here and back to the house or put the same shit back on when I was done?” she asked. “Fuck no I wasn’t. It’s easier to show up bath-ready. Now are you going to let me use your shitty sink or not?”
Monica looked over Kristie’s head and into the pristine marble sink behind her, then back at Kristie again.
“You’re a guest here, Kristie. There’s no chance I’m going to force you to bathe in a sink,” Monica said. “The pipes in your house are easy enough for someone my size to manage, so I should be able to fix the issue for you rather quickly.”
She took two noisy steps toward the bathroom door, the soles of her feet peeling off the ceramic tiles with each step. Before she could leave the room, however, she heard Kristie calling to her.
“Wait,” Kristie said. “Okay, so I may or may not have flushed all the silverware in the house down the toilet at the same time.”
Monica blinked a few times as her brain attempted to process the information Kristie had just fed it.
“Why would you do that?”
Kristie shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I tried the curling iron first, but it was too long,” she said. “I couldn’t get it to go down.”
She has a tiny curling iron?! Monica asked herself, trying to block out the thought of how adorable it would be to see Kristie use it. I need to give all of my R&D people a raise for all the tiny tech they put into that house.
“That’s not what I was asking, and you know it,” she said.
Kristie lowered her head.
“I didn’t see you all day,” she mumbled. “I-I needed an excuse to …”
Kristie trailed off as Monica took a step toward the vanity to better hear her tiny guest. The humongous hostess didn’t notice that this put Kristie level with her crotch, leaving only the thin fibers of the towel to separate the little Asian from her sex.
“Oh,” Monica said, feeling some guilt over avoiding her throughout the day. “But I’ve left you alone for most of your time here. I always felt as though you preferred it that way. So why would you do something so … drastic just for my attention?”
Looking up, Kristie took a nervous step backward, putting some space between herself and Monica’s hourglass hips.
“I know, but then we had that talk yesterday and … and …” Kristie responded. “You know what? Fuck this. This is so stupid.”
Her voice sounded so meek to Monica, lacking the usual fire with which Kristie always spoke. The little woman seemed nervous.
Do I make her nervous? Monica asked herself. Why does that make my stomach feel so light and tingly?
She pulled herself from her thoughts in time to see Kristie walking hastily toward the ladder Monica had installed onto the side of the vanity, one of many she had set up throughout the household. Monica slammed her right hand down on its side in front of Kristie, immediately regretting letting her emotions and nerves speed up her effort to keep the tiny from leaving.
Kristie stumbled backward but kept her feet. She didn’t scream, but she stared in wonderment at Monica’s gigantic palm, which was taller than her even on its side.
“It’s not stupid,” Monica said. “Talk to me, Kristie. Please.”
With a sigh, Kristie finally pried her eyes away from Monica’s hand, looking all the way up her upper body to her face.
“I don’t know,” Kristie said. “I feel like you’ve been ducking me all Goddamn day. I thought you were going to come into my room before you got in the shower, but you just walked away like I don’t exist. I just … I just wanted to see you, okay? There I fucking said it!”
Monica couldn’t stop the smile from overriding her previously stoic expression. Those words made all those conflicting thoughts melt away.
Then, another thought occurred to her.
“Wait,” Monica said. “How were you going to spend time with me if you were taking a bath in my sink? I would assume you would prefer privacy when you bathe.”
Kristie’s cheeks turned bright red, and it was all Monica could do to keep from cooing at the sight.
“I didn’t think that far ahead,” Kristie admitted.
An idea popped into Monica’s head. Now it was her turn to blush.
“I suppose I could keep you company,” she blurted out.
Kristie didn’t speak but nodded in approval.
So Monica ran Kristie’s bath in the sink, testing the water with a finger to ensure it reached the perfect temperature before closing the drain. Light steam rose from the water and slightly fogged up the mirror hanging over the sink. She offered Kristie her right hand, enjoying the feeling of Kristie’s tiny feet sinking into the flesh of her palm.
Monica lowered the tiny girl just above the water as she shut it off with her free hand, with Kristie climbing off her ride and into her bath. Only Kristie’s head remained above water as she sat down in the center of the sink with a satisfied sigh.
Monica provided her with soap, shampoo, and a puny piece of a loofah in an upturned cap floating on the water, too focused on getting her guest set up to bother taking the time to dress herself. The two women talked as Kristie cleaned herself, with Monica resting her forearms in front of the sink as she leaned forward, her head looming over the sink as she looked on from above.
Monica became distracted when Kristie’s right leg broke through the water with agonizing slowness, rising over barely perceptible ripples as displaced waves cascaded down her smooth lower leg. As Kristie’s foot pointed skyward, Monica noticed that her black nail polish was quite chipped and faded.
Black is a nice color for her, but I think coral would be cute on her as well, Monica mused, glancing down at her burgundy-painted fingernails. Would she find it odd if I, of all people, were to make that suggestion? Perhaps she might enjoy painting them together later.
Lifting her eyes back toward Kristie, Monica was captivated by the white, bubbly suds coating her guest’s minuscule leg. Kristie had just finished scrubbing it, and Monica felt some disappointment when the leg submerged once more.
Then the left leg rose above the water.
This time, Monica refused to even blink as she watched Kristie work the loofah up her thigh and over her calf in small circular motions, soaping up every inch of the backside of her leg. Kristie did the same down the front of her leg, seemingly ignoring her audience of one as she took her time.
“Glad you’re enjoying the show,” Kristie said with some snark in her tone, although Monica swore she could see a shy smile cross her lips for a split second before disappearing.
Once Kristie finished with her left leg, she decided that the loofah needed to be soaped up again. However, after fishing it out of the cap, the shard of soap slipped out of her fingers and sunk to the bottom of the sink. Before she could reach down to grab it, Monica’s right hand was already on the move.
“Please, allow me,” Monica said as her hand plunged into the water.
As the tips of her index finger and thumb clamped over the soap, her pinkie gently brushed against Kristie’s side. Monica found herself relishing the contact, Kristie’s skin feeling soft and inviting even under the water. Monica was quick to pull her hand out of the water, resisting the temptation to start rubbing Kristie in earnest.
Presenting the soap to the puny bather, Monica was surprised when Kristie made no effort to take it from her fingers. It wasn’t until Monica followed the tiny’s eyes that she realized that Kristie was looking at her, or rather her body. She had leaned forward to grab the soap, and now her cleavage was on full display to her little guest as the towel around her body pressed her breasts tightly together.
Monica’s first thought was to use her free hand to cover the top of her tits or maybe move away from the sink. She didn’t move, however, save for the corners of her mouth curling upward ever so slightly as she gave the situation more thought. She cleared her throat haughtily, causing Kristie to stir. The tiny woman swiftly swiped the soap from Monica, her eyes dropping down to face the water.
