"DC Stewart," I said, flashing my police badge at the large uniformed officer standing outside of the front door.
He looked carefully at my ID and then back at me.
"Are you sure you want to go in there Miss?"
There was genuine concern on the police officer's face which looked pale and drawn.
I walked past the uniformed officer, through the front door, into the large hallway.
The stench of death was already in the air, filling my nostrils with its pungent odour of decay.
The door on the right led into the lounge. It was slightly ajar and within I could see a couple of uniformed officers standing around whilst a man and a woman dressed in disposable paper suits appeared to be measuring distances with a tape measure.
"You took your fucking time Stewart," said a gruff voice from behind me.
I reeled around to see DS Rioch's huge frame filling the front door.
"Sorry Sarge," I said. "I got here as fast as I could."
Detective Sergeant Rioch was the last person in the world you shared personal problems with. If there was a queue of people to unload problems onto, he would be right at the back behind Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin.
"Have you been in yet?" He asked, nodding his bloated head towards the door.
I shook my head.
"Fuckin' mess," he said. "You'd best get in there before her majesty throws a hissy fit."
My face dropped and I turned my attention back to the room beyond the ajar door.
"The DCI's here?"
"Yeah," said DS Rioch, "and DC Thompson. So stop standing around and do something fuckin' useful."
I felt my cheeks turn red. When I'd left uniform police and joined CID Homicide Unit I hadn't quite banked on working with such loathsome and arrogant arseholes. Pushing the door open with the back of my hand so as not to leave fingerprints I walked purposefully and confidently into the room.
Four pairs of eyes immediately turned around and looked at me.
"Ah Stewart, so glad you could join us," said the elegant woman who was standing in the middle of the very large living room.
Inwardly I made a long drawn out whistling sound. This house was in a very rich part of London and now standing here in the living room my senses were assaulted by the sheer magnitude of wealth within this particular postcode. I looked over at DC Thompson who was standing nonchalantly in the corner, his hands in his trouser pockets. He smiled at me and gave me a wink. Trying to stop myself feeling flushed again I joined the DCI in the middle of the room.
The woman who was holding the tape measure placed it in her pocket, whispered something to her colleague and then approached me. She held her hand out to me.
"Hi I'm Jenny Marsden," she said with an unmistakable privately educated tone of voice. "Pleased to meet you."
"Lisa Stewart," I said hesitantly as I shook her hand and then looked at the DCI.
"I'm giving this case to you," said the DCI. "You'll be the lead officer in charge working with DC Thompson."
Shit.
The DCI ran her fingers through her short blonde hair as she spoke.
"Miss Marsden is Chief SOCO for the Division, she'll get you up to speed with the case."
"But why me?"
The DCI moved towards me, and bent down so we were now face to face.
"I'm giving you this case Stewart because quite frankly I think you're a waste of space," she spat. "You prove me wrong and solve it otherwise I'll bust you back down to uniform."
I knew she didn't like me, but I wasn't expecting that.
"Ma'am, I'd respectfully..."
I didn't get to finish.
"Get this case solved Stewart, otherwise you're finished."
I watched the DCI storm out of the living room, brushing DS Rioch aside as if he were made of paper. Regaining my composure I turned my attention back to Jenny Marsden.
"Can you show me the crime scene?"
"Follow me," said Jenny. "But be warned. You will not have seen anything like this before."
As Jenny walked towards the end of the living room I felt a tug on my arm. I looked round to see DC Thompson grinning at me.
"Bloody hell she doesn't like you does she," he said.
I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears.
"I've no idea what I've done wrong Tommy," I said, the last few syllables sounding slightly slurred as my emotions got the better of me.
"Hey, don't cry Lisa," said Tommy taking my hand between his strong fingers. "Don't let her get to you."
I looked into his dark, handsome face. His blue eyes twinkled at me as he smiled again and immediately I felt myself wanting to melt into his arms.
"She's just jealous," said Tommy. "She was the only woman in the department before you showed up."
"Jealous?"
"Yes," said Tommy. "She's a very attractive and powerful woman. You can only imagine the attention she gets from her colleagues, and boy does she enjoy being the centre of attention. And then you turn up and suddenly she sees you as competition."
"Me? But..."
I could feel myself turning red again. Curse my freckled fair complexion.
"Now, let's get solving this case so we can prove the wicked witch wrong," he said and gently led me to the kitchen where Jenny was now standing.
My immediate impulse was to turn my head away and vomit but I couldn't. Morbid fascination gripped my head in its vice like grip and refused to let me turn my head away. I joined Jenny who was crouched down on the floor next to the victim.
"Is he the owner of the house?"
Jenny tried to stifle a laugh.
"We can only assume it is indeed the owner. James Taunton aged thirty one years old, works, or worked rather in the banking industry. I've managed to recover some teeth to match against dental records and we'll check the DNA database."
I shook my head, trying to take in the scene before me.
"Cause of death?" I asked.
"Fairly obvious I would say," said Jenny. "He was crushed to death. And not just crushed. This poor guy was ground into the floor in the same way I deal with nasty invasive bugs in my house."
If it was James Taunton, somebody had visited a terrible death upon the man.
It was hard to make out if the bloody, pulped mess that lay smeared over a large area of the kitchen floor before us was even human. I looked around the room, totally confused.
"At a guess I would say it would take something considerably larger and heavier than a tank to cause this kind of body trauma," said Jenny, "and like me you are probably wondering how you could possibly drive a tank into a kitchen whilst leaving the walls intact."
Tommy and I looked at each other and we both thought it at exactly the same time. I was going to be back in uniform within the month.
"But do you want to see the really interesting bit?" Asked Jenny.
"There's more?" I said, somewhat shocked.
"Oh you will love this," she said moving to the other side of the human mess that resembled an accident in a strawberry jam factory.
I followed Jenny around to the other side of the remains and then my eyes slowly focussed at what she was pointing at.
It was a trail of blood leading from the victim to the back door.
Except on closer inspection it wasn't a trail of blood at all.
Footprints. It was a trail of tiny human footprints.
I looked at Jenny.
"Of course this is an elaborate hoax, painstakingly executed," said Jenny, "otherwise we are looking for a killer who is approximately five inches in height, give or take half an inch or so. Imagine that."
It was elaborate. Painstakingly elaborate as Jenny had so eloquently put it. This would have taken time to do and all three of us came to the same conclusion at the same time.
There could well be a serial killer in town.

I stood by the front door of the house that was now a fully fledged murder scene. A troop of paper suited clad clones strode past me, their directives, to find clues and remove all evidence pertinent to the case.
"I'll be in touch once I have finished my report," said Jenny. "We have got his computer, so the first thing we will do is take a good look at the hard drive and find out if he was in touch with anybody. I'm afraid we have been unable to find a mobile phone."
Nodding my head I thanked Jenny and headed back to my car which was parked just down the road.
I looked back to see Jenny talking to Tommy. As they parted she touched his shoulder affectionately. I felt a sharp pang of jealousy which took me completely by surprise. As Jenny walked back into the grisly house Tommy looked my way, waved and then jogged towards me.
"What did she want with you?" I asked, trying to make my question sound as innocent as possible.
Tommy turned back to where he had just come from.
"Who? Jenny?" He said. "She asked me out for a drink funnily enough."
"Is that professional?"
Was it my imagination or did my voice sound a little sharp just then. I tried to regain my composure.
"I bet you get asked out by loads of women?"
Where had that question come from? That sounded positively stalkerish.
Tommy looked at me strangely, just for a second, and then laughed.
"Actually, no," he said looking back at the house. "It's been quite a while since I've been on a date."
He looked down at the floor and then back at me. Once again his blue eyes were twinkling brightly. Any hint of sadness that had dwelled there for an instant was now put away for another time.
"So Lisa. What now?"
I brushed away the length of curly auburn hair that had fallen in front of my eye to one side.
"We've got absolutely nothing to go on at the moment," I said. "Get some uniforms to do house to house calls in the immediate area. See if any of the neighbours saw anything suspicious."
"Sounds like a plan," he said nodding.
I watched him walk towards the group of uniformed police officers standing next to the three police cars that were parked outside the house. There was an exchange of words, a few nods and pointing gestures and then movement as the police officers moved towards the surrounding houses. Tommy turned back towards me and gave me a thumbs up.
My wave back to him was rudely interrupted by the default Nokia tone.
I fumbled in my jacket pocket and pulled out my mobile phone, clicking the green accept button in one swift movement.
"DC Stewart," I said.
"I know who you are Detective Constable Stewart," said the tinny voice from my phone. "The question is, will you find out who I am?"
It was hard to identify the sex of the caller. Male? Female?
"What? Who is this?"
"You know who this is Detective Constable Stewart. You know exactly who this is."
My breathing stopped. The beating of my heart was now amplified by a hundred fold. It was so loud I was sure the voice within my phone would hear it.
"You might as well know that it is indeed James Taunton that lies smeared all over his own kitchen floor. God how I enjoyed doing that."
I looked desperately towards Tommy but he still had his back to me. I wanted so much to turn the phone off and run to him, but I needed to be strong. I took soft steps towards the police cars, hoping, no praying that somebody would come to me and help me out.
"I've got another present for you Detective Constable Stewart."
Another?
"What do you mean, another?" I asked.
"43 Acacia Avenue."
I could sense the caller's breathing quicken.
"God, I really enjoyed that one."
"Listen," I said. "We can help you."
It was the classic response to a killer's call. Give yourself up. We can help you. We'll listen to your problems and make it all better.
The voice in my phone laughed.
Male? Female? I still couldn't tell.
I was now just ten yards from Tommy who still had his back to me.
"You look so lovely Detective Constable Stewart."
"What?"
I felt thrown by that comment.
Tommy turned round and looked at me as I drew nearer.
"You have such lovely red, curly hair. I love the way it moves in the wind."
I mouthed the words 'it's the killer' to Tommy and his eyes bulged with disbelief.
"I suppose you will be telling the handsome young man standing in front of you all about me now."
I froze.
"The killer's here!" I screamed. "The killer can see me right now!"
Highly trained and coordinated pandemonium broke out straight away. Uniformed police ran towards every building, every nook and cranny that had a line of sight on where I was standing.
Tommy sprang into action, barking orders to every available officer in the area. Radios crackled into life as backup was called in.
Time stood still for me. I held my phone at arms length in disgust. I couldn't stop staring at it.
The killer knew me. The killer had been watching us all along.
DS Rioch's huge frame appeared at my side. With a gentleness that defied his size and social grace, he removed the phone from my hand.
I snapped out of my trance and back into the job.
"43 Acacia Avenue," I said to DS Rioch.
"Oh fuck," he snarled. "That's not far from here. My car."
He handed my phone to a nearby WPC as we sprinted towards the car.
"Get that to somebody who can get an ID on the last call made to that phone," he said, "and get some back up over to 43 Acacia Avenue."
DS Rioch huffed and puffed as he clambered into the driver's seat of his Ford Mondeo. I clipped my seat belt into place as he gunned the engine.
"Male or female?" Asked DS Rioch.
"I couldn't tell Sarge," I said with a sigh. "He or she must have been using some kind of voice distorter."
DS Rioch cursed.
Straight through a red light.
"Fuckin' technology," he muttered. "Gimme the old days any day when you used to be able to put the fear of God into a villain without violating his fuckin' human rights."
Hard right turn, wheels squealing, desperately trying to find some grip on the leaf strewn road.
"Trying to find a caller ID on my phone is going to be a waste of time you know," I said.
Brake, overtake a red Honda Civic, horn blaring to move traffic out of the way.
"I know Stewart, but we've got to be seen going through the fuckin' motions."
Left turn. Hard on the accelerator. Acacia Avenue.
"There it is!" I shouted as flashing blue lights appeared from the other end of the road.
DS Rioch stopped the car and we got out. Now that we were here neither of us really wanted to enter the house. We already knew that we would be walking into a scene of gore. There would be no adrenalin pumped breaking down of doors today. The two uniformed officers got out of the car and DS Rioch motioned to them to go round the back of the property.
"Another nice neighbourhood," I said as we walked up to the front door of 43 Acacia Avenue.
It was open.
"Ladies first," joked DS Rioch,
I looked at him and we both entered the property together.
"Hallway clear," I said looking around the huge entrance hall as DS Rioch walked straight through the door ahead and into the kitchen.
"Kitchen not so fuckin' clear," he said.
I walked into the kitchen and felt myself retch. There was the stench of vomit in the air.
We both stared at the same area on the floor.
It was a human skeleton. Bare white bones almost glistened beneath the halogen kitchen lights.
"Can you smell vomit?" I asked.
"Fuckin' yeah," said DS Rioch crouching down by the skeleton. "Smells like a Saturday morning to me."
There were flecks of vomit all over the skeleton and on the kitchen floor beneath it.
Glistening bones.
"What's that stuff on the bones?"
DS Rioch looked closer.
"Couldn't say," he said. "But what the fuck are these tiny footprints that lead from the skeleton to the back door?"
And there they were.
Tiny orange footprints.

