Nick and Elise went to bed that night, in the loosest sense. Nick didn't actually get to share the bed, as Elise was afraid of rolling on top of him in her sleep (though he secretly relished the idea) and crushing him. He tried to assure her that she was typically a very still and motionless sleeper, but he suspected her own reservations about this whole giantess scenario were her truer motivations for the accommodations: he spent the night in her jewelry box on the dresser. The lid was propped open and it was already lined with velvet, so it wasn't too uncomfortable. But lying there in the silence of the night, laying on a folded pair of socks for cushioning, staring at the ceiling, the actual significance of his situation began to creep up on him.

Obviously, he couldn't go in for work tomorrow. Was he going to lose his job? Would he ever get his height restored, so he could go back and request his position again? His and Elise's incomes were what enabled them to afford their apartment in the nicer part of town: now what? He rolled over to his side, staring at the bronze lip of the jewelry box. Traditionally, he realized, this was the part of the story where the tiny man realizes what a tremendous burden he poses upon the giantess, and makes plans to flee and fend for himself. Nick didn't consider himself a coward, but he knew he didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell outside, in the city at large. If he didn't get run over by a car or hunted down by a cat... Christ, some transient in the neighborhood might find him... Nick shuddered violently and pulled a corner of sock up to cover himself. His soft brown eyes penetrated the velvet wall of his bed-box--there was also the issue of his friends. They got along with Elise as well, and they would doubtlessly grill her with questions once Nick had disappeared for a couple of days. And... oh, damn, there was that techno show this Saturday: Universal Female Adapter was playing at Bivouac, and he'd purchased tickets ahead of time. Rolling over to lie on his chest, Nick reasoned that would be the easiest solution of all the problems facing him: Elise would simply get in with her ticket and keep him in her pocket, and while he wouldn't use his own ticket, he'd still be seeing the show, so he wouldn't exactly be out $12. Elise could give the ticket to one of her friends... and... Nick slowly drifted to sleep, lost in his thoughts.

Far off in a remote under-mountain laboratory, a dozen burned-out scientists buzzed about their clinical hive, checking monitors and taking notes in a cryptic shorthand.

"How's subject #3257 coping?" a tall, greying man in lab coat asked.

The younger assistant, behind a console of three screens and two keyboards, read the data off a neurotransmission transcriber: "Subject #3257 seems to be mid-range. This strip here represents his theta waves, indicating he's fairly receptive to the idea of being a tiny person. This erratic feedback up here, however, represents a synaptic transfer we've correlated to personal conflict. He could be experiencing anything from fear of a household pet to an inventory of exactly how his life has changed." The younger man leaned over a 3-ring binder of codes and patterns, running his fingers down to the third paragraph. "...Okay, this seems more analogous to introspection, so it's reasonable to assume he's assessing his responsibilities. ...Oh, wait, now he's going to sleep."

The older man nodded and made terse notes on his clipboard. "Your summary?" he asked.

"Subject is experiencing typical self-doubt and the precepts of alienation, but seems to have an adequate coping mechanism. Also, he entered into this stage fairly early, so he may be particularly resourceful, or merely confident in his environment."

Again, the greying man nodded and noted this as well. "He's probably worried about rent or something," he muttered. "Mail them off their first check in the morning."

"Got it," the young man said. "You want another holographic imaging pattern sent over, to reassure him of his fate or somesuch?"

The older man scanned the clipboard, then looked up at the Big Screen thoughtfully. "Naah, that won't be necessary. Just mail them the check, and look in on #2290's status for me."

Nick stretched as he arose, listening to Elise bumping around the bedroom, fumbling for her clothes. He smiled to himself, listening. "Honey," he called out, "I just had the strangest dream..."

Elise walked over to the dresser and leaned over him, resting on her elbows and leaning down to blow him a kiss from a short distance. She wore only a pair of panties and a pair of socks, from what he saw. Her breasts, moderately-sized when he was big, were enormous and rested upon her forearms with a seductive, ponderous weight. "You're locked in your idiom, Nick, and you know I hate clichés..." She lifted him up by grasping the sock upon which he reclined and set him onto the dresser, commencing to refill her jewelry box.

He grinned up at her and said, "No, seriously, I dreamed Nikita Kruschev and I were in a basement with only one exit, this rickety wooden staircase, and the room slowly filled up with melted butter." He scratched his head and rolled off the sock, walking around on the dresser to stretch his legs. The varnished mahogany chilled his feet, but he withstood it. "And he had three boiled lobsters, and I had five lobsters and... and Alaskan king crab, I think... and then Carl Sagan walked in with a lit cigarette..."

Elise laughed and stroked his short, brown hair with a broad fingertip before turning around to straighten out the bedsheets and look for her bra. "That wasn't your dream," she said, "that was an old SNL sketch we saw on that tape last week, remember?"

Nick rubbed his chin. "Oh yeah," he said. He realized he needed a shave, he was getting kind of rough... but then, who would notice? Elise? What, were his tiny little whiskers going to take on the quality of fine razor blades and shred her skin? He decided he could let it go for a while, work it out later. He called out to her, "Hey, don't you have work today?"

"Yeah, I'm covering Jennifer's hours at the bookstore. She has to take off for a wedding, and I could use the extra money. Some new feng shui material came in I'm really interested in..." She paused and looked at him, standing straight. The orange sunrise shone through the window to her side, and half of her glowed with a peachy luminescence. "Oh no. What about you?"

He paused in his stride on the dresser. "I, um..." he started, then sighed. "Look. I know it'll creep you out to keep me around with you, so just..." He walked over to a fine silver ring and began booting it around, idly. "How about you put me on the steamer trunk and leave the TV on? Slice up a banana for me to eat throughout the day, and... um, get me a bottle cap from a soda bottle in the recycling bag."

Elise sat down on the edge of the bed and started brushing her curly auburn hair. Nick took a moment's enjoyment in watching her nicely-shaped breasts shudder from side to side as she vigorously brushed herself. "A bottle cap? What for?" she asked.

"You know, for... waste products," he said. "They may be tiny, but I still have my intestines. I still make poop."

Elise stared at him a while as her brushing slowed down, and then her hand fell to her side. After a thoughtful moment, she rose wordlessly from the bed and started rifling through her closet for the day's outfit. She yanked out a cranberry linen button-up blouse and her khaki cargo skirt. She dressed hastily, noticing the time, and pulled on a pair of hiking boots, to be laced up later. Nick held his arms around his ribs as she reached over for him, and he was struck by the intimidating visual of her open, flat palm rushing at her, her huge fingers splayed and stretching around him. Embraced in her morning-sleepy warmth, he grinned to himself. "Comedy Central should work for most of the day," he called up to her, "if they don't keep playing Johnny Dangerously."

However, she didn't take him to the living room. She grabbed the sock from the dresser, unbuttoned one of her cargo pocket, and wrapped him up in the sock before inserting him carefully into her left cargo pocket. Nick looked up at her in genuine surprise; her face was one of resolute determination, and he imagined she was probably overriding some of her personal compunctions against this, but apparently she thought this was the best idea - he was coming with her to work. Elise kissed her fingertip and pressed it against his tiny cheek before buttoning up the pocket and running out to her car. Nick jostled very pleasantly against her firm, warm thigh and looked forward to the rest of the day.