One street was all the neighborhood was. On one side was a row of suburban houses, compact in their design but modern fitted. Across from those, a wall. A gray-tinted wall, a visor that rose as high as the homes, transparent but barely reflecting the face looking past the screen. The artificial light blurred her vision of the outside, so she shielded away the glare with her hands. Sometimes, just sometimes, she’d be able to catch her, way off in the distance -- across the room.

“If she wasn’t coming, she would have messaged us,” Kendall told her. She was in the reflection, so Sierra had noticed when she looked up. Sierra turned to face her, no distinct emotion on her face. Kendall tilted her head with a gentle smile, “Are you anxious for your first time?”

“I like to be prepared,” Sierra replied. She picked up her gym bag from off the pavement, the same exact bag Kendall had around her shoulder.

“So that’s a yes, yes you are anxious,” Kendall teased. “That’s a cool way of putting it.”

Sierra walked down the road and Kendall followed, catching up to her with a little jog. “You must have nerves of steel then,” Sierra said, “if you’re so calm about being picked up by her.”

“Well, after you’ve been picked up by a giant’s hand once, you get used to it from then on.”

“... Do you?” Sierra rose a brow. “Do you actually?”

“Ahh, haha, no. Sort of,” Kendall admitted. Sierra giggled alongside her. “There isn’t anything quite like it.”

Sierra agreed more than Kendall could understand, for that phrase suited the circumstance she and forty-nine others had found themselves in. It wasn’t a giant they discussed, but a scientist -- the overseer, specifically, whose role was thusly to oversee a community project like no other. A community of varied folks who volunteered for the opportunity to be shrunk to a percentage of their natural heights, approximately four centimeters tall. For years, they were going to live in a setting constructed for their shrunken states, and it was the overseer that would perform routine examinations and tests on these subjects.

Each of the inhabitants had their reasons for volunteering for such a strange, obscure project. The entire procedure was being ran quietly, beneath the eyes and ears of any media attention. But the pay was guaranteed, a wealthy sum, and many of those who took to apply had direct purposes to put the money towards. After all, to be shrunken and experimented on was a sacrifice few were willing to make. Only the truly committed gave themselves up to being made so vulnerable, to live isolated from the rest of the world on what was effectively a woman’s table.

But it wasn’t the money that drove Sierra to the project. Kendall, she had learned over the past four months, had debts to repay. Other neighbors had reasons for laying low outside of society. Sierra had a job and hobbies; all had to be left behind, for years, so that she could be shrunken as part of a scientific experiment, and it had all been for the purpose of getting away. She wanted to escape her stresses, and she had little elsewhere to go at the time. When the opportunity to live a carefree life presented itself, even with such an unreal cost, Sierra dashed towards it.

Now, however, there was more that she wanted from this experiment. Beyond the money and beyond the lifestyle, she had discovered a stronger purpose for being in the tiny community.

The road ended upon reaching a large building, a rec center complete with a comfortable park outside it. Attached to the building at its entrance was a dock, just like a train station but with only one singular car waiting to be loaded. A line of six people was already there, and one among them waved Kendall over gleefully. Kendall trotted ahead to meet this person, passing and leaving Sierra, and without that pressure behind her, Sierra again slowed so she could look outside that window.

It hadn’t been that she was worried the overseer wouldn’t arrive. She wanted to be the first to see her.

Across a mile-long stretch of a polished teal floor, a door slowly moved open, and the overseer stepped through it. With one hand, she carried in a briefcase, and with the other, she buttoned up the top of her white lab coat, the knot of her red tie barely visible above the collar. Black slacks completed the uniform, with only dark blue heels being any other flare of personal fashion. The door was closed quietly behind her, and she walked into the lab with a smile aimed at the community that stood level with her hips -- to her, a line-up of intricate dollhouses, none of which she couldn’t lift with the most casual effort.

The clacking of her heels was distinct to the subjects of her project. Each step cracked against the hard floor, like dulled thunder way off in the distance. The sound of these steps became routine to the members of the community, but it was Sierra that always listened to them intently, her heart beating in sync with every footfall. Her expression had subtly shifted when the overseer had entered the room, having swallowed them in the midst of her fascination.

Sierra watched diligently as the scientist first tended to a desk, a computer, the briefcase, some papers. “Sierra?” Kendall called out to her, pulling her from her trance. More than usual, she had been staring openly, so Sierra moved immediately towards the line of others. “We’re about to board, you know!”

“I’m right here,” Sierra said, her pace hurried only out of politeness. It would still be several minutes before the overseer was ready for them -- she had memorized this schedule just from her observations.

“Yeah but you don’t want to keep her waiting,” Kendall warned with a teasing wag of her finger. “No one’s kept her waiting before. She might decide to punish you.”

“Mhmm.”

“You joke about that,” someone else said, ahead of the two in line. A man, disgruntled and serious, shaking his head. “But it isn’t funny. We’re like hamsters to her, in a cage.”

“Chase…” Kendall rolled her eyes with a chuckle-like huff. “She’s never done a thing to us. You get yourself worried about nothing.”

“We’re more like lab rats,” Sierra suggested, her tone dry with a quiet edge of sarcasm. “Not hamsters.”

“Yeah, funny.” Chase turned away from them, but he then looked back at Sierra. “Oh. You haven’t been taken out before, have you? Yeah, don’t get yourself hurt out there. She’ll have to set you aside.”

“Chase, that isn’t funny,” Kendall said, even though she was smiling still. “Are you trying to scare her?”

“Just a heads-up.”

“Advice taken,” Sierra replied. She wasn’t sarcastic then.

Chase and his worries immediately lost Sierra’s interest when the clacking of giant heels was heard again. Everyone in line watched as the giantess approached their community, standing tall over the walled-off horizon. Three footsteps was all that was needed for her to stroll up the street, beginning to end, so that she was standing in front of the rec center and its docking area. More so than anyone else, Sierra stared up, high up to where the overseer’s face beamed with a warm expression between waves of cool black hair.

The overseer’s mouth opened, then opened wider, until a surprise yawn took her over. It was a powerful gust of a breath, maintained to herself, but nevertheless could the tiny citizens below feel a sense of how strong that wind had to be. “Pardon me!” she laughed. “Before today’s over, I’ll have had more cups of coffee than I did hours of sleep…”

The people received the comment warmly, as though it was stated by a coworker. This was the light humor that Overseer Ophelia Duval was known for, a tone that undoubtedly eased the high tensions of her test subjects. While spoken jokingly, it reflected a true part of her career and how busy her schedule often was. Even now, there were partially visible bags under her eyes, though it blended seamlessly into her more mature appearance; an unintended aspect, so she regarded it, not wanting to give up her youth just yet as she neared closer to the top of the hill.

A switch at a console was pressed by Duval which opened the doors to the shuttle for the shrunken people. The line ushered in, every person bringing with them their own uniform gym bag. Pairs of seats were filled in and the luggage was stored in small vaults underneath each section. The design inside the shuttle lent itself to any other bus or train, but the seats came equipped with heavy duty seat belts, a testament to the vehicle’s purpose.

Sierra was about to take a seat before Kendall questioned her choice. “You’re not going to want a window seat if it’s your first time.”

“Actually, I think it will help,” Sierra insisted, claiming the seat and adjusting the harness. “It’s just a short trip. I appreciate the concern, though.” Kendall shrugged and took the adjacent seat. “Did you get sick on your, uh, first time?”

“A little bit~” Kendall chuckled. “Others had it worse than me, anyway. Duval had someone return home after they, err, spilled.” Sierra nodded, but grew worried of that possibility of being sent back. Her stomach would have to endure.

Both ends of the shuttle had each a long window for viewing the outside. Two huge, blue eyes filled the display as Duval leaned close to the glass wall, peeking in at its passengers. “I’m locking the hatches,” she announced, and a click could be heard as the shuttle doors were sealed tight. A heavier sound clanged from beneath them, as Duval had flipped a switch to unlatch the shuttle from the dock. Then, Duval rose out of sight and donned over her hands a pair of sterile gloves.

“Ready…?” Duval giggled. “Three, two, one.” It was a speedy rhythm that preluded lift-off. At the flanks of the shuttle, a thumb and forefinger pinched around the vehicle, each digit fitting near-perfectly into indents made just for this purpose. Gravity intensified for the passengers as the shuttle suddenly elevated, hardly a smooth transition from still to mobile. The shuttle, which had to weigh as much as a traditional bus, had been taken into the giantess’s grasp like a mere toy.

Sierra’s heart was aflutter with an anxiety completely unrelated to the reasons Kendall would have assumed. The height at which they were being carried was certainly breathtaking, a factor Sierra herself agreed with. She awed, in her quiet way, at how the rec center shrank away, as did the rest of the neighborhood being left behind. But it was the glimpse of the overseer’s finger, as minor as it was, that had her chest pounding. She had the urge to put her hand against the window, to try and feel the raw strength being applied to hoist the trailer with such delicacy, but her hands only gripped the seat belt, fidgeting with anticipation.

“Whee~” Kendall laughed, even stretching her arms outward for effect. This was for Sierra’s entertainment, but she realized she wasn’t looking. “How do you feel?” she asked. “... Sierra?”

“F-Fine,” Sierra swallowed. Her eyes were glued to the outside, the view of pockets, buttons, and a red tie descending past as the shuttle rose higher -- but it was Duval’s chest, round and protruding even with the lab coat, that Sierra particularly observed. The movement came to a peak, where the shuttle was then turned so that those giant blue eyes from before were staring into the passenger windows. “Very fine.”