Her hand withdrawn from the sink, Monica elected to leave her elbows on the countertop, propping her cheeks up with her hands and leaving her breasts in full view. Water dripped down her right cheek, as she decided against changing positions to reach out for the hand towel to dry her hand.
Throughout the rest of Kristie’s bath, the tiny stole an occasional glance at Monica’s exposed cleavage, much to the giant onlooker’s delight. Watching Kristie clean the rest of her body was beginning to do things to Monica. She was getting worked up and started feeling a bit moist down below, something she was fighting against, as she didn’t want Kristie to think of her as a pervert.
Once Kristie had finished her bath and Monica had calmed herself, she lifted Kristie out of the sink, making sure to leave her palm flat rather than gripping Kristie’s nude body. She allowed Kristie to step off her palm next to the sink, where the tiny dried off her body and wrapped the towel around her hair.
“Have you tried using essential oils after a bath?” Monica asked. “They do wonders for your body and mood.”
Kristie shook her head.
“What’s wrong with my fucking mood?” she said, a cheeky smile on her face.
Monica chuckled at the question.
“I’m fairly certain you don’t want to hear the answer to that,” she replied.
Kristie laughed right back at Monica.
“Bitch,” she said in a teasing tone. “You know what? Fuck it. I’ll give it a shot.”
Monica stood up straight and reached for a drawer to her right. She pulled out a five-inch-tall bottle of lavender essential oil and set it down beside Kristie. A slight whimper escaped Monica’s lips at how adorable her little friend looked standing in the bottle’s shadow.
Monica’s eyes never left Kristie’s body as she unscrewed the bottle’s cap, drinking in every naked, succulent curve.
“Typically, I apply this oil all over my body as soon as I leave the shower,” Monica explained. “It takes a fair amount of time, but, given your size, I could …”
She stopped. The words just got stuck in her throat. No matter how casual she tried to make herself sound, the thought that Kristie might have a negative response to the prospect of Monica’s fingers gliding across her body was enough to give her pause.
“You want to help me out?” Kristie asked with a smirk. “If you’re trying to pamper me, I’m not going to say no.”
A small shiver ran down Monica’s spine, and she hoped that Kristie didn’t notice the tremor shooting through her body. Rather than try to reply verbally, Monica only nodded as she picked the open bottle up and dumped some of the oil onto the fingers of her left hand.
She rubbed her fingers together with both hands, just enough to spread the oil between them, the resulting friction warming the oil between her fingertips, before bringing her hands down to Kristie.
A jolt of pleasure shot through Monica every time one of her fingertips softly rolled over a itsy bitsy muscle or vertebrae as they worked their way up and down Kristie’s back, her thumbs rubbing her stomach at a sensual pace on the opposite side. Kristie, with her eyes closed, let out a loud moan, encouraging the giantess’s efforts.
That encouragement was enough for Monica to shift her thumbs under Kristie’s breasts, feeling their weight press down on her nails. The tips of Monica’s forefingers followed as the small of Kristie’s back arched toward her, sandwiching her thumbs even more beneath those perfectly plump tits.
She’s enjoying this! Monica realized with a giddy smile. Perhaps she really does feel the same way about me as I do her.
Monica’s thumbs slithered out from underneath Kristie’s boobs, each pad feeling up the side of a breast. The pliability of Kristie’s titflesh was addicting for Monica, the way it sank inward at her slightest touch, even with minimal pressure.
She wanted to play with them more, especially now that they were lathered in lavender oil, but instead, she rounded her thumbs to the top of her chest. They swirled across her cleavage as they rubbed in the oil. Kristie moaned again as Monica slipped her right thumb through the cleavage, loving how the parted boobs bounced as they made way for the giant digit.
Then Monica, feeling the moment, moved her thumbs to accommodate Kristie’s hardening nipples, the pointy nubs catching on each line of her thumbprints as they moved over them. However, as soon as she made contact, Kristie’s eyes shot open, a confused look upon her face.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Kristie said, her confusion quickly shifting to anger. “What, you a fucking dyke or something?!”
Monica froze, all feeling leaving her extremities once that harsh word left Kristie’s lips. Her mind drifted back to her senior year of high school, when she had finally built up the courage to tell her parents that she liked girls instead of boys.
She still remembered the blank look on her mother’s face, clearly unsure of how to take the news. But it was that cold stare her father gave her that still haunted her. For minutes on end, she held his gaze, hoping to see a shred of warmth, of understanding, in those judgmental eyes just this once.
Monica needed him to understand, to accept who she was. But her father shattered her soul with a single word before simply turning around and walking out of the room, her mother silently following.
“No.”
Monica’s eyes watered at the memory, feeling that same painful rejection once more. This had been a mistake. How could she have been so stupid? Fucking stupid! Of course Kristie didn’t feel the same way that she did. How could anyone feel that way about her? Why did she open herself up like this?
Never again, she told herself. Father was right. Those feelings aren’t for me.
“Oh God,” Kristie’s words broke through Monica’s thoughts. “You really are—”
Monica started to swiftly withdraw her hand from Kristie’s body. However, Kristie acted just as quickly, grabbing the tip of Monica’s middle finger. Kristie’s oiled-up torso was dragged several of her feet without a distraught Monica even noticing.
“Wait!” Kristie desperately screamed.
Monica obeyed, stopping her hand just before reaching the counter’s edge. Realizing the danger her lack of attention had put Kristie in, she began to apologize profusely as she dropped her hand to her side.
“Shut up,” Kristie said as she pushed herself back to her feet. “I’ve got something to say.”
Again, Monica followed the tiny Asian’s direction, compelled to do so even despite her broken heart. Monica just couldn’t find it in herself to deny her at this point. She just looked down at Kristie, preparing herself for whatever hurtful words would come out of that little mouth next.
“I’m sorry.”
The first tear tickled as it rolled down Monica’s left cheek. She didn’t know how to respond or how to feel in that moment, but she knew that she was losing the battle to keep her feelings in check, something that was becoming a common occurrence when she was in Kristie’s presence.
“I-I don’t deal with emotions very well. Or at all, really,” Kristie continued. “When I feel something that scares me, I lash out. It’s easier that way.”
Kristie lowered her head, staring at the countertop directly in front of her feet.
“I say whatever shit I think will piss people off,” she admitted. “When … when you touched me there, that’s where my brain went. I figured, ‘Hey, what could piss a straight person off more than calling them gay?’”
Without even thinking about it, Monica crouched down, her eyes level with the counter’s surface. She could just barely make out Kristie’s face from that low angle.
“But I never would have called you … that if I knew you were really a lesbian,” Kristie said, her eyes remained fixed on the ground. “That’s actually really awesome, and you shouldn’t let a stupid cunt like me make you feel bad about who you are.”
