“SO YOU’VE BROUGHT JERRY ALONG,” said the vet. “LET’S GET HIM UP HERE, THEN.”

Jennifer lowered me onto the silver table, in front of the vet. She was a surprisingly young – and dare I say, attractive – woman, maybe not long in the profession, had a cheerful demeanour, and her jaw was lazily working away on a piece of gum. Her eyes dropped upon me, standing upright on two legs on her examination table wearing a superman costume and a deep frown. She stopped chewing and her smile went lopsided.

“OKAY,” the vet said, after a long pause. “THIS IS UNEXPECTED.”

“WE THOUGHT YOU MIGHT BE BETTER EQUIPPED TO EXAMINE SMALLER…BEINGS,” said Stuart, “THAN SAY, A HUMAN DOCTOR.”

“I THOUGHT JERRY WAS A CAT OR A DOG OR…” her voice trailed away a moment. “I DIDN’T REALISE HE WAS SO, WELL, HUMANOID.”

“I am human, genius!” I fixed her with an extended glare. “Homo sapien –  anthropoid – man – What do you think I am, a pygmy marmoset? Don’t you know a human when you see one?!“

“JERRY,” Jennifer sighed, “CALM DOWN. DON’T MAKE THE VET GIVE YOU A SHOT OF SOMETHING.”

The vet bent over the table until her breath was ruffling my hair. Her mouth mechanically opened and closed on her chewing gum with unnerving wet squishing sounds. Saliva misted upon my face with every exhalation.

“I DON’T BELIEVE IT,” she went on. “YOU’RE A REAL LIFE HOMUNCULUS.”

Her gloved hand reached down, plucked me up by my chest and turned me around. She did this multiple times to see me from all angles. There was no particular recognition in her eyes that I was the same kind of creature she was, and that made me very nervous.

“I’ll have you know,” I said quickly, “I’m as cognizant as anyone in this room. You want me to do something, ask politely like you would anyone. You may not force me against my will. Are we all clear?”

The vet put me back down on the table.

“PLUCKY LITTLE GUY, ISN’T HE?” The vet smirked up at them. She turned away from the table to pull out some medical tools. My stomach tightened.

“HE’S BEEN YAPPING ALL MORNING,” Jennifer commiserated.

“HE’S IN SHOCK,” Stuart said sympathetically. “FREAKED OUT BY THE SIZE OF EVERYTHING.”

The vet nodded and turned back to face me, now with an array of metal tools laid out on a wheely tray at her side. She surveyed me with a clinical keenness.

“LET’S GET THIS THING OFF YOU SO I CAN GET A GOOD LOOK AT YOU,” she said.

I gathered up my cape in my fists helplessly.

“Hey,” I said weakly, “what did I say about asking politely?”

This was ignored, as the vet matter-of-factly picked me up off the table and, with her other hand, pulled off my boots. She then effortlessly peeled my superman costume off me, as she would remove a glove. Her eyes glanced over my muscularly-enhanced form.

“NOW I GET THE SUPERMAN THING,” she remarked. “YOU’RE FIT AS A FIDDLE.”

I was placed back on the table stark naked and quickly began to tremble.

“I KNOW,” the vet patronized, “SO COLD. JUST BE PATIENT.”

It was cold, but that’s not why I was trembling.

I was then subject to a barrage of embarrassing and invasive examinations, in full view of Stuart and Jennifer.

The vet lay me on my back – I cried out audibly; the table was like ice against my spine – whereon she massaged my belly with her fingertips, feeling for abnormality in my internal organs. She moved and rotated my arms and legs, checking my joints. She then unselfconsciously probed my manhood and balls – which prickled at her icy touch – checking everything below the belt was order. Of course, she held me down with her other hand as she did so. I had been chattering in protest nervously up to this point, but now I was just about ready to depart from the English language altogether and start snarling at her like a rabid dog.

“WELL, LOOK AT YOU,” she exclaimed, capturing my member between her forefinger and thumb and stretching it out to maximum length.

“WHAT A HUGE GUN FOR SUCH A TINY FELLA.” She was not exaggerating; I hadn’t noticed how it had grown. It must have been a side effect of the shrinking, I thought. I hadn’t been monstrously large (proportionate to my size) before.

She gave me a sympathetic look.

“WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU SEE A NICE-LOOKING LADY HOMUNCULUS? YOU MUST GET SO BIG AND SORE,” she went on speculatively, idly rolling the head of my penis between her fingertips to inspect every inch, but her tone was clinically detached, like she was talking about an animal, with no hint of untoward suggestion. Still, I could hear Jennifer failing to stifle giggles from somewhere above and behind my head, and I blushed deeply.

She shone a light in my eyes and also shoved some metal thing in my mouth to keep it open for what seemed like a torturously long time while she used another tool to dig around my teeth. Finishing that, she used one hand to hold my shoulders to keep me still, while her other hand smoothly replaced the metal implement with a tiny wooden paddle to depress my tongue, at the same time using the little finger of that hand to tilt my face up to hers, to allow her a good angle to inspect inside my throat.

“A LITTLE WIDER,” she said, moving his face in closer, “THAT’S IT. KEEP GOING, JUST A LITTLE WIDER…”

I glared; I couldn’t open my mouth any wider. If she still couldn’t see my throat at this rate, well, she should have been bringing out a microscope or something.

She bowed her head even lower until it was hovering like a moon right over mine. Her hot, acrid breath pounded my face, causing my eyes to water.

“NOW SAY ‘AAAAAH.’”

“Aaah,” I obliged weakly.

She frowned.

“NO, SAY ‘AAH’ LIKE THIS: AAAAAH – ”

Something like a wet pillow suddenly dropped down and landed with a squelch, squarely on my face. My entire world went dark, and my hearing muffled.

Frozen on the spot; it took me a second to figure out what had happened. For one horror-struck second I thought the vet must have spat on me. She had not, but the truth was not any better. Due to the downward angle of the vet’s head, when she’d opened her mouth wide, her ball of chewing gum had dropped out of her mouth and landed with an unceremonious wet plop on my head, like a watermelon landing on an iron pike. Now it was stuck there.

I couldn’t have avoided it even if I’d known it was coming; the vet had my shoulders squeezed between her fingers, and with my head helplessly balanced on the end of her little finger, my face had been unluckily tilted up at just the right angle to receive the sticky wad face first.

It was a lot of gum, too; a combination of multiple pieces wadded together. Whatever former fragrance it had had long since faded, leaving the thick odour of coffee.

“OH,” I heard the vet say lightly, “I FORGOT I STILL HAD THAT IN MY MOUTH.”

I would have been offended by her flippant tone, but I had bigger things to worry about. The gummy mask wasn’t letting me get any air in, and when I tried to rip it off, it stretched ludicrously, but did not separate from my skin. I suppose I looked a little like Jim Carrey trying in vain to pull off the Mask.

Unhelpfully, the vet was giggling now.

“YOU POOR LITTLE THING,” she said, trying to be serious. “LET ME GIVE YOU A HAND THERE, LITTLE GUY.”

Oh, I think you’ve done quite enough, thank you, I wanted to say, that is if I could speak. My feet left the ground as I was lifted off the table. Then I felt a huge thumb and fingers scratching at my cheeks, peeling the gum off in layers.

“GEEZ, IT’S LIKE TOFFEE,” the vet chuckled, and paused to wet a cloth with hot water and soap.

Meanwhile, I still could not breathe, my lungs were beginning to ache, and I scrabbled at the gum in futile panic, trying to get the vet to recognize the urgency of the situation. She began scrubbing my face with the cloth, until the darkness was removed from my eyes, and I was met by the sight of her enormous face peering at me.

“HELLO THERE,” she said. She looked up at Jennifer and Stuart briefly. “DON’T WORRY, I CAN SEE A PAIR OF TEENY LITTLE EYES PEEKING OUT AT ME. ALMOST SWALLOWED ALIVE BY ALL THAT GUM.” Then she looked back down at me. “I THOUGHT WE’D NEARLY LOST YOU.”

She finally removed enough for me to get huge lungfuls of air in, but as the vet’s face was so inconsiderately close to mine, it was not fresh air, but the slightly sour breath pouring out between her teeth. I had no choice but to suck it in gratefully, expanding my chest almost to the point of bursting. The vet captured my undulating stomach between the pads of her forefinger and thumb and gave it a firm pinch every time it expanded with air, and did this several times.

“LOOK AT THAT BELLY,” she marveled with amusement, “LIKE A RIPE LITTLE GRAPE.”

“Could you let me breathe for like two seconds?” I said tiredly. Was there no end to this debasement?