"Two bodies in one day. You must be a lucky talisman," quipped Jenny Marsden as she removed her protective gloves and smiled at me.
"Well?" said DS Rioch, his gruff voice grating on the ears of those around him.
"Very unusual," said Jenny. "I obviously need to do some tests back at the laboratory, but my first guess would be that this body has been ingested and then regurgitated."
"And what the fuck does that mean?" Snapped DS Rioch.
Jenny Marsden raised an eyebrow and sighed under her breath.
I watched Jenny crouch back down next to the skeleton in one graceful and elegant move. Her hair, long, black and glossy, shone perfectly beneath the kitchen lights. Her perfectly formed red lips with her perfectly formed vowels and consonants was really starting to irritate me.
"The glistening on the bones looks like saliva to me," she said. "And then we have what looks to be bile on the floor and the ever so distinctive smell of vomit in the room."
Jenny moved catlike around to the other side of the skeleton.
"Again, I am only guessing at this point in time," she said, "but I would say that the flesh was stripped from this skeleton with some kind of acid."
DS Rioch put his hands on his more than ample hips.
"So are you tellin' me that somebody has dipped a body in some kind of acid and then placed it here in this kitchen and then puked all over the fuckin' place and covered it with spit?"
Jenny smiled at DS Rioch.
"So eloquently put Detective Sergeant," she said. "But until I have run some tests, I can only guess at this stage."
"Fuck me," said DS Rioch, "it looks like we've got a right nut job loose on our manor. Right first things first..."
"Excuse me," I said, trying to control my frustration.
I tightened my mouth and motioned DS Rioch to the other side of the kitchen.
"This is my investigation," I hissed at DS Rioch, trying to keep my voice down. "I realise you're my Sergeant but the boss made me lead Detective on this case."
DS Rioch's huge frame seemed to fill my whole vision as he leered at me menacingly.
"Not any more sweetheart," he chuckled. "Once her ladyship found out we had a possible serial killer in the area, she took over and put me in charge of field work."
"What?" I said angrily.
The two uniformed officers who had arrived at the house with us looked over at me.
"Since when?" I said in more hushed tones.
"Since ten minutes ago. I've just come off the phone with her," he said smugly. "You know how it is. There's a lot of glory to be had for catching a serial killer and I guess her ladyship wants that glory. Now do us all a favour Stewart, be a sweetheart and fuck off out of my face and go and make us all a cup of tea, There's a good girl."
DS Rioch walked through me as if I didn't exist and back to the crime scene.
I felt so angry and humiliated. First she'd put me on the case in the hope I'd fail, and now just as it had started to get interesting, she had pulled me off it and tossed me aside in favour of that ape Rioch.
The kitchen door opening jolted me from my anger for a moment. It was Tommy. I could see Jenny's eyes light up as he walked across the kitchen over to where I was standing.
"We searched the whole area Lisa but we couldn't find a thing," said Tommy. "Uniform are going to keep looking for any clues but I reckon it's a dead end."
I blinked hard, trying to keep the tears that were welling up in my eyes from trickling down my face.
"You'd best tell Rioch then," I said. "He's in charge of field work now and the DCI has taken over the case."
"What?" said Tommy, guiding me out of the back door to the kitchen and into the huge back garden.
He took my arm and led me away from the house to a cluster of garden furniture. His strong, but gentle hands ushered me onto one of the garden benches and he sat down next to me with a sigh. The evening sun was beginning its final journey towards the horizon. A stream of red and orange hues flowed over the garden around us.
"But you're a serial killer expert," he said looking into my eyes. "All that studying you've done. Wasn't your thesis all about serial killers."
He looked so handsome, so lovely, so sensitive yet strong. I wanted to grab his face tenderly and kiss his mouth. I wanted to know what it would feel like to be kissed by this man who seemed to tug at my heart every time I looked at him.
I regained my composure and looked back at the house.
"A first class honours degree in Psychology and a masters degree in Criminal Psychology," I said flatly. "A year's experience with Interpol and six months experience with the FBI on the US-Anglo exchange program."
I clasped my hands together and looked at Tommy.
"So how come I keep rolling to the bottom of the shit pile?"
Tommy shook his head and took my hand in his.
"Your time will come Lisa," he said. "In the mean time we've got two murders to solve. So let's make sure that we're the ones who find the killer. That way we get to rub everybody else's noses in it."
He let go of my hand and started to walk back to the house.
"Tommy," I called out after him.
He turned round and looked at me, hands in his pockets, looking his nonchalant self.
"Thank you," I said.
"You're welcome," he said with a smile. "Now move your arse DC Stewart, we've got a killer to catch."
I followed Tommy back into the house of death. The evening chorus started up behind me, a reminder that another day was drawing to a close.
"Okay, I have everything I need here," said Jenny. "My team will take care of removing the evidence. It is going to be a long busy night with two murders to deal with."
"How long before we can expect something from you?" Demanded DS Rioch.
"I should be able to get some preliminary reports out in the next couple of days," she said. "Some of the more complicated testing will take a lot longer, but I will put all my staff onto it immediately."
As Tommy and I left the crime scene, Jenny attracted Tommy's attention with the smallest of waves.
"Call me," she mouthed silently to him.
My green eyes turned even greener at Jenny Marsden's obvious intent towards Tommy. As we walked up the path away from the house I took the slightest of gambles.
"My car is parked back at the first crime scene," I said "Any chance of a lift back there?"
"Sure thing," said Tommy with a smile.
We climbed into his car and he started the ignition and turned on the car lights. The eerie glow of the dashboard seemed to make him even more handsome.
God I had it bad for him.
"Fancy popping to the pub for a drink on the way," I ventured, my heart beating like a love crazed teenager in eager anticipation of his answer. "After the afternoon we've had I could murder a glass of wine."
Tommy changed gear gently as we approached the junction. Indicate. Pull out. All so very gently, the complete antithesis to the car journey I had shared with DS Rioch over to Acacia Avenue.
He hesitated for a moment before replying.
"I can't," he said. "I've got to be somewhere tonight. I'm already going to be a little late."
Disappointment overwhelmed me. Was that a total brush off or did he genuinely need to be somewhere tonight?
"Okay," I said trying to sound that it really didn't bother me in the slightest. "Another time maybe?"
Another time maybe?
There it was. I'd thrown caution to the wind and was now eagerly awaiting a reply.
Tommy glanced over at me and then back at the road.
"Definitely," he said.
Definitely.
That one word put a huge smile on my face. I settled back into my seat and looked out of the passenger window at the street lights that were now beginning to come on.
Definitely. What a truly wonderful sound that word had right at this very moment.
"It's important to bond with work mates," he added. "Helps you think better as a team."
I could feel my heart explode in my chest. My stomach felt sick and nauseous. So there it was on a plate for the world to see. I was nothing more than a work colleague.
I was no longer looking out of the passenger window, I was now staring out of it in an effort to avoid further eye contact with Tommy. The short car journey seemed to take forever. I remained silent whilst Tommy chatted constantly, obviously oblivious to my feelings for him. He pulled up behind my car which was now bathed in the orange glow of the streetlights.
"Thanks for the lift," I said, climbing out of the car.
He waved me goodbye and then drove off sedately down the road leaving me alone. I suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable and walked quickly to my car. I unlocked the car door and climbed in. Then, without hesitation I pressed the car door lock button. I relaxed a little as all four doors were locked with a distinctive 'clunk'. I looked over at the house of death. There were still police cars parked in the area and SOCO were still gathering all the evidence within the house to help solve the case. It was going to be a long night for them. I turned the ignition key and the engine burst into life. Shifting the gearstick into gear, I pulled away from the kerb, slightly over revving the engine as my foot pressed on the accelerator and I let the clutch out too slowly.
Second. Third. Fourth. Slow down and brake. Indicate. Pull away in first and start all over again. The car journey seemed to mirror my life. For some unknown reason just when things were getting going, I always seemed to end up back in first gear, ready to move through all the gears that life had to offer all over again.
The journey home didn't take too long and very soon I was opening the door to my small one bedroom flat for which I paid an extortionate amount of rent. I suppose I could have flat shared with somebody else which would make things cheaper, but I loved having my own place. Somewhere where I could be myself and didn't have to worry about anybody else. On nights like tonight though, my flat seemed a very empty and lonely place.
I walked straight into the bedroom and stripped off my clothes, throwing them onto the old leather wingback chair in the corner of the room. The dressing table was my next visit. I sat down at it and removed my earrings, placing them carefully in a small ornate wooden jewellery box which was surrounded by perfume bottles, makeup and facial cleanser. Pulling a sheet of makeup remover from its packet I began to wipe away my facade. Red lips and black lined eyes faded back to their natural state with each wipe. A light moisturiser replaced the makeup remover, gliding like silk over my skin with the promise of instant rejuvenation and everlasting beauty. I looked at my reflection and it looked back at me rather sadly. Did I look older than my twenty six years of age? It was hard to tell when the mask was removed. There were no visible wrinkles. My long curly auburn hair was still free from the inevitable grey streaks that would one day invade my reflection.
I got up from the stool that I had sat on and walked out of the bedroom, across the corridor and into the small bathroom. The air was slightly cool and a surge of goose bumps that scattered across my naked skin caught me by surprise as I walked into the shower.
Shower on. Water set to warm. Faintest whir of power shower vibrating in the background.
The powerful warm jet of water that hit my upper body felt good. I raised my chin and let it cascade over my breasts. Tiny streams of water found their own way down my body, each taking a different path. I turned around in the shower, allowing the stream of water to hit my back. Water splashed violently onto different parts of the shower screen each time I shifted position. I twisted and turned, ensuring every part of my body was seduced by the warm water. Every part of my body except for my hair that is, which I tied back in a ponytail in an effort to keep it away from the stream of water.
I reached forward and fondled the shower gel container with my fingers. In an instant a thick creamy gel burst forth from the bottle and filled my hands with its wondrous silkiness. I massaged my entire body, enveloping it in a foaming mass of white delight. Closing my eyes I imagined that Tommy was standing in the shower behind me. I could feel his breath upon the nape of my neck. His tender lips kissing my shoulders. His strong hands reaching round me and cupping my breasts, fingers searching out aroused nipples which ached to be touched. I slid my hands over my breasts, my silky fingertips sending waves of delight through my entire body as I left no area untouched. My hands became his hands. I imagined his well toned torso pressing gently against my back, his hard erection sliding perfectly into the space between my buttocks. With my eyes still closed I reached forward for the shower head, unclipped it from its holder and slid it between my thighs. I gasped as the strong jet of water hit me so perfectly. Slowly the jet of water became Tommy's passion. Sliding inside me from behind, his breathing matching my breathing as he moved gently inside me, back and forth, back and forth. His thrusting hips begin to move faster. His powerful hands grip me tighter. His light kisses on my neck turn to groans of ecstasy.
Faster. Faster. Faster.
And then we both explode. Our lust cascading out from within us, leaving us with a glowing feeling of absolute contentment.
I regained my breath and turned the shower off. Replacing the shower back onto its holder I stepped out of the shower and back into the reality of my bathroom. With no lover to hold me in his arms, the feeling of bliss and contentment was quickly replaced by that of hunger and the fridge was very quickly my next place to visit once I'd slipped on a dressing gown.
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. A light dinner was replaced by a large glass of red wine in front of the television and very quickly my eyes began to feel heavy. I finished off my drink and walked back into my bedroom. Casting my dressing gown over the bed post I slipped my naked body beneath the cool duvet. With any luck, I would dream about Tommy doing wonderful things to me.
And dream I did....
My vision was blurred. I blinked several times and slowly, everything came into focus. I was surprised to find myself lying in my bed. The room was dimly lit by my bedside lamp which had been turned to low using the dimmer switch. There was something over the lamp. It was a red scarf, made from a very thin translucent material. The red scarf bathed the room in a seductive, sexy glow. I smiled to myself.
"Oh good. A sexy dream," I whispered in my head.
There was somebody standing in the corner of the room and the feeling of sensuality was immediately replaced by one of trepidation. I tried to get up but I couldn't move. I looked to my right and left to see my wrists were firmly tied to each bedpost. I looked down to see that my duvet had been pulled back and my ankles were also tied to the end bedposts. I was tied, spread-eagled to my bed, completely vulnerable and naked to the ominous shadowy figure standing in the corner. I tried to scream but of course no sound would come out of my mouth. No sound ever leaves your mouth when you cry for help in a nightmare. I desperately tried to wake myself up, but every time I closed my eyes and opened them, I was still in my bedroom, tied to my bed.
The shadowy figure floated across the room towards me. I couldn't make out any features at all. It was just a silhouette to me. Black and hideous it stood next to the bed, gazing down at my nakedness. I could feel its eyes upon me. I could feel its lust radiating from its very being. I watched as it picked up a black leather bag from the floor by its feet. It placed the bag on my stomach and tipped it on its side so the top opening was now facing towards me. There was a click as the bag opened.
My eyes widened and I gasped at what was in the bag. Three tiny men climbed out of the bag and stood on my stomach. I could feel their tiny cold feet on my skin. The shadowy figure picked up the bag and retreated back to the far corner of the room again. The tiny men were naked and I could hear myself laughing inside my head. The feeling of dread was beginning to subside. The tiny men, who were probably no taller than width of my hand huddled into a circle. I tried to move my face closer to get a better view but my restraints kept me in place. I saw them all shake hands and then advance towards me. Their tiny feet tiptoed delicately over the skin of my stomach and up between my breasts. One of the men ran up and over my left breast, the other tiny man ran up and over my right breast and the third man stood on my chest bone looking at me.
I gasped as the tiny men on my breasts moved forward and wrapped themselves around my nipples which hardened instantly to their touch. They massaged them between their hands and their legs. They sat astride them and rubbed their entire bodies over them sending me crazy with desire. I moaned with each touch of their tiny naked bodies. I watched them intently, my breathing becoming deeper and deeper. The one on my left was well toned and muscular. His aroused penis was there for me to look at with desire and in comparison to his tiny size, he was definitely well endowed and he knew it. His companion on the right was younger, paler, skinnier. He kept looking up into my eyes, grinning at me with lust. He rubbed himself against my skin, touching and kissing my nipple which was the size of a round coffee table in comparison to his tiny frame. I didn't care though. It felt wonderful. I bit my lower lip. I needed to be released from this teasing. I watched the tiny man who had been standing in between my breasts run down my stomach and over the fine pubic hair that adorned my pelvic region. His long blonde hair, bounced up and down with every jolt of his tiny body and I gasped as he disappeared between my writhing thighs. I could feel him climbing inside me.
I moaned out loud. I could feel him wriggling inside me now. Every movement sent spasms of delight to the very centre of my body. I squeezed my thighs together and then opened them, trying to make the most of this incredible sensation within me. It was better than any sex I had ever had. He knew exactly where I needed to be touched.
My cries became more intense, and with each cry the tiny man in my now hot, wet pussy reacted by turning me on more.
Finally I could take no more and for the second time that night I cried out with exhilaration, clamping my thighs together as hard as I could, squeezing my pelvic muscles with complete joy as my orgasm shuddered through my body.
I lay gasping on the bed looking at the two tiny men on my breasts.
The well toned good looking man walked up over my chest and touched my chin lightly with his fingers.
And then he was gone. Snatched up in the hands of the shadowy figure which now filled me with fear and dread again. I could feel my eyes closing, my breathing getting heavier and heavier.
"Sleeeep," hissed the dark figure, waving its hand over my face. "Sleeeeeep Detective Constable Stewart."
And I did.

The morning briefing started right on schedule.
We all walked into the sterile briefing room and sat down on comfortable leather chairs. Tommy sat down next to me and gave me a nudge with his elbow and winked at me.
"Did you pull last night or something?" he asked with a chirpy smile on his face. "You've got a grin on you the size of the Blackwall Tunnel."
I smirked to myself.
The dream I'd had last night had been so vivid and so satisfying that when I'd woken up this morning I'd ached for more. I'd tried to revisit the erotic nature of that tiny man fantasy, but no matter what I tried or imagined, it just wasn't the same, and so I in the end I had to be content with the memories of the three tiny men making love to my naked body.
"I was just remembering a dream from last night," I said.
"I don't suppose I was in it?" Joked Tommy.
Oh how I would have loved you to have been part of that particular dream Tommy, I thought to myself.
I frowned. What a strange thing to think. I always fantasised that Tommy was strong and gallant. He was my knight in shining armour who would come and save me from all the evils of the world. I'd never before thought that it would be lovely if he was some tiny plaything. Weird.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by her ladyship walking confidently out to the front of the briefing room. The DCI looked as imposing as ever in her designer trouser suit which was cut to accentuate her slim athletic physique, a complete contrast to my more well developed hourglass figure. I crossed my legs and Tommy leaned in close to me and whispered in my ear. I nearly didn't hear what he said I was that excited that his mouth was so close to me. As he spoke his minty breath meandered through my hair and caressed my ear.
"I don't think I've ever seen you wear a skirt," he whispered.
And he was right. I never wore skirts whilst on duty, but this morning it had just felt right. I'd substituted my trousers for a skirt that showed off my relatively long legs and even gone as far as to wear black nylon holdups and shoes with a slight heel on them.
"Okay team, we've got an extremely busy day ahead of us," said the DCI. "This is what we know so far."
The DCI picked up a remote control and stepped to one side of the large interactive whiteboard that was mounted to the wall behind her. With a click the whiteboard sprung to life revealing a large photograph of a man in his thirties. Well groomed, tanned and smiling happily at the camera, James Taunton had no idea what the world had in store for him when that photo had been taken.
"As you've probably all guessed, we are ninety nine percent sure that this is our first victim, James Taunton," said the DCI. "The lab boys and girls are still running further tests but it would seem that this man's DNA is all over the house and in the car that's parked in the garage which is also registered to a James Taunton. The DNA from the remains found in the kitchen also match the DNA found in the house and the car. The house is in his name and several of the neighbours have confirmed that Mr Taunton lived there. Luckily his top set of teeth were still intact and so his dental records, which will be with us this morning, should give us the final confirmation that we need."
God this was going to be a long briefing, I thought to myself. I'd forgotten how thorough the DCI always was.
There was a click and the next image appeared on the screen. It was a photograph of my phone.
"The killer made contact with DC Stewart shortly after we arrived at the scene," said the DCI with a slight snort.
It was obvious that she was far from impressed that it was me who the killer had contacted and not her.
"The phone the killer used belonged to James Taunton," said the DCI. "We have no idea how he managed to get hold of DC Stewart's phone number but I have a few theories. DC Stewart's phone now has a wire tap on it. Any further calls made to this phone will be logged, recorded and traced."
The whole room was now looking in my direction. I felt myself go red from all the attention. Was everybody thinking the same thing that I was thinking? Was the DCI implying that I knew James Taunton and that's how the killer had got hold of my number, because it was in James Taunton's mobile phone? I suddenly felt so angry. How dare she? I wanted to speak out and just as I felt my mouth open and my tongue wind itself up to deliver a scathing attack on the DCI I felt Tommy lightly touch my arm.
I turned and looked at Tommy who was shaking his head subtly.
I closed my mouth and returned my gaze to the front of the room.
"We think this is our second victim," said the DCI quietly.
She hesitated for a few seconds before pressing the remote control.
Click.
The volume of the room rose suddenly.
"Fuckin' hell," said DS Rioch from behind me. "It's Frank. Oh sweet fuckin' Jesus."
Frank?
"Okay keep quiet please," said the DCI.
She didn't need to say it twice. The room fell into a morbid hush.
"I'm afraid the remains in the second house have been positively identified as belonging to Frank Castleton."
"Not Frank," said DS Rioch under his breath, his voice betraying his true emotions for once.
I turned to Tommy and frowned. Tommy just sat there staring at the image of Frank Castleton. Piercing steel blue eyes, set in a square head with a thuggish jaw stared back at us from the screen.
"As you all know, Frank was an outstanding police officer," said the DCI, "and it certainly doesn't feel like four years ago that he retired from the our department, but I'm afraid the records we have for him match the remains at 43 Acacia Avenue."
"But I thought Frank had retired to the south coast," said DS Rioch. "Bournemouth or somewhere?"
The DCI paused.
"He had," said the DCI. "We have no idea what Frank Castleton was doing at 43 Acacia Avenue. To further complicate things we have been unable to locate the owner of the house."
Click.
A stunning woman in her early twenties looked out at us. She had stylishly cut medium length brown hair, large brown eyes and full sensuous lips that gave her a look of a young Brigitte Bardot.
"This is Stephanie DuPont," said the DCI. "The house belongs to her and this is her driving licence photograph. She's a French national living here in London and at this precise moment she is possibly the only link we have to the two killings."
"Must have a rich Daddy to own a house like that," snorted DS Rioch. "Or a sugar Daddy."
There would be no shortage of volunteers to locate Miss DuPont, I thought to myself as the DCI continued to talk to us and show us various images of the crime scenes.
"And then we have the bizarre mock up of the tiny footprints at each scene," concluded the DCI. "Obviously some kind of calling card but I'm getting a psychologist in later today to analyse what this might say about our killer."
There was a knock at the door and Sergeant Lyle's bald head poked around the edge of the door as he opened it.
"Uniform are all ready ma'am once you've finished here," he said.
The DCI nodded at the Sergeant and then looked down at her clipboard. One by one we were given our allotted assignments.
DS Rioch was to go back to the first crime scene and sweep the area with uniform to ensure no stone had been left unturned.
DC Taylor, a young police officer with scruffy blonde hair and boyish looks was to go back to the second crime scene with uniform and follow up any leads generated.
DC Thompson was to focus on contacting any family that Frank Castleton had and locating Stephanie DuPont.
And me?
I watched my colleagues exit the room one by one leaving me alone with the DCI. She looked at me the way a lioness sizes up its prey before attacking.
"I don't like you Stewart," said the DCI without even blinking.
And there it was out in the open. No subtlety whatsoever. No disguise. Just plain and simple.
I didn't respond. The only thing I could have said would have been "I'm sorry to hear that", but I wasn't sorry to hear it because I couldn't stand her either.
"But I've read your report and you might just prove useful on this investigation, but I need to ask you something first."
I didn't even give her the satisfaction of asking the obvious.
"No I didn't know James Taunton ma'am," I said. "I have absolutely no idea how the killer got hold of my mobile phone number."
The DCI perched on the edge of the desk next to the interactive whiteboard and nodded slowly. She opened the desk drawer and handed me back my mobile phone.
"Keep this on you at all time," she said. "If you take a shower, put it in a plastic bag and take it in the shower with you. Take it everywhere. If the killer rings you again we need you to answer it."
I took the phone from her long slender fingers and placed it in my jacket pocket.
"We've got the PCs from both houses," said the DCI. "The technical boffins have disabled all passwords and all that other rubbish. Go through each PC and try and find a link between James Taunton and Stephanie DuPont."
I died inside. Everybody else was out in the field doing proper investigative work and the bitch had stuck me inside doing an analyst's job.
"Isn't that a job for an analyst," I said. "I'd be far better..."
The DCI held her finger up the way a teacher holds her finger up to tell a naughty child to stop talking.
She leaned forward and whispered in my ear.
"You're meant to be the clever serial killer expert with all your fancy degrees," she said quietly. "So let's see if you can catch this one."
I looked her straight in the eye. I was angry but I was determined to prove her wrong, and if that meant doing the job of an analyst and trolling through reams of information, then so be it. I was not going to let this bitch beat me.
Nodding politely I left the briefing room and walked over to my desk which was conveniently placed next to the water cooler on the far side of the large office. There were six desks altogether and apart from mine they were all vacant. The two laptops were balanced on top of each other on my desk complete with leads.
"Bloody brilliant," I muttered to myself as I sat down on my desk and positioned both laptops in front of me. They were clearly labelled 'James Taunton' and 'Stephanie Dupont'. Power leads connected, lids open, power buttons pushed both laptops burst into life and I began to search through the two people's lives. I looked up at the clock and sighed. It was now nine thirty in the morning.
Ten thirty. Nothing found in the personal documents section.
Eleven thirty. Nothing significant found amongst the photographs that were stored on both laptops.
At eleven forty five I stopped looking at the computers and turned my attention to the large pile of crime scene photographs that were also on my desk. I flicked through them the way one flicks through a pack of cards. A bloody smear on a kitchen floor and the remains of a skeleton also on a kitchen floor. At least the killer was consistent when it came to choosing a room to kill in. I rubbed my eyes and turned my focus back to the laptops.
"Right, let's see if we can find what you've both been looking at on the internet," I said. "You first Mr Taunton."
I looked in his favourites list first. There was nothing particularly unusual saved there as I glanced down the web names.
"Let's have a look at history," I said clicking on the tab.
There were lots of entries for Google and Yahoo and a few for Facebook. I kept looking down amongst the myriad of website names that were displayed in front of me. My eyes were beginning to feel tired. I placed a finger on the screen to try and help me focus. My eyes followed the tip of my finger ever downwards. Car searches. Big boobs, surprise, surprise.
And there it was.
Totally innocent in its own right but given the crime scenes it had to be a link.
I looked carefully at the words Giantess City Forum.
I crossed my fingers and clicked on the link.
The webpage burst into life. Luckily James Taunton was an impatient man and had ticked the 'log me on automatically each visit' box.
"What the hell is this?" I muttered under my breath.
It was an entire web site dedicated to size fetishes. Shrinking men and women, giant women. Mega, whatever that was. Story sections. Image sections. I looked up to make sure I was still alone. The office was completely quiet. It was just me on my own about to enter the world of...giant women? Shrinking men?
I looked at his username. JamesTShrink it said.
My mouse pointer hovered over the different headings on the site, trying to find something relevant to click on. And there it was. A heading entitled 'my posts'.
"Okay Mr Taunton," I said. "Let's see what your interests were."
His tastes were fairly obvious from the topic headings. I clicked on each one in turn. A photograph of a woman with a tiny naked man under her foot popped up. The next one depicted a woman showing her shoe the camera. The bloody remains of a tiny man had been photo shopped onto the underside of her shoe. Each picture I clicked showed a similar image. Some of the images were very well manipulated whereas some looked extremely obvious they were cut and pasted together in a matter of minutes. Image, after image, after image I looked at. It was all so fascinating. James Taunton's comments on each post had been fairly standard and it was obvious that his big turn on was the thought of being shrunk down to the size of a pen lid and then squashed underfoot by a dominant woman.
And that's exactly how he'd died. Smeared all over his kitchen floor like strawberry jam.
I clicked onto his messages.
There were about thirty messages in his inbox and all of them had already been opened. I looked at the username of the person who had sent them all - 'Mademoiselle Stephanie'.
"Hello Stephanie DuPont," I said. "So, you knew James Taunton. Let's see what else you knew."
The first message was an erotic description of what this woman wanted to do to James. I read it slowly and carefully.