Kristie finally looked up, chuckling as she looked straight into Monica’s wide, watery eyes.
“Thinking about it now, I was a fucking idiot to not pick up on it,” Kristie said. “The way you’ve been looking at me these last few days, you dodging me today, and how eager you were to use that oil as an excuse to cop a feel; I really shouldn’t be surprised you’re gay. I guess I was too wrapped up in my own shit to really notice before now, though.”
Monica’s left hand wiped the tears from her eyes as she finally regained her composure. Her face rose just enough for her to set her chin on the counter, Kristie standing inches from her moist lips.
“What exactly was this ‘shit’ in which you were wrapped?” Monica whispered the question. “Does it have something to do with whatever you said scared you before?”
Kristie hesitated to answer, just staring at Monica blankly.
“If my, er, actions a minute ago were traumatic for you or if all of those things you just mentioned about my behavior of late have made you feel uncomfortable in my presence, please don’t be afraid to let me know,” Monica said, fighting to keep the timidness out of her voice.
Kristie shook her head so emphatically that the towel wrapped around her hair came undone and dropped to the ground. Wet strands of black hair clung to her neck and shoulders where they fell.
“Don’t put fucking words in my mouth!” she hissed. “That’s not what it is at all!”
Kristie looked to the side and sighed, appearing to calm down. Monica didn’t say anything or react in the slightest, content to allow Kristie to work through whatever was at issue with as much anger and vitriol as she needed. Monica would simply stay there and serve as a scapegoat until Kristie was finally able to express herself.
“Ever since you touched me that day when I told you about my past, I-I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Kristie admitted, her hands fidgeting at her sides. “I felt the same thing then that I did when you were feeling me up just now, only this time … more intense.”
Taking a couple steps forward, Kristie put her right hand on Monica’s upper lip, which was sitting at eye level for her. Monica didn’t dare move.
“I really liked the way you were touching me, when you were trying to make me feel better before and for damn sure when you were playing with my tits,” Kristie continued. “I-I’ve … I’ve never felt this way before. About anybody. And that … that scares me.”
Monica puckered her lips, giving Kristie’s palm a gentle kiss before she straightened her back, towering over Kristie as she rose to her full height on her knees.
“You never felt like this before?” Monica asked. “But what about Duncan?”
Kristie answered with a shake of her head, her wet locks being flung back and forth with each movement.
“Duncan was the first person I ever met who kind of got me, and he’s important to me, but no, I never felt this way about him,” she replied. “I only asked him to go out with me because I didn’t want him to leave. Everybody always leaves, and sex is the only way to get them to stay.”
Several emotions overtook Monica at Kristie’s casually spoken yet horrifying words: anger at all the people who made Kristie feel this way, heartbreak at what this poor girl must have put herself through just to feel a sense of acceptance, and, ashamed as Monica was to admit it, joy at the realization that Kristie had feelings for her as well.
But the giantess buried all those feelings for now. Kristie needed reassurance now, and Monica intended to give it to her. She could try to help Kristie through these deeper issues over time.
Monica reached for Kristie, the tip of her right index finger touching down on the tiny girl’s cheek, stroking it lovingly as she spoke.
“He would have stayed either way,” Monica said. “And I’m going to stay, always. That’s what people who really care about you do.”
She couldn’t help but smile brightly as Kristie stared up at her, an expression of pure elation written upon her little face. It was the cutest, most heartwarming thing Monica had ever seen. The two of them just basked in each other’s presence for several minutes before Monica reluctantly stood up, rising even higher above Kristie.
“I suppose I should find some clothes,” Monica said, slowly pulling her finger away and offering Kristie her palm. “I’d be delighted to carry you back to your house to do the sa—”
“Stop!”
Kristie’s lone word stopped Monica dead in her tracks. Monica nervously looked down at her, unsure of what to expect at this point.
“Take your towel off,” Kristie ordered.
If Monica had expected something, it certainly wouldn’t have been that.
“What?” she asked.
A sly smirk crossed Kristie’s lips.
“Towel off, now,” she repeated. “I’ve been standing here naked this whole Goddamned time, giving you a fucking show. Now I want one, too.”
Monica took a step backward and reached behind her back and undid the knot holding her towel in place, making no effort to stop it as it dropped to the floor. She loved feeling Kristie’s eyes travel up and down her body.
“Now grab your oil and me and take us to the bed,” Kristie commanded. “It’s your turn to get oiled up.”
********
How the fuck did I luck into this? Kristie asked herself.
She was sitting in the palm of Monica’s hand, held at chest level, much to Kristie’s amusement. The puny passenger couldn’t look away from those round breasts, each the size of a studio apartment to her, as they bounced gently with each step Monica made toward the bed.
As Monica sat down on the bed, Kristie noticed that the executive’s hand remained perfectly level, not shaking her up or making her uncomfortable in the slightest. It looked like Monica wasn’t even trying when she handled Kristie, like it just came naturally.
How is she effortlessly good at everything? Kristie mused, a mixture of jealousy and pride dwelling behind her thoughts. Am I really good enough for somebody like that?
Kristie found herself being raised to Monica’s face, which was wearing a pensive expression.
“Whatever it is you’re thinking, I want you to know that you don’t have to go through with it,” Monica said. “I’m not here because I expect something in return; I’m here because I want to be.”
Kristie gave Monica’s palm a few pats with her right hand.
“Thanks. It means a lot to hear that,” Kristie said sweetly before her voice turned stern. “Now knock that shit off!”
Kristie stood up and continued before a stunned Monica could formulate a response.
“I’m loving this sweet, softer side of you,” Kristie admitted with a blush. “But you’re going back to work tomorrow, so enough of this sentimental bullshit! We need to get you back to being the badass bitch executive we all know and are fucking terrified of!”
Monica’s teeth were on full display in front of Kristie as she grinned in response.
“And I suppose you have a plan in the works to achieve this?” Monica asked.
Kristie arched her back and stretched her arms over her head as she responded.
“Yeah, it’s simple,” she explained. “I’ll hang out on your body and rub in the oil wherever you tell me to. All you have to do is boss me around.”
Monica tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes as she studied Kristie carefully.
“Really?” Monica asked. “And you’ll just do as I say. No, ‘Go fuck yourself, Monica’ or ‘I’d rather eat my own asshole out’? Because that second one is why I don’t ask you to do your own dishes anymore.”
Spreading her legs shoulder-width apart, Kristie bent down to touch the toes of her right foot.
“Yeah, really,” she said with a bit of annoyance. “How many times do I have to fucking say it?! Make me do shit!”
Monica’s lips curled into a smug smirk, draining the irritation from Kristie’s face as she laughed nervously.
The fuck did I just do to myself? she wondered.