“Just a quick headcount,” Duval told them, tallying up the eight subjects. “Looks good! Let’s take all of you to the desk, hold tight.”

Duval kept the shuttle at shoulder height while she strolled away from the neighborhood and around a corner to another part of the lab. Even a walk as short as this felt like a journey for Sierra and the other subjects, a trip of rocking back and forth in wave-like leaps. More than a mile of the lab was traversed, all of it lost in an unsteady blur, before the overseer had reached today’s workspace.

Atop a waist-high table was a strip of an outdoor lawn, as though a slice of someone’s yard had been cleanly removed and transported to the facility. Duval faced herself as well as the shuttle to survey the landscape, which was about half the length of the community’s neighborhood. It began at one side with a plot of grass that stretched up to a series of stone steps, like the beginning of a patio. A tall wooden wall replicated the likeness of a door, where the rest of the course then went “inside,” complete with wood panel flooring, a rug, and then finally, a low-height coffee table. Understanding the layout was important for the shrunken experiments, for they knew ahead of them would be a complete trek through it.

“This is pretty straightforward,” Duval explained, motioning over the obstacle course she had arranged. “Today, you’ll be running through a course that replicates some of the features you would find outside a suburban home. An experiment to test the movement capabilities of shrunken people in a simulated environment; everyone’s favorite.”

As the overseer had suggested, this was a fairly mundane test that the community members had been trialed through before. Sierra listened intently as a first-timer, as did most everyone else. There was still a small groan from someone in their seat. “More labor,” Chase had complained, and a couple others shared his sentiment more quietly.

What’s his problem? Sierra asked herself, finding the griping to be the only thing worthy enough to distract her from the overseer. She considered Chase lucky that at their height, neither the overseer nor anyone of normal size could hear them especially well, not when speaking with anything less than a full tone. It made it easy, then, to sneak comments of disdain right under Duval’s nose, but it was the disdain itself that bothered Sierra. We signed up for these kinds of activities, she remembered, what does Chase expect?

The shuttle was gently lowered to the beginning section of the obstacle course, a flat piece of desk that came equipped with a series of stalls for changing into uniform. Once the shuttle was completely released from Duval’s grip, the passengers undid their seat belts and began to exit. Sierra had reason to stay in her seat for a few moments longer after the trip had concluded. Kendall chose not to tease her this time, figuring that it was queasiness from the movement keeping her slowed, but it was truly just her flustered state of mind after having been in the grasp of a titanic scientist.

Nonetheless, Sierra was energized to step outside, even if she was the last one out. The others were accustomed to the feeling awaiting them; the huge open space of a different area in the facility, absolutely imposing with the grand scale of things. There was no longer the familiarity of similarly-sized houses, no longer an illusion of living a normal life. There were tools far larger than most buildings, a steep drop just past the edge of the work desk, and of course, the overseer, a woman of epic height and strength, casually taking a seat into a mobile chair.

The group knew what to do from there, moving ahead towards the privacy stalls with their gym bags. While they did this, Duval was powering up a nearby computer monitor when she noticed that not everyone was moving along. She smiled at the straggler, not realizing she herself was the cause for Sierra’s delay. “Go ahead and get changed into your uniforms,” she politely urged. “It will make you easier to see down there, after all. Don’t want any accidents!”

Sierra swallowed and nodded, even though her gesture was too small for the scientist to notice. It clouded her thoughts to know that she was addressed, pointed out amongst the group. Kendall waved at her to follow, lagging behind just enough for her to catch up. Sierra hurried along into one of the stalls, but with every chance she had, she always glanced back at Duval, even as she closed the curtain behind her.

The outfit, Sierra agreed, was indeed noticeable. Everyone donned an orange track suit of sorts, and blue streaks down the limbs made each of their little motions easier to track. With her longer brown hair, Sierra had to tie it back into a ponytail much like some of the others. She was the last to get ready, but the pressure of her peers didn’t affect her at all, certainly not the same way she felt about being seen by Overseer Duval.

“We know,” Kendall joked as Sierra got into a line with everyone else, “it’s definitely not the most fashionable thing, is it?” Sierra lightly chuckled to the comment, feeling conflicted. She wanted to be noticed, that was certain, but with everyone dressed exactly the same, she wondered how possible it actually was to get the attention she desired.

After adjusting some settings from her computer, Duval rolled her chair back to the end of the table. Minimal was needed to get everyone’s attention, as usual. “Everyone ate a healthy breakfast, right?” she said, genuinely asking. Without any objections, she continued, “Then allow me to layout the conditions of today’s test. I have a little motivator for you all, to try and get some impressive times on these results.”

Sierra hadn’t been especially interested in the test itself, but the promise of a prize allured her. It was already her intent to try her best at whatever Duval tasked her with, but she was keen to earn something more.

 Duval smiled, eager to reveal what this motivator was. “I know desserts are on a limited stock for all of you, so the first four people to complete the course will receive…” She drummed her fingers in a roll against the edge of the desk, sending little quakes across the surface for her subjects to feel. “... cheesecake! I hope you all like cheesecake, it’ll be easier to share than something like… pie. So, do your best to get positive results!”

Sierra stood straight, far more alert now than she had been before. She wished the world could slow down just so she could comprehend the matter, as straightforward as it had been explained. Finish the course quickly and I get a dessert date with the overseer, she calculated. The stakes had been raised, for this was a lucky break for her to earn even more time with the giant woman, this fascination she couldn’t shake off. More than before, she intended to produce the results Duval wanted.

The group of eight were directed to line-up where the flat desk became a forest of trimmed grass. The authenticity was there in the details, down even to the scent of the lawn greeting the shrunken subjects. Sierra was only then starting to feel uneasy about her first run through an obstacle course. Unlike the security of the neighborhood, this actually did feel like she was shrunken and facing something real, something now huge.

“Is everyone ready?” Duval asked, her finger at the ready to begin a countdown timer. Sierra felt strangely soothed by the words, but they really only brought upon other anxieties. “Three, two, one… begin!”

It was as easy as that to start, but the line-up of runners were hesitant to sprint off into the course. The wall of grass that greeted them was an immediate obstacle to adapt to, requiring the participants to weave around and shove aside tall blades of green. It was a slow start for most, except for Sierra; she dashed ahead confidently, but she was quickly met with resistance. The lawn tangled around her for being overzealous, tugging back on her arms and legs if she didn’t stomp them down firmly enough. Despite having taken what was effectively a head start, she was barely that much further ahead than anyone else, and even less distance seemed to have been crossed from Duval’s perspective.

Brute force eventually rewarded Sierra with a path forward, a divide in some of the grass to more swiftly run through. Her morale was boosted with this advantage, but it was short lived before the next barrier, a root of a tree. There was only the option to climb over it, and so she did, hiking up onto the bark and clawing over the bump.

She looked back, given the opportunity to see her lead while atop the root. The others all appeared muddled up in knots of grass, and the sight nearly gave her a grin. I could actually do this, Sierra realized, her heart thumping between the adrenaline and the thought of winning. Just keep moving, she pressed onward, but her mind was on other things, her eyes on other places. Duval, up above, was looking at her -- She’s looking at me!

A splash of mud woke her up from the onset of a daydream. The landing just past the root wasn’t as solid as she expected, and now she was collapsed to her knees in mud. The cold water barely phased her compared to the chill of embarrassment. She was looking at me, she groaned, wondering just how laughable her slip had to be.

In the meantime, something else found its way to catch Sierra off-guard. Another splash struck her, someone else making their landing, and with better grace. Sierra spat the dirt that flickered too close to her face, and to her surprise, it was Kendall stealing first from her.

“You’ve got me woken up, Sierra!” Kendall laughed -- unknowingly taunting. “A little competitive edge is what we needed, I think!”

Sierra stood in a hurry, wanting to catch up but having to recover her momentum. Somehow, she had accidentally whipped Kendall into high spirits, and with the others making it over the root, there was suddenly more potential for failure. She would have to recover her momentum, but Sierra was still in the race.

Grass and weeds continued to bend under Sierra’s movements as she marched through the difficult terrain, until eventually the path ahead of her came to an abrupt end. A wall of dull gray greeted her suddenly enough that she nearly walked right into it. She put her hands against the surface, realizing it then to be concrete. It was the staircase leading up to the fake door, which meant for Sierra that she was halfway through. A meager three steps was all it was, but each step was several times her height. She was puzzled -- was this even the way to go?

But she saw above her, to her disdain, the rival that was Kendall. Further along the ledge, Kendall was just then succeeding over the obstacle, proving the stun to be doable, but not without a struggle. Even with her surge in energy, Kendall had to slow down upon reaching the top of just the first of three steps. Sierra had some relief, finding this to be a chance to catch up.

“This is way easier,” she heard from behind her. Approaching the same barrier was not only Chase, by three others that had formed a casual group. Sierra had once again created an opening for others to beat her; all of her marching through the grass had left behind a trail far easier to wade through and navigate. Without as much grass pushing back against them, the lead Sierra once had was now completely drained.

“Oh, that must have been your path,” Chase said, surveying the stone step. “Hey, thanks for the help. How do we get past this, though?”

Sierra disregarded him, despite being stuck on the same problem. To ventilate some of her anger, Sierra tried a straightforward answer by attempting to run and jump up the wall. She kicked up from it and leaped for as high as she could, but her furthest reach was significantly beneath the ledge. She fell down gracelessly, stumbling back onto her butt in front of the others.

