Everyone seemed to be in a better mood the next day. Even Stuart.

He reappeared in the house early that morning, looking fitter and healthier, making a steady and determined, if slow, course out of the master bedroom to the kitchen and living room areas. Jennifer helped him to make breakfast, though he vocally refused her doing everything for him, wanting to be as independent as possible. He also accepted my help to show him how to run a bath for himself in the bathroom sink.

Jennifer seemed a little taken aback. She didn’t expect Stuart to insist on having the last word against her. But he was using a ‘that’s final’ voice that even impressed me.

In fact I was secretly thrilled. With two shrunken people in the house, maybe it would shift the dynamic a little. At least, I would no longer feel so alone. I couldn’t wait to show him how to use the system of rope harnesses I used to climb things. Stuart and I could probably accomplish all kinds of things if we worked as a team. We might even be able to choreograph an excursion outside the house on our own.

I checked on Stuart again after his bath. With just the two of us in the bathroom, he told me in a hushed tone about the previous day.

Apparently Jennifer had bought him a little Batman suit while Remy was having his procedure at the vet. Stuart had been very raw the previous night, and her way of trying to cheer him up and make him see the funny side of it was to bring out the Batman suit and tell him to put it on for her and pose. This was also her coy way of suggesting that he was her superhero. Unfortunately he misread the humor or the intent, and completely flipped out. He thought she was making fun of him.

He had accused her of trying to turn us into living action figures and next thing you knew, we would be ‘shoved away in boxes’ and ‘taken out whenever the nieces and nephews come over to play’. He told her not to speak to him again until he was ‘respectable’. He was referring to clothing, but she thought he was referring to his size; taking it to mean he never wanted to talk to her again, period.

More explicit words were shared. I cringed as Stuart spoke but didn’t say anything. It sounded like he had said things that I knew she’d have taken the wrong way. The kind of things you'd regret saying the next morning. How she ‘looked wrong’ and ‘felt wrong’ to him now, among other more specific provocations.

Now I felt a little guilty myself having gotten on Jennifer’s back the previous night about her attempt to go out, though I didn’t regret it. At the same time I empathized with Stuart’s headspace; he was worrying about all the things I’d worried about when I'd first been shrunk; how he could possibly work and sustain outside relationships with people. Maybe we all needed to go out for a drink.

However, that notion never eventuated, because sometime in the evening, a young woman came bouncing into the living room, not even having knocked at the front door.

She had long, wavy red hair and red lipstick and some big brand sunglasses pushed up over her head, those ones with huge lenses that were so fashionable with women, almost like aviator goggles.

I blinked at her from my perch on the sofa armrest, not even comprehending what I was seeing for a moment. Then it hit me – there was a total stranger in the house – and my heart jumped into my throat.

What the heck was a young woman doing in the house? It couldn’t have been one of Jennifer’s friends; she didn’t invite them over.

“Uh,” I said to Stuart, who was sitting on one of the cushions of the sofa, below me, “who’s that?”

Stuart had gotten to his feet and was now shifting back and forth on his heels.

“Oh…this is…my…”

The red-haired woman’s eyes swept around the room and stopped on Stuart. Then her face filled with radiant warmth.

“STUART!” she said. “HI!”

She took a step over to him, approaching him gently.

Like she’d been summoned, Jennifer entered the room.

She saw the woman and froze, and it seemed like a shadow was cast across the entire room. There was a perceptible change in her posture, she grew stiff like she’d turned to stone. It was like one cat seeing another cat on its territory.

The red haired woman’s smile faltered a microsecond at seeing Jennifer, before she recovered, looking back down to Stuart on the sofa.

“I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD COMPANY,” the red haired woman said, “IS THIS YOUR SISTER?”

Jennifer’s face was a cold, impassive mask. She spoke while never taking her eyes off the red-haired woman’s face:

“STUART, WHAT’S GOING ON? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?”

Stuart coughed uncomfortably.

“Uh, Jennifer…This is Margo. Maybe you remember her from…uh…” as his voice dwindled away, he looked to Margo with a pained expression.

“Margo, what are you doing here?”

She looked at him curiously.

“YOU SAID COME IN TEN OR FIFTEEN,” she said. “IT’S FIFTEEN MINUTES TO YOUR HOUSE, SO I JUST FLEW RIGHT OVER.”

“No, actually, I said come at ten-fifteen. Fifteen past ten. At night.” He ran a hand over his head, mussing up his hair, and as if seeing no point to lying or maintaining pretense, sighed, “Oh, geez this is so bad…”

Jennifer’s eyes narrowed at the word ‘bad’ – she got the drift in an instant. She was as still and as tense as piano wire. There was a flicker – a nerve – at her temple.