Holding Kristie further away from her body, Monica repositioned herself so that she was lying on the bed on her stomach. Kristie couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment as Monica reached around and started to set her down on her upper black, a plain of smooth caramel that seemed to stretch forever into the distance.
“Oh, I thought maybe we’d start with your front,” Kristie said meekly as she slid off of Monica’s tilted fingers.
An arrogant chuckle from Monica shook the ground under Kristie’s feet, knocking the tiny woman onto her naked butt, which sank slightly into Monica’s accommodating skin, still hot from her shower earlier.
“I’m sure you did,” Monica responded.
Kristie watched as Monica’s hand lifted away, reaching toward the end table next to her bed. It returned a moment later with the open bottle of lavender oil, dumping a small pool’s worth into the small of Monica’s back.
“You will gather oil as needed from there,” Monica said sternly, the vibrations of her voice causing small tremors under Kristie’s feet. “You will only apply it where you are told to apply it, however. You are not to do so to other parts of my body while making your way to the appropriate location. Am I understood?”
Kristie felt her body quiver in an odd blend of excitement and fear at the authority in Monica’s tone.
“Wh-what happens if I do it anyway?” Kristie asked with the tiniest tremble. “Rub the oil in places I’m not supposed to, I mean.”
The ground beneath Kristie began to rise as Monica propped herself up on her elbows and arched her back. The tiny Asian tumbled down the length of Monica’s spine, from between her shoulder blades into the massive puddle of oil, rolling over the giantess’s vertebrae all the way down the length of her back.
Kristie landed face first into the oil, which was just shy of being deep enough to submerge her whole body while lying down. She pushed herself up and out of the oil, wiping some of it from her eyes.
“It seems you’ve decided to begin on a sour note,” Monica said. “I’d advise against further inquiries.”
Looking down at her naked body, Kristie saw that she was completely lathered in oil.
Heh. So much for that bath, she thought. But fuck me in the backdoor if this isn’t worth it.
“Alright then, big girl!” Kristie shouted toward Monica’s head in the distance. “Where do you want this shit first?”
This time it was a girlish giggle that rocked the world around Kristie, although she was able to stay on her feet. As the laughter subsided and the fleshy landscape settled, Monica cleared her throat with a small cough, her tone turning serious once again.
“Big girl?” Monica questioned. “The label is accurate enough, I suppose. But no, you will refer to me as … mistress.”
Kristie picked up on a slight hesitation in Monica’s voice as she demanded to be called mistress. While the word itself was delivered in a commanding tone, Kristie realized that Monica might just be a little embarrassed at wanting to be addressed this way. The tiny girl’s first instinct was to attack this weakness.
She held back, however, Kristie’s desire to give Monica what she wanted far stronger than her natural inclination to always have the upper hand.
“Yes, mistress,” Kristie said.
Monica gave a closed-lipped moan, her body purring as the sound rose from her throat. Kristie was getting used to the occasional lack of stability under her feet and rather enjoyed the sensation beneath her soles.
“You may come apply oil on the back of my neck,” Monica said in a dismissive tone.
Kristie looked up Monica’s still-inclined back as her mistress used her left hand to flip her hair over her right shoulder, revealing her long, elegant neck. With Monica’s back still arched and her arms still propping up the top half of her upper body, the climb was looking pretty steep to Kristie.
“You want to lie flat and make it a little easier for me, mistress?” Kristie asked.
She was quick to notice Monica’s hand coming for her, but that did little to improve her situation. The back of the giant hand was in front of her almost instantly, its nails just touching Monica’s skin. With a simple flick of her wrist, Monica’s fingers gently yet firmly flicked Kristie back into the oil puddle.
“I believe you were warned about asking questions,” Monica replied.
A floral taste with hints of sweetness and spice stayed in Kristie’s mouth even as she spat out a mouthful of lavender oil as she sat up, her bent knees and torso rising above the puddle. She stared up at the back of Monica’s neck uphill, a look of determination etched into her face.
That’s how we’re fucking playing, huh? Kristie thought. Bring it, you hot bitch!
Without saying a word, she pushed herself to her feet, oil dripping from all over her curvy body. She stepped out of the pool and started marching up the steep incline of Monica’s back. Kristie’s oil-saturated soles were slippery against the giantess’s skin, making the trek up Monica’s silky smooth back all the more difficult.
The ground beneath her quaked as Monica’s body gave an involuntary shudder, with Kristie just narrowly preventing herself from tumbling down to the bottom for a second time.
“As divine as those diminutive little feet of yours feel, I was expecting to have the back of my neck oiled by now,” Monica said. “If you don’t want to start from the bottom again, I suggest you push ahead faster.”
Monica’s words lit a fire within Kristie. It wasn’t just what was said, but the way it was said. Monica’s voice was authoritative, but laced just beneath that commanding tone was something more. Joy. Pleasure. Yearning. Desperation. Kristie’s footsteps alone were starting to drive Monica wild.
Kristie doubled her efforts, her shins burning as she practically jogged up Monica’s back, somehow maintaining her balance the whole time. Her excitement powered her to the back of Monica’s neck in almost no time at all. Despite being out of breath, she didn’t waste any time, reaching out with her right hand and slowly dragging her fingers down the middle of her Monica’s smooth neck.
“Oh fuck!” Monica moaned.
That reaction only encouraged Kristie. She held her arms out as wide as possible and attempted to give the back of Monica’s neck a hug, her arms falling well short of wrapping around it. Kristie aggressively swayed her hips, grinding her sex into the base of Monica’s neck while rubbing her tits against the supple flesh just above.
“Ooh,” Monica said, her authoritative coating melting away with each of Kristie’s movements. “M-more of that.”
Kristie obliged. Her body slid effortlessly across the wide span of that enticing light brown wall of flesh, spreading the oil all over the front of her body over as much skin as she could. Her body seductively maneuvered its way back and forth over the back of Monica’s neck, with every pleasurable whimper from Monica resonating through her tiny body and warming her womanhood.
“Right cheek,” Monica commanded once the back of her neck was covered.
Almost hypnotically, Kristie moved to obey. She pulled herself away from Monica’s neck and stepped onto the giantess’s right shoulder. Kristie wasted no time reaching out and touching Monica’s right cheek with both hands. However, the muscles underneath that cheek carried those puny hands upward as Monica grinned devilishly.
“Wrong cheek,” Monica’s voice echoed loudly in Kristie’s ears.
A confused look crossed Kristie’s face. This was absolutely Monica’s right cheek. What was this sexy, bossy giant talking about?
“What?” Kristie asked.
Before Kristie even had a chance to realize her mistake, Monica’s left index finger was upon her. The dominant digit, longer than Kristie was tall, prodded the tiny girl’s chest, its tip almost covering both breasts entirely. It wasn’t there to feel Kristie up this time, though.