“I don’t think that’s how,” Chase chuckled. Sierra’s face steamed red as the others giggled at her. “We probably have to climb it. Sort of like a rock wall.”

That’s literally impossible, so Sierra told herself in anger, but obviously it wasn’t. Kendall had made it up somehow, and Chase’s inspection of the wall showed that some parts of the concrete were more damaged or rugged, allowing him to get some distance upwards. Others were catching on from his lead, and that included Sierra, tracing the wall for a pathway up.

By the time she found a suitable crag to use as a starting point, the rest of the day’s subjects had made it to the staircase’s base, and they were bound to learn from those scaling the wall. Sierra had these worries weighing against her as well as gravity, yet she forced herself to go higher, to move faster. Her fingers burned as they gripped the rough texture, her muscles were not trained for this much activity, but she pressed onward, only realizing how much effort she had exerted when she reached the top with a roll onto her side.

“Oh shit,” she panted, her throat cold. “I’m so out of shape…” On her back, her eyes opened to see the ceiling of the lab, as distant as the sky felt like it should be. Hovering nearby was Duval, still observing the race unfold with a seemingly pleased expression. Inspired anew, Sierra leaped to her feet and was in a rush to the next wall, no time to waste.

“You’re almost inside~” Duval cheered on. She rolled her chair to the middle of the table now that the race had progressed that far. “I know it’s probably not easy to climb up those steps, but keep up the pace, you’re all doing fine.” A giggle trailed after her words, quietly amused by how the subjects scurried their way to the door.

Sierra disagreed that this was fine. Having mounted the second step and getting to the third, she mathed out that she was barely in fourth place. Discouragingly, it was Chase trailing her from behind, still a fair distance back but admirably close for someone who wasn’t trying. Sierra exhaled those pointless thoughts aside, dedicating more of her mind to moving ahead.

Not a heartbeat went by once Sierra climbed over the final edge before she was on her feet and running after the others. She endured through her exhaustion so that she could be crawling underneath the door’s crack alongside the others in the lead. It was a tight and claustrophobic fit, but she made it to the other side where a plain of wood welcomed her. It was the final stretch, nearing ever closer to the goal as she and the others trekked onto the rug.

Then, there was only one trial remaining. The coffee table, intricately crafted from wood, stood tall and wide like a palace. They were expected to climb it to the top, somehow; its legs appeared too sleek to scale, a duo of thin cabinets were too far out of reach to use. While Kendall was searching for any other prop to use to reach the end, Sierra instead looked to the gigantic scientist eagerly watching them, expecting an answer.

Sierra shook her head and followed her instincts. The most obvious approach had been the best so far, and so she ran up to the nearest leg and scrambled up it. The surface was polished and smooth, and so immediately Sierra found herself slipping back to the carpet fibers. “Shit,” she whined, biting her nails while estimating the leg another time. She tried again, this time with a tighter hug to hold herself up with. It was tough, but she could maintain it. The problem was still moving up, but her biggest worry was looking ridiculous in front of the overseer.

Little hops and squirms allowed Sierra to scale up the leg; she was in the lead, the only one to get a solid enough grip to move upwards at all. Others were giving it their attempt, but didn’t garner the same marginal success that Sierra earned. She nearly dared to look down and back, but it took all of her strength just to remain stationary at times, holding long enough to work up the stamina needed for continuing.

“Is that really how we have to do it?” Chase asked, wiping the sweat from his brow while he pooled his group towards Kendall. The set of them were looking on at Sierra’s advancement, but as far as Sierra thought she was, it had taken minutes just to worm herself up a quarter of the leg’s height.

“No way,” Kendall chuckled. “She’ll be up there all day doing that. Maybe if we use the drawers here on the side, but if we wanted to reach them…” A spark of an idea came to her, and she motioned for the others to follow.

Sierra was in her own world, thinking only of how she was going to soar to the finish line. The only thing to warp her out of her climb-focused trance was the sound of Duval’s giggle, a gentle bubble of tones that surpassed anything Sierra had heard with its cuteness. She wondered, though, just what the amusement was for. Was she being watched? Was the giggling at the expense of those still lingering down below? Or was it her that Duval found funny? The worries had to be swatted aside like flies; I just can’t give up now,she breathed, just a little bit further, just a little more…

And a little more was as far as she could keep getting. Her pace was getting her no where, but she was convinced that she was on the right track, until her hopes crumbled high above her. She was halfway up the leg, only that far, when she noticed a head peer over the edge. It was Kendall’s bubbly smile there waiting for her, yet another taunt that befuddled her.

“Yoohoo~! Sierra! We found another way!” Kendall shouted down. “That was a lot easier!”

“What?! S-Seriously…? B-But I was-- I was ahead!” Sierra gasped, shaking her head as much as her position could allow. She stuttered, emotions coughing up in her throat. “How? Wh-Where did you go?!”

“We used the cabinets!” Kendall laughed. “It seemed obvious, just out of reach! There was actually a pen just waiting there on the floor, we propped it up like a ladder.” She pointed over in that direction, though Sierra hadn’t the advantage to actually see the set-up. It all sounded despairingly believable, however. “Go on down and use it,” Kendall urged, “just about everyone is making it up now.”

“Everyone?!” Sierra felt her heart drop -- and then the rest of her body, slipping along the polished leg of the table before reaffirming her hug on it. She buried her face into the wood as frustration toiled her. Not only had she exerted herself doing the wrong thing, but that mistake had cost her the entire competition. That chance to have a dessert date with Duval had been mercilessly dashed.

“We have our winners~” Duval applauded with little and distant claps. “I see you solved my little puzzle. Ah, most of you, hehe. But a valiant effort from everyone! These are all fine results, thank you for trying so hard.”

It was done, officially. Sierra had failed, making this entire excursion outside the community an utter waste as far as she was concerned. In every regard she saw her disappointments, from not only losing her opportunity to spending time with the overseer, but failing to even produce a positive result for her experiment. The only thing she did succeed in, ironically, was getting noticed -- for all the wrong reasons.

She sighed, bitterly trying to accept the outcome while she gauged the distance of her height. I climbed all the way here, just so I can climb down, and then… climb back up again, she said, scoffing at her situation.

Kendall, at least, was going to watch her on her descent, but she wasn’t alone. Chase joined her, peeking over the edge with slightly more curiosity than concern. “Is she getting down alright?” he asked Kendall. “I bet she has to be loving this, being at the butt-end of one of the overseer’s tricks.”

“I-I wouldn’t call it a trick,” Kendall giggled. “More like a puzzle.”

“Games are all this is to her,” Chase complained with a roll of his eyes. He knelt to the ledge, feeling worse for Sierra and her struggling. “I just hope she doesn’t get hurt because of this.”

Sierra was initially annoyed with what she overheard from Chase, who of all people, she wanted to hear from the least. But what he said inspired an idea. If she were to get hurt, what would happen? It began as just a fun curiosity, to imagine the overseer suddenly so worried for her; concerned, tender attention while she recovered. It was warm, just the thought of that scene in her head. What if…?

For as long as it had taken her to ascend up the leg, it was taking just as long to carefully descend it. The rug below was still a fair distance down, but the surface seemed soft, welcoming enough. She inched a little further down, sliding along the sleek leg, and once down far enough, it was time--

She slipped, letting go of the leg early. She braced for the landing, only in midair starting to wonder if she could actually get hurt. The impact came; not comfortable, but she tumbled over as though it were far worse. “Agh--!” she coughed, for effect. She winced sharply, making sure to coil over what hurt the worst -- her wrist, which she landed with most of her weight.

Sierra’s heart froze, feeling a tense pause. She blinked, wondering if her act was obvious, and how foolish she would look if she was caught. But the huge ceiling up above was clouded by Duval’s face, leaning into the simulated living room. The overseer was horrified, as were Kendall and Chase up on the table. Sierra struggled to not break character -- she wanted to laugh, I think it’s working!

“O-Oh, oh dear,” Duval muttered aloud, “that wasn’t good…” Her face fell closer to Sierra, her field of view overwhelmed by the massive face. Sierra could feel the overseer holding her breath, making the air so tense. That’s how close she was to her; she turned red, realizing that.

Sierra shuddered dramatically, kicking herself for getting distracted. She rolled out to have her arm held out. Duval came closer, frighteningly close; Sierra felt the weight of her eyes directed completely on her injury. There was a strike of belittlement, a sensation of feeling even smaller than usual. She comprehended then how dependent she was on this woman, how her health and well-being were in the hands of this gigantic, god-like person.

Her thoughts bounced about in nervous fits. She couldn’t even understand the overseer and what she was saying, her senses washed in the onset of panic. Every anxiety started to come to life. What does she do to people that are injured? What if she finds out I’m lying? Or… either way, what if I’m taken away from her? She nearly fainted, What was I thinking?!

But before she could berate herself for long, Duval had grabbed her attention. “Do you understand, Sierra?” she was suddenly being asked. Sierra was dazed out, and she feared the overseer might attribute that to something else. She didn’t waste time nodding, approving of whatever Duval had explained.

What she agreed to, then, surrounded her. Two gloved hands walled around Sierra, each palm as broad as a building. Sierra spasmed, frightened by their intimidating appearance. Like two separate beasts flanking her, they collapsed in under her, combing her body right out from the fibers and into their grasp. The surface was resilient, but without a doubt did it feel like a human palm underneath the glove, the unmistakable grooves and the cup-like shape to hold her. All of this had happened in just a gasp, but then she was ascending, jetting into the air, and in the next moment, all the motion stopped. There was no act about how sick she felt, and not only from the whiplash of movement. More inflicting than anything else was being her’s, being carried, her whole body proven to be exactly as light and timid and frail as she had insanely agreed to it becoming.