"I'd love to find you in my bedroom spying on me. You'd only be a few inches tall and you'd be hiding in one of my shoes, my black leather shoes with the four inch heels. As you watched me getting dressed you'd think that you were perfectly hidden, not knowing that I'd already spotted you out of the corner of my eye. You'd watch me slip my black panties on, ever so slowly pulling them up over my long tanned legs. You'd be desperate to see between my legs but I'd be positioned so you could only see my profile, silhouetted by a red bedside lamp behind me. Next you'd watch me put on my suspender belt and then slide my fishnet stockings up each leg, attaching each stocking to my suspender belt. How you'd long to climb up my legs, to use my stockings like a ladder so you could get closer to me but you're so far away, hiding in my shoe little man. Next I'd put on my bra and my tight fitting mini skirt to really show off my legs which must look like skyscrapers to you. Finally I'd slip on my slim fit blouse, taking my time to do up each button, fully knowing that you're watching my every move. And now for my shoes. I'd walk towards you. Each footstep would echo across the floor and into your hiding place. You'd feel my full power as I got nearer and nearer. Imagine the shadow I'd cast over you as I stood next to my shoes looking down at you little man. I'd slide my enormous foot into the shoe next to you. The shear scale of my foot would be enough to take your breath away. And then you'd realise that my other foot needs to slide into the shoe you are hiding in. You'd shout out to me and wave your arms to attract my attention and I'd see you and smile. It would be so strange to be looking up at me towering above you, my face peering down at you. And as I mouthed the words 'goodbye little man', you'd start to scream. My foot would come sliding into my shoe forcing you down into space between the end of my toes and the inside of my shoe. You would only have a tiny space in which to lie curled up. I'd keep you in there all day as I went shopping and met my friends for drinks. I would be having a wonderfully normal day, all the time knowing you were trapped in my shoe just beyond my toes. And then when I got home I'd slide my foot out of my shoe and tip you out onto the floor. Slowly, I'd place my shoe back on my foot and then hold my foot above you. I'd watch you squirm and beg for mercy and plead with me but it would all be to no avail. I'd stamp on your tiny body and it would burst from the force of my enormous foot. You would become just a smear on the underside of my shoe. A mere stain that I would look at for a day or two before cleaning you off with a piece of rag - love Stephie xxx"

I sat back in my chair and looked at the words. I tried to imagine the feeling of power you would have over somebody if they were tiny. I felt myself smiling because it felt good. I held my hand out in front of me, palm face up. I imagined her ladyship standing on the palm of my hand. She was about the height of a pen. I thought for a second or so and she grew smaller and smaller until she was no taller than my little finger. I imagined her on her knees begging for her life. Begging me to spare her, begging me to return her to her normal size. I imagined picking her up by the scruff of her shirt so she dangled helplessly from my closed finger and thumb. I imagined what it would be like to hold her like that, to have total power over her and I loved it. I imagined placing the DCI on the floor between my feet and watching her scurry like a little bug on the floor. And then I imagined placing my foot on her tiny body, watching her looking up at me as her head poked out just beyond the end of my shoe. And then finally I imagined what it would feel like to press down on her tiny body. To feel it give way beneath my foot. To feel her ladyship's bones crunch beneath my foot. To....
I shook my head and gasped.
"What the hell is happening to me," I muttered. "Get back on track now Lisa."
I cleared the crush fantasies from my head with a long drink of water and then clicked on the second message in James Taunton's inbox. It was more of the same. Detailed descriptions of how she would love to shrink him and then crush him. Each message I opened was more and more erotic, more frantic, more personal and more violent. I could sense some sort of relationship building up between James and Stephanie within this fantasy cyber world of theirs. The last message in the inbox that I opened was short, sweet and somewhat unexpected.

"That sounds great. Here's my mobile telephone number - 07796125898754. Call me - love Stephie xxx"

I looked at James Taunton's sent messages area. Again there were about thirty messages and I was pretty sure that as I opened each one, it would be a response to the ones in his inbox. Just to make sure I opened up all the messages and I was right. Over the space of thirty messages or so these two had become very intense and close. Was that even possible, I thought to myself. The last message that James Taunton had sent, matched up perfectly with Stephanie DuPont's last reply.

"You live in London. I live in London. Let's meet up! Sorry. Don't mean to be stalkerish. I won't be at all offended if you think it's a bad idea, which it probably is seeing as you don't really know much about me - love James"

But she had thought it was a good idea and given him her telephone number and from thereon the telephone had become their main form of communication.
I clicked back to the board index and wondered what to look at next.
"Videos should be interesting," I said to myself. "Let's see what we have here."
My eye was immediately drawn to the newest posts on the video section. Two new posts posted in the early hours of this morning.
Two new video postings by Mademoiselle Stephanie.
I opened the first one. As it played I had to place my hand on my mouth to stop myself from screaming out loud. I looked long and hard but no matter how much I wanted to deny it, it was right there in front of me.
I re-read the title of the video, and as I read, the words came out of my mouth out loud.
"Kitchen crush," I said flatly.
This video was filmed in James Taunton's kitchen. I recognized the floor, the layout, the worktops. The camera was focused on Stephanie Dupont. It was definitely her. She was wearing exactly what she had described in her first message to James Taunton. She wriggled around the kitchen, teasing the camera with every part of her body. The camera panned to the kitchen floor and there was a tiny man looking up in awe at Stephanie. She giggled and pouted and then crouched down so she could be closer to the tiny man on the floor.
"Aww look," she said, her French accent oozing sensuality. "There's a tiny man in my kitchen."
The acting was terrible, but this femme fatale knew how to move her body. She stood back up and then the camera cut to a view of her looking down into the camera lens. She spoke in soft tones.
"You can't escape little man," she said. "I'm going to really enjoy squashing you under my foot."
Now the camera was back at head height. It panned round Stephanie's head and then down onto the floor where the tiny man was running this way and that but every time he made a move Stephanie would place her foot in front of him and then laugh.
"When did amateur special effects become so good," I said to myself as I leaned closer to the laptop screen. The tiny man on the floor was so realistic. So real. So...
I could feel my heart thumping away in my chest. Time seemed to slow down as the camera panned from Stephanie's face, down past her ample cleavage, down her flat stomach, down her midriff, along her incredibly long legs and down to her feet. The tiny man who was standing at Stephanie's feet was a really good actor. The camera panned behind the tiny man showing a shot of him standing between Stephanie's feet. He was looking up at her, shouting and screaming something totally inaudible, but whatever it was, it was very convincing. He sounded genuinely terrified. The tiny man turned round and everything turned to slow motion. I watched him run towards the camera. His tiny eyes bulging with fear, his mouth wide open, screaming. He came closer and closer and closer.
It was James Taunton.
His tiny fists were now banging against the camera lens and in the background I could see Stephanie's out of focus right foot menacingly lift up from the kitchen floor like some gargantuan prehistoric monster emerging from a swamp.
The camera panned back again and James Taunton spun round and looked up. He raised his arms and screamed except it sounded so weird as if the sound had been slowed down along with the images. I watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as Stephanie's black high heeled shoe came into view. It moved slowly from the top of the PC screen downwards in one beautiful flowing movement. James Taunton looked as if he was holding up Stephanie's shoe at one point before it became obvious that his tiny body was being subjected to the full downward force of this woman's foot. I watched James Taunton's head disappear into his shoulders which moved closer to his waist as his legs buckled beneath him. There was a sickening crunch of bones, which sounded even worse in slow motion, as Stephanie's foot finally came to rest on the unforgiving kitchen floor.
I wasn't expecting the wipe.
Stephanie wiped her foot across the floor, smearing the squished remains of James Taunton beneath the sole of her shoe.
Now the camera was looking down from Stephanie's perspective. It was the same shot but this time it hadn't been slowed down.
I could see Stephanie laughing a she lifted her foot up. James screamed something and then .....squish. He was just a stain on the floor.
As the film ends a logo appeared on the screen.
Mademoiselle Productions the logo said and from the last letter 's' little tiny footprints appeared across the screen.
I stared at the screen wondering what I had just witnessed. The best produced special effects that video could offer...or something else?
My hand hesitated over the mouse just for a moment before moving the pointer to the second video posting. I double clicked and once again I was within the fantasy world of Giantess.
"Kitchen feast," I whispered to myself.
It was Stephanie Dupont again. This time she was in her own kitchen, the scene of the second murder. She was dressed in the same style of clothes but in different colours this time. She looked into the camera and smiled and then licked her lips.
"I'm really going to enjoy eating you up little man," she said, the word little pronounced liddle because of her French accent. The camera panned down to her chest and there in her clenched fist was a tiny man. He was struggling to get out of her hand but he had no chance. Stephanie held him tightly. The camera panned down beneath him so we were now looking up at Stephanie from just behind the little man. Her breasts were huge from this viewpoint and you could see her face staring over the top of them and down at the little man who was certainly naked from the waist up. He was an older man than James Taunton and I was already guessing that this was Frank Castleton who was starring in this particular video. Stephanie lifted Frank up closer to her face and the camera followed her hand so now we were looking at Stephanie's huge face. Frank pummelled his fists against Stephanie's huge hand but she just giggled. She opened her mouth wide, giving us a view of her perfectly white teeth and her luscious pink tongue. She leaned forward and kissed Frank on his face.
"Aww poor little man," said Stephanie, "you look so yummy."
She reached across with her other hand and grabbed Frank's right arm between her finger and thumb. He screamed out in pain as she lifted him out of her grip and held him dangling by his arm which was being held firmly between Stephanie's finger and thumb.
The audio for the little man was a lot better in this film. His screams could clearly be heard.
She lifted him up beyond her head and tilted her head back and opened her mouth. The camera panned closer to a side profile of Stephanie looking up at Frank dangling from her fingers. As he kicked and struggled it became very obvious that he was naked.
"No!" Screamed Frank as Stephanie stuck out her moist pink tongue and licked his feet.
"Mmmmh, you taste good little man."
Frank's next words were barely audible but they sounded something like "I've changed my mind".
I watched in disbelief as Stephanie opened up her finger and thumb and dropped Frank into her mouth. His cries were immediately cut off as she clamped her mouth shut. Stephanie closed her eyes and started to swallow. She reached down for a glass of water and then opened her mouth to the camera which zoomed into the back of her throat. I could just make out Frank's face frozen in fear. His hands were stretched out before him, desperately trying to gain hold of something, anything to stop him from sliding down this woman's throat into her stomach. His hands slid over her tongue as he started to slip further and further down her throat.
"Goodbye Frank," said a female voice off camera shot.
Stephanie took a huge gulp of water and the camera moved away from her mouth and focused on her throat.
"Bloody hell how the hell do they do that special effect?" I gasped as I watched the small bulge that was Frank move slowly down Stephanie's throat.
"Mmmh I love eating little men," said Stephanie licking her lips and then blowing a kiss into the camera.
Mademoiselle Productions.
The End.
I clicked back onto the messages heading. Grabbing my notepad and a pen I started to list all the dates of the messages that James Taunton and Stephanie DuPont had sent to each other.
Then, as I clicked the mouse button, the words on the screen suddenly screamed out at me.
1 New Message.
I clicked on the icon and looked at the name of the sender of the new message.
Mademoiselle Stephanie.
I double clicked on the message and it opened up in front of me.
The message was simple and straight to the point.
'Join us Detective Constable Stewart'.