With a gentle push from the giant fingertip, Kristie found herself going over Monica’s shoulder as she lost her footing. She landed on her oil-soaked back, flying down the slope of Monica’s monolithic back with no resistance thanks to the slick liquid.
Kristie likened it to riding down a water slide, only she was facing the wrong way, staring at the back of Monica’s head as she screamed the whole way down.
With a splash, Kristie was back at the pool. As her head broke the surface of the oil puddle, she was greeted with an exaggerated sigh.
“A bit dense, aren’t we?” Monica asked as she stared down at Kristie from over her right shoulder. “Questions. Are. Not. Allowed. Do you understand now, or shall I just go on and give you your next reprimand in advance?”
Perhaps the most surprising thing to Kristie was how angry she didn’t feel. Instead of scowling up at her “tormentor,” she was all smiles. What was this feeling bubbling up inside her?
I don’t like this … do I? She asked herself, already knowing the truth. I’m doing this for Monica, right?
Kristie didn’t have time to dwell on this, as Monica’s right hand was swiftly flying in her direction. Kristie’s breaths were short with anticipation at whatever “reprimand” was coming her way.
It never came, however.
The hand moved over Kristie’s head, its palm coming down with a deafening slap atop Monica’s right butt cheek and rocking Kristie’s world once again.
“This was the cheek to which I was referring,” Monica said. “Unfortunately, it seems that you require more thorough direction if I’m to expect you to get anything done.”
Kristie couldn’t take her eyes off of that hand and the slightly wobbling flesh beneath it. She wasn’t sure how much of it was the sight before her and how much of it was Monica talking down to her, but Kristie had never been more turned on in her life.
Standing up, Kristie waded through the shin-deep puddle toward Monica’s ass. Resting her forearms on the base of Monica’s right cheek, Kristie began to climb the lush mound, step by step. Monica’s hand soared over her head as Monica finally pulled it away, its motion creating a slight breeze that chilled Kristie’s oiled up body.
Reaching the top, she pulled herself back to her feet. She could see a slight red imprint where Monica had slapped that juicy ass cheek. Kristie turned around and fell on her back right in the center of the hand print, which she fit into with room to spare on all sides.
Kristie’s arms and legs moved up and down as she made snow angels. She giggled giddily as she felt the warm, malleable buttflesh give slightly to the whims of her appendages. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun, or if she ever had.
Once she felt that area had been oiled up well enough, she rolled over and began to crawl across the butt cheek, rubbing in the lavender-scented liquid into the flesh with her hands and her body as she worked her way across it. Her little hands worked the skin in front of her bit by bit as she moved along, squeezing it by the handful.
After several minutes, Kristie was satisfied with the job she had done. She stood up and walked to the cracked chasm separating the two cheeks. Without hesitating, she jumped the gap, landing on Monica’s left cheek.
“What are you doing?” Monica said with legitimate surprise. “I didn’t say—”
Kristie bent down and smacked Monica’s ass with as much force as she could muster.
“No fucking questions, mistress, remember?” Kristie said in a teasing voice.
Monica’s hand returned, hovering above Kristie for only a second before it came down on the tiny, pressing her into the flesh.
“I remember that I’m the one that decides the rules,” Monica answered, this time in a seductive tone. “That attempt at insubordination was quite … cute. Perhaps your punishment might be considered a bit of a reward as well.”
Monica’s hand began to rub the still wet Kristie all over her butt cheek. It was almost too much for the tiny Korean: the pressure from Monica’s pressing palm against back; the feel of the giantess’s butt against the tits, face, legs, and pussy; and the sheer thrill of Monica establishing dominance over her rebellious nature.
Kristie felt herself being rubbed over every square inch of Monica’s left butt cheek, the friction of her involuntary movements finally drying the oil from her body. Just as Monica’s hand finally lifted away, the sound of the whistling song from the movie Kill Bill came from the bed’s closest end table.
With a disgusted scoff, Monica grabbed the phone with her unending reach and answered the call, clearly already aware of who was on the other end.
“I’m quite busy at the moment, Alyssia,” Monica said in a harsh tone. “So unless this is an emergenc—”
Kristie felt the butt muscles beneath her tense as Monica stopped speaking in mid-sentence.
“How did this happen?!” Monica roared into the phone. “I thought you said they were under surveillance!”
Kristie stood up and slid down Monica’s butt cheek all the way down to the bed. Whatever fun they were having was over now, and she was beginning to get worried about what was happening.
“You’re right,” Monica said, regaining her composure. “I’ll just meet the two of you there.”
She stood up to her full height, the remainder of that oil puddle splashing onto the floor. Kristie locked eyes with the towering woman as Monica looked back down at her.
“I’ll take you back to your house. You need to get dressed,” Monica said. “We’re going to Duncan and Callie’s apartment.”
********
Alyssia hung up her phone and slipped it back into her pocket.
That actually wasn’t as bad as I expected, she thought. We’re going to need Monica out of whatever slump she’s in if we’re going to get through this.
Standing at the start of the short hallway, Alyssia surveyed the living room and kitchen of Callie and Duncan’s apartment once again. The couch and dining table were still overturned, and the table’s chairs were thrown throughout the open-concept rooms. The kitchen trashcan was still knocked over, and several drawers were still opened, their contents scattered about the kitchen floor.
She didn’t need to see the rest of the apartment to know it was no different. So she wasn’t surprised to hear Arnold’s startled reaction when he entered the single bedroom. After searching the room, he emerged into the hallway holding what Alyssia recognized to be Duncan’s shoebox home.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, his eyes still on the ground as he approached her. “And seriously, I thought when you told me to watch my step before, you were joking. I think I deserve some answers here.”
Aylssia sighed.
“You’re right, Arnie,” she said. “We’ll need all hands on deck now. Come on, follow me into the kitchen. But keep your eyes on the ground, just in case.”
The two of them made their way into the kitchen, where they flipped the table back over and grabbed two chairs to sit in. As the two sat down, Alyssia started to explain to Arnold what was going on. As she did, her eyes drifted to the nearest window, where she could see the car they had seen Natasha driving before still parked in the same place, only adding to the mystery surrounding them.
What the fuck happened here? she asked herself.
********
Three hours earlier
Duncan was just wrapping up the additional work he was doing to cover for Monica’s absence over the past few days. It was unlike her to miss just one day of work, even when she was sick, so he was starting to really worry about her. He didn’t mind putting in the extra work, though. It was actually nice to have people to whom he was close enough to cover for.
Man, despite everything that happened to me, I’ve really lucked out, he told himself. This really is the happiest I’ve ever been.
As soon as he heard the front door open, however, he knew that something was wrong.
Even from the bedroom, Duncan could tell the sound of a lock being picked when he heard it. He immediately shut down the tablets and phone that made up his office and sprinted toward the ladder at the side of the dresser. He was already starting to climb down by the time he heard the first footstep enter the apartment.