Above her, that expression that pained Sierra to see. Duval was ill with sympathy, of course taking the matter seriously. In her hands was, by all means, something small and helpless, now injured and even weaker. She hurried away from the lab table, towards her personal desk. Her demeanor was cool and calculated, addressing the situation without letting herself be disordered in her haste.

In her hands, that tiny body froze stiff into a pill shape. The world was acting alien and bizarre, abducted away from one reality and thrown into another, a turn of events Sierra was entirely responsible for. Exaggerated thoughts flashed in her head, silly ideas of being disposed of like the reject she felt she was, but she had just enough fear plaguing her to keep her convinced it could be the case. This was the attention she had wanted, her wish granted to excess in an instant, but soured by the regret she felt, tainted by the uncomfortable uncertainty in her fate.

Before there was a chance to get comfortable in Duval’s hands, Sierra found herself being lowered and then deposited. The palms separated gently so that Sierra was left behind atop a rich brown surface, a landscape unlike anything she had observed, but was immediately familiar. The pair of building-sized monitors and the road-like keyboard made it clear that this was a desk used by the overseer, an intriguing enough location as far as Sierra was concerned, but it was more than just another spot for Duval to write notes in. At a far corner, Sierra noticed a tall picture frame displaying a row of colleagues in a lab -- Duval was one of them. Around that same picture were other memorabilia from college and previous jobs.

I’m on her desk, Sierra realized, circling around in awe. This is her personal desk… This is where she sits all the time…

“Sierra?” Duval interrupted Sierra’s daze, figuring she was disoriented only from the movement. “The shower is right up ahead there. Do you feel well enough to be on your own?”

Sierra had to catch up to the page Duval was on. She hadn’t listened to her before when she was first lifted from the living room, too overwhelmed and regretful at the time. But the same habit from then persisted now as well, and she found herself nodding instinctively. The last thing Sierra wanted to do at this point was to be any more of a nuisance to Duval, so she agreed to something that was not only undesired, but even unsettling. The prospect of being alone in a titanic world was eerie, even if it was the relative refuge of Duval’s desk.

Having already agreed to the terms, Sierra only then took notice of where Duval had pointed her to. Unlike the mundane nature of everything else on the desk, there stood a structure intended for tiny people, marked with first-aid symbols across its white walls. Multiple stalls came equipped with plain mattresses behind privacy curtains, not too unlike the changing rooms, but one of the stalls instead had several shelves of medical items. In a circular chamber of the structure, there was the shower, which was primarily what Duval had brought her there for.

Sierra held her injured arm nervously, stroking it for effect. She hoped Duval might take pity on her and decide to stay, but that was a dashed fantasy when she turned to see the gigantic figure distancing herself from the desk. She wanted to reach out for her, to cling to her, but she gravitated instead to the safer middle of the desk.

“I’m just going to finish up with the others, and then I’ll be back,” Duval explained. Her hands were clasped together, her fingers fidgeting under the elastic tightness of the gloves. The thought of the rest of the community always tugged her attention back in their direction; she discarded her gloves onto her desk, needing her hands to breathe. “In the meantime, you can change out of those clothes and get washed up. Relax your arm in some hot water, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

Sierra again felt the pull to call out to Duval, but even if she had the courage to do so, she assumed it wouldn’t have mattered. By the time Duval was finished speaking, she was already moving to exit the office, Sierra’s voice too tiny to reach her. The moment Duval was completely out of the room, a vacant cold replaced her.

At least there was hot water, and plenty of it. Sierra worried she might drain the emergency station of all its water, but beyond a certain point, she didn’t care one way or another if it did. She had her reservations at first in regards to stripping naked, but a curtain draped over whatever the fogged glass did not blur, and so it was only her personal worries that she had to overcome.

“That wouldn’t stop her, if she really wanted to look,” Sierra said aloud. The spray of the shower, constant and droning, drowned out her volume. She entered her thoughts, enticed by little ideas. She imagined Duval’s finger intruding past the curtain, just so she could peek at her naked body. She imagined Duval going further, and lifting the entire emergency station into her hand, tilting it so Sierra would slip out. Sierra laughed before submerging her head into the sprinkling water; ridiculous ideas, but she couldn’t rinse them away.

Instead of cleansing her thoughts, the hot shower was only adding heat to the fantasies Sierra enjoyed. She sighed and leaned against the wet wall of the shower, her back sliding down it like a drip of water. Her smile, which she hadn’t noticed, was washed away. “What was I thinking? What did I think would happen…?” She shook her head, pulling back a soaked strand of hair. She must be so pissed, she continued to think. But, I’ve never seen her mad before…

That, too, was a tantalizing dream. Her eyes closed, and she imagined the overseer standing over her at the desk again. She imagined a glare, a scowl of disapproval, as though Sierra were a mischievous pet being scolded. She imagined what she’d do; would she punish her? Her legs fidgeted and a grin wanted to grow on her lips. Cute, she admitted, picturing that nasty look directed onto her. A chill shivered her skin, so she stood under the shower again, letting the steam blanket her.

Duval had the power to punish her in any way she decided, a fact that entertained Sierra endlessly. She could be detained under a glass on her desk, propped up like another decoration for her workspace. A finger could keep her pinned to the ground, regardless of how hard she pushed back with her entire body. She could be ordered to clean Duval’s shoes. “Haha!” Sierra erupted, rinsing water over her dumb grin. “Duval would not do that.”

But she could, she thought, too eager to visualize that scene. Two enormous high-heels of that signature blue color, freshly removed from Duval’s feet after a long day, with their toes directed at her like notched arrows. “If you want my attention so badly, then cleaning my shoes should be an honor,” Duval would say in this fantasy. Sierra would have nowhere to run, which itself was far from a viable option. Duval was a giant, a genius -- a goddess, Sierra humored to herself, her stare becoming blank but her grin shakingly persistent. “Do you not like cleaning my shoes? After all the trouble you gave me, you won’t even do that? Maybe you’d prefer to massage my feet?” Duval would continue to say, her foot lifted over Sierra and her toes teasingly flexing.

Sierra bit her lip and opened her eyes, returning dully to the shower she was sitting in. Her right hand was cushioned between her thighs, clasped there like a trap. She sighed, noticing that the heat was diminishing, and that time had passed since she began cleaning herself. Any minute now, the overseer was expected to return, and this was not the position Sierra wanted to be found in. The water was stopped and a towel was donned.

A bench was where Sierra had tossed her uniform, but she approached it only then realizing a problem. “... Did she not give me any other clothes?” Sierra dragged the towel over and through her hair, looking around the corners of the station but finding nothing suitable to wear. She pinched the track jacket and the shirt worn underneath it, but they were damp with sweat, splattered with mud, and stained from grass. The clothes were thusly unpinched as Sierra hoped for something better to wear. For now, she would have to wrap a towel around herself.

Curiosity lead Sierra to the privacy curtain where she could peek outside. There was no sign of Duval, and her office chair lay empty in the exact spot it had been left at. A wet first step took her past the curtain, and another had her exit the station entirely, down an incline and onto the cold floor of wood. Like a portal, leaving the safety of the shower had transported her into a large, vacant world, as though the normalcy of a shower was lightyears behind her.

Sierra’s finger clenched the towel-robe tightly as she continued more onto this otherworldly terrain. She always expected a surprise, something to startle her, but only the infinite silence unsettled her. She was alone with everything else on the desk, tingling that urge to explore. It may have been a fairly normal desk, but it was Duval’s desk, and everything atop it belonged to her. Before her thoughts could get riled up again, she dismissed them with a firm shake of her head.

The keyboard, as prominent as it was, captured her interest first. She neared it hesitantly, keeping an arm stretched out so she could stroke its side as she got close. If she wanted to use it, for whatever possibility arose, it would be a scrambled dance to get from one key to the next. It was like an intricate movie prop, but Duval would be perfect for it. Sierra looked to the black chair, its curved and modern design a flare of that intellect she loved in Duval; the overseer sits there everyday, Sierra thought to herself, casually pounding her giant fingers into giant keys without ever thinking about how huge each motion would be to her tiny subjects.

Does she think about that? Sierra wondered, moving to be middle of the desk beneath the keyboard. On the other side of her was a cliff, the drop off the desk, far more intimidating of a fall than what she suffered from the coffee table’s leg. I can’t believe she left me here alone… I could fall from here if I wasn’t careful, and maybe a little dumber, too.

She peered over the edge from as far away from it as possible, both hands keeping the knot of her towel tight against her chest. The fall was even steeper than she envisioned, but her imagination colored those fears much differently. If she was sitting here and I fell… She glanced at the black chair, this time injecting Duval into the scene. As giant as she is compared to her, that fall wouldn’t look so bad; Sierra would drop, but land somewhere on Duval’s lap, even between her thighs if she was really lucky.

Sierra then stepped back, her foot flinching forward when she felt the wrist rest of the keyboard. She kept that image of Duval in mind, causing herself to blush. Where she was standing was a particularly interesting place, by her calculations, for if Duval was to ever lean forward onto her desk, or scoot in too closely, then it was there that her boobs would brush and squeeze against the desk. Sierra chuckled, wondering again with a blush on her cheeks if Duval ever recognized this perspective. She couldn’t possibly, Sierra assumed. It’s just me that thinks about this, getting jealous about a desk…

Sierra continued her adventure through Duval’s desk, thrilled by this subdued sense of danger, and with the fun of having nowhere to be and nowhere to go. Despite her tiny size, the desk only went on for so long, and many of its items couldn’t be interacted with. She discovered then the two latex gloves that Duval had earlier left on the desk. The pair sat between the keyboard and mouse as plastic lumps, like deflated hot-air balloons. It was a silly thought for Sierra, but there was an intrigue roused in her core that was no joke.