Shreds of gum were still stuck in my eyelashes, my hair – even, horribly, my nose hair – but I was just grateful to be alive. What a humiliating obituary that could have resulted in. 

The vet was not fazed. Stuart and Jennifer looked dumbfounded, but, to my frustration, neither of them looked like they got the fully gravity of the situation.

“NICE CATCH, LITTLE MAN,” the vet winked at me. “THANKS FOR HOLDING ONTO MY GUM FOR ME.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This would have been the height of indignity for a human patient, but once again the vet demonstrated a complete lack of acknowledgement of my person status by not even offering me a sorry for this clumsy faux pas, almost like she assumed I had no capacity to feel affront or embarrassment.

After that brief derailment, she recommenced the tests; listening to my chest with a size-appropriate stethoscope – the metal end of which was also painfully cold, of course. She also percussed me; tapping the tip of a fingernail in different places around my stomach and, holding her ear very close, listening for abnormal sounds. This became excruciatingly ticklish for me, and I began to giggle helplessly in spite of efforts to suppress it. 

The vet grinned at me.

“AM I TICKLING YOU?” she cooed, and puckered her lips affectionately, giving me some ‘air kisses.’ “WHAT A LITTLE SOFTIE.”

She paused her percussion briefly to tickle me properly, waggling the tip of her fingernail against my ribs, at which my knees went weak and I almost screamed in laughter. For a moment I felt my bladder muscles relax worryingly, but luckily was just able to hold it.

Throughout the tests, her face was never far away, which meant that I was constantly being buffeted by her hot breath, and that was the least unpleasant part of the whole thing as I was otherwise so damn cold.  At least she was no longer chewing gum.

She saved the worst for last.

“I’VE ONLY GOT ONE TYPE,” she said, waving a thermometer in my face, “AND YOU’RE NOT GOING TO LIKE IT. SO, I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE.”

To say that it was size appropriate was exaggerating. She said apparently they didn’t get quite small enough, so there had to be some latitude on my end.

I was up and sprinting along the table. Everyone was shouting and trying to block me. The vet’s reflexes were the best – she was probably used to escapees – her hand snatched me up before I could plummet over the edge and meet a merciful doom on the tile floor. Swear words issued from my mouth in an incoherent stream, until I was red in the face and huffing, waving my arms aggressively at anything that got too close to my face.

“JUST RELAX,” said the vet, soothingly. “COME ON, I NEED YOU TO BE A BIG MAN NOW. YOU’RE GIVING YOURSELF A PANIC ATTACK. THE MORE YOU STRUGGLE, THE MORE THIS WILL HURT.”

I felt a bee sting around my shoulder, and then a warm calmness enveloped me. I slackened in the vet’s grip as my breathing became slower and more regular.

With one hand, the vet slipped her fingers around my torso and held firm. At the same time, her thumb stroked my spine, bending me over the crook of her middle finger. Now my butt was sticking in the air at her. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, yet another part of myself felt detached and helpless.

In a second I could feel the lubed up thermometer easily parting my cheeks and invading my sphincter. I stared at the silver table resentfully. The vet held me and stroked my spine in an effort to keep me calm. I could feel it tickling my prostate, and to add insult to injury, it was making me involuntarily hard. Finally, the thermometer beeped, whereon she slid the thing out again and removed her gloves, revealing glossy, well-maintained fingernails.

“ALL NORMAL,” she said. She looked down at me, smiled and ruffled my hair. “YOU’RE FREE TO GO, MIGHTY MOUSE.” I stood awkwardly, not being able to meet anyone’s eyes. At my palpable arousal, the vet said, “THIS IS A TOTALLY NORMAL RESPONSE, TOO.” She gave my erect penis a tweak between a manicured forefinger and thumb, and with a wink at Stuart and Jennifer, added, “LOOK AT THAT LITTLE RED JUGGERNAUT – IT’S A REAL BEAUTY, ISN’T IT?”

Half conked out from the drug she’d administered me, as well as a generous dose of shame, I clumsily began putting on my superman costume again, but all dressed, with my dick poking hard out the front of the costume, I managed to make myself look even sillier, a lewd cartoon character.

“IT’S WONDERFUL TO HEAR THAT HE’S HEALTHY,” said Jennifer, sounding relieved.

“YEAH, A WEIGHT OFF YOUR SHOULDERS, HUH?” said Stuart.