He knew right away that it wasn’t Callie or any of their friends entering the apartment. After spending a couple months around them at this size, he had gotten used to each of their gaits as the resulting vibrations reached him through the floor. If this were Callie, he wouldn’t have even felt it yet.
But this person, whoever they were, wasn’t holding back any weight from their steps. Duncan could feel the full force of their feet smashing into the floor with reckless abandon, even from the bedroom at the back of the apartment.
Their timing couldn’t have been worse, either. Callie had just left for class fifteen minutes ago. Or did this intruder know that? Had they been spying on Callie? Did they know about him?
They weren’t heading directly for the room, which gave Duncan plenty of time to reach the floor and head toward the door. It was riskier than making for the bed and hiding there, but he knew the only place he’d be truly safe, and he needed to get there as soon as possible.
Several loud, hard to discern noises were coming from the front end of the apartment. Whoever this was, their intentions weren’t good. Maybe he could get a look at them before reaching his hiding spot, give Callie enough information so that the police could identify whoever this was.
“Oh Duncan,” a familiar voice called out from the living room. “Come out here, you little jerk!”
Natasha! he realized. Fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck!
There was a time where she didn’t scare Duncan at all, a time when he had nothing to lose. Survival was all that mattered, and when his time was up, it was up. He had accepted that and was okay with it when he had last met the menacing redhead.
But now he had so much to lose, and the thought of her taking all of it away terrified him.
Duncan had nearly made it to the door when Natasha’s rumbling footsteps increased in intensity. She was getting closer! He sprinted for all he was worth, hoping he would make it in time.
He arrived at the base of the wall just beside the door when it started to open. The door itself blocked his view of Natasha, but he could feel her presence. When she stepped into the room and into his line of sight, he noticed several rips and stains in her jeans, and her tan shirt was torn in several places. Her hair was a mess, too, with dirt and several knots littering her hair all the way down to the small of her back.
“You’re here, Duncan,” she said with an edge of desperation. “You have to be!”
Duncan crawled underneath the gap underneath the now open door, trying to ignore the shaky ground as Natasha walked into the room. He looked back just before starting to run down the hallway, catching a glimpse of her hands grabbing each end of his shoebox.
“I knew it!” he heard Natasha yell through the wall as ran down the hallway. “I knew you were here. And it looks like you upgraded living spaces since staying with me. Was my panty drawer not good enough for you?”
As he continued to run, Duncan heard a thud against the wall, like cardboard being thrown into something. He knew it was his home that she had tossed away like it was nothing, and the thought of her treating it that way filled him with an unexpected rage. That shoebox was the only true home he’d ever had!
He made his way down the hallway as he heard Natasha tearing the bedroom apart looking for him. All those laps he had run around the apartment over the past couple months were really paying off, as he had plenty of stamina and knew the terrain well as he sprinted down the hallway.
When Duncan got to the living room, he was shocked at how trashed it was. The couch was flipped over, and there was trash from the kitchen trashcan spread all over the floor of both rooms.
Did she think I was hiding in the fucking trash?! he thought. What the fuck?!
“Ugh! Where are you, Duncan?!” Natasha shouted, followed by another loud crash. “Do you really think I’m just going to leave after what you’ve done to me? I’m going to find you, and it’s going to be worse for you the longer you make me look!”
Done to her? Duncan asked himself. What? Did I not scream enough when she tortured me or something?
Duncan didn’t have time to dwell on Natasha’s accusation, however. He could tell by her footsteps that she was heading for the hallway. He decided to use the trash on the floor to his advantage, hiding himself under a large chocolate candy bar wrapper that was both longer and wider than he was. He laid down with it atop him, doing his best to ignore the tickling of the shag carpet against his face.
The tremors became more violent as Natasha walked into the living room. Her beaten-up white and pink Converse shoe crashed into the ground right beside Duncan, rattling his bones. A small gust of wind generated by her step nearly blew his shelter off of him. He was just barely able to suppress his initial instinct to scream.
“Where are you?!” Natasha yelled, stomping her right foot in frustration.
The force of her stomp actually threw Duncan slightly off the ground, and he had to struggle to remain covered by the candy wrapper, clinging to it desperately to keep it from blowing away once again.
After standing there for a minute, apparently waiting for him to reveal himself in spite of her foul mood, Natasha huffed and set off for the other side of the living room. This left Duncan’s path open for the moment, but he proceeded with caution, finding various pieces of trash to hide under as he inched his way to the kitchen.
The kitchen floor had the added obstacles of silverware, spices, and other things emptied from its drawers and cabinets. He hurdled spoon handles and did his best to avoid grains of salt, pepper, and other spices large enough to cut his bare feet before he finally made it to the ladder leading to the countertop.
It was a bit of a gamble climbing the ladder with Natasha in plain view, but chances were that there would never be a good time to do it, so Duncan took the chance. He watched her as ascending the rungs, her denim-clad rear pointing in the air as she was on her knees digging through trash in the living room.
It looked like he had moved out of there just in time.
Natasha stood back up just as Duncan made it to the countertop. He ran behind a jar of peanut butter just before she turned around to face the kitchen, putting his back against it. He could feel her moving into the room. Glancing to his left, he lamented that Callie and he hadn’t put the ladder closer to the microwave.
He peeked around the jar. Natasha was now going through the trash on the floor in the kitchen. He knew it was only a matter of time before she started checking behind everything on the counter, so he decided to take a chance yet again.
Duncan started making his way toward the microwave, toward the hole he once used to get in and out of the apartment. If he could just get there, he could hide out in the walls until Callie got back from her class, and everything would be fine.
He used whatever he could as cover along the way: various jars, a bag of flour, the knife rack. Natasha still hadn’t thought to look up at the counter yet.
That’s right, I’m in the trash, Duncan thought as he looked back at Natasha. Just keep digging, bitch. I’m there.
The final straightaway between Duncan’s last piece of cover, Callie’s waffle maker, and the microwave was about 150 feet on his scale. Half a football field was a long time to go exposed, but his time was running out. He took a couple deep breaths to psych himself up, then took off in a dead sprint.
Natasha’s hand slammed down on its side in front of him about midway there, its palm blocking his path.
“Oh, there you are,” she said, the distress in her voice now removed, replaced with a darkly smug tone. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you again.”
Duncan looked up to respond, but he never got the chance. Keeping her left hand in front of him, Natasha’s right swooped in from behind, her fingers swallowing up his entire being. The sweltering pitch black confines of her closed hand were made all the worse as she tightened her grip, threatening to squeeze him into oblivion.
He received a small respite as she adjusted her hold on him, manipulating his body with her fingers so that his head and shoulders were sticking out of her fist. He noticed that she was holding him in front of her moderate-sized chest. Another quick squeeze drained the air from his lungs.