… Now I’m jealous of some gloves, Sierra mocked herself, choosing to be honest. No matter where she went, her thoughts were always plagued with Duval. The desk was a curse, constantly spurring these ideas of the overseer looming over her, luring to the surface these desires Sierra had inside her. It wasn’t right, she had told herself, to fall head over heels for the overseer. They had a professional relationship, she understood well, and that had to be kept sacred. It had to, but perhaps that was part of what made these feelings so electric.

She knelt onto her haunches, her profile made smaller. She huddled towards the opening of the glove, lifting up a fold so that she could see more inside of it. It was dark, of course, and the material was difficult to lift, but Sierra perceived as much she could. There wasn’t much to see, but her heart was beginning to race; the slight glisten of palm sweat, the wrinkled stretches from being used, and a very faint aroma that was distinctly sweet. Candy? Sierra first thought, licking her lips. Cherry and vanilla, perhaps from a hand lotion, or the soap she used from her bath? Maybe something she ate, something she touched?

It was Duval’s scent, whatever it was. Personal, private, and pitiful; it was the sweat of the overseer’s hand, and Sierra followed by the pull of its hook. For a few hard seconds, every doubt and little itch of anxiety was silenced, and she just acted, crawling into the glove as best as she could.

But once those few hard seconds ended, the guilt broke out in a fever. “Ohh, my god,” Sierra, you’re being a dumbass, her conscience attacked her. She was beyond the point of being too ashamed, however, and she only nestled herself in deeper despite the regret. You’re going to get caught being a freak. You’re going to embarrass yourself so badly…

“Whatever,” Sierra had to convince herself. A huff; the argument was over. It had to be ended, so she could appreciate her predicament. She gasped, and thus cost her precious clear air; the humidity was fairly thick, and the glove did not breathe well, but it was mostly her own euphoria that asphyxiated her. When she closed her eyes, she could immerse herself into a new dimension, an atmosphere that seeped through her body with a real, humbling warmth.

Her armed twitched. “Urk,” she winced at a stinging pain. At a horrible time, her injury was flaring up. It made sense that it did, considering how she laid made no accommodation for her arm. It hadn’t been a complete lie that she had injured it. Truly, she considered this a wonderful excuse to stop herself now. That weary hand, after all, had a mischievous purpose, and it could have been a warning that she would be ahead of herself to follow through -- to actually masturbate inside the used glove of the overseer.

Yet, Sierra couldn’t stop herself. She hurried into a better position, using her left arm instead. She inhaled deep draws of the scent, each huff directly making her wetter. Her left arm snaked through the material of the glove, realizing along the way just how much moisture from the glove had clung to her. Her hand hungrily reached for her crotch, the last shivers of hesitation only teasing her appetite.

The first entrance into her pussy felt like a welcome, a deviant acceptance to the world she immersed herself in. Shame came over her, but the routine of fingering herself relaxed her nerves. Her heart pounded like a drum, a beat playing in contest with the rhythm of her hand. She was drowning in Duval, and the level of desperation that got her here only excited her as equally as it humiliated her. She was doing this to herself, putting herself not only in danger, but in outrageous embarrassment, just to satiate this craze of lust, this obnoxious obsession she had developed.

“Look at you, in my hand,” Duval whispered into Sierra’s fantasy. “You’re touching yourself-- you’re getting off in my hand! This must be a joke!” She shivered accurately in response, but being lectured only turned her on more. If she made a fist, her hand would swallow me, she imagined. I could be crushed in her hand… She knows that I’m at her mercy… That she could just end me, like an insect…

Her legs quaked, and with little kicks, they spread apart. Her injured arm was worse with nothing to do, so she endured the pain of moving it onto her chest. Once in position, she could relax again; all she needed were her fingers to stroke her breast, tickles against herself as she delved into wonder once more. “Your chest seems quite small, hmm~” Duval was dreamed to say, even capturing that curious hum she often made. “Is it just because you’ve let me shrink you? Haha~ not quite. I know I have a bigger bust than you normally, but now if we compared…” She groped her breast tighter, forgetting the pain entirely. “Ahh, my fingertip takes up your whole boob. I suppose it’s your turn. Is it even possible for you to lift up just one of my breasts? You’re young and energetic~ Let’s experiment and find out.”

Sierra flinched, her breath held harsh in a gasp. The lack of air aroused her in how it placed her so well into that position of being suffocated, trapped underneath Duval’s breast. “Ohh, I see… It’s impossible after all. Even my nipple could knock you off your feet, so I’m not surprised. Is it difficult to breathe? Are you having trouble breathing under my boob, Sierra?”

Like an urge to cry, Sierra pulsated closer to release, a climax with so much potential, so much riding on it. This was a spectacle to be absorbed, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Her mind warped quickly to another fantasy, her fingers gently pinched at her clit in anticipation. She breathed, basically choked, and that dread inspired her next dream.

“We need to build up your lung endurance if this is how weak you are,” Duval disciplined. Sierra imagined her releasing her from one prison, only to unveil another to behold. She wanted to gag herself, humiliated with where her imagination had decided to take this; Duval’s high heel, only after it had been stripped free from her tights-clad foot. She was held precariously over its opening, until a merciless overseer allowed her to fall. She stumbled into a fit at the toe, but before she could recover, a shadow cast over her. Between her and the mountain peak that was Duval’s disappointed expression, there was that gigantic foot, capable of crushing entire homes but being dedicated to Sierra and Sierra alone. “I’ll keep you there for a few hours, so conserve your energy.” The foot lowered, the row of toes twisting on their approach. “Is this enough attention for you? Was this worth giving up your size? Your freedom?” The foot slid easily down the slope of the heel, an avalanche that consumed Sierra. “You wanted this all along? To be stepped on by a giant, older woman? You really do deserve this punishment…”

Sierra fearlessly moaned in a heated spasm of pleasure. Added to the moisture of the glove were her own fluids, a messy conclusion that dripped down her crotch and had been smeared randomly along the latex. Had it not been for such a blissful orgasm, Sierra was sure she would have fainted. Instead, she was alive with a rushing feeling, her noises becoming triplets of giggles and laughs, each tinged with a little sourness of self-disgust. Sierra felt completely lost in a dream, convinced this couldn’t have happened. She wished it had been just that, an unreal story to wake up from, but so too was she thankful it was real, so grateful this was something she could experience.

“That was fucked up, so fucked up,” Sierra panted, her body starting to cool. But then it shivered, only seconds after the tension was ready to fade. She was on edge all over again, but for a shockingly real reason. Beneath her, she undoubtedly felt it, the rumble that was iconic for everyone at the community. Footfalls, each one an assault on the tiled floor they trekked upon.

“Ahh, I’m finally back, Sierra. I’m sorry, I really am, but that Chase wanted to argue, and I just had to put everyone back first.” Duval entered the room with her explanation already running. Sierra couldn’t watch her, not while paralyzed inside a used glove. She could only make a guess to where Duval was by the intensity of her steps; they neared terribly close to the desk, but then passed just as quickly. Sierra concluded correctly that Duval was not immediately coming for her, but instead moving around the room.

How that helped Sierra, she was trying to figure that out herself. It wasn’t as though she could make a break for the emergency station, or that she could come up with an excuse for being naked inside a used glove. She closed her eyes tightly, shutting out the thoughts of being found like this. I knew this was a terrible idea, she said to herself, boiling with frustration but still frozen in her position. Now what do I do?! How the hell do I explain this to her?! Why did I--

Panicked thoughts hushed the moment she felt the footsteps creep closer. To her dismay, Duval was approaching the desk, but nothing could prepare her for the next instant.

A scream of a gasp was let loose when all at once, the cave that was the glove began to collapse around Sierra. She scrambled frantically to hold onto something as her world was being lifted, grabbed into brutally unaware hands. The first fold of the latex she latched to wasn’t enough, and she slid through the material until a better attempt was made. She hugged onto a line of latex, but her arm immediately gave in when its injury was pushed upon. She slid again, another shriek as she believed these were her final moments.

But she managed to survive, grappling the elastic band of the glove’s exit as she was about to fall out. She hugged the material with an arm and both legs, the other arm deadweight and only stinging with more pain as her whole body jostled about from the confusion. Although she knew better than to look down, she had to when she felt her towel disappear from her body. It had been unfastened, becoming a white speck in the empty air, a prelude to Sierra’s assumed fate.

Sierra shrieked, “Duval, I’m here! I’m in your glove, Duval-- Please!” Tears welled in her eyes, one dropping into the abyss to never be seen again. She despised how ridiculous she sounded, how desperate and pathetic her cries were. This was all because of her lust, her perversion; this was her punishment, as divine as Duval appeared to be to her.

That punishment, Sierra soon learned, was to be disposed of. She shuddered, which nearly cost her grip on the glove, when she saw understood where Duval was headed. Below was a gray wastebasket, a desolate bin half-filled with crumpled documents and old gloves. Sierra envisioned herself stuck there, abandoned like actual garbage by the woman she loved. Her skin crawled, realizing that this was no simple imagination like earlier, but the very future ahead of her.