“YOU’RE RELIEVED TO HEAR THAT, AREN’T YOU?” Jennifer poked me in the belly as if to goad a peep out of me, but before pulling away, her finger lovingly stroked my lower belly a moment too long, silently conveying the message – only to me – that she would’ve keenly ventured lower if the vet was out of the scene. I’m sure the sight of my dick rocketing out the front of a miniature superman costume was irresistible to her, hilarious and erotic catnip, and much to her idiosyncratic and bizarre taste.

I grunted something that might have been a ‘yes,’ and, stunned with shame, stood like a zombie –the drooling and glazed look as much due to shock the sedative. I had thought I couldn’t possibly feel worse the moment after I’d awoken from the Flip. But I was now convinced that this was officially the worst day of my life, now and at any time in the future.

Meanwhile, over my head, the vet had a discussion with Jennifer and Stuart about the results of the tests, and my general state of health and wellbeing. Great results, but failed to make me feel any better. And to make matters worse, every so often, she would scoop me up with one hand to absent-mindedly nip at my penis with detached fascination, and twiddle it with her thumb, though I was trying my best to will it to go flaccid again, but for her intervention.

Meanwhile, I was inwardly frustrated at the vet’s words. Whatever I was, I was not ‘all normal.’ That was the last thing I was. Was that really her final verdict? Couldn’t she see I was freakishly small? What was the prognosis for that?

“LET HIM REST WHILE THE SEDATIVE WEARS OFF,” the vet said to Jennifer and Stuart.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA ABOUT HIS SIZE?” Stuart piped up, finally.

The vet considered the question with about as much investment as someone being asked whether it will rain tomorrow.

“’AFRAID NOT. I’VE HONESTLY NEVER SEEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS BEFORE. HONESTLY, I FIND IT AMAZING – I’D ENJOY IT FOR WHAT IT IS.”

My lips trembled. There it was again. A tiny spasm of fear I’d also felt back when Remy said I’d blacked out for over eight minutes after shrinking, ruling out using the machine again.

“I’D LOVE TO RUN TESTS ON HIM,” the vet continued, “BUT MY GUT TELLS ME WE DON’T HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY RIGHT NOW FOR ANYTHING OF THIS NATURE. SO I THINK IT’LL JUST BE NEEDLESS EXPENSIVE COSTS FOR YOU GUYS. YOU’RE BETTER OFF WAITING AND SEEING WHAT DEVELOPMENTS CROP UP SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE – BUT I WOUDN’T HOLD MY BREATH.”

A plummeting sense of helplessness in the face of the possibility that I might be stuck this way forever. I couldn’t bear to imagine it, but as my options dwindled, the hopelessness kept resurfacing, threatening to engulf me; my present and future. 

“KEEP HIM WELL FED AND HAPPY AND I’M SURE HE’LL LIVE A LONG, ENJOYABLE LIFE,” the vet instructed before we left the clinic. “I DON’T THINK I NEED TO WORRY, THOUGH. YOU OBVIOUSLY LOVE HIM VERY MUCH.”

“I DO,” Jennifer said automatically.

“WELL, THAT’S THE MAIN THING. HE’S CARED FOR.”

Meanwhile, I was distracted and vexed with the question; exactly what was the vet’s measure of ‘enjoyable’ as applied to me? To a mouse, ‘enjoyable’ was getting cheese and a run on the hamster wheel – easily satisfied. To a human, enjoyable meant living a rich and complex life, being part of productive society, regarded by others as one of their own kind, have normal relationships with equals, marry, have kids, be self-sufficient, be able to physically do what interested you, pursuing goals, being challenged but not broken down, and rewarded for your achievements. In short, they may share the same physical space, the enjoyments of mice and men were worlds apart.

“JESUS, JERRY,” Stuart said in the car during the drive home. “I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE PACKING SUCH ARM CANNONS.”

“HE’S BEEN WORKING OUT,” Jennifer said, running her thumb up my spine. “HAVEN’T YOU?”

"Yeah," I lied, wanting the flattery. "Got to pass the time somehow."

“BUT,” Stuart went on blithely, “EVEN YOUR… YOU KNOW. BALLS AND EVERYTHING. IF YOU WERE NORMAL HEIGHT WITH YOUR SIZE…SHEESH, MAN. I HATE TO IMAGINE.”

“IT WAS THE FLIP, WASN’T IT?” Jennifer said perceptively. “THAT MACHINE.”

“Well, glad to know it did something right.” I was being partly sarcastic. As if the growth was of any use now.