“Where were you going, though?” Natasha said, more to herself than to the little man trapped in her hand.
Her eyes traced the trajectory of Duncan’s mad dash for safety, landing on the microwave. As tall as a four- or five-story building to him, she pushed it aside with minimal effort from her free hand. Her gaze then landed on the now-exposed hole in the wall.
“Wow, if you had made it there you would have actually gotten away,” Natasha said. “Pretty slick.”
She looked down at Duncan, finally seeming to notice that he was having a hard time breathing. He felt her grip loosen and began sucking in as much air as he possibly could. Glancing upward, he thought he caught the slightest sympathetic cringe on her dirty face before her expression hardened.
“But that doesn’t matter,” Natasha said. “You didn’t get there, and now you’re going to help me out.”
Despite the scowl on Natasha’s face, Duncan was more taken with how tired she appeared to be. Deep bags were weighing down her half-open eyelids from below. In addition to the splotches of dirt on her face, there were several small scratches on her cheeks as well. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her.
“Help you how?” he asked. “I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s not a lot I can do at this size.”
Natasha’s baby blue eyes narrowed even more as they stared down at her tiny captive. That look put the fear of God into Duncan, but he knew he had to keep his cool.
“Don’t play with me,” she growled. “You know exactly what I want from you.”
Duncan shook his head.
“I really don’t,” he said.
Natasha’s hand shot skyward as she raised him to her face.
“Call. Them. Off.” she said. “If you don’t ...”
Natasha’s fingers tightened around him once more, threatening to mush his internal organs together. She held her grip for a few seconds before loosening it just enough for him to breathe again.
“C-call who o-off?” Duncan asked, struggling to regain his breath.
Natasha grunted in frustration.
“The people you’ve been sending after me!” she yelled desperately. “I thought you were bluffing before, so okay, you got me. All I want to do is go home and get back to my old life. If you do that, you’ll never see me again, I swear!”
After Duncan’s ears stopped ringing, he tried to piece together what Natasha had said. Bluff? He racked his brain to remember. And then it struck him like a lightning bolt.
When Natasha had first flipped on him and started tormenting him, he had told her about his position in Monica’s company and lied about them having a private security force that would find him and hunt her down.
There were rumors about some kind of secret business taking place on the building’s 44th floor, but Duncan knew it wasn’t anything hostile. It seemed a harmless enough lie at the time, with no obvious downside to it.
Of course, no obvious downside didn’t mean no downside at all, as he was now discovering.
“Someone’s really coming after you?” Duncan asked. “That’s got jack shit to do with me. I was just bluffing before.”
Natasha’s eyes went wide, and her expression turned to one of worry.
“No. No, no, no, no, no,” she hastily mumbled. “I’ve been on the run for weeks, and now it’s finally over. You did this, so stop it! Call off Lyra and the other goons. Please!”
Duncan scrunched his face in confusion.
“Who’s Lyra?” he asked.
Natasha stared thoughtfully at Duncan.
“She’s one of the ones coming after me,” she said. “I stole her car after she almost had me in the woods, and I found her name on the registration. Her GPS had this address in it with your name pinned to it, so don’t tell me you don’t know her.”
A theory immediately popped into Duncan’s mind about who this mysterious Lyra could be. It would be easy enough to confirm, too.
“What does Lyra look like?” he asked.
Natasha looked confused.
“She’s a skinny blonde with blue streaks going through her hair,” she explained. “Why?”
There it was. The girl with the blue streaks was Lyra. And not only was Natasha not working with her, but Lyra was actively hunting her for some reason. If Duncan could just reason with Natasha, the two of them might be able to figure out what was going on with all this.
But as unpredictable as Natasha was, that was far from a given.
“I think I know what’s going on,” he said. “At least a little bit. Hear me out?”
Natasha’s fingers uncoiled and her palm went flat under Duncan. She gave him a nod, which he took as a sign to start his explanation.
********
“Pretty much every professor here takes your number at the start of the fucking semester,” Callie grumbled as she neared her run-down apartment complex. “So why don’t they just text you when class is canceled?”
As she approached her apartment door, her heart stopped. The door was cracked just a tiny bit. A couple months ago, she would walk out to the parking lot and call 911 to report a break in. But a couple months ago, she didn’t share her apartment with her almost three-inch-tall boyfriend.
So instead, Callie put her ear to the cracked portion of the door, just making out a feminine voice on the other side.
“… so you really didn’t send …” the voice said, fluctuating in volume enough to keep her from understanding full sentences.
Still unsure what was happening, Callie decided that she couldn’t afford to be cautious and risk Duncan’s safety. She had to act.
She burst through the door, taking a redheaded woman standing in her kitchen by surprise. She looked pretty roughed up, covered in scratches and dirt. But it was on the tiny man she was holding that Callie focused most of her attention.
“Put him down!” Callie demanded of the stranger. “And after that, tell me who the fuck you are and why the fuck you’re in our apartment.”
The stunned redhead did as instructed, slowly lowering her open palm to the kitchen countertop she herself was leaning against. As soon as Duncan jumped off the woman’s fingers, Callie wasted no time marching toward her.
“Easy now,” the woman said, defensively putting her hands in front of her. “My name’s Natasha, and this has been a misunderst—”
Any doubt Callie had about her next course of action evaporated once she heard that name. This was the same Natasha who had tortured her poor Dunky for a week. The same Natasha that played a part in shrinking him. The same Natasha they had spent the past month looking for. Callie knew exactly what she needed to do.
She punched Natasha in the face.
Callie caught Natasha’s jaw with a right hook, using the surprise of her attack to throw Natasha’s body away from the counter. As Natasha stumbled toward the living room, Callie put herself directly between Natasha and Duncan.
Callie could just vaguely hear Duncan’s voice behind her, but between the adrenaline pumping through her and not wanting to take her eyes off the redheaded she-devil in front of her, her brain couldn’t process his words. Instead, she charged at Natasha again, this time in a full sprint.
“Wai—” Natasha tried to say as Callie tackled her into the living room.
Callie was on top of Natasha, who was flat on her back. Callie’s knees were on either side of Natasha’s rib cage as she was sitting on the redhead’s midsection, raining down punches from her elevated position.
The blonde was so focused on attacking Natasha that she never noticed the redhead reach out and grab one of the small lamps that used to be standing on the matching end tables surrounding the couch. Natasha swung wildly at Callie, connecting with her right temple.
Natasha used this to her advantage, rolling over and putting herself on top of the disoriented Callie. Trying to shake off the blow, Callie barely noticed Natasha tossing the lamp to the side. The intruder then turned her eyes back to Callie, looking as though she were ready to say something.
That’s when a white light completely enveloped Natasha.
