Mirielle

Driving back into the city, Mirielle was distracted, still unable believe what she had seen with her own eyes. Michael Hearst had been shrunk. There was no denying it was him and not some crafty holographic image or other some such.

How was it possible? Technology? Magic? She chuckled aloud.

She had to admit she wasn’t overly surprised that Madison seemed to be relishing Michael’s unfortunate condition, situation. It was not really a secret how contemptuously he treated her, though, in Michael’s defense, Madison could have asserted herself and put a stop to it instead of sulking. Regardless, he should have treated her much better than he did.

It seemed pretty obvious from the way the girls other than Madison looked and behaved around Michael that they had had some ‘fun’ with him, and by fun, she suspected it was sexual in nature. Three tigresses and a little mouse.

She tried to imagine what that might have been like, to play with an actual human that way, to feel tiny little hands touching her. It would certainly be different than the typical pawing she received from previous boyfriends. Surprisingly, she found the notion kind of arousing.

 A thought occurred to her. Madison had gone to the downstairs bathroom to retrieve Michael and he was wet when she presented him. Why? She had gotten out of the car, they talked then she went to the bathroom and came back with a moistened Michael. It seemed highly improbable that Madison would have left her brother in the downstairs bathroom while she and her girlfriends were out and about. She had to have him stashed on her person. Where? Bra was the obvious choice, it’s a girl’s best friend to put things that could get broken elsewhere. But why wash him? It had to be panties. She had him there, trapped. That meant the whole time she was talking to Madison, he was there, locked away. She shook her head and chuckled. Ultimate domination. The ultimate lesson in humility.

She tried to imagine how Madison must have felt, casually talking about her brother all the while he was right there. What would it feel like just to have a tiny person trapped in her panties? Tiny person? What would it feel like to have Michael trapped between the fabric of her panties and the fleshy folds of her neatly trimmed pussy? While her mind pondered, her body reacted, she could feel herself moistening.

Pulling up to the curb, she got out her car and hurried across the mostly deserted plaza, eyes seeking out the aged flower peddler, but the elderly woman and her cart were absent. Striding across the lobby, she nodded to the security officer behind the desk and pushed the call button for the elevators. Within a moment, one of the burnished aluminum set of double doors opened, she stepped inside and pushed the button for the 34th floor. On the way up, she hummed softly to herself, watching the numbers light up as she rode the lift all the way to the floor where Mortimer’s office was.

Exiting the elevator, she entered the Hearst offices and walked to Mortimer’s door. Seeing the middle aged man at his desk, head down, “Mr. Hearst?” she said, tapping lightly on the frame of the open door.

He looked up from his desk, spectacles on the end of his nose, expression passive. “Ah, Mirielle, I trust you were able to locate the flash drive I requested?” he asked. His appearance and mannerisms reminded her very much of that actor, what was his name, something Dance, right Charles Dance.

Nodding, she stepped into the room pulling the small stick out her pants pocket and showing him. She wondered if she should say something about what was happening with Michael. There was no way he would believe her. Oh, by the way, your son has been mysteriously shrunken down and a bunch of your daughter’s girlfriends are using him for their own sexual gratification. Right. The other question in the back of her mind was, did she want to say something? She already knew the answer. No. This was a circumstance so far out of the ordinary, she wanted to explore it. Like Alice and the rabbit hole.

“That’s the one,” he said, nodding. “How were things at the house?” he inquired.

“Fine,” she responded with a smile. “Madison helped me find the drive,” she added.

“And Michael?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

Mirielle smiled, understanding now some of the dialogue with the other girls, them all aware of his diminishment.

“He was there, but Madison had him well in hand,” she said with a slight smile.

He smiled, but it was without genuine emotion, more just a practiced expression.  “Very good,” he said.

”While I’m here, is there anything else you require of me?” she inquired.

Checking his wristwatch, he frowned. “No, Thank you,” he said, waving her off. “You may go. Should I have need of anything further I will contact you.”

She waited a moment as he plugged the drive in the USB port and turned his attention to the computer screen. He seemed satisfied so she nodded before she strolled out of the office. If he noticed, he made no move to acknowledge.

Funny how much quieter things seemed on a Saturday she mused, making her way back to the elevator.

As she was riding the elevator back down to the lobby, she smiled again, mind drifting and fantasizing about sitting in Mortimer’s office, dressed in a nice business skirt, legs crossed taking dictation, all the while him unaware his son and heir was servicing her vagina. It was so incredibly naughty. Chuckling softly to herself, she then wondered what it would be like to have the old man down there as she took control of his empire.

Exiting the building, she once again scanned about for the woman Madison had said was called Adelina, but as before, she was not in attendance. Getting back in her car, she fastened her safety belt and started the engine. Pulling away from the parking spot, her right hand drifted down to her lap, index finger tracing the fold of cloth over the zipper in her blue jeans as she set about returning to the girls.