'Join us Detective Constable Stewart'.
I stared at the laptop screen. There was a diagonal line with the words 'online' on the right hand side of the message. Stephanie DuPont or somebody using her account was sitting at the other end of a PC at this precise moment trying to attract my attention.
But how did they know it was me using James Taunton's account?
My hands shaking, I typed a message into the reply box and clicked on the send button. My message was just as succinct and to the point.
'How did you know it was me using this account?'
I didn't have to wait long for a reply.
'Join us Detective Constable Stewart'.
I sat and thought for a few moments and then typed in another message.
'Who are you?'
Send.
'We have been around since the dawn of time. We have always been here, it is just that nobody chooses to see us.'
This was getting more cryptic with every message I sent. I typed in another message, something that I desperately needed to know. I felt like I was at a crossroads with no map, no compass and no signpost to tell me which way to go.
'The kitchen videos you posted, are they real? Were those men actually shrunk and killed'.
Send.
I couldn't quite believe that I'd just sent that last message. I already knew that the videos were high production affairs with excellent special effects. The alternative was completely unthinkable. The alternative would turn everything in the world completely upside down on its head.
'Join us Detective Constable Stewart'.
It was the standard reply again which was really starting to annoy me. This whole situation was getting me nowhere. What I needed to do was to find Stephanie DuPont and get her in an interview room, not indulge her online fantasies by playing cat and mouse over the internet. I decided to play my ace card.
'I accept your invitation. How do I join you?'
Send.
There was only one way that I was going to get close to Stephanie DuPont and that was to pretend to go along with this charade. I clasped my hands together and waited for a reply. This was going against all CID protocols. If the DCI found out that I was in touch with a suspect and kept it to myself my career in the force would be over. I looked at my watch. Over two minutes had gone by now. The previous messages had been answered within a minute.
"Come on," I muttered to myself, willing a reply to appear on the screen.
Stephanie was still online. Why was she taking so long to reply? I nervously played with my hair as I waited.
Five minutes passed.
A voice called out from the doorway of the office.
I cursed under my breath as the ever immaculate Jenny Marsden walked into the office. I slowly closed the lid of the laptop as Jenny walked over to my desk the way a catwalk model walks. One foot perfectly placed in line with the other. Armed with a smile and a manila A4 envelope in her hand she stood in front of my desk and looked down at me.
"Hello," said Jenny. "I have got some more reports here from the murder scenes, I was just wondering with whom I should leave them."
She looked around the empty office behind her.
"I'll take them," I said holding out my hand to relieve Jenny of the documents in her hand.
She hesitated for a moment.
"I'll make sure the DCI gets them as soon as she gets back," I said.
Jenny smiled and handed me the envelope which I took off her and placed on the desk next to the laptops. I looked up at Jenny to see her glancing around the office again.
"You don't normally bring these down personally," I said. "Was there anything else you wanted?"
Jenny kept up her mask of professional interest as she spoke but I was already onto what she was doing here.
"I thought I could just talk through the reports with somebody," she said. "Sometimes it is easier for me to explain things."
"That makes perfect sense," I said disguising the intended sarcasm in my voice. After all, we are all just a bunch of thick coppers.
"So what's in the reports?" I asked directly.
"Excuse me?"
I nodded at the manila envelope.
"I'm happy to listen if you want to talk through them."
Jenny shook her head which was just as well. I needed her to leave quickly so I could get back online with Stephanie DuPont.
"Just make sure they reach the DCI," she said turning round.
She walked a few yards away from my desk and then stopped.
Here it comes, I thought to myself trying to control the green monster inside me.
Jenny turned back towards my desk and smiled. I t was such a disarming smile.
"Do you know when DC Thompson will be back?" She asked.
"I'm afraid I don't," I said. "But that's his desk over there if you want to leave him a message."
Jenny thanked me and walked over to Tommy's desk. I watched her scribble something on the pad of paper that lay on his desk.
Inside I was already crying.
"Thank you," said Jenny.
She started to walk towards the office door and then for a second time she stopped and turned round.
Stop smiling at me, I thought to myself. I need to hate you at the moment but I was finding it so difficult to. After all, she had no idea I was totally smitten with Tommy.
"The report confirms that James Taunton and Frank Castleton were the murder victims," said Jenny from across the office. "The saliva and contents of the stomach found over the remains of Frank Castleton belonged to the owner of the house, Stephanie DuPont."
I listened as she told me what else the report confirmed and then Jenny Marsden thanked me again and walked out of the office for good this time.
I sat staring at the laptops in front of me. I was in shock. The information that Jenny had just passed onto me made no sense on one hand but when viewed from another angle, it made all the sense in the world. There was so much going on inside my head right now but there was no time to think about it.
I snapped open the laptop lid and looked to see if Stephanie DuPont had replied to my last message.
She was no longer online, but there was a reply.
'Now that you have accepted our invitation there can be no going back.
You will be tested.
Post a profile on this website.
Include a photograph of yourself but doctor the photograph to disguise what you really look like.
Do not tell your colleagues. If you do, will we know.
We have posted something that we trust will ensure you keep everything to yourself.
Your next task will follow soon.'
I read the message again. I was in. Moving my mouse pointer over the link that had been attached to the message I double clicked on it and waited for the screen to load. I watched a photograph appear in the Shrinking Man Collage section and gasped at the scene it depicted. It was a photograph of my bedroom. There I was, strapped naked to the bed and standing on top of my chest were three tiny naked men. I felt sick. My face had been deliberately blurred slightly to obscure my identity, but there could be no doubt that the original picture would become available to my colleagues if I uttered one word about any of this to anybody. I felt like the whole world had just dropped out from underneath me. I felt violated and all of a sudden incredibly vulnerable. Somebody had broken into my flat, tied me up whilst I slept and taken explicit photographs of me. But how could they have possibly known what I'd been dreaming about? I stared at the image more closely, delving deep inside my brain for an answer and once again, there were only two answers I could come up with, one which was possible, the other completely impossible. I looked at the photograph more closely. It was a beautiful piece of image manipulation but it made my skin crawl seeing myself on the screen in such a vulnerable position. I picked up a pen and started scribbling notes on the pad in front of me.
The possible.
Somebody broke into my flat and drugged me whilst I slept with some kind of hallucinogenic drug.
Maybe they played with my mind by using plastic male dolls.
They took photographs of me and added the tiny naked men using some kind of photo manipulation software.
The impossible.
Somebody broke into my flat, tied me up and then released three tiny naked men onto my helpless body.
I felt completely violated by the photograph which had turned a perfect erotic dream into the sordid reality that somebody had broken into my flat and photographed me whilst I slept.
I stared back at the photograph, trying to see any clues within the picture, which suddenly vanished from the screen.
"Shit!" I hissed grabbing the mouse.
I double clicked on all Stephanie DuPont’s postings. The picture of me and the two kitchen killing videos were now gone, deleted by the user. So much for building up a trail of evidence to find Stephanie DuPont. Even if I did tell the DCI everything I knew, there was now nothing to back it up. I clicked on the message inbox and then the sent message icon. All the messages were gone. I was now back to square one. Whoever these people were, they had knowledge of telecommunications and website protocols. I tapped the end of my pen against my teeth and thought about the contents of the report that Jenny Marsden had revealed to me. My pen moved to the notepad and scribbled out what Jenny had told me.
Frank Castleton's body had been subjected to a high volume of human gastric juices.
James Taunton's remains contained traces of shoe leather.
Every further piece of the puzzle I found was leading me further and further away from the truth. What was it that Sherlock Holmes had once said?
When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
Stephanie DuPont’s laptop did not shed any further light on the case. Her internet searches had been wiped clean with some sophisticated software and there was no reference to Giantess City in her favourites list. I turned my attention back to James Taunton's laptop. What I was about to do would get me into serious trouble if I was ever found out. With a click of a mouse button I deleted the reference to Giantess City in the favourites list. I knew that if the techies wanted to find the reference they could, but I also knew that they'd already scanned the laptops and looking at the information had been handed over to me. If Giantess City wasn't linked to Stephanie DuPont, then there was no reason to look for a deleted link.
As lunch time approached I turned off both laptops and closed the lids to each. I had thoroughly searched both computers twice and found no further references to Giantess City or any other giantess reference. I was right back where I started, except now I was facing the dangerous game of going undercover in order to infiltrate whoever these people were, and I was doing it completely on my own.
With both laptops thoroughly searched I looked over at Tommy's desk. Would it be so wrong to read what Jenny Marsden had written on his note pad? I deliberated for a few seconds before deciding it would be very wrong, so I remained in my seat. I needed to see Tommy though. To hear his calming voice, to feel his confident, reassuring hand on mine.
"Stewart!" Barked the DCI.
She was standing at the office door, arms folded, legs apart.
"Anything significant on those laptops?" She asked.
"Nothing ma'am," I said, completing the lie that I was about to embark upon. "But Jenny Marsden dropped off some more reports for the crime scenes."
"Okay, leave them in my office," she said, "and then contact the team and find out if they need any additional support."
I watched the DCI leave the doorway and continue her walk down the corridor, no doubt heading to the Chief Superintendent's office to get him up to speed.
"Lazy cow," I muttered as I grabbed my jacket. I was going whether the team needed my help or not.
I jogged down the corridor and yanked open the door to the DCI's office, eager to get out of the station and involved in the action. The DCI's desk was positioned so she when she was sat down, she faced the door from behind her desk. I couldn't be bothered to walk the ten yards or so to the desk, so with a quick flick of the wrist the envelope containing the crime scene reports skimmed through the air past the computer monitor and landed expertly on the desk before continuing its journey onwards onto the floor.
"Bum!" I said, cursing my luck.
I darted into the DCI's office, walked round to the other side of the desk and picked up the envelope which had landed at the foot of the her large leather office chair. I placed the envelope on her desk in front of her computer keyboard.
And that's when I saw the email oh her computer screen. It was an email about me and it was addressed to the Chief Superintendent. She was recommending that I be transferred back to uniform with a view to being dismissed from the force if I didn't fulfil a probationary period of three months.
"The bitch!" I gasped, unable to quite believe what I had just read. I left the DCI's office dazed. It looked like she was determined to effectively end my career and I had no idea why other than what Tommy had told me.
I had no choice now. I had to solve this serial killer case. There was absolutely no way she could get rid of me if I solved this case.
Still angry I marched out of the back entrance to the police station and got into my car. I started up the car, slipped my phone into the car kit cradle and drove towards the automatic security gate which opened slowly as I approached it. My car eased into the busy London traffic like a drunken reveller joining a conga line. I needed to see Tommy, to tell him what the DCI was planning but with my mobile phone being monitored I couldn't risk calling him directly. Instead I headed towards Stephanie DuPont’s house, hoping I might still find DC Doyle at the crime scene and he might know where Tommy was. I looked out of the car window at the traffic. It was far worse than usual. In fact it had come to a grinding halt. It didn't take long for the horns to start blaring, their sounds amplified by the high buildings either side of the road. Spots of rain started to splash onto my windscreen as I pushed the electric window button to the driver's window. I poked my head out of the window to try and see what was holding the traffic up. More rain splashed upon my windscreen and dampened my hair as I craned my neck to get a better view. Over the noise of the horns blaring I heard a woman scream. It was a long and hysterical, the sound of foreboding.
I grabbed my mobile phone from its cradle, opened my car door and walked up the road past the stationary cars. A man in an Audi opened his door to get out.
"Stay inside the car please sir," I said walking past him.
I flashed my badge at him and he closed his car door obligingly. The cause of the traffic jam became very obvious as I strode quickly past a huge articulated Eddie Stobart lorry. There was a naked man lying face down in the road in front of the lorry.
God that's all I need, I thought to myself. The prospect of having to write up an RTA report on a drunken streaker was the last thing I needed at the moment.
The driver of the lorry descended from his cab and looked at me as I walked towards the accident scene.
"What happened?" I said as I walked past the driver and knelt down by the naked man.
The rain was now bouncing down off the tarmac. I grabbed the man's wrist to feel for a pulse but from the positioning of the man's limbs I already knew there was no chance of finding a pulse.
"Jesus Christ," stammered the driver from behind me.
I let go of the man's wrist, shocked by the words of the driver. His hand hit the water strewn road. There was no pulse.
"Did you hit him?" I said calmly.
I didn't turn my head. I couldn't. My eyes were firmly fixed on the naked man lying sprawled down in the road, his legs and arms pointing at impossible angles.
Seeing that somebody had taken the initiative to look at the body, the crowd of people standing on the pavement nearby nervously moved closer to get a better look.
"Everybody keep back!" I yelled. "Metropolitan Police."
I flashed my badge in all directions. The crowd stayed where they were, not moving closer, but not eager to leave the scene either.
Still, I didn't take my eyes off the naked body.
"Did you hit him?" I said again.
"No," said the driver. "He just sort of appeared in the road in front of me like that."
Once again, it seemed that I was dealing with the impossible.
The naked man's blonde hair was now plastered to his head from the rain. Little rivers formed on his shoulder blades and back. I moved position so I could look at his face, reaching for my mobile phone as I shuffled round to the other side of the man.
The man whose long blonde hair was now soaked through.
The man whose body lay in such a macabre way that every bone in his body must have been broken, yet there was sign of trauma.
The man whose face I recognised from my dream.
It was him. My tiny lover. The one who had slipped between my thighs and taken me to heaven.
As the rain poured down heavily, I made a phone call.
"It's me ma'am," I said heavily. "There's been another killing."
I told the DCI where I was and then threw up violently at the feet of the lorry driver at the realisation that I had killed this man.
I watched the rain create pretty patterns on the floor and my head began to spin.
I had killed this man the night I'd orgasmed with him inside me, my thighs and pelvic muscles crushing the life from him as I bathed in ecstasy.