“STUART,” she said, trying to sound as calm and composed as humanly possible. “TELL ME WHAT THIS WOMAN IS DOING HERE. RIGHT NOW.”

“OH, ME AND STUART ARE SORT OF A THING, I GUESS YOU COULD SAY,” Margo gabbed on, innocently.

“Margo – !” Stuart yelped.

“—HAVE BEEN FOR A FEW MONTHS,” she flashed him a warm smile, “ISN’T THAT RIGHT, STU?”

Stuart looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.

“SO, CAN YOU EXPLAIN TO ME,” Jennifer with painful slowness, “JUST HOW THAT’S EVEN POSSIBLE?”

Stuart ummed and ahhed for a long time, so Margo replied again, misinterpreting her question:

“I KNOW, THE SIZE DIFFERENCE,” she waved a hand dismissively. “IT’S UNUSUAL, BUT STUART IS A WARM, LOVING MAN AND HE’S JUST STOLEN MY HEART. HIS SIZE MAY HAVE CHANGED, BUT HE HASN’T. I STILL LOVE HIM LIKE CRAZY. IT’S NO DRAMA, REALLY.”

Jennifer shook her head.

“I DON’T BELIEVE THIS.”

“OH, IT’S NO JOKE,” Margo went on. “I’M SERIOUS ABOUT HIM, AND I’D FIGHT ANYONE WHO DOUBTED IT.”

“Margo, stop!” Stuart gasped. He turned to Jennifer.

“Look at us, Jennifer. You think I’m small. But from my view, you’re big. You’re so big; it’s insane.”

“THIS WOMAN IS JUST AS BIG AS I AM.”

“She’s a little smaller, give her that,” he wrung his hands. It was true; Margo was noticeably shorter than Jennifer. “And she’s so gentle and delicate.” He blurted in desperation: “Don’t you understand how terrifying your profile looks blocking the sunlight? – like a monster!”

“YOU’VE BEEN CREEPING BEHIND MY BACK FOR MONTHS, STUART!” Her yell made the air quake. “THAT’S BEFORE YOU SHRUNK!”

Her hands had curled into fists at her sides, which might have even been painful as her long nails must have been digging into her palms.

“Well, okay,” Stuart said firmly, “it’s not just the size thing. There’s a whole backlog of problems.” He was sounding more and more distressed. “You’re so rough. So demanding. You always were. The size difference has just blown that right up. But it’s always been a problem.”

Jennifer turned away, putting her hand against her forehead and sweeping her hair back.

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THIS.”

“Well, okay,” said Stuart, awkwardly. “That’s easy, then.”

Margo’s smile had faded. In the brief pause, she uttered weakly:

“OH, YOU’RE…YOU’RE…”

“YEAH,” Jennifer snarled, rounding on her, “I’M HIS GIRLFRIEND. WHO DID YOU THINK I WAS – HIS GRANDMOTHER?”

“MAYBE I BETTER BE GOING…” Margo said, beginning to skip lightly over the floor.

“YES, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

“No, wait! – Margo, take me with you!” Stuart wailed, dashing over the sofa, holding out his arms.

Now it looked like Jennifer was hunting around for objects to throw. It looked like she might yet bring out the sledgehammer after all.

Eyes wide with fear, Margo snatched up Stuart and zoomed out of the room. Jennifer stormed after them. From down the hall, the front door slammed and then bolted.

Finally, Jennifer stalked back into the living room, looking murderous. She didn’t say anything or look at me, she just went on through to the master bedroom. Guessing she was probably going to be in there a while, I flipped on the TV and turned the volume low, trying to look like I was watching something.

The minutes crept on, into hours. It crossed my mind that I should go into the bedroom and check she was okay. She wouldn’t just be angry. She would be humiliated. Bad enough for Stuart to leave her, but suffering his new girl strolling right into the house and snatching her man right out from under her nose was the height of insult.  

But I could never figure out whether girls who were upset wanted you to be there or let them have space. Particularly Jennifer. Remembering the pile of smashed glass behind the TV, I stayed where I was on the couch.

Sometime later, she came back out from the bedroom. Her eyes were slightly red like she’d been crying, but she seemed a little bit better. A little. She wasn’t yelling at least.

Feeling cautious, I didn’t say anything.

She disappeared into the bathroom for another little while.