Adrenaline raced through Sierra to come up with an answer, refusing to just become trash in an office. She groaned through the agony of moving her weakened arm, absolutely needing it so she could make her ditch-effort escape. Instead of staring down in defeat, she looked to the behemoth above her, the fist that held the gloves. It was a dangerous feat, but climbing to the hand was her only option, so she forced herself upwards. The latex material was at least easy to grip, but the constant bouncing and swaying from Duval’s movement put her at risk of falling each time her grip had to loosen. She tried once more to scream Duval’s name, but the overseer was deaf to these cries, as she would be with any tiny person she was unaware of.

Finally, the last reach to Duval’s pinky had arrived, and with only a second to spare -- the fingers were uncurling just as the wastebasket was directly below. Sierra genuinely prayed, an awful and gruesome vision of the fall flashing in her head. Doubts were dispersed as Sierra focused everything on a single, strained jump. She leaped off the glove, her legs a wheel in the air, and her one good arm stretched as far as it could--

“Duval!!” Sierra shouted. Her other arm flung itself forward, and around the bend of Duval’s pinky. She had succeeded, but it was far from over. Her grip was uncertain, not quickly adapting to the texture of skin nor finding a particularly solid place to hold. Her legs kicked to find a surface of their own to cling to, but she lacked the athletics to pull herself up.

The fingers had released the giant gloves, allowing them to plummet gracelessly into the trash. As the pinky shifted position, Sierra was pushed to adapt, scurrying around the finger until her fatigued body was hugged tightly around a fingernail. These were her final moments, she thought, and regret began to corrupt her. Maybe she could have survived falling with the gloves, maybe Duval would have found her there; now, those maybes had become falling to the hard floor, at the feet of a goddess that couldn’t hear her.

“I’m so sorry!” Sierra yelled, her grip only getting worse. “I’m sorry, Duval, I’m sorry! Please, I-I’m sorr--”

The finger she clung to desperately rejected her. A twitch, a small shake was all it took to remove her hug and send her into a freefall. She had no time to gasp before being surprised by the impact. She had landed somewhere that wasn’t the flat floor, instead onto a platform that caught her. The softness of the surface was immediately recognizable as a human hand -- Duval’s other palm, flattened out beneath Sierra as to interrupt her fall.

Sierra was completely stunned aside from her worrisome shivering. Opening her eyes was a nightmare, but she eventually did over the course of hesitant blinks. The sky was overtaken by a godly expression of shock and concern as Duval observed just what had latched to her finger. Neither could say anything immediately, not until they could catch their breath.

It was Duval to recover first, of course. She stammered as she looked back and forth between her hands and the emergency station, only able to guess at reasons as to why this had come about. “S-Sierra!” she exclaimed. “I-I told you just to take a shower! You could have gotten seriously hurt! Oh my goodness, Sierra, a-are you okay?!”

Sierra wanted to buckle down, face away from Duval and cry. Already she was being assaulted with discipline, and her tired mind couldn’t endure. She stuttered back to Duval while nodding her head over and over, “I-I know, I know, I’m so sorry, i-it was an accident! I’m so sorry!”

Duval’s sigh cooled her frightened emotions. Sierra was a panicked mess and that inspired greater sympathy from the overseer. “I-It’s fine now, Sierra, you’re safe,” she tried to assure her. She bit her lip, feeling the minuscule body trembling in her palm as she paced about the office. She cupped her other hand near Sierra, an attempt to wall off a distressing view. “I’ve got you now. I won’t let you fall. Err… b-but...” Duval closed her eyes, and when they opened, they were turned away completely. “H-How did you end up naked…? In my glove…?”

Sierra held her breath, stabbed by these justified inquiries. But it also dawned on her that she was, in fact, still naked. Her shivers ran about for a whole new reason, and she rushed to cover her red-tinted nudeness. It was hardly any help to have her arms over her chest and a hand between her legs; she was consumed in the overseer’s hand, her whole body grasped at once no matter where she twisted away to. Entirely choked up, she froze when expected to give an answer.

“A-After… the shower…” Sierra spoke slow enough to let an excuse be imagined up at the same time. “I… I didn’t have clean clothes… and it was really cold... I-I only went to your gloves because… they seemed warm, a-and I was only in there for a minute…”

“I see…” Duval was open to believing Sierra, her heart still aching for her and the ordeal she suffered. She closed her eyes again, building up the necessary charisma to speak seriously. It was a conflicting matter; strange as it may have been for Sierra to enter her glove, it was ultimately Duval’s fault for leaving her unattended. Something worse could have easily happened, had either her or Sierra been less aware.

Among her pacing, Duval stopped suddenly. She stood on one foot while lifting the other off the floor. Having been in a hurry earlier, she had removed her heels and walked only on her stockings, which had allowed her to feel what was beneath her. It was a white scrap of cloth, basically tissue, but under closer inspection, it was actually a towel, slightly damp from having been used, and now stuck to her sole. It was pinched with a slight tinge of disgust, and then risen high enough for Sierra to observe. Duval hadn’t noticed, but Sierra was keenly watching the entire time, surprised herself to see the towel had been found.

“I’m… assuming this was yours?” Duval asked, trying not to chuckle too much at the situation. “Let me grab you a new towel, a-and you can--”

“That will do!” Sierra bubbled, reaching high for it with her uninjured arm. “P-Please! I-I don’t care!”

“Umm, o-of course! Uh…” Duval allowed it, deciding to let Sierra have immediate control over her privacy. The towel was snatched from her fingertips, Sierra seemingly desperate to use it in covering her body as she did so in a haste. Duval watched as she robed herself, the awkwardness heavy in the air.

Sierra couldn’t have imagined herself being more embarrassed in her life, and there was a relief in believing that this was the worst it could get. That peak was soon surpassed, however, when Sierra found herself laying underneath a microscope. Her eyes were shut for much of the examination, but she couldn’t resist taking a glance beyond the microscope and up at the colossal overseer at its helm. The pressure was very real, to be looked at so finely by someone that towered over her. Not exactly the attention I wanted, she thought, but… it isn’t terrible…

Along with observing the injury, Duval also made notes of the circumstances on a tablet beside her. Using a pair of tweezers with padded ends, she made soft and subtle adjustments to Sierra’s arm -- a normal procedure made bizarre with their size difference. “It hurts to flex your fingers, you said?”

“J-Just a bit, yeah,” Sierra nervously replied. After a near-death experience, her wound didn’t require much exaggeration. “It feels sprained.”

“That’s what I imagine it to be,” Duval concluded, rising up from the microscope with a sigh but also a smile. “Thank goodness it wasn’t worse. You had me-- everyone, really, worried that you had gotten more seriously hurt. You can step down from there now,” she said, backing away from the microscope.

Sierra was fond of moving away from the eerie device and back into the openness of the desk space. She carefully climbed down the microscope’s platform, one hand tight around the knot keeping her towel in place. “I didn’t want to worry anyone,” she said, genuine guilt in her tone. “I’m sorry, I-I know I’ve been a lot of trouble.”

“It’s not a problem, Sierra,” Duval giggled, intentionally keeping the mood light. “I’m happy you’re okay, that’s most important. We’ll keep an eye on your arm over these next couple weeks to make sure it isn’t something worse. But…” Duval’s shoulders slumped, knowing the question ahead wasn’t quite necessary, but something she wished to know. “... Why did you jump? That was quite a long fall. Did it seem shorter to you?”

Sierra nodded with Duval filling in a decent excuse for her. “Yeah, th-that’s mostly it,” she agreed, but the tickle to say more, to be more honest, racked at her to do just that. “I was in a hurry… I didn’t want to disappoint you, or keep anyone waiting. I was excited having that lead for so long, I… got ahead of myself.”

Duval giggled again. “Was the cheesecake too alluring for you?” Her expression was coy and playful. “Couldn’t resist?”

Sierra blinked, having forgotten all about the dessert itself. “Yeah, I get crazy for cheesecake.”

Duval brightened up like the rising sun, and Sierra felt such positivity from where she stood. “Then do I have good news for you~” Duval rolled her chair across the office to another corner where atop a filing cabinet was a black, covered dish. She rolled back with graceless steps, a sight Sierra thought was both humorous and adorable. Duval returned to the desk and pushed aside the keyboard, an achievement so simple for her that Sierra could never accomplish. Then, set onto the desk was the dish, which Sierra could peek into. As she had began to suspect, inside was a slice of cheesecake, missing just a forkful of a bite.

“There was plenty to go around to the winners of the race,” Duval said, “obviously. Poor Kendall was too concerned for you to even take her prize, though. So, I had to assure her I’d donate her portion to you. Something sweet to eat always helps me get well sooner.”

Sierra nervously giggled. “I-Is that true?” she idly asked, watching quietly as Duval used a fork to cut out a slither of the cake. “I’d feel bad, though, I-I don’t deserve this.”

“I insist! You worked really hard out on the obstacle course today. I’d feel even worse just putting you back home without something to cheer you up.” Duval searched her desk for something that wasn’t there. “Ah… I didn’t think to bring a plate for you… Well. Then, I suppose you can just take a bite from here.”

The fork was lowered right down to Sierra, bringing with it the crumb of cheesecake. Sierra took a side of the fork into one hand, but froze from there. The fact was transparently there, that this fork had been used by Duval herself to eat the bite that was missing. It seemed like part joke, part dream, but it was genuinely being offered to her, insisted upon by Duval.