"I just don't see it," said the DCI. "How does this relate to our possible serial killings?"
We were all standing in the stark white tent that had been quickly erected over the crime scene in order to preserve the evidence. The DCI stared at the naked body of the man with long blonde hair lying face down on the ground.
"Where are the signature tiny footprints?" She asked pointing at the ground around the body.
The signature tiny footprints. I had forgotten about that detail when I'd made the call that there had been another killing. I had been in a state of shock when I'd phoned the DCI. I knew that this latest murder victim was connected to Stephanie DuPont because this was the man in my dream but in my haste to phone the DCI I hadn't thought about the serial killer's signature.
"They were there," I blurted out. "The rain was already washing them away as I arrived at the scene, but they were most definitely there."
I had never been any good at lying. My face would always betray me, whether it was a lie, embarrassment or humiliation, my face would inevitably turn red. This time I managed to keep composed.
The DCI, Jenny Marsden, DS Rioch and Tommy all looked at me. Even with four pairs of eyes scrutinising me I managed to maintain the illusion that I knew exactly what I'd seen and what I was talking about. It was all about confidence, and ever since having that erotic dream I seemed to have become more confident in myself.
"I couldn't tell what had been used to make the prints," I said, "but they started right next to his left hand and then continued down next to his leg ending at his foot."
"This is ridiculous," said the DCI running her fingers through her hair. "It's obviously a case of the lorry driver hitting this poor man who must have been drunk or on drugs or something. Why else would he be naked? And look at his body. Every bone has been broken by the look of it."
Jenny Marsden stepped forward and spoke with her usual eloquence.
"The lorry did not hit this man." said Jenny. "There is no external damage. No point of impact. There is no head trauma which is what one would expect and the body would be a lot further away if the lorry driver had hit him."
All eyes were now focused on the gorgeous Jenny Marsden, especially Tommy who couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of her.
"Again, I would have to do a full autopsy, but from what I can see, it looks like this man was crushed slowly by something that completely surrounded him."
A shroud like silence descended upon us in the tent. It lasted for just a minute before DS Rioch opened his mouth.
"This is complete bollocks," he ranted. "How did the killer manage to stop the traffic, dump the body, paint fancy little footprints on the road and then slip away without being seen by a single person? I say we question the driver again."
DS Rioch had a point. All the pedestrians in the area had been interviewed and not one of them had seen anything. The driver was also sticking to his story. There had been no trace of drugs or alcohol in his system which left us with another headache of a death to solve.
The man's body had just appeared face down in the road in front of him.
The DCI sighed again.
"Okay, we're getting nowhere here," she said. "I'm not going to be able to keep this out of the papers now that half of bloody London saw this or rather didn't see this."
The DCI stomped towards the exit of the tent.
"It's late and we need to start fresh tomorrow morning," she said. "Let's call it a night. I want to see you all in bright and early tomorrow morning."
We all filed one by one out of the tent that reeked of death. The DCI stopped me as I exited.
"Not you Stewart," she said. "I need you to stay at home for a few days."
I was ready to explode. Before I could voice my opinions the DCI interrupted me.
"Don't say anything you might regret." she said. "The killer contacted you and now this dead body appears right on a road you happen to be driving along. There's something strange going on and I don't like it one little bit. Do yourself a favour and take a two day break. I'll see you back at work then."
Without even letting me get a reply in or voice my complete dissatisfaction with her decision, she turned round and marched back to her car which was bathed in blue flashing lights.
"Bitch!" I said under my breath.
"What was that all about?" Asked Tommy as he sidled up beside me. "Did I just hear that right? Did she tell you to take a couple of days off?"
"I'm beginning to think my days are numbered here," I said quietly.
To be honest I was glad to be given the time off. I needed to get my head round everything that was going on. I needed to scream and shout everything I knew at the top of my lungs so everybody would feel what I was feeling.
Tommy touched my arm. I wanted him to hug me. To caress me.
I wanted him.
"I need to tell you something," I said shaking my head. "I'm going to go insane if I don't tell somebody."
"Okay," said Tommy gently. "I'm listening."
I shook my head more violently. I could feel a pressure building up inside me.
"No not here," I said. "Can we go somewhere now, somewhere we can talk?"
I could see the look in Tommy's eyes instantly. He already had plans for tonight. Plans that couldn't be broken.
"I've got a date with Jenny tonight," he whispered.
"Okay. No problem." I said half stammering. "I shouldn't have asked."
Tommy turned and looked at Jenny who was standing just up the road waiting.
"How about I drop by tomorrow?" He said. "Tomorrow evening?"
Tomorrow. Tomorrow at my place. I smiled inside.
"Tomorrow would be good," I said smiling.
"Okay," he said touching my chin with his finger. "Tomorrow it is then."
He left his finger to linger slightly on my chin and then turned and walked towards Jenny Marsden.
I watched them walk up the road together and then get into Tommy's car. So, they'd obviously arrived at the crime scene together, I thought to myself. I boxed up any further jealous thoughts and put them to one side, after all, Tommy was coming to see me tomorrow.
With nothing else to keep me at the crime scene I got into my car and drove back to my flat via a late night store that sold everything from chocolate to gas fired barbecues.
The shop assistant behind the till looked at the items in my basket and smiled.
"Now that is a combination I have not seen before," he said. "Chocolate, two bottles of Shiraz and two extra heavy duty bolts for a front door."
I laughed.
"What can I say," I said. "Don't be fooled by the Shiraz, I live in a rough neighbourhood."
With a few exchanged pleasantries and my items from the shop all paid for I headed back home to my flat. The phone was ringing as I turned the key in the lock and opened the door.
Tommy?
"Hang on, hang on," I shouted to nobody as I rushed through the door, slammed it shut behind me and scrambled across the sofa to pick up the phone which was on my favourite table.
"Hello," I said, slightly breathless.
"Hello Detective Constable Stewart," said the electronically generated voice on the other end of the telephone.
I held my breath for a moment whilst I gathered my thoughts.
"I am looking at Giantess City and yet I do not see your profile." said the voice.
The killer was online on Giantess City right at this moment. I quietly sat down on the battered up brown leather sofa and fired up my laptop which was perched on the arm of the sofa.
"I've been sort of busy today sorting out yet another one of your murders," I said, trying to hide the disgust in my voice.
There was a snort of laughter.
"I think you will find that you killed him in a fit of passion Detective Constable Stewart," said the voice. "You squashed the life from him between your thighs whilst thinking solely of your pleasure."
I bit my lower lip. The internet explorer page exploded into life.
"That's impossible," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
"It is going to be interesting when they find your DNA all over his naked body," said the voice. "I do wonder how you will explain that to your colleagues."
"That's impossible," I said again with far more conviction this time.
I typed 'Giantess City' into the web browser.
"Okay then Detective Constable Stewart how about a hypothetical question," said the voice, "a question to test your agreement to join us."
"Hypothetical?"
The Giantess City page opened up. I needed a name.
"Let us say, hypothetically, that you were given the power to shrink somebody," said the voice. "Who would you choose?"
The voice sounded genuinely excited. I could sense a sexual lust as the question was asked, the breathing heightened, the voice lower and more sensitive.
Hypothetically speaking. A short list of names cascaded through my head whilst I thought of a name. I looked at the page and realised I also needed an email address. I couldn't use my own personal email address, I needed something personal to this website. Quickly I opened up Yahoo and created a new email account.
"Well?" Said the voice, sounding a little impatient.
A list of people I'd like to shrink? I'd been asked a lot of things in the past but this one was completely unique. My thoughts were on the DCI. I imagined shrinking her down to size and then tormenting her for trying to ruin my career. Or maybe Jenny Marsden although she seemed so nice. I'd have to shrink her to keep her away from Tommy but then keep her in a luxury dolls house so I wouldn't feel so guilty. DS Rioch? Uuugh no. I couldn't imagine touching his bloated, loathsome body even if he was tiny.
I flipped back to the Giantess City registration page and typed in my username, an email address and a password.
"This isn't easy," I said. "I'm just shortening the list down to one now."
"Interesting," said the voice, "that there is a list."
My Giantess City account was all set up, all I needed to do now was to go back to my email and activate the link. I double clicked on the Yahoo icon whilst concentrating on answering the killer's question. If I shrunk Tommy he would definitely be mine then. Not much chance of lying in his muscular arms though if he was the size of a doll. My rat of an ex-boyfriend maybe? God that would be good. I'd teach him a thing or two about leaving me for my best friend Jill. My best friend Jill. I'd certainly enjoy making her life hell. Shit, the list was getting longer the more I thought about it, not shorter.
"Pick one," said the voice.
I clicked on the link in my Yahoo account. I was in Giantess City and it felt strange stepping into this world of giantess fantasists. What would I find here?
"Pick one now!" Said the voice with more urgency.
I scanned the pages trying to pick out who was online.
"Pick one now or somebody else dies!" Hissed the voice.
I desperately searched for Stephanie DuPont’s profile to confirm if it was her on the telephone.
I picked a name without much thought.
"Paul Chapman," I said quickly. "My ex-boyfriend."
Click.
The phone went dead. The killer had hung up.
"Damn!" I muttered to myself as I browsed the Giantess City web site. I knew it was pointless now. If it was Stephanie DuPont, she would have logged off the same time as the phone call.
I looked at the clock. It was now nine thirty. I uploaded a picture of myself, which I doctored with Photoshop and then wrote a brief profile. This all seemed so strange, but it was the only clue I had to the killer and solving this crime was looking like the only way I was going to save my career.
By ten thirty I was all finished. I grabbed the two locks and the toolkit that my Dad had left me. The electric screwdriver made short work of fixing the two extra bolts to the top and bottom of my front door. Nobody, but nobody was going to come uninvited into my flat tonight. At eleven thirty I opened up one of my bottles of wine and settled back down onto the sofa with my laptop. It was now time to do some thorough research on Giantess City. There was no need for me to get up tomorrow morning, so I intended on spending my time getting to know this unknown world that I had stumbled upon. I was pleased with my user name Elle, French for 'she' and also when pronounced it was the initial letter of my name. I had written my profile carefully in the hope of attracting the same sort of men that Stephanie DuPont was targeting. I needed to get to know this woman as quickly as possible. I trawled through pages and pages of threads, making notes where relevant and highlighting any activity where I saw the name Mademoiselle Stephie. By two thirty in the morning and an empty bottle of wine I had a good idea of what was what in Giantess City. I yawned and then stretched out on the sofa. It was time for bed. The prospect of falling asleep and leaving myself vulnerable to another violation was playing on my mind. I double checked the front door and all the windows before undressing and falling wearily into bed.
My eyes drearily looked at the time on the bedside clock. It was ten past three. Slowly my eyes started to close and I fell asleep.
Five twenty five.
I looked at the clock for a brief moment, turned over and went back to sleep straight away.
Nine fifteen.
The doorbell was ringing.
I opened my eyes slowly and the room slowly came into focus.
Ding dong.
I rolled out of bed and put on my red silk robe which was hanging up on the back of the door. The bolts pulled back with a click and then I opened up the front door. There was nobody there. With my arms folded in front of me to keep my robe in place I looked down at the box that had been left in front of my doorway. It was only small, about the size of a shoebox.
"Bloody postmen," I said picking up the box then shutting the front door.
The combination of the bottle of wine and the late night was had left my head feeling groggy. I trudged into the lounge and slumped onto the sofa placing the box on my lap. I peeled off the brown packing tape, using my thumb nail to rip it off.
"I don't remember ordering anything," I mumbled as I opened the box.
The whole room spun as I stared at the contents of the box. I wanted to push the box away, to throw it onto the floor. I could feel my eyes bulging as I stared inside the box. I tried to talk but no sound would come from my mouth.
I was looking at the impossible. Huddled in the corner of the box, wrapped in a small washcloth, Paul Chapman's tiny face looked up at me and then he started to scream.

It only seemed like yesterday that I'd fallen in love with Paul Chapman and yet at the same time everything now felt so fragmented. I could only remember pockets of time, little incidents of our life together before he took it away.
The first time our eyes met was during a lecture on our Criminal Psychology Masters course. He was five years older than me, extremely handsome and confident.
Our first date. It was at the Mean Fiddler in Harlesden to see some band I can't remember.
Our first kiss on the walk home from that same gig.
The first time we slept together, he was a master in the bedroom.
The flat we shared for a year and a half.
The day he told me he was leaving me for my best friend.
It was hard to believe that it was only just over a year ago that he'd reached into my heart and squeezed the life out of it.
And here he was now. Shrunk to a tiny size by some secret society who were on a murder spree.
I felt nauseous.
I slammed the lid of the box shut. My heart was hammering hard inside my chest. Slowly and very carefully I lifted the box up to my ear and listened to Paul shouting inside. His voice was quiet but very clear and certainly not squeaky which is what I was expecting as he was now so small.
"Let me out of here!" Shouted Paul. "Who are you? What the hell is going on?"
I could hear his tiny fists punching the inside of the box. He didn't recognize me? Could the angle that he was looking up at me at and the shock and surprise of seeing a giant person mean that he hadn't got a clear look at my face? I felt so excited and terrified at the same time.
I shook the box in my hand.
"You'd better stop making such a racket little man," I said fiercely, "or I might just do something I regret."
The noise within the box immediately stopped.
"That's better," I said. "Now I need to sort a few things out, so I will be gone for a little while, do you understand?"
There was a long pause before Paul answered, his voice trembling.
"Yes."
"Good. I will let you out of this box when I'm ready."
"Who are you? How is this possible?"
I smiled to myself. He hadn't seen my face and at his tiny size he didn't recognize my voice either.
"My name is Elle," I said. "And you belong to me now little man."
I placed the box on the coffee table next to the sofa. My mind was now racing. There were too many things to think about.
The phone rang.
I picked it out of its cradle and rushed out of the lounge and into my bedroom so Paul couldn't hear my conversation.
"I trust you have opened the package we sent you Detective Constable Stewart?"
The electronic voice sent a chill through my body. I could only muster one word.
"How?"
"You will find out how once you are fully accepted into our...group."
There were so many questions I needed answering.
"How did you get my home telephone number?" I asked. It was a question I had meant to ask last night, not that it mattered. I already knew the answer.
"We have our means Detective Constable Stewart. Now, you must read the instructions in the box carefully. You must do exactly as they say do you understand?"
Instructions? In the box?
"Why me?"
This question rather took the voice on the other end of the phone by surprise.
"Let us just say for now that you fit the profile we require to become part of our...group."
Again that hesitation before settling on a suitable word to describe these people. I wanted to ask about the murders. I wanted to ask who the group were. I wanted to...
I wanted to hold Paul in my hand and make him pay for the emotional mess he'd left me in, but that would come later. Maybe.
"Enjoy your new pet," said the voice. "We will be in contact shortly."
The line went dead.
I looked at the phone in my hand for a few minutes, trying to take in the morning's events. I needed a mask to hide behind. I threw the phone onto the bed and walked into the bathroom. Within minutes I was standing beneath a hot stream of water which bounced off my skin, spraying the shower screen and bathroom tiled wall next to me. I washed my hair slowly, massaging the shampoo and then conditioner deep into my scalp. I rinsed my hair, enjoying the tingling sensation of the water. I covered my body with Dove shower lotion, rubbing it in, in large circular motions. I watched the foam from my body flow down the plughole. I felt like I was washing Lisa Stewart away and replacing her with Elle. I needed to be Elle to get through this. Paul could not see me being weak, the way I was when I was with him. I needed to be strong. I stepped out of the shower and dried myself with a huge white fluffy towel which I used to wrap my hair up with once I was dry. I slipped on my bath robe and then glided out of the bathroom.
The face in the mirror smiled at me. It looked tired though.
I reached forward and plucked my foundation from the makeup case which was next to the half empty glass of Shiraz that I'd poured before coming into the bedroom. Slowly and evenly, the foundation coated the face on my skin, disguising the blemishes and blending out the freckles on my noise. Lipstick, eyeliner, mascara and eye makeup were all carefully added one by one. This is the way Elle wore her makeup. Classy and not too heavy but ever so slightly slutty. I bent forwards with my head over my knees and let my wet hair hang down from my head. I turned on the hairdryer, making sure the diffuser was in place so my hair didn't dry out, and then set to work on my hair.
Once my hair was almost dry I sat up and finished the job whilst looking in the mirror. Elle would be proud. I finished the glass of wine and then poured myself another from the bottle.
With my hair and face done, I got up from the stool and walked over to my wardrobe. I needed to feel sexy. To feel powerful. To feel irresistible.
I slipped on my favourite push up bra and black silk thong. Then I slipped on a pair of nylon holdups and a sixties style low cut mini dress with a green floral print that showed off my curves to good effect. Now there was just the choice of shoes to make. I looked in the bottom of my wardrobe and spotted the perfect pair. A lovely pair of black nine west high heeled shoes. Perfect. I checked myself in the mirror. This was definitely what Elle would wear. An excitement began to flow through my body and I found it hard to remind myself that the reason I was doing all of this was to find a serial killer.
I took another sip of wine. Was Paul really in a shoebox on my coffee table?
I giggled out loud and then quickly clamped my hand over my mouth. This whole thing was starting to run away from me and what I was about to do next had absolutely nothing to do with my police investigation.
This was purely personal.
Wine glass in hand, I walked into the kitchen and placed the roll of sellotape, the pair of scissors and the old pink georgette scarf that I'd taken from my dresser onto the kitchen table. The glass of wine and a can of ice cold diet coke from the fridge joined the two items and formed an uneasy looking quintet of items. There was just one more thing that I needed. I looked around the kitchen and hunted through all the kitchen drawers until I'd found something that would do my bidding perfectly.
"So, once again, it's the kitchen that will see all the action."
I took another sip of wine and giggled again. I was definitely feeling a little bit tipsy and ever so uninhibited.
Tiptoeing into the lounge I gently picked up the box and carried back into the kitchen. I sat the box down on the table and then seated myself on one of the kitchen chairs.
I tapped on the box with my finger nail.
"Are you ready little man?" I asked.
"Ready? Ready for what? I still don't know what's going on."
Paul sounded scared. Good, I thought to myself.
This was going to feel very strange.
I opened the lid of the box slowly and deliberately, keeping it angled so Paul could not see my face. I held the pink georgette scarf in front of me. As I moved the box lid out of the way I could see Paul through the translucent material. He was sitting in the box very quietly.
"Oh my God!" He managed to yell before I enveloped him in the scarf. He kicked and struggled as I lifted him out of the box. I could feel the excitement in me getting more intense as I held him in my hand, wrapped in the scarf. I laughed out loud again.
"You're so small," I laughed. "So totally helpless."
"Who are you?" He screamed. "What the fuck is going on?"
"I am going to lie you face down on the table little man," I hissed. "You will look directly at the table. If I see you turn your head slightly I will put you on the floor and I will take great delight in crushing you beneath my foot. Am I clear?"
I could see Paul's head nodding beneath the fabric, his body a ghostly silhouette within my fingers.
"Yes, yes," he said. "Totally clear."
I lowered him onto the kitchen table so he was lying on his stomach, leaving the scarf covering him. I tore off four strips of sellotape.
"What's that?" He asked nervously. "Oh God what are you going to do to me?"
He was whimpering slightly now which gave me an additional surge of confidence. I licked my lips and took another sip of wine. This was really turning me on. I let that thought linger in my head for a moment before beginning my work on Paul. I removed the scarf quickly and then placed the palm of my hand onto his back, pressing him down onto the table with just enough force to keep him from moving. My hand easily covered his entire body with about an inch to spare from the top of his head to the end of my finger tips. I could feel his heart beating like a frightened rabbit. His breathing was coming in short gasps. In four quick movements I taped his arms and legs to the kitchen table so that he lay spread-eagled face down. With that done I sat back in my chair and smiled. Now there was just the washcloth to take care of. I grabbed it between my finger and thumb and pulled the make shift toga away from Paul leaving him stark naked, taped to my table. I looked at his tiny perfect body. He had always kept himself in shape and the year he had been away from me had been no exception. I admired his well muscled shoulders, his broad back that tapered down to a slim waist and then the perfect arse that I could have quite easily have sunk my teeth into. I reached out and touched his naked bottom, running my index finger over it. I traced my finger up and down his spine and then back down over his tiny bum and then down between his thighs.
"You will address me as Mistress," I said with a whisper. "Is that understood little man?"
Mistress? Where had that come from? Was I really Mistress material?
Despite the sense of terror he must have been feeling, I could sense that Paul was really starting to enjoy my wandering finger routine. He was squirming slightly, as if to accommodate what was starting to stir between his legs.
"Yes Mistress," replied Paul, his voice sounding distant.
"You will answer my questions truthfully."
I picked up the artists paint brush that I'd found in the kitchen drawer and gently traced the brush up the inside of Paul's thighs. He gave a little gasp as I gently massaged his tiny sensitive bits with the soft bristles of the paint brush.
"Yes Mistress."
Paul's breathing was starting to quicken.
"If you tell the truth then there will be more of this."
I pressed a little harder with the brush and Paul let out a groan of pleasure and sexual desire.
"Oh my God," I heard him whisper under his breath.
"If you lie though."
I flipped the paintbrush round and pressed the hard plastic end between his buttocks, just enough to shock him.
"How humiliating, to be raped by a tiny paintbrush," I said.
"Oh shit no, no!" He yelled.
"No...?"
"No Mistress," he yelled, "I'll tell you the truth. Ask me anything."
I pulled the paintbrush away from Paul and smiled. I knew that was one of his worst fears.
"Have you ever been unfaithful?"
There was a long pause. I could almost hear Paul's brain working away. Do I tell the truth and risk getting squished because this giant woman is some kind of magical psycho dominatrix with a complete downer on men, or do I tell a lie and risk getting squashed because she already knows personal stuff about me? Paul of course was totally predictable.
"Never Mistress."
I decided to spare him the paintbrush for now. Instead I picked up the ice cold can of diet coke and lowered it onto his back. He screamed a high pitched squeal. I lifted up the can and then placed it back on his back. His little legs tried to break free from the tape but he was going nowhere. He was mine now. I left the can on his back for about ten seconds and then lifted it off, placing it back on the table.
"It'll be the paintbrush next time," I said coldly.
Paul's teeth were chattering as he spoke.
"Okay, okay," he said. "I have been unfaithful Mistress."
"How many times? Who with?"
"Who with?" He repeated. "Why should you care..."
His words were cut short as the coke can descended onto his back once more. Paul yelled out and he desperately tried to twist his body away from the freezing cold metal.
"I'm growing bored of you little man," I said. "Maybe I'll sell you to the gay couple upstairs. I'm sure they'd love to keep you as a pet. Justin and Lance I think they're names are. Imagine what you would have to do to keep them pleased."
I lifted up the coke can and placed it back onto the table once more.
"No please Mistress," cried Paul. "I'll never lie to you again."
"Go on little man," I said ordering him to speak.
I needed to hear him say all the things that he'd done to me, all the things that had left my life sprawled in every direction like an emotional train wreck.
Paul spoke for some time. Every now and then he would sob and then speak some more. I drank my glass of wine as I listened intently. Hearing his words brought it all back. The good times that we'd shared together and the bad times we'd spent apart from each other. I needed to hear every word he said because it was time to stop feeling so insecure and dreadful about myself.
But this was a therapy I didn't need.
He'd cheated on every girlfriend he'd ever had.
He'd even cheated on Jill six months after leaving me for her and she'd ended their relationship immediately. I never knew that. It was hard not to feel sorry for Jill knowing she was going through the same pains It was six months ago. Every relationship this man came into contact with he tainted including the string of girlfriends he'd had after Jill, all of whom overlapped each other.
Yet still, as he lay there face down taped to my kitchen table, I could feel my heart opening up to him again.
I shook my head. This was no time to be weak.
"Do you have any regrets?" I asked.
There was a very long pause this time. I had the feeling that Paul didn't want to tell me what was on his mind in case it angered me.
"The truth," I said.
"Lisa," he said, adding the 'mistress' a few seconds later.
I shook my head, confused. Had he known who I was all along? I was just about to speak when Paul carried on talking.
"I really regret breaking Lisa's heart," he said softly. "She was the best thing that ever happened to me. I've never been able to get it back Mistress."
I blinked back the tears that were starting to well up in my eyes. Streaking mascara was the last thing I needed right now. I had to remain strong.
"I need to ask a question Mistress."
"Go ahead."
"What is going on? Why am I here? How did I get to be this size?"
There was genuine panic and concern in Paul's voice which did not surprise me. He was usually the one in control. He controlled his relationships, he controlled what happened in the bedroom and he controlled those around him in his life. He was a master manipulator.
"That's three questions," I said trying to stall him so I could think up a reasonable response.
I picked up my wine glass and emptied the last of it into my mouth.
"I'm afraid your arrogant attitude to women has not gone unnoticed," I said. "So, here you are."
"But this is impossible!" He screamed. "I can't really be this small! Have you drugged me? Is that it? Is this all an hallucination?"
I leaned forward and let my hair brush over his naked body. My breathing was deep and his hair swayed with every breath I exhaled. I got closer and closer to him until my lips were just above his right ear. I could feel him tense up. A little whimper escaped his lips.
"This is no hallucination," I whispered. "This is your worst nightmare."
I ran the tip of my tongue down his spine.
"Imagine the worst things I could possibly do to you little man," I said. "You're nothing more than my pet now. My sex toy if I please. Entertainment for my friends. Something to take my frustrations out on and, eventually, something I will get bored of and dispose of the in the same way I dispose of a piece of rubbish."
Paul was crying now. His shoulders shuddered uncontrollably.
Had I gone too far? I suddenly felt so guilty. I wanted to pick him up in my hands and hold him to me. I wanted to kiss him all over and make everything alright. The feelings I had for him, those same feelings that I thought I had conquered were slowly coming back to me.
An idea was forming in my mind. For this to work, I needed to be Elle for now. I needed to be strong so if reconciliation did happen, Paul would never stray again.
Elle was going to be his nightmare, but I was going to save him from Elle so he would be eternally grateful to me.
Forever mine.