It was dark outside when she came out again. Now she was dressed up, faintly made-up and had her handbag slung over one shoulder.

I got to my feet on the couch and watched her, warily.

“Are you going out again?”

“YUP.”

I shut my eyes.

“Please, just – !”

“I’M SOBER,” she interjected. “AND I’M NOT GOING TO A BAR. I’M GOING TO TAKE A WALK ALONG THE BOARDWALK.”

This was a strip of the city by the bay. It was lit up at night and she used to love going there to cool down and relax after a night out. And obviously, still did.

Now I could see her open-toed shoes had no heels, I relaxed a little, thinking at least she was at a lesser risk of falling over the railing and into the water.

“Don’t get into trouble,” I grunted, resenting that I felt so protective over her, considering my size made me so helpless. And it was probably unnecessary anyway, if anyone bothered her, she knew martial arts.

She paused. Then she came over and knelt down beside the couch, bringing her upper body right into my line of sight.

“DON’T YOU GET INTO TROUBLE,” she said with mock indignation, giving me a couple of sharp pokes in the belly.

Still, I felt uncertain, but there was little else I could say. She was a grown woman. I was a grown man – in age, at least. My eyes shut again for a second.

Then I raised my arm up towards her, hooking my fingers in towards my palm; the 'come' hand gesture. 

She stared at me, nonplussed.

"Closer," I said, 

She hunched down, cocking her head to align it with my eye level.

I reached my arms up and waved them in at myself repeatedly. 

"Closer," I urged.

Giving me a faint puzzled look, she gently leaned forward until her upper body was extending over the sofa, her head bent low enough to be within my reach.

I padded up to her lower face and, spanning my arms around her chin, pushed my face against her ripe pink velveteen lips, doing my best to cover their shining exteriors with kisses, while rubbing my head back and forth. The gelatine surface of her lipstick oiled my cheeks and made my skin stick while her warm exhalations skimmed through my hair from her nostrils.

She didn't react, except that one of her hands swept around behind me and a couple of fingertips delicately pressed against the muscles between my shoulders and held there, as if to brace me.

Finally, I stepped back, blinking through a clammy film of saliva, my face now shining, and almost glittering from a vivid pink lipstick face mask.

She brought her thumb into my face, rolling the pad over my cheeks to clear most of the lipstick away. Then, placing her palms on the sofa seat, she stood up again; the sudden depression of the seat foam caused me to topple forward onto my face and bounce slightly.

“I’LL BE BACK SOON,” she said, striding down the hall.

A moment later, the car rolled out of the driveway into the night. At least it wasn’t raining.

Once she was gone, I got onto the laptop and went online. Email notifications were alerting me to new messages on my dating site profile. But the fiasco with Stuart had quelled my curiosity. Last thing anyone needed right now was for more unfamiliar women to come wandering up to the property, invited or not. I logged onto my account and deactivated my profile.  

A movie began playing on the TV. I went into the kitchen and dragged a small bunch of grapes back to the couch. I had wanted popcorn, but that was off the cards since I hadn't yet figured out how to use the microwave.

With the house empty, I could laugh loudly and kick uneaten grapes at the screen like soccer balls. Soon the movie was forgotten; I was running around on the floor dribbling grapes on the tiles like basketballs, bouncing them against things. Counting laps, I sprinting up and down the hallway, then timed myself to see how fast I could scale up the curtains.

Then I got naked and crawled down between the sofa cushions, and burst up again, clawing out of them screaming, pretending I was being born.

The movie ended. I turned the TV off. It was very late now. Heart racing and covered in sweat, I climbed into my sponge bed, feeling like I was going to pass out sooner than I would fall asleep.

Sometime after midnight, a car crunched over gravel. I stirred, half-asleep. The sweat had cooled over my skin now, and I pulled my blanket up over my shoulders.

The front door opened and shut. Soft footsteps scuffed over the tiles.  

Rolling over, I watched as Jennifer glided past the kitchen, switching the lights off as she went.

“Goodnight, Jen,” I mumbled. “See you in the morning.”

She disappeared into the master bedroom without a word, as if she hadn’t heard me.

Under cover of my sponge bed, I shifted around, getting comfy again. I hoped she would not get too depressed over Stuart. With him gone, she was my sole life line. Selfish as it sounded, if she fell into a slump it could threaten my ability to look after myself. I could do a lot of things for myself, but I couldn’t get groceries or cook, leave the house, or drive anywhere. At the same time, I sympathized with what she was going through; probably something more than resembling how I had felt after she had broken up with me.