Not wanting to reject a gift, much less one of this degree, Sierra hesitantly pushed her head forward and took a bite. The sugary taste was strong but not what overtook Sierra’s mind. She could only think of the scene happening then, how she was eating from Duval’s fork -- being fed by the overseer. She choked, politely excusing herself as simply having taken too big a mouthful, and she pulled away from the fork. Duval took no offense, delighted that her dessert was being appreciated.

“Did you enjoy it?” Duval asked eagerly.

Sierra swallowed, then answered, “Yes, it’s-- great, it was really good. Did you--?”

“Make it myself?” Duval pointed to herself. “Yes I did actually! Hehe, it was a new recipe. I’ve been trying to pick up making desserts, you see, but I still have a long way to go.”

“Oh, ohh, it was perfect,” Sierra blushed, her answer needing to be better. “Wow, y-you-- it came out wonderful! Err, thank you! I-I still don’t think I deserved that…”

Duval hummed a pleasant tone, persistent that Sierra earned the treat. She set the fork and cheesecake aside onto another corner of her desk, and while her arm was there, she leaned into it for a more relaxed position, her chin neatly fitted into her hand while looking down at Sierra. The tiny woman was opposite of her, fidgeting backwards several steps while keeping the towel up high on her chest.

“Don’t fall off,” Duval gently warned, almost a tease. She could see it when Sierra didn’t, the chance she clumsily stumbles backwards and off the desk. Sierra hopped forward, checking behind herself and feeling more fragile with the overseer watching her.

“Th-Thanks, I-I’ll just… sit down,” Sierra nervously replied, doing just that onto her knees.

“Please, relax,” Duval suggested with a perk to her smile. “If you don’t mind, I just had one last question, Sierra. It’s just a hunch, but this… whole thing, with the obstacle course… it was more than just about cheesecake?”

The more serious tone took Sierra off-guard, demanding her to be on edge all over again, just because of a simple question. She looked aside, stroke her cheek in though while searching for a good reply. “R-Right,” she vaguely answered. Honesty, she decided, was a better approach. “Well, a little more than that.”

As Duval’s grin remained, Sierra felt encouraged. Duval pressed more, “You were working especially fast on this course today. No one really takes them too seriously -- hence the cheesecake. Was there some other reason you were disappointed to having not won?”

Sierra nodded, giggling under submission but internally ravaged with awkwardness. Her heart was unsettled, She’s reading me like a book, isn’t she? She’s a fucking scientist, d-did I think I was going to outwit her? “Yeah… There was also… something else, um…”

“Mhmm? You can tell me anything, Sierra, I’m here to help-- totally confidential. If it’s about your neighbors, you can tell me, or if it’s about being shrunk! I can help you understand that, or if it’s about, well, if it’s about me--”

“I-I wanted to impress you,” Sierra admitted. She blinked, physically feeling the weight thrown off her shoulders, but still fatigued by what baggage was still upon her. For now, she had to spill as much as that; “I thought, maybe, putting on a good performance would… it would get you to notice me. I’ve been…” Her fingers crawled, like a twitch of pain. “I suppose it’s been… lonely.”

Duval listened closely, her expression stiff and patient. “I see,” she quietly remarked. “You wanted some of my attention?”

Sierra flinched at those precise words. For a moment, she wondered if the overseer knew how deep a fantasy she withheld. “A bit,” she tersely replied.

Duval nodded, her smile creeping longer with a suppressed giggle. “I see,” she still quietly remarked. “I can completely understand, Sierra. It wasn’t a guarantee that everyone would be, well, friends with one another in the community. From what I’ve observed, it at least seems like you and Kendall have gotten along well.”

“... Observed?” Sierra wondered about that. She remembered that the outside of the community was always monitored by surveillance cameras, both big and small, but she had yet to think she herself would actually be watched specifically. “You’ve noticed that? Y-You’ve been watching?”

“Of course,” Duval plainly said. “Studying the community’s behavior and movements and actions, it’s all part of the project.”

Sierra shivered, brushing the gesture off as a chill in the air. There was a new idea in her head of how omniscient the overseer was, as well as the tickling thought that she wasn’t passing under Duval’s observations. All along, she was being tracked, at least to that degree.

“But I suppose Kendall might not be exactly your type of personality to bond with,” Duval continued, no longer resting upon the desk. “Prolonged isolation could have dire effects, so I would recommend trying to socialize a little more with the others. Make some plans, hopefully find someone to open up to more. In the meantime, you can always talk to me! We’ll have plenty of time to chat during your check-ups from now.”

“Check-ups?” Sierra perked up slightly. She thought that she was mistaken, but it was true that Duval was making plans for them to see each other more.

“Yes, I’ll want to keep a close eye on you,” Duval giggled. “You’re the first person in the community to suffer a serious injury. Fortunately, it wasn’t seriously serious, but normal recovery has a chance of being less effective while in a shrunken state. Studying the healing process could provide some useful data for when-- err, if something else happens to someone.”

Sierra fidgeted with intrigue, restraining herself from being too emotional. “So, uh, when w-would we meet again?”

“How about tomorrow, and then every other day after that?” Duval suggested. “Just thirty minutes each session, until it seems like your arm has improved to a normal condition again. I hope that isn’t too much trouble, constantly being pulled out of the community--”

“Th-That’s fine,” Sierra agreed, as though the arrangement could have slipped away if she didn’t agree fast enough. “That… works out for me. I don’t mind.” It was a deceptively mundane reply when in truth, Sierra was internally erupting over this outcome, still comprehending that she and the overseer would be meeting privately all throughout the week.

“That’s good to hear! We can meet up tomorrow in the afternoon. In the meantime,” Duval pointed crookedly to Sierra’s arm, “do try to get that bandaged up when you get home. Ask someone for help, if you need it.”

Sierra nodded quickly. “Absolutely, I-I will.”

Duval rose from her chair, satisfied with all that had been discussed. She stretched as she did, unknowingly boasting a massive flex above Sierra as she pushed her shoulders and arms back. Then, she retrieved a minuscule item from her coat pocket which she unpinched in front of Sierra. It was her gym bag, her clean clothes from earlier tumbled inside. “Let’s return you home so you can do just that.”

Sierra hurriedly changed into her normal attire so that she could savor these last few moments with the overseer. Duval carried her directly back to the glass cage that was the neighborhood, a conversationless voyage that Sierra was ecstatic to experience. She was in Duval’s palm in the open air -- no reinforced steel walls of a trailer; no latex glove that covered the entire hand; no adrenaline-rushed nudity. It was the skin of Duval’s palm with no barrier between them, just the ridges of the hand and the mounds of small muscles, surrounded by long and dexterous fingers, and the rhythm of every footfall. Sierra sat higher than usual, her wet hair drying in the bellows of wind, like gusts at the peak of a mountain, a mountain she had painstakingly hiked to its peak.

And the path down from that achievement had to be taken. The high Sierra was on concluded with Duval lowering her down into the community, politely in front of her house. The simulated sky had shifted orange to match a setting sun, closing out the eventful day. Sierra departed and watched as the elevator-palm flew away from the street, stopping just past the transparent wall so that it could wave down at her. Sierra lifted her uninjured arm in a wave back, and Duval smiled farewell.

Not allowing Sierra to just stare into the distance forever, Kendall came rushing towards her lot from next door. “Sierra! You’re back!” she exclaimed, hopping against the fence that separated their yards. “The overseer said you were fine, b-but I was a little worried she could have been lying! Just to keep us calm, you know!”

Sierra was overwhelmed with this burst of energy. But she smiled, readjusting the strap of her bag. “I am fine, fortunately, j-just a sprained arm. I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow, I need to get some rest after everything.” She began for the door, but her pace slowed just before opening it. Kendall had been fine with that answer, but Sierra wasn’t; “Actually, I’ll call you tonight. Are you free?”

I made plans with a friend, Sierra thought upon entering her home. Finally, she was secluded, and she could exhale and breathe, just like Duval wanted. So… I deserve to be alone…

Sierra passed every light without turning them on, remaining in the dimness of her silent house. She slugged to her bedroom, closing and locking even that door behind her, and dropped the gym bag onto the bed. Her fingers shivered at the zipper, but the bag was opened, and beneath the mud-stained clothes was a white towel. The white towel from before, smuggled out of the emergency station, but most vitally of all, it was the white towel, Sierra specifically thought, that Duval had stepped on.

With almost no delay, Sierra was clutching the towel against her face. Her body melted onto the mattress, she bounced with unrestrained giggles while the towel was tossed over her upper body. Her fingers ran over the squashed material, the fabric flattened so thin after such an enormous weight was summoned upon it. Duval had pressed this innocent towel into something slightly better than paper, a fact that had Sierra rolling with arousal. Between her flushed cheeks blossomed a dumb and unabashed smile, sweetened with a mischievous satisfaction.

After a second session with herself finally came the hard reality of exhaustion. Sierra collapsed where she was on the bed, half-wearing whatever clothes remained from before. Her clumsy grin had relaxed into a genuine smile, a warm and sincere expression. There were plans to look forward to that night, but the tomorrow of her life resonated with anticipation, now that overseer Duval could so clearly be seen waiting for her there.

The pool was twenty meters long and about half as wide, segmented into lanes that could occupy a single swimmer each. Participants swam from one side to the other, performing several laps in what was another experiment. It was an exhausting workout to complete so many laps, yet the pool they splashed in could be uprooted and held in one woman’s arms. That one woman was Overseer Duval, standing beside one end of the waist-high table that the pool was designed for. Her watchful eyes were easy to forget about when they hovered so high, but one look outside the glass enclosure would remind anyone of the titanic scientist’s presence.