I opened my eyes.
It was dark. I looked around to see I was lying in my bed dressed in just my bra and knickers. The eerie red LED display of my alarm clock told me it was nearly midnight. My head felt fuzzy and I was struggling to focus properly. Something was snuggled between my breasts. I fumbled for the bedside lamp which dazzled me as it burst into life.
Squinting to protect my half asleep eyes from the light I looked down at my chest to see Paul fast asleep between my breasts. I gazed down at him and smiled. He looked so comfortable and it felt so good knowing he was so close to me. I let my head fall back onto the pillow and my right hand slid between my thighs. I felt so horny but at the same time there was an aching sensation inside of me. Paul began to stir. I felt him move against my skin, his tiny body sending goose bumps across my chest and down my arms, a whirl of excitement that made me take a deep inward breath.
I wanted him inside me. I ached for him to fill the empty space between my thighs that was now becoming moist to the touch of my fingertips. I touched him gently with my other hand, my fingers caressing his naked back as he stirred.
"Mmmmh that's nice Lisa," he said.
I stopped stroking him. My fingers slid away from Paul and up towards my neck. They grasped at something unfamiliar dangling from a piece of leather. It was a necklace of some kind.
"What did you just say?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"I said that's nice," he said and looked up at me.
I casually positioned my hand between Paul and my face.
"Let me see your face Lisa," said Paul as he climbed out from his sleeping place. "I want to see how beautiful you are."
He knew who I was.
I tried to remember what had happened today but my mind was so fuzzy and unfocused.
I moved my hand and looked down at Paul who had now moved down to my stomach and was standing looking up into my face. I smiled at him, my eyes looking lustfully at his perfectly toned naked body. My fingers automatically moved towards him, my index finger tracing a line down his chest, along his stomach and finishing just above his tiny erection. I would have to bluff it out until the memories of today returned. He grabbed my finger between both hands and pulled it up towards his face, planting the tiniest of kisses on the end of my fingertip which left me breathless. I was still marvelling at how small and helpless Paul was and the fact that he was all mine.
"Where's Elle?" I asked softly, testing him.
Paul froze. I could see fear in those tiny eyes and a look of complete revulsion.
"Gone for good hopefully," spat Paul.
He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around my finger, all thoughts of desire had now left his body.
"Oh God Lisa," he whimpered. "I know she's your friend but please don't ever let her get her hands on me again. I'll never be unfaithful again and I'm so sorry for leaving you for Jill. It will never happen again I swear. You're the one I want to be with. I promise."
He was shaking now.
My hand closed around his trembling body and I lifted him up to my face. I was still amazed at how light he was and how good it felt to hold him in my hand. I leant forward and gently kissed him.
"Elle's my friend," I said. "But as long as you remain true to your word then there is no way I'd let her touch you."
I glanced over at the empty bottle of wine and the empty wine glass next to it on the bedside drawers. I seemed to be drinking a lot these days.
An image flashed in my mind. Some kind of underground chamber. I was wearing white flowing robes. There was a ritual. A passage of rites.
"Your necklace," said Paul pointing towards my neck, "it's glowing green."
I immediately reached for the strange necklace around my neck. My fingers grasped it and suddenly a flood of memories filled my head. A gasp escaped my lips and I involuntarily squeezed Paul making him cry out in pain.

I was standing in my bedroom looking at the full length mirror on the wall in front of me. Dressed in my usual khaki combats, green and white converse pumps and a black vee neck T-shirt I stared at my reflection. The reflected image of the alarm clock in the background told me it was ten past ten at night. There was something moving under my T-shirt. I could feel it squirming between my breasts. Reaching down for the hem, I pulled the T-shirt up and over my head and dropped it onto the floor next to my feet. I looked down at Paul squirming in my cleavage, completely trapped between my breasts. He was naked except for a small hood that covered his head. His tiny hands tried to grasp at something so he could haul himself from his prison but there was nothing to hold except the smoothness of my naked skin. I reached down and plucked the hood from his head, dropping it onto the floor next to my T-shirt. He stared at the mirror in complete shock, the realisation of where he was hitting him like a speeding train.
"Oh my God Lisa!" He shouted.
The sound of joy in his voice was quickly replaced with a trembling fear as the situation dawned upon him. Here he was, a tiny helpless creature, now at the mercy of the woman whom he had betrayed.
"Oh God no!" He screamed.
I looked at the mirror as I spoke. My eyes were firmly fixed on his.
"It's okay Paul," I said softly. "It's okay. I forgive you."
Paul looked shocked which was quickly followed by a look of relief.
"Elle told me everything," I said.
"Has she gone?"
There was genuine terror in Paul's voice.
"She's gone," I said, stroking his head with my fingers. "For now."
"I am so sorry," he said. There was genuine regret in his voice. "I never meant to hurt you."
"I know," I replied. "I know."
"Elle said you could return me to normal size," said Paul. "Is that true?"
I nodded into the mirror.
"Soon," I said. "But first you need to earn my trust again."
Paul hugged my skin.
"And then we can be together again?" He asked.
"Of course," I said smiling.
He wriggled delightfully. I couldn't believe how turned on I was feeling, but it was far too soon to be intimate. I would have to control the desires that seemed to be amplified by his helplessness.
"I'm really tired," I said. "I think we should sleep for a bit now, and then you must tell me everything that has happened to you today."
"Everything?"
"Everything." I said. "There can't be any secrets between us ever again. Elle has already told me what happened. I need you to tell me too."
Paul sighed deeply.
"If you hold anything back, then I will keep you this size forever and I will not be so forgiving. There must be total trust and honesty." I said quietly.
I walked over to the bed and slipped off my pumps and combats. The bed sheets felt so cool and inviting. I lay on my side, my arms wrapped protectively around my tiny man.
"Are you okay sleeping in there?" I asked.
"Okay? It's bloody heaven," said Paul. "Look at the size of your boobs!"
Paul froze as he suddenly realised what he'd just said.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "That was inappropriate."
I smiled at him.
"That's okay," I whispered. "You always did like my boobs. You might as well make the most of them whilst you're that size."
Paul breathed a sigh of relief and snuggled deeper into my cleavage.
"Sleep well my little man," I purred and closed my eyes.

I let go of the necklace and relaxed my grip on Paul.
"Are you okay baby?" I asked as I place Paul onto my stomach.
He sat down taking a moment to get his breath back.
"Nice grip," he gasped. "Just let me get my breath back."
"I'm so sorry," I said. "Are you hurt?"
Tears were now streaming down my cheeks and my bottom lip began to quiver.
"I'm fine honey," he said and lay down on his back with his hands behind his head.
I reached over and grabbed a tissue from the box on the bedside cabinet. Dabbing at the tears on my cheek I slowly regained my composure.
Paul sat back up and smiled up at me.
"No broken bones," he said feeling himself. "Are you okay?"
I nodded and smiled, brushing my hair away from my face.
"You look so cute sat there," I said. "I thought I'd crushed you."
My feelings of guilt were quickly replaced with feelings of sexual desire. What was wrong with me?
"Tell me about today," I said quickly trying to find something to distract me from the aching need I was feeling between my thighs.
Paul sighed and lay back down. I loved the way his tiny body felt against my skin. Our relationship had always been a bit one sided when we were together. Paul had always been very dominant but now that he was so small, it was me who was in charge. I loved the feeling of being able to take of him and now it seemed that I held the power to return him to his normal size if I so wished.
"Okay," he said. "Where do you want me to start from?"
"The beginning," I said. "Start from the point where you were shrunk down to this size."
Paul nodded and looked at me and then began to speak.

Paul had been relaxing at home when the doorbell rang. He got up to answer to it and was surprised to see a young Chinese girl standing there holding a large brown paper bag. She smiled at him and looked at a piece of paper she held in her other hand.
"Order for Chapman?" She asked in slightly broken English.
Paul shook his head.
"No there must be some mistake sweetheart," he said leaning on the door frame flirtatiously. "I've not ordered any food."
The Chinese girl put the bag on the floor and showed the piece of paper to Paul.
"You are Paul Chapman?" She asked with a pretty smile.
"Yes, but I haven't ordered any food."
The Chinese girl smiled again and then touched the necklace hanging from her neck. It glowed red for an instant and then faded leaving Paul gasping for air.
He collapsed onto his knees at the feet of the Chinese girl unable to breath. He looked up into her smiling face and grasped her wrist with his left hand in a desperate plea for help. A dark mist began to fill his vision as he slowly lost consciousness.
"You become tiny now Paul Chapman."
There was total darkness when Paul woke up. He was lying down on a hard surface with just a very large towel covering his naked body. The slight rocking motion combined with the darkness left him feeling disorientated. He lay deathly still, waiting for his eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness.
After about ten minutes Paul had worked out he was in some sort of box. It felt like cardboard to the touch but that was impossible as he'd tried to break through it but it was a strong as steel. He listened carefully. There was a definite rhythm to the rocking motion. The box seemed to move in time to the sound of footsteps in the distance. Paul felt his way around. There were a few objects in the box with him but he couldn't even begin to guess what they were. There was also a very large piece of paper and something that seemed to made out of leather ropes with metal clips. He shivered and pulled the large towel tightly around his naked body and then shouted as loud as he could.
"Help!" He screamed at the top of his voice.
The box shook violently. He was thrown back and forth with such violent force that he struck his head on the side of the box. The blow left him feeling nauseous and even more disorientated. He fell onto his back, closed his eyes and prayed for the shaking to stop.
The shaking suddenly stopped as abruptly as it had started. The stillness was accompanied by a voice which left Paul feeling even more confused.
"Be quiet Paul Chapman. Next time the shaking will not stop."
It was the voice of the Chinese girl, but it seemed so loud. Paul looked around for hidden speakers but it was too dark to see anything. He lay there wrapped in his towel and waited. He'd been kidnapped and there was nothing he could do until he found out what the kidnappers wanted from him.
Time became elastic but the rocking motion never ceased. He had no idea how long he'd been in the box when the rhythmic motion suddenly stopped. The sound of a doorbell being rung penetrated the dark interior of the box and this was quickly followed by the sound of footsteps walking away from the box, growing quieter and quieter. Paul got up and placed his ear to the side of the box. He heard a door opening and then suddenly he was rolling across the floor as the box lurched violently. There was more rhythmic rocking and then the box came to a standstill again. A huge ripping sound resonated in his ears.
"What the fuck," muttered Paul under his breath as he scampered into the corner of the box and held the towel around him as his only source of comfort.
The light that flooded into the box as the lid was removed blinded Paul after being in the dark for so long. He shielded his eyes and looked up into the open space beyond. A huge silhouette suddenly filled the opening of the box and as Paul's eyes focused on the huge form the reality of the situation suddenly dawned on him. He was tiny. Somehow he had been shrunk and placed in this box and now he was looking up at a huge woman. He couldn't see her face from this angle, her incredibly impressive chest was blocking his view but there was no mistaking what he was looking at and it was this new impossible reality that manifested itself in a long drawn out scream from his mouth.
Paul blinked and the world went dark again. His captor had closed the lid shutting him in darkness once more. Fear of the unexplained was replaced by a disbelieving anger.
"This is impossible," thought Paul. "This is some sort of trick."
He got up and started punching the walls of the box.
"Let me out of here!" He shouted angrily. "Who are you? What the hell is going on?"
Whoever these people were they had gone to a lot of trouble to create the illusion that he had been shrunk but no matter how hard he thought about it he could find no reason why they would go to all this trouble. Unless it was to completely disorientate him.
The box shook violently again and Paul fell to the floor.
"You'd better stop making such a racket little man," said a woman's voice, "or I might just do something I regret."
Again, the voice sounded so loud and convincing. Paul felt around the box with his hands trying to locate the hidden speakers that the kidnappers were obviously using to confuse him.
"The box must be on some sort of hydraulic device," thought Paul to himself. "That's how they get it to move. Clever."
"That's better," said the woman's voice. "Now I need to sort a few things out, so I will be gone for a little while, do you understand?"
Paul chuckled to himself. He still felt scared that he'd been kidnapped but now that he'd seen through the kidnapper's ploy to confuse him he felt a little more confident.
"Two can play at this game," he muttered under his breath.
He moved himself in one of the corners of the box.
"Yes," said Paul trying his hardest to sound scared.
"I will let you out of this box when I'm ready."
"Of course you will darling," mouthed Paul.
He waited a few seconds before responding to the woman.
"Who are you? How is this possible?"
"My name is Elle and you belong to me now little man."
Paul grinned.
"Kinky," he said quietly.
The box lurched slightly and then the sound of a phone ringing in the background focused Paul's attention once more. The ringing phone stopped leaving Paul in total silence. There was no point in exploring the box anymore. Any cameras or speakers were obviously well hidden and there was no way he was going to find them in the dark. There was only one thing to do and that was to wait for the kidnappers' next move whilst trying to think who might behind this.
Once again, Paul found it hard to keep track of time. How long had passed? Ten, twenty, thirty minutes? He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. He needed to be in complete control for the next encounter.
The box lurched again, taking Paul by surprise.
"Shit," he muttered. "Here we go again."
There was a tap tapping sound on the side of the box.
"Are you ready little man?"
Paul put on a fake whimper and got ready to spring into action once the lid of the box was open again. He was pretty confident he could jump up and grab the edge of the box once the lid was opened. Hopefully he would be able to climb out and then maybe make a break for freedom. He tensed himself ready for the next scenario.
The lid was lifted up and away and a sea of light bathed the inside of Paul's prison. He moved forward whilst looking upwards. Tensed muscles turned to jelly as the huge hand holding a scarf lunged towards him at lightning speed.
"Oh my God!" Paul managed to scream before having the wind knocked from him.
He kicked and struggled but the scarf completely enveloped him and the woman's grip was like iron. The scream that burst from his lungs was completely genuine this time as Paul realised that he really had been shrunk and he was now at the mercy of this woman who could do whatever she wanted with him.