With the room now dark, my mind soon disappeared into the black depths of sleep.

*

Sudden, firm pressure had my body enclosed, lifting me up out of my bed before my brain even had time to rise from slumber. My eyes snapped open, but it was dark all around.

Warm waves of air pulsed against my face as a vice pincered around my head and held it firmly, tilting it up, stretching my neck back, exposing my throat to the hot pounding breath. A low voice said, very close:

“YOU’RE NOT SEEING ANYONE FROM OUTSIDE, TOO?”

“Get off me!” my legs kicked around, “Let me sleep!”

“BECAUSE IF YOU ARE – AND I CAN TELL IF YOU’RE LYING,” the low voice went on calmly, “ – YOU’RE GOING TO BE SPENDING THE REST OF THE NIGHT IN MY SOCK – WHILE I’M STILL WEARING IT.”

“I’m not seeing anyone!” I said. “There’s no one else! What are you doing? Hey – !” A huge thumbpad quickly covered my mouth, muffling my speech.

Then I was sailing through the air, vaguely making out the kitchen passing by, before the dark outlines of the interior master bedroom materialized all around me. The soft mattress pressed up against my side as, seemingly all around, the bulk of the mattress creaked and depressed, causing me to begin to roll sideways. Just as quickly, an enormous warm shelter dropped over me, tightening around my body and dragging me over the mattress, before submersing me into an insulated cave where it was pitch black.

Every breath was suffused with heat and natural body aroma, which got increasingly pungent before I was rammed face first into a pair of plush, padded objects that radiated warmth.

I pushed my hands out and ran them against a wall of satin. From outside the blanket, there was a deep, contented, feminine sigh. A heartbeat drummed against my brow, telling me that I was currently pressed against one of her breasts.

“Uh, Jennifer…?” I piped up.

“MMM?” she rumbled.

“Don’t you think this is a little soon after Stuart? You’re still upset that he left.”

“IT'S NOT THAT HE LEFT. IT'S THAT HE CHEATED ON ME.”

“The distinction being – ?”

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT,” she said. “MAYBE HE WAS RIGHT. WE WERE COMING APART EVEN BEFORE THAT GIRL FLUTTERED IN HERE.”

“You seemed okay to me.”

There was silence for a brief moment. Then her tremorous voice filled my head again:

“THAT WAS THE PROBLEM: I WASN’T HAPPY. I WAS JUST ‘OKAY’.”

“Not to be personal or anything, but it sounded like you had a few all-action nights of thrills and spills going on.”

“YOU LIKED TO LISTEN?” she said, rubbing the side of my head with almost knuckling force.

“I wouldn’t know except the walls told me,” I said, trying to defend my skull from her bullying fingers.

“IF YOU WERE A LITTLE BETTER AT LISTENING," she sniffed, now tapping the side of my head with the tip of a long fingernail, "MAYBE YOU WOULD HAVE HEARD THE SIGNS WAY BEFORE NOW. I’M SURPRISED ANYTHING GETS THROUGH THAT LITTLE SKULL OF YOURS, SOMETMES.”

“I can’t read your mind," I said, throwing my arms up around my head to ward off any from more blows from her nail tip. "If I hear wall-banging screwing, I just assume things are smooth.”

“WELL, YOU SHOULD LEARN TO READ BETWEEN THE LINES. A LOT OF THINGS HAVE BEEN GOING OVER YOUR HEAD LATELY.”

“Hey!” I shot back, twisting around in her grip, trying to identify in the dark where the edge of the blanket was, so that I might have a chance at accessing some fresh air. “I’m not so dense I didn’t catch that pun!”

“IT WASN'T A JOKE.” Her fingers closed around me more firmly, keeping me sealed in place in the stuffy darkness beneath the blanket, swampy with the miasma of her sharp, humid scent. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, JERRY?”

I frowned.

“Uh, what?”

She went on, a little impatiently:

“WHAT DID YOU THINK WHEN YOU FIRST WOKE UP IN MY HOUSE?”

“You had taken me into your home. And, it bothered me, but I understand you and Stuart thought it was necessary.”

“IT WAS MY IDEA,” she corrected me, “—NOT STUART’S. WHY DO YOU THINK I DID IT?”

“You…you felt bad for me.”

“I MAY HAVE FELT A LOT OF THINGS. BUT I DID NOT FEEL BAD.”

“Well, how about now?” I butted in, “You’re using me as a replacement for Stuart now that he’s gone.”