In a matter of seconds, Natasha was gone. No, not gone, Callie realized. She could feel the slightest weight on her stomach. She looked over her chest, only to find a dazed Natasha standing on her abdomen.
And she was less than three inches tall.
Callie instinctively reached down with her right hand and scooped up Natasha in a loose fist as she sat up and turned to look at the apartment’s front door, ignoring the tiny woman’s protests. Standing just inside the now-closed doorway was a blonde-haired woman wearing gray sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt.
Her hair also happened to have blue streaks highlighted into it.
“Well, this is going to be a problem,” the girl with the blue streaks said with a sigh.
Moving to get up, Callie finally noticed the device the woman was holding in her right hand, something that looked like a futuristic toy gun with a chrome body.
“Not so fast, Ms. Girlfriend,” the woman said, pointing the gun at Callie. “Take your time getting up.”
Callie placed both her hands on the ground, remembering to set Natasha down first. She slowly pushed herself up to her feet, already having a pretty good idea about what the gun can do.
“You just had to come to here of all places, didn’t you?” the girl with the blue streaks asked with slight annoyance as she looked down at Natasha. “Do you have any idea how much shit the boss is gonna give me for this?”
The woman pulled a phone out of her pocket with her left hand, tapping the screen a few times with her thumb without taking her eyes off Callie. Then she brought it to her ear.
“It’s Lyra,” she said, pausing to listen to the person at the other end. “Yes, ma’am, this is a burner. You know I wouldn’t call you from a real phone.”
Callie didn’t move a muscle as she listened to half a conversation, one that could very well determine her future.
“Yeah, I’m at the apartment. That bitch Natasha stole my car and found her way here,” Lyra said, listening before speaking again. “No, don’t worry about her. She’s good and shrunk now. But we have another problem.”
Callie cringed, realizing that she was being categorized as a problem by a crazy lady with what she was pretty sure was a shrink ray.
“Yep, both of ‘em,” Lyra said. “He’s on the kitchen counter, and she’s standing right in front of me with a silly look on her face.”
Callie noticed Lyra glance over at the kitchen counter. Callie’s eyes followed as she looked back to see Duncan still standing there, watching and probably feeling just as helpless as she did.
“You know, I could just take care of both of the girls right here and just grab the target,” Lyra said with chilling casualness. “It would be a lot less hassle that way, right?”
Lyra’s face morphed into a deep frown at the answer her boss gave her.
“Aw, come on, boss,” she whined. “I hate having to fight with everyone else to get the ones I want, and I’m the one doing the work on this, so why shouldn’t I just—”
Lyra stopped cold as Callie could now hear the angry voice of the woman on the other end of the phone.
“N-no, Ms. Baneford,” Lyra stammered, her face turning white. “O-of course I’m not questioning your j-judgment! I would never, Ms. Baneford! And I apologize for the disrespect!”
Even as Lyra started to calm down, Callie noticed that the woman’s laid back demeanor had vanished, replaced by a more serious one.
“I understand, ma’am. I’ll just go ahead and …”
As Lyra continued her conversation, she suddenly pulled the trigger of the device in her hand. Callie felt the beam hit her almost as soon as she saw it. She felt cold as the surrounding room got larger and larger. It didn’t hurt, but it was the single most terrifying experience of her life.
When the shrinking finally stopped, everything looked impossibly huge! Well, everything except for Natasha, who was back to only being a head shorter than Callie. Much like Callie herself, Natasha seemed to be too stunned and too frightened to move.
Is this what everything looks like to Duncan? Callie asked herself, trying to shut out Lyra’s thunderous voice that had just seemed normal a few seconds ago. H-how does he deal with this?
She had just begun to lament being so ignorant about her boyfriend’s perspective when she received an awe-inspiring reminder of her own grim situation. Still talking on the phone, Lyra began to walk toward the kitchen counter, her footsteps shaking the carpeted earth beneath Callie’s feet.
“So I’m taking all three of them back then?” Lyra’s voice boomed across the room. “Fair enough. I’m grabbing the target now.”
Callie saw Lyra put the shrink ray in her right pants pocket, pulling a small black bag out of her left pocket. Callie couldn’t see Duncan from her position on the floor, but she saw Lyra stuff something from the countertop into the bag.
“Yes ma’am, I’m being careful,” Lyra said in a professional tone, the look on her voice showing how annoyed she was with the question.
Lyra turned around and began walking toward Callie and Natasha. The slap of the sole of her light blue flip-flops against her heel filled the air with each step. The shaking became more intense as the giantess got closer, knocking both tiny women onto their butts.
“I think I oughta leave my car here,” Lyra said as she crouched down, reaching for Natasha. “If Shale’s Research floor is even halfway decent, they’ll have figured out it’s mine by now anyway. I’m sure they know Natasha was driving it, too.”
Lyra plucked Natasha from the ground between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand, not even looking at tiny before stuffing her in the bag with Duncan. Her hand then reached back down for Callie.
“Yeah, there’s no way they can link me back to the company, so all it’ll do is confuse the shit out of ‘em,” Lyra said as she grabbed Callie. “No ma’am, I swear I’m not, but you’re right that I would need another car if we did that.”
The feeling of Lyra’s thumb pressing into her stomach and a giant index finger into the small of her back was so surreal for Callie. Lyra was obviously experienced in handling people her size, as, despite the absolute terror of being raised dozens of feet into the air in a matter of seconds, she wasn’t physically uncomfortable in the giantess’s grip.
Callie’s fear reached a new level as she was held over the opening of the bag, the pure darkness within an abyss leading to the horrifying unknown. Without warning, Lyra’s fingers left, and Callie screamed as she fell at least 10 feet on her scale before landing on the soft interior of the bag.
“Great!” Lyra giggled, her previous hesitance in dealing with her boss no longer present. “And I’ve got all three of ‘em bagged and ready to go. Barry is waiting out front for me. Once we’re out of the parking lot, we’ll cut the loop on their little security camera and then …”
The rest of the conversation was cut off as Lyra pinched the bag shut, her voice, while only a little less boisterous, being too muffled to understand.
Callie scrambled around in the bag as they began to move.
“Duncan!” she called out. “Where are you?”
The bag started to sway, tossing Callie about.
“Over here!” he answered, his voice coming from her left.
Callie fought against the force of their involuntary movement, crawling desperately to the sound of Duncan’s voice. She reached out until she felt him, her hand landing on his right cheek. Almost magnetically, they were drawn to each other. Duncan took her in his arms for the first time, offering her small comfort as they awaited whatever lay ahead.
“It’s going to be okay,” Duncan told her with a determined tone. “We’re going to be okay.”
Callie knew there was no way he could know that. She knew that he was just as powerless as she was against the giant world outside the bag. She knew that he was lying to her. But she didn’t care. She needed to hear those words right now, more than anything else in the world.
And so, Callie believed him.