Paul continued to describe his encounter with Elle. He told me how she'd taped him face down to the kitchen table and how she'd used the paintbrush to seduce him and threaten him. He didn't leave out any detail or feeling and I felt even closer to him because if his honesty. I smiled as he described how he'd been made to confess all of his sins and how he'd been honest about his feelings towards me and the guilt he felt at betraying me for my best friend Jill. The words poured from Paul's mouth and flowed into my ears without any respite. I moved my hand so it covered the lower half of his body. I could feel his speech hesitate slightly as the palm of my hand moved gently across his thighs. He paused as his enjoyment became very obvious beneath my touch. I could feel him growing against my hand which now covered his entire lower body. He moved slightly, totally aware that I could feel his desire against my skin. I knew that he was struggling to hold himself back, that he wanted me to move my hand over tiny erection, that he wanted me to take his erect cock between my finger and thumb and pleasure him until he climaxed but he would have to wait. I was in control now and this was all part of the healing process.
"What happened after Elle told you that you were going to be her sex toy and pet?"
Paul shifted position again. He was subtly trying to rub himself against the palm of my hand but I was having none of it. I lifted my hand slightly so there was a space between my hand and Paul's desire.
"It's sort of hard to talk when..." He glanced down at his erection.
"I know," I said.
And I really did know. I was having to fight every urge in my body to pick up Paul, smother him kisses and then slide him inside me just to gratify myself.
I lowered my hand back onto Paul.
"I'm feeling the same way," I whispered.
Paul looked at my breasts. I saw him smile as he noticed that my nipples were hard beneath the silky fabric of my bra.
"But we have to exert self control and build up trust first," I said.
Paul nodded in agreement.
"You're totally right Lisa," said Paul. "Especially after what I've been through today and what I put you through when I left you."
He tugged at my finger, guiding my hand so it covered his entire body.
"I feel so safe with you," said Paul.
I smiled at him.
"I'll always keep you safe."
Paul kissed my finger and then continued to tell me about his encounter with Elle. As he relived his moments with my alter ego the memory of what had happened would seep into my head. I tried to remember what had happened before Paul told me but my mind refused to comply. All my memories and thoughts as Elle were well and truly locked away and it was only when Paul had revealed what he had experienced that I was able to remember it too. The memories weren't hazy either. They were so vivid, so strong. It was as if I were reliving the sensations over and over again with every word from Paul's mouth. He told me how he'd tried to turn his head in order to see Elle's face but had failed as she had sat too far back. He told me how she'd reached into the box and told him that he came with instructions. He told me...

...I looked at the piece of paper I held in my hand. It was a list of instructions from the people who had reduced Paul to the size of a mouse. I read it carefully and then read it again to make sure I didn't miss anything. My heart was hammering in my chest. If I was going to catch the killer it meant following the instructions written on the piece of paper I now held in my hand. And if I followed the instructions on this piece of paper it meant I would be going into the beast of the belly. There would be no turning back.
"Stop struggling," I said to Paul. "You need to conserve your energy little man."
I reached into the box and pulled out the coiled up lengths of leather with the metal clips. I smiled as I looked at the detailed diagram that was depicted on the piece of paper. This was going to be fun playing Elle, I thought to myself.
"What are you going to do to me?" Asked Paul.
There was the sound of desperation in his voice. I reached forward and flicked his bare buttocks with my index finger making him yelp from the shock of being flicked rather than the pain of it.
"Mistress!" I barked at him.
"Sorry Mistress," said Paul pathetically.
"You're job is to remain quiet," I said placing my hand on him and pushing down hard on his tiny body.
I could hear him gasping for breath, his tiny body desperate to escape from beneath my hand which was slowly forcing the air from his lungs. I lifted my hand up and Paul breathed in deeply, his breath a long drawn out wheeze.
"You're a slow learner little man," I said.
Paul didn't dare say anything. I grinned. I felt so powerful having this control over him. It was a feeling I had never experienced and it was refreshingly liberating. I got up from the chair and lifted up the hem of my dress. I slid my thong down over my legs and stepped out of it and then placed it on the table right next to Paul's face. Reaching down I held his tiny body with my right hand whilst removing the tape with my left hand. He lay still, not daring to move. I picked him up and held him so that he was facing away from me. I could feel him breathing quickly beneath my fingers, his heart was hammering away in terror. I lifted him to my face and kissed his naked bottom.
"Shhhh little one," I whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you. We need to go somewhere and I have to transform you now but you mustn't panic. You must remain calm otherwise you will suffer unnecessarily."
Paul didn't respond. He stayed rigid in my hand knowing that trying to escape my grasp would get him nowhere. The tiny clips on the bundle of leather cords fitted perfectly around his wrists and ankles. Whoever had made this garment had been a real craftsperson. Once the clips were in place it became very obvious what the device was. I could feel Paul shivering with fear in my hand.
"You may speak little man?"
He chose his words carefully, trying his best to disguise the sheer terror in his voice.
"What is this thing Mistress?"
"Let's just say you're now a human thong my little pet," I purred. "It's designed so that I put my legs through the loops here and then this part straps round my waist keeping you snugly in position."
Paul remained silent.
"So, you're arms will be pulled up towards my upper thighs, your legs will be pulled towards my bottom and you will be held nice and tight face first against my pussy." I whispered. "Most men would love the idea of that. Why so silent?"
"I'm worried that I'll suffocate Mistress."
I laughed out loud.
"Don't worry little man, I'll position you so you can breath," I said. "Oh and feel free to wriggle as much as you want."
Paul's pride got the better of him as I put my feet through the loops. He very rarely went down on me when we were together but he had no objections to constantly asking me to go down on him. This was the perfect revenge.
"You can't do this!" He screamed. "Don't you dare wear me like I'm just some garment for your pleasure!"
I hoisted the 'Paul-thong' up over my thighs making sure my dress kept my face from his view. His screams of displeasure became inaudible muffles as I fastened the thin leather strap around my waist. I manoeuvred him into position with my hand and the sensation was glorious. I could feel Paul squirming between my thighs, the irony was that the more he squirmed, the more excited I became.
"Oh this is just perfect," I thought to myself.
I picked up the instructions, my jacket and front door keys.
I realised what I was doing was dangerous but at the same time an exhilaration ran through my body. For the first time in my life I felt truly alive. I opened the front door and then locked it behind me. It wouldn't take long to get to my destination. I gasped as Paul inadvertently moved in such a way that it sent a wave of pleasure streaming between my thighs. As the pleasurable sensation subsided I headed out of the apartment and onto the next step of my journey to find the serial killer.
Or so I thought.

I tried to stifle my laughter but I couldn't help it and it burst out just like that.
"What's so funny?" Asked Paul.
"The idea of you being Elle's underwear," I said. "What was it like?"
Paul frowned as he spoke.
"Humiliating," he said quietly. "Really humiliating."
"Aww poor baby," I said smiling at him. "I can think of worse things that she could have done to you."
"I thought you'd be jealous," said Paul. "You know, the thought of me being...down there with another woman."
I laughed again.
"It's not like you had any choice in the matter," I said. "Besides, I'm not the jealous type."
Now it was Paul who laughed.
"You so are," he said getting up from his lying down position and once again standing on my stomach.
His tiny naked feet tickled me and I started to giggle which unbalanced him and once again he was flat on his back looking up at me.
"Well maybe I am a little bit," I said. "But when it comes to Elle, I don't have a jealous bone in my body."
If only you knew why, I thought to myself.
"So you'd gladly share me with anybody then?" He asked mischievously.
"Not anybody," I said slowly. "But certainly more people than you'd think."
I studied Paul as he lay there looking up at the ceiling. My memory was still a blank and it was only when Paul told his side of the story that I would immediately remember what had happened to us today.
"So what happened next?"
Paul looked thoughtful as he spoke.
"I'm not sure," he said. "I couldn't see anything with my body pulled tight against...well you know. I couldn't hear anything either. I remember Elle walked for some time..."
I tried to remember what had happened when I left the flat but my mind was a complete blank.
"We also rode in the back of a van for a while too," said Paul. "I remember that bit because I was nearly crushed by Elle as she sat down."
I focused hard but there was still nothing.
"I couldn't really tell you what happened until the bathing," said Paul.
"The bathing?"
The bathing.
"Tell me," I said.
And he did. And I remembered the bathing and everything that had happened to me.

"Where am I?" I asked.
"You are in The Temple my dear," said a rich and soft Caribbean voice behind me.
I turned round to confront the owner of the voice and was taken aback by the sheer presence of her gentleness. She was tall and graceful. A red satin robe adorned her curvaceous body. Her skin was a rich creamy brown colour and there were streaks of grey in her hair that was braided into tight dreadlocks. Her smile lit up the room and her dark brown eyes were almost hypnotic. She had the manner, wisdom and knowing eyes of a fifty year old woman but her skin and body were that of a twenty year old.
She smiled at me again.
"One of the perks of joining The Temple," she said, noticing my inquisitive looks. "Or maybe oil of Olay actually does work."
Her voice echoed slightly. I looked around me and marvelled at my surroundings. It really was a temple. It was circular in design. The floors were marble and the walls were carved from granite. In the centre of the temple was some kind of altar. There were no windows though, just six huge wooden doors which were set into the wall at sixty degree intervals.
"I don't remember how I got here," I said.
I decided that honesty was probably the best policy unless absolutely necessary. Absolute lies were always so much harder to perpetuate when you went undercover.
Except...
Except I didn't feel that I was undercover. I was beginning to feel that I wanted to become part of this fascinating group of women.
"You won't remember how you got here or how you will leave," said the woman in the red robe. "It helps keep The Temple from danger."
I could feel Paul moving against me again. I rolled my eyes with pleasure as he hit a particularly lovely sensitive spot.
The woman smiled at me. She knew exactly what I was experiencing.
"You will be prepared for the initiation ceremony," she said. "Once that is complete I will tell you why you were chosen to join us."
As she spoke the necklace around her neck glowed bright red. I hadn't noticed it before. It was a small simple stone tied to a length of leather. As the red glow faded from the stone I noticed that it was a grey blue colour.
One of the doors opened and a small Chinese girl, probably nineteen or twenty years old, glided into the room. She wore the same style robe as the Caribbean woman, except hers was blue in colour. The Chinese girl motioned for me to follow her which I did.
The door closed behind us and I followed the small Chinese girl along a large corridor which was flanked by huge doors on each side at regular intervals. After fifty yards or so she opened the third door on the right. I was determined not to lose my bearings. I followed her through the door and found myself standing in what looked like an Ancient Roman bathing room. There was a large sunken bath in the middle of the room, the type that Cleopatra would have been proud to bathe in. The room was pure luxury.
"My name is Mei," said the Chinese girl in slightly broken English.
"My name is..."
I hesitated.
"You wish to keep your identity from your little one?" Said Mei glancing down towards the area where Paul was tightly fastened.
I nodded.
"It's complicated," I said.
Mei smiled.
"I understand," she said. "I will call you Elle."
I shook my head, rather taken aback that Mei knew the name of my alter ego.
"How did you know?"
She looked at me intensely and without smiling said, "we know everything."
She walked towards the sunken bath. It was full to the top with warm water and the smell of essential oils. I watched the steam rise from the surface, condensing on any nearby cold surfaces.
Mei crouched down and placed her hand in the water, swishing it round in a circle, causing ripples to race outwards towards the far side of the bath.
"Lovely and warm," she said. "You must now take off your clothes and take relaxing bath to prepare you for the initiation ceremony."
"I'm not sure I understand," I said, suddenly feeling very self conscious at the thought of stripping naked in front of a total stranger and then taking a bath in front of her.
"The bath will prepare you," she said smiling. "It will make things easier. You are about to face things you will enjoy and things you will despise. This is a necessary part of the ceremony. If you do not take bath, it will be very difficult for you."
"What about Paul?" I asked glancing downwards.
Mei smiled again. She produced a small hood which she must have had secreted in her hand. It was black and looked like the sort of hood that bank robbers wore except there was no holes for the eyes or mouth, only for the nose.
"When you undress, slip this onto Mr Chapman's head. This will stop him from seeing you when I remove him from you."
"You know who he is?" I gasped.
"We know everything." Said Mei sighing. "This will go a lot easier if you just do as I say."
She was right. I was asking far too many questions. I needed to just go along with this. They already knew I was a police officer. The only thing they didn't know was that I had no intention of joining their cult. I was here to catch a vicious killer.
Yet...
Again that hesitation. I was starting to enjoy this feeling of power a bit too much and Paul felt absolutely wonderful snuggled against me between my thighs.
I kicked off my shoes and pulled down my nylon hold ups, rolling them up neatly and placing them by my shoes.
"You must submerge yourself fully in the bath, up to your neck," said Mei watching me undress. "You must not stand up until I say."
I dropped my jacket onto the floor and then unzipped my dress which fell to the floor at my feet.
"What the fuck's going on?" Screamed Paul, his voice barely audible.
I slipped the hood effortlessly onto his head which bobbed around pathetically as he tried to break free from the bonds that held him tightly spread-eagled to my vagina. His cries were completely muffled now. I reached around behind me and unclipped my bra which I also dropped to the floor. Covering my breasts with both hands I gingerly walked towards the bath
Mei smiled at me, encouraging me to enter the water. I was starting to panic a little. I was about to submerge Paul beneath the water with absolutely no warning. The water felt lovely on my toes though. I walked into the centre of the huge bath. The water came up to my knees. The fumes from the essential oils smelt wonderful. The air above the bath was hazy, full of colours. I slowly sank back into the bath and started to count in my head. I needed to keep track of time. If Mei left it too long I was going to stand up regardless. There was no way I could risk Paul drowning. I lay back with my head resting on the side. The water lapped gently over my chin as I breathed in the wonderful perfumes. Mei was now standing behind me, her bare feet just behind the back of my head. I tilted my head back and looked up at her. She looked weird from this angle.
"This is how I must look to Paul," I murmured to myself, "when he's looking up at me."
I could feel Paul wriggling and squirming against me. I was starting to feel really horny. He was wriggling like crazy and I could feel myself getting more excited with every movement of his tiny body.
Mei was crouched down now, looking down into my face.
"You like girls?" She asked.
"My head was swimming. I felt like I was floating on a cloud. I gasped as I orgasmed, the force of Paul's tiny wriggling body against my clit sending tiny little spasms down my thighs, across my buttocks and up my back.
"You like girls?" Mei asked again.
I was in sexual ecstasy. My breathing quickened and my heart rate was now pumping like a sprinter running at full pelt.
"No," I mumbled with distaste. "No bloody way. I like boys. I'm not some fucking lesbo, just because I'm a police officer doesn't mean I'm a lesbian. Fuck you."
I giggled at my outburst. I'd lost complete track of time in my head but frankly I didn't care. My head was floating away on a pink cloud surrounded by dancing blue toy elephants who were playing David Bowie's 'let's dance' out of their trunks.
I looked to my left at Mei who was now in the water next to me, her robe discarded on the side of the bath. She was grinning like a Cheshire cat. She slid effortlessly over me and straddled my waist, her legs now either side of me, her tiny pert bottom perched lightly on my stomach. Water rivulets flowed down over her skin and dripped onto mine. She leaned forward and kissed me full on the lips, her tongue sliding inside my mouth and teasing my own tongue. Mei pressed against me, her tiny breasts felt hard against my own more impressive chest. Her hands caressed the nape of my neck as her kisses became more forceful.
"Oh God," I gasped as I came again. Paul was struggling with an increased intensity that was sending wave after wave of delight through my entire body.
Mei's tiny kisses moved over my cheek, down my neck and over my breast bone. Her small lips found my nipple which immediately hardened as she sucked on it. She rolled her tongue expertly around it, pushing it hard against her top lip.
She looked up at me coyly, her tiny hands now positioned on both my breasts.
"You like girls now?" She said as her fingers caressed me.
I groaned with pleasure. I needed to be fucked. I needed to be fucked hard to ease the longing between my thighs.
"Fuck yeah," I said giggling like a school girl.
"It is time," she said reaching for my hand. "Stand up please."
Mei stood up and I grabbed her hands and stood up with her. My legs felt like they were going to give way at any moment and I couldn't stop laughing. I looked down at the thong she was wearing. It was the same design as mine. I bent down to take a closer look, much to Mei's delight. Wriggling helplessly from the leather bonds was a tiny woman, her blonde hair swished back and forth as she tried to move her head into a position away from Mei's shaved vagina.
"Hello little lady," I said grinning.
I reached out with my index finger and poked her tiny bottom. The woman started screaming.
"Help me!" She screamed.
I looked up at Mei.
"Awww she's lovely," I purred. "She's like a little Barbie doll but so much smaller. So much more teeny tiny."
I held my finger and thumb apart and squinted through the gap to demonstrate the woman's diminutive stature. God I was totally stoned. Was this all even real?
"This is my little one," said Mei as she reached down and stroked the tiny spread-eagled woman. "She was the family accountant. She embezzled all the money from family business. She lost the lot. My father never recovered from the loss of the business and died a broken man. This is her reward."
Mei hissed something in Chinese. *Mugou. She grabbed the tiny woman's hair between her finger and thumb and tugged hard, yanking the woman's head back so she was forced to look upwards, not that she would have seen much. Mei then adjusted the straps on her 'human-thong'. I watched with horrified curiosity as the blonde haired woman slid down across Mei's pussy and then round so she was now positioned upside down tight between Mei's perfectly formed buttocks.
"I didn't know you could do that?" I said grinning. "Cool."
I walked round the back of Mei to look at the tiny woman. Her arms were now being held together above her and her legs were also in a similar position. She was now effectively the part of the thong that lies between the butt cheeks.
"What did you say to her?" I asked as I watched the tiny woman struggling.
"Bitch," said Mei. "I then told her to kiss my arse."
I stood up woozily, aware that we were both still standing in the bath. I looked down at Paul who was still struggling to free himself but now his efforts were tired and resigned.
I followed Mei out of the bath and stood on the cool marble floor, our bodies dripping water where we stood. She opened a huge cupboard and removed the biggest and whitest and fluffiest towels I had ever seen. We both started to dry ourselves off. Mei finished before me. She picked up her robe and slid it back on.
"We'd better get a move on otherwise we're going to miss my initiation," I said, my speech heavily slurred.
Mei looked at me and giggled.
"It's already started silly," she said stepping towards me.
She slowly unbuckled my Paul-thong. Her face was level with my breasts. I could feel her soft breath on my skin as she pulled the leather cords away from my thighs. She dangled Paul in front of her face and grinned. Her small delicate fingers reached out and she lightly grasped Paul's penis between her finger and thumb. Very gently she began to massage his tiny cock. Even though he'd been squashed, half drowned and was hanging by his arms from leather straps, her light touch was definitely having the desired effect on Paul. I watched as his erection grew, beneath Mei's touch. She quickened her stroke and Paul's head began to roll from side to side. A muffled groan escaped from the hood he was still wearing.
"We have the power to pleasure," said Mei expertly bringing Paul to climax.
I watched his tiny cock twitch and then he was cumming over Mei's thumb. A tiny ejaculation that Mei rubbed away with her finger without thinking.
Mei removed Paul's hood, making sure he was facing away from me.
"You!" He shouted. "I know you. You're the food delivery girl."
"Or cause pain," said Mei as she once again took hold of Paul's tiny cock between her finger and thumb, but this time there was no gentleness. She squeezed her finger and thumb together making Paul cry out in pain.
I bit my lower lip, unsure as to what to do.
"*Ernai!" Barked Mei. "Mistress! You must always address us as Mistress."
"Yes mistress," said Paul with a sniff.
He looked completely wretched. All the fight had now gone out of him.
"Where's Elle mistress?" Asked Paul.
"She is being initiated."
Initiated?
I looked around the room puzzled.
"So this is part of the initiation?" I said.
"Of course," said Mei slipping her legs through the looped straps that held Paul's arms and legs.
I watched him disappear beneath Mei's robe. She smiled as she adjusted his position beneath the robe.
I should have felt insanely jealous. My Paul was now right next to this woman's most intimate part and it was obvious that she was enjoying it. But I felt no jealousy at all. Just a wonderful feeling of euphoria.
Mei took my hand in hers.
"I should get dressed," I said.
"No need," said Mei.
"Pleasure and pain is all part of the circle," said Mei.
I watched her touch the strange necklace that dangled from her neck. Funny how I hadn't noticed it before. It glowed blue beneath her fingers.
"And you must experience the full circle of emotions."
Mei's hand was growing larger in mine. Her face was now level with my face. Now I was looking at her tiny breasts beneath her robe. Now her stomach. I looked up at her, the feeling of euphoria completely gone. Now there was just the feeling of dread.
I was shrinking.
"This wasn't what was promised," I cried as I shrank smaller and smaller.
I stared at Mei's enormous feet. They were the size of cars now compared to me. I looked up to see Mei laughing. She crouched down, her huge hand filled my entire vision as she reached down to pick me up. Giant fingers surrounded my naked body and I was now helpless within her clenched fist, my arms firmly clamped to my sides, my breasts resting on the top side of her index finger.
"You will make such a cute little *gongzi," grinned Mei as she lifted me up off the floor. "Come here my cute little doll."
I did what any sane person would do.
I screamed at the top of my voice.