For a moment there was no sound, just her heartbeat in my ears, thrumming against my temple from the warm wall of her flesh. Then she said:

“YOU’RE NOT A REPLACEMENT, JERRY. YOU’RE THE ORIGINAL MODEL.”

“You broke up with me,” I said quietly.

Her grip around my body softened, until I was able to slip out from between her fingers, dropping onto the mattress just below her bust. But then her hand swept down and caught my ankle, pulling me down onto my front and dragging me backwards to her breast, where it held me in place like a shackle while she spoke:

“I DIDN’T WANT TO. I WAS CERTAIN YOU WERE GOING TO TELL ME THAT YOU DIDN’T LOVE ME ANYMORE. YOU BECAME SO DISTANT, AND NOTHING I DID CHANGED THAT. I KNOW IT WAS IMPUSLIVE, BUT I WAS TERRIFIED AND HURT. I THOUGHT THAT IF I WAS THE ONE TO BREAK IT OFF FIRST, IT WOULDN’T HURT AS MUCH.”

“I didn’t mean to be distant. I wasn’t ready for your energy. But I never fell out of love with you.”

Her chest brushed against me as she shifted.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT…GOING BACK TO HOW IT USED TO BE?”

A pit opened up in my stomach. Natalie’s humbling protests rang in my ears: all the typicall pleasures of coupledom that, at my size, I could not longer enjoy. But not only me, but any normal-sized potential partner. 

“That’s impossible. There is not going to be a miracle cure,” I said firmly, irritated that it still hurt to acknowledge. “I have to plan ahead like this is it. It would be unfair to everyone to plan as if things are going to magically go back to normal anytime soon.”

She shifted again, harder, her breast jostling me.

“UNFAIR? THAT MAKES NO SENSE.”

“I’m trying to be realistic, here. What happens when you want to get serious with someone?”

One of her fingers began to gently stroke up and down my spine.

“WHY COULDN’T THAT SOMEONE BE YOU?”

“This is surreal,” I scoffed. “Do you want me to spell it out? I’m…I’m toy-sized. A keyring. A superman doll.”

I was rocked around as she rolled onto her back, and then I was slid along the satin of her gown, between her breasts until cool air hit my face, sheltered just beneath the edge of the blanket. She had sat up slightly, and through the darkness I could just make out her eyes studying my face closely.

"IS THAT HOW YOU SEE YOURSELF?"

"That’s how everyone sees me.”

“SINCE WHEN DO YOU CARE WHAT ‘EVERYONE’ THINKS?”

“Okay then. It’s what you think.”

Her eyebrows pinched together.

“HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK? YOU’VE NEVER ASKED.”

I sighed, and lowered my voice.

“What do you think?”

Curling her index finger, she nuzzled the middle joint against my cheek.

“I THINK YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO WONDER ABOUT THAT.”

Her fingers eased from around me and slid to her side, leaving me lying on my front in the crevice between her breasts.

She looked away for a moment, distracted.

“IT’S MORE IMPORTANT THAT I KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.”

“About what? Getting back together?”

“NO,” her voice became pensive and halting. “I HAVE A QUESTION I…NEVER GOT AROUND TO ASKING YOU. I ASKED STUART AND…IT DIDN’T END WELL. SO I WANT YOU TO TELL ME – HONESTLY – WHAT YOU REALLY THINK OF ME.”

My brow screwed up with confusion.

“What kind of question is that?”

“I MEAN, WHAT YOU REALLY THINK WHEN YOU SEE ME.”

It wasn’t a throwaway question. She sounded sincere and slightly hesitant, like the answer really meant something to her.

“DO YOU NEED ME TO BE MORE SPECIFIC?” she groaned when I didn’t reply. “I MEAN…ARE YOU AFRAID OF ME?”

Her eyes were on me again, her head a little cocked as if to seriously scrutinize my response. 

I began to squirm.

“Well…the answer to that isn’t really straightforward. Anyone your size has the potential to make me afraid…”

“NO BULLSHIT. JUST BE HONEST.”

“I feel a mixture of things. Like, fear, excitement, incredible arousal—”

“I’VE NOTICED," she interjected. "YOUR PRICK JUST WON’T QUIT. BUT IS THAT BECAUSE OF FEAR?”

“Sometimes it is. Why do you need to analyze it? It feels good. Isn’t that enough?”

She was silent for an agonizingly long moment, thinking.

Then her hand swept over me, scooping around me and flipping me onto my back with alarming ease. Her fingertips kneaded my chest and stomach, causing me to rock back and forth. Too tired to argue anymore, I closed my eyes and was soon lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking sensation.