Evan Parker couldn't believe it. One moment, he'd been up in his room writing a history report, the next he was an inch tall, lying naked on Ms. Stellar's front step. He decided to follow the lead of whoever wrote the note and hid inside the house. 

While Ms. Stellar had a nice house, it was a considerable bit smaller than the Parker residence- but, then again, being a healthy teenage boy, Evan hadn't given half a shit about the abode. Hell, if the was being honest with himself, he'd fantasized about getting into her panta since she'd moved in a year ago. 

Now, however, Evan couldn't help but gape.

Directly in front of him was a huge oak-paneled staircase, which he wouldn't have been able to climb in his most athletically indulgent daydream.  In fact, crossing the hardwood floors far enough to reach the stairs would've taken every last bit of energy out of him. To his left was an immaculate white living room- the only things not a glowing white were the glossy black television (which, at Evan's size, was bigger than any movie screen) and a bronze lamp, spiraling in organic curves to give the impression that it was a tree. On the right was a high-end kitchen, nearly identical to the one in Evan's own home- except for the tacky stucco on the walls. 

For a girl, Ms. Stellar is pretty tasteless, Evan thought.

Several other people- including Evan's parents- had taken to climbing the walls in what sounded like a plan to get Ms. Stellar's attention when she got home. Evan knew that it was stupid to think that the tall, cold-eyed actress would plan on helping any of them get back to normal- she loved to hurt things smaller than her. Evan had watched her carefully clip limbs off of insects with a pair of bonsai shears, making absolutely certain that she didn't kill it until she had gotten every possible bit of suffering out of it.

While hot (if slightly creepy) at normal size, Evan knew that it spelled doom for everyone unlucky enough to be caught small.

So, Evan knew that getting Ms. Stellar's attention would be suicidal, but that left him in a bind regarding a plan. If all the neighbors were bug-sized, there would be no one to turn to. 

As it turned out, Evan didn't need a plan. 

He'd wasted so much time standing in the front hall like a dumbass that, when the lock clicked open, he had nowhere to hide. The 5'7" frame of wet-dream-inducing actress Victoria Stellar stepped into the house wearing heels that made her unnecessarily taller, tight black pantyhose that made her long legs a magnet for the eyes, a scarlet skirt that (sadly for Evan) hugged her body to the point where one would need to be directly under her to see up it, and a vivid emerald shirt that, while it didn't enhance the "absolutely, overpooweringly sexy" aura she was emitting, didn't detract from it either. 

Evan might not have been suicidal, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one- and staying alive was a lost cause at this point. He decided to walk as close to Ms. Stellar as he could. If he was lucky, he might have seen up her skirt, as a sort of final mmoment of joy.

He didn't even get that much. Within two steps, she had overtaken him and stepped on him. He passed out, fully aware that he would never wake up. 

---------

Victoria Stellar had had an irritating day. She had spent the last three hours re-negotiating her contract, when she knew damned well that her terms had been absolute. Hell, nothing was even changed- the idiot network exec for some cable channel had done literally nothing, and her drunk agent (she could smell a cask and a half of poor-quality boxed wine on his breath) had made a half-dozen piss-poor attempts to hit on her.

Ah, hell. At least she got paid for every public appearance, including these asinine meetings. 

Then, after all that trouble, the one bright spot in her day- getting coffee from that adorably lovestruck barista (Vic had thought about asking her out, just to see if she'd collapse from joy)- had been taken from her. The girl- Victoria was pretty sure her name started with a C- had called out sick, and the replacement barista had gotten her order wrong.

Victoria had a fucking migraine at this point, and wanted to go home, enjoy a bubble bath, and watch a few episodes of That 70's Show. With how the day was going, she wouldn't even get-

CRICK!

Victoria allowed a grin to creep onto her face. "Finally," she breathed, "something goes right today."

She knew that her sadism was getting out of hand- hell, she probably needed to get laid- but nothing seemed to beat the pleasure that came with torturing something.

Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone. I'm pretty sure barista-girl would jump at the chance to get into my pants, even if I smacked her around until she bled, Victoria thought indulgently.

With that happy thought occupying her mind, Victoria slowly ground the bug under her shoe into the laminated hardwood. She saw something unexpected as she lifted her shoe, however- red blood. She dismissed it as having been a rather large mosquito and continued to the kitchen.