My scream quickly turned to hysterical laughter as I stared into Mei’s huge eyes that twinkled with amusement. She held me firmly but gently, my arms still trapped by my side.

“Perhaps I should make you my little one,” she said softly.

She moved me closer to her face. I could feel her soft breath upon my naked skin.

The sound of a large gong being struck resonated down the corridor. Mei looked away from me momentarily towards the source of the sound before fixing her amused stare back onto my tiny form.

“It is time,” she said.

Her little finger stroked the side of my face and then ever so gently slid down the side of my neck and over my exposed breasts. I gasped as she her light touch found my hardening nipples.

“Let’s hope you pass the initiation,” she said with a twinkle in her eye,” otherwise I get to keep you for good my tiny gonzi.”

She slid her little finger between my thighs and I could not help but rub myself against her, my hips gyrating rhythmically as the craving to orgasm yet again coursed through my body. Just as my body was about to explode Mei slid her finger from between my thighs leaving me gasping and writhing for more. I looked down and watched her adjust the cord of her necklace so it now hung between her breasts. Mei lowered me towards the strange necklace.

“Hold on,” she said as she opened up her hand and sat me on the blue stone like a child sitting on a swing.

The stone felt cold beneath my naked bottom. I giggled and then moaned as another wave of lust coursed through me. I could hear Mei’s heart beating through the flimsy translucent fabric of her robe. The necklace swung gently from side to side with every step Mei took. I watched the door to the bathing chamber draw closer and closer and then in an instant we were through them and walking back up the corridor towards The Temple.

Another gong resonated along the corridor.

I looked up at Mei’s face but all I could see was the underside of her firm jaw. The huge double doors to The Temple were suddenly in front of us. Time seemed to be skipping slightly. I closed my eyes and then opened them.

The initiation was now truly underway.

Mei stood in the centre of The Temple. To her right stood a confident looking tall woman dressed in the same robes and to her left stood an older looking woman with dark olive skin. Both women wore necklaces outside of their robes and perched on each necklace was a tiny naked woman in the same predicament that I was.

The Caribbean woman in red stood before us. A circle of robed women stood around the perimeter of The Temple, each holding a small lit candle in their right hands.

“I am Carla,” said the Caribbean woman, “the eternal Goddess.”

“Keeper of the light,” chanted the circle of women in perfect unison. “Bringer of the darkness, protector of the helpless, destroyer of the weak.”

“Who stands before us?” Asked Carla

Each woman took it in turn to answer.

“Aisha Singh. I bring Lucy.”

“Mei Lee. I bring Elle.”

“Sarah Brown. I bring Toni.”

“Before us stand three chosen ones who we hope will join our sisterhood,” said Carla. “Let the world see my body.”

“For I am woman and I should feel no shame,” chanted the circle.

Mei, Aisha and Sarah loosened their robes, letting them slide to the floor at their feet.

A soft wind blew through The Temple causing the candles to flicker furiously.

“Be clear of mind and accept me as your Goddess,” said Carla as she approached Mei, graceful and predatory like a black panther.

“We accept you Goddess. You gave us strength when we were weak,” came the return chant to Carla’s proclamation.

I watched Carla hold her hand out to me, her fingertips were now just an inch from Mei’s necklace.

She smiled at me and I understood what she wanted. I gingerly stepped off Mei’s necklace and onto Carla’s open palm. I slowly sat down cross legged on her soft hand and she drew her hand towards her face. Her enormous eyes stared into me and then she smiled.

“Shall we?” she asked.

The stone in Carla’s necklace glowed red and then everything went black just for a moment.

I opened my eyes to find myself standing on a table with Carla’s huge face looming over me. I looked down at the silk robe I was now wearing. It was white, mid thigh in length and perfectly tailored to my body.

“Where am I?” I asked. “And how?”

Once again Carla’s smile lit up the room.

I could not see the room beyond as Carla’s face filled my view.

“You are in my chambers Lisa,” she said, “or Elle as you prefer to be known.”

“How did I get here?”

I was completely dazed. One moment I had been sitting on Carla’s hand in the Temple the next I found myself in a different room standing on a table like some prized ornament.

“I have the power to move things from one space to another,” she said with no emotion in her voice.

Her right hand appeared from beneath the table. I gasped as her fingers encircled my waist and she lifted me off the table, holding me just inches above its dark oak surface.

“And now the initiation is nearly over,” Carla said. “It is time for your final test.”

“Test?” I said, trying to maintain my composure whilst in Carla’s grip. “What test?”

Her necklace glowed red and immediately I was surrounded by a sweet perfume that caressed my nostrils.

The drug that Mei had used on me was a far weaker cousin than the one Carla now deployed. I gasped as I felt a yearning heat between my thighs, an aching desire that I had never experienced before but this time there was no ‘high’, no euphoria to accompany my unfulfilled desire. It was pure lust and I was losing control.

“What are you doing?” I gasped.

I squirmed in Carla’s grip. The desire within me was almost painful.

“As I said, I have the power to move things from one place to another,” she whispered. “Nobody must ever find out about this place. Is that clear?”

I looked into her eyes. It was crystal clear and the reality of the situation suddenly frightened me immensely.

Carla closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them.

“Interesting choice,” she said with a smile.

“Choice?” I said. “What choice?”

I watched Carla’s necklace glow red and once more the darkness took me.

My eyes opened and my head was spinning.

I was standing in the doorway of a kitchen. I spun round. There was a sitting room behind me. I spun back round to the kitchen. I knew that a standard kitchen worktop stood about three foot high from having a kitchen fitted a few months ago. I was about half the height of the kitchen work top.

I squeezed my thighs together, my hands instinctively drawn to the aching between them.

A whimper escaped my lips as I saw a tall figure standing at the sink in the kitchen. She was a tall woman with blonde hair dressed only in a pair of skimpy red satin knickers and a black vest top. The woman turned round and stared at me. A look of complete and utter disbelief erupted over her face. The bowl of cereal she had in her hand slipped from her grip and hit the tiled floor with a crash. Fragments of white china exploded outwards like shrapnel from a hand grenade.

Even as her mouth opened to scream I was turning and running.

I was in the DCI’s house.

“What the fuck!” echoed the scream from the kitchen.

My tiny legs carried me into the sitting room. I ran past a brown leather sofa, its seating cushions level with my chest. I could hear the DCI’s bare feet slapping against the floor as she gave chase.

The door exiting the lounge into the hallway was closed. I ran up to it and banged my fists against the glass, the handle completely out of my reach.

“Stewart!” yelled the DCI, nearly bursting my eardrum.

I spun round just as she reached me. Her right hand snapped out and grabbed my tiny wrist.

There was a manic grin on her face as she leant down to speak to me.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house,” she spat. “And how did you become so...”

She couldn’t even finish the sentence. It was completely incomprehensible that I could be this size.

I gasped as wave after wave of lust ripped through my body.

The DCI dragged me over to the sofa by my wrist and sat down on it.

“No,” I screamed as she lifted me up and dumped me face down over her lap.

I wriggled ferociously against her well toned naked thighs but she held me tightly, pulling both my arms behind me and then holding them with her left hand leaving her right hand free. I felt utterly miserable and humiliated but at the same time I had an intense yearning that needed to be satisfied before I went crazy with desire.

“How did you get to be this size Stewart?” hissed the DCI, pulling up my arms slightly which sent a wave of pain through each shoulder blade.

“Ouch!” I screamed “Let me go you bitch!”

I felt the DCI lift up my robe to reveal my naked bottom.

“What have we here?” she said.

Her fingers glided across the naked skin of my buttocks and I moaned with pleasure much to my disgust. She did it again and I moaned again. It felt so good.

“If I wasn’t mistaken Miss Stewart I would say you’re enjoying this,” said the DCI. “Now how did you get to be so small?”

One of her fingers slid between my thighs. Every part of me wanted to keep my legs closed but the lust within me wouldn’t permit it. I parted my legs and moaned with ecstasy as the DCI’s finger tip touched me.

“You’re ever so wet,” whispered the DCI.

She moved her finger in small circular motions, teasing me as I writhed and danced to her tune.

“Would you like more?” she whispered again.

“Yes. Yes,” I screamed trying to thrust myself back against her finger which she slid slowly and gently into me.

I cried out and began to move my hips, counteracting the small thrusts from the DCI’s finger which began to increase in stroke taking me to the brink of craziness.

“How did you get to be so small?” she asked again.

“I don’t know,” I gasped. “Don’t stop.”

I could feel my orgasm building deep within me. I was nearly there. I needed to be there.

I thrust wildly against the DCI’s finger, screaming like a banshee with each thrust and then her finger was gone just as I was about to climax.

“No!” I screamed.

I kicked and struggled but the DCI held me firmly in position.

“You really are gagging for it aren’t you, you little whore,” she said laughing.

I felt a sting across my buttocks as the DCI slapped me.

“How did you get to be so small?” she asked.

I turned my head and glared up at her.

She slapped me again, harder this time. I let out a cry of pain but simultaneously I had no choice but to enjoy it. The lust would not go away and it craved satisfaction in the form of pleasure or pain.

Another slap and this time I bit down on my lip hard. I was not going to give her the satisfaction.

Her finger slipped inside me again and I gasped and writhed like a puppet whose strings were being tugged at by the DCI.

“Still wet,” she said. “You must love a good spanking.”

Nearly there again.

A few more thrusts and then her finger was gone once more.

“No,” I screamed, more animal than human.

The DCI lifted me up and sat me astride her right thigh so I was facing her. I tried to rub myself against her thigh but she held me fast.

She grabbed my robe and pulled it up over my head and threw it onto the floor. Immediately both her thumbs were on my nipples, rubbing them, making me even crazier than before.

“I need to be fucked!” I screamed.

The DCI lifted me up and lowered her head. Her huge mouth engulfed my entire right breast, her tongue flicking at my hard nipple which sent spasms into my pussy.

She pulled her head back and looked into my eyes, her finger once again seeking me out, making me writhe, making me gasp, making me moan with sheer delight.

“How did you get to be so small?”

“I don’t know,” I gasped. “I don’t know.”

The DCI’s mouth sought out my breasts again. Her finger plunged deep and hard into me over and over and over again and at last I climaxed, a huge orgasm that ripped through every part of me leaving me panting and gasping in the hands of the DCI.

“Do you know why I’m trying to get you transferred out of my department?” she asked.

I looked up at her trying not to feel revulsion. Now my lust had been satisfied my feelings were now back to normal and being with a woman was far from normal for me, being with a giant woman felt even less comfortable and being at the mercy of the DCI made me feel nauseous.

I could have lied and said no but I answered her.

“Some of the lads say it’s because you’re jealous of the attention I get,” I said, “because you used to be the only woman in the unit.”

The DCI looked genuinely shocked. She manoeuvred me so she was now cradling me the way a mother cradles a baby which made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. Her chest was now level with my face, forcing me to look up into her face if I didn’t want a face full of boob.

“That’s not it at all,” she said. “The moment I saw you I had feelings for you. I found it so hard not to tell you because I thought you weren’t that way inclined and the last thing I needed was other members of my unit finding out my sexual orientation. So, I thought it best to get you moved to another unit.”

“Feelings for me?” I said, trying to move out of the DCI’s hold.

“Yes,” she said. “I thought you were straight but obviously you’re not.”

She smiled at me and then lowered me onto the floor so I stood between her thighs with nothing to look at but her red satin panties. The DCI hooked her thumbs into skimpy knickers and pulled them down. I stepped back and watched her slide them down her extremely long legs and onto the floor where she kicked them off.

“And now it’s my turn Lisa,” she said opening her legs.