Amidst the discord of bodies splashing through the water were two arms that scrambled onto an edge. A head cropped from the surface to cherish a victorious inhale, followed by the rest of its drenched body. It was Kendall, fatigued but successful, that beached herself with an arm pumped up. She continued to gasp for air while water dripped off her orange swimsuit, the same uniform color that all the subjects wore.

“I did it!” Kendall cheered the moment she had the breath for it. She celebrated on her knees, “First! Me! I wo--”

“Congratulations!” A giant voice announced Kendall’s victory onto everyone, despite being meant for her alone. Duval clapped and bounced slightly where she stood, producing crashes of noise and a subtle rumble underneath the shrunken people. “Always so competitive, Kendall~ I’ll bring some gelato tomorrow as your prize.”

Kendall had shuddered under Duval’s booming words, but when she next looked up, a hand was there to meet her. Though she had been the first to complete her laps, she wasn’t the only one out of the pool. Sierra had been waiting there at the end, completely dry in her standard jumpsuit uniform. Kendall took her neighbor’s hand gratefully and was pulled up.

“You look like you got your ass kicked,” Sierra giggled, keeping Kendall’s arm held while she composed herself. “Congrats. You really like to win, don’t you?”

Kendall smiled but lacked the stamina to laugh. “It’s more like I hate losing,” she replied while panting, “even if there’s nothing to win. What’s gelato, again?” She was guided to a table where dry towels had been set out, eager to toss one over herself. Immediately she sought to dry her face and pull back her soaked hair. “What a shame that you had to miss pool day! This was the most fun any of the overseer’s tests has been! You must have been bored out of your mind up here.”

“I find ways to keep myself entertained,” Sierra said, stepping back from Kendall as she dried. At that thought, she turned her attention up to that towering scientist, whose clean lab coat acted as a white backdrop for that corner of the enclosure. She much preferred studying Duval in peace rather than participate in another laborious challenge.

It had been two weeks since Sierra injured her arm in one of Duval’s obstacle courses. She had committed the stunt in hopes of spending some time with the overseer, but she hadn’t expected this much attention. Her sprained arm was now the center of study for Duval’s research; Sierra was the first of the shrunken test subjects to be meaningfully injured, a title she took with no pride. Every two days, they would meet for a private check up where Duval would record precise data on Sierra’s state of recovery. One such appointment was scheduled for that day after the swimming tests, and so Sierra convinced Duval to let her tag along until then.

Sierra sought to cherish each of these extra minutes as much as she could, but it appeared that time was reaching an end. Indeed, a moment later saw two more swimmers surmount the challenge. Like Kendall before them, they slugged forward on their knees after pulling themselves up. “Excellent job, everyone,” Duval congratulated, her knees bent so that she could hover closer over her subjects. “These results look great! You should all be proud of yourselves, this was no small feat.”

Both Kendall and Sierra offered themselves forward to aid the two swimmers. Sierra offered a hand, but regretted her generosity when she heard him spit a remark. “Nothing to be proud about,” Chase said, spoken to the floor under him as he took Sierra’s help. “No small feat… It’s like we swam across a puddle.”

Sierra glared, but eased her expression before Chase or anyone else could see it. She practically dragged Chase to his feet and then turned away from him just as quickly -- a gesture that did not fly so unnoticed by him. He sighed, “... That arm of yours must be feeling better.”

“Excuse me?” Sierra blinked, then glanced at her arm. She hid it away from Chase, keeping it clutched with her other hand. “Well, it has been healing. What about it?”

“I think Chase just wants an excuse to get out of these tests, too,” Kendall joked from over the shoulder of who she escorted to the towels. “What, Chase? You never swim a few laps before?”

“I’m just wondering if she still has to do those check ups,” he said, yet to catch his breath for this argument. “If your arm is healed up, why does she need to take you away every other day?”

“That’s what a check up is,” Sierra plainly explained. “Besides, she’s also researching the recovery of people with bodies like ours. What does it matter if I need them or not?”

“You are way too comfortable about all this… It’s about--” Chase winced. His eyes pointed up along the white curtain that stretched high over them. Closer than before, the scientist was leaned in above him and the others, her smile still displayed for the sake of encouragement. Under that kind of pressure, all fell silent.

“Is something the matter?” Duval asked, the only time her smile flickered away. The air of her speech was enough to make any calm parts of the pool shiver. “No one was hurt, were they?”

Kendall motioned to Duval with both arms, signalling to her that all was fine. Sierra took the opportunity to distance herself from Chase, but not without a glance back in his direction. Of course, when asked by Duval, he had nothing to comment, but everyone in the shrunken community knew well how Chase felt about their situation. An ire had grown, if quietly, towards Duval right under her nose. Chase resented this experiment and what it had left him with, and this feeling was shared among others, this distrust towards Overseer Duval.

But the attitudes of others failed to sully Sierra’s perspective. Though she still did not quite understand it about herself, she understood the depths at which this attraction went. Whenever possible, she would openly gawk at the giantess, always amazed to be a beholder of such a tremendous sight. It had been months since she had been shrunk, yet the first few steps of Duval’s walk through the labs every morning always managed to impress her. That shockwave which represented so much weight, and the contrast onto her, a being so small and feeble that she was literally a test subject to someone so powerful. Even the idle motions that came with standing still took Sierra’s breath away, but she wouldn’t gawk here and now, not while others were joining her at the poolside.

There would be plenty of time later to simply stare, Sierra reminded herself. Not long after the last of the testers made it to the finish was everyone filling the transportation shuttle, including Sierra. Where she had once boarded the shuttle hesitantly, a span of two weeks had made her jitter not from fear, but anticipation. Out of everyone, she was the first to buckle into her seat, more excited than anyone for lift off.

A flank of the shuttle’s windows were suddenly filled with Duval’s watchful eyes. “Everyone ready? We’re making a small detour to my office first,” Duval said while doing one final headcount. With everyone accounted for, Duval stretched to her full height and gripped the shuttle with one gloved hand. A dozen people were then lifted into the air as effortlessly as that, clasped by giant fingers that tangled around the shuttle securely.

The shuttle flew at the pace Duval strolled. Outside the windows, miles of geography passed by, giant monuments that were merely typical features of any lab or workspace. It wasn’t unlike traveling by plane for the tiny passengers -- Sierra found the comparison enchanting -- but Duval crossed the halls as casually as ever. It didn’t affect her that the safety of over a dozen people hinged in her grip, to the extent that when her phone began ringing, she answered it without missing a step.

“Hello, Tina?” Duval answered, speaking up over her clacking heels. “I’m finishing up on my end, yeah. There’s one last-- oh? Oh. Err… The director?” She paused, having arrived outside her door but without a way to open it. Regardless, the conversation on the phone seemingly weighed heavier. “Now? As in, right now? … Well, if it’s the director, th-that’s important…”

The passengers all acknowledged the delay, but Sierra sleuthed for an explanation. Ever invested in Duval’s doings, she listened to as much of the phone call as she could, but with only the overseer’s side, it wasn’t a narrative that could be pieced together. Sierra chuckled, I’m so nosy, but she did catch fascinating glimpses of Duval’s career. It didn’t come up much in their few chats what kind of work Duval was responsible for, but it was evident that she was a busy scientist. Meetings and papers and deadlines, it was a stressful world that Sierra accepted was far beyond her.

She continued listening in as the conversation was wrapped up. Duval replied, “Sure. Sure. I’ll be down in the lobby in… umm, five minutes.” Sierra’s head perked up, having expected a different estimate if any at all. Thus far, no check up had ever been so brief. “Yeah, that’s great. I’ll see you soon. Bye-bye.” The phone wasn’t pocketed, instead partly used to twist the doorknob into her office. She moved as fast as she had been, as if kicked back into gear after having halted.

All was still in the room, as it was supposed to be, but Sierra felt a life in the office that the others did not. The community that they all lived their shrunken lives in was, of course, scaled to their needs. Days could be spent within their houses, the subjects living as carefree as they had before the shrinking, reminded of their size only when a gigantic scientist stomped into their neighborhood. The tests that Duval would set up, too, did not often impact anyone with the reality of their size; the environment, as it were, felt adjusted to them, even if the tests focused on their smallness. But the office, a space Sierra was exclusively growing familiar with, was not like those locations so designed to have them feel normal. It was a giant’s office, and appropriately so did it continuously weigh on Sierra that she was impeccably tiny, and that these titanic objects were in fact unabashedly mundane to the rest of the world.

The shuttle was perched onto the center of Duval’s desk, its size and weight fittingly similar to that of an ordinary stapler. Duval’s hand remained nearby while she waited for the one departure. Sierra disembarked with her bag lazily in hand, offering a wave to Kendall and the others just as she stepped onto the perfectly flat surface. She stood a fair distance away from the shuttle, but close enough so she could feel its take-off, keenly observing Duval’s prowess in lifting away something so heavy and stocked with people. It left her legs quaking to watch the trailer be plucked away in such a delicate grasp.

Duval, always one to be safe, brought the shuttle to her eyes closely for one other headcount. Confirming all was well, she turned her attention to Sierra, where her demeanor turned preemptively apologetic. “I hate to spring this on you last minute,” she began, “but I actually just got off the phone with a colleague, and our director is calling for a meeting. Would you be able to wait here for about thirty minutes? I’m so sorry about this.”

Sierra stared blankly back at Duval. The wide space of the desk felt as though it stretched even wider to isolate her. “Thirty minutes?”

“No longer than that,” Duval swore. “I wish they would warn us ahead of time, but it’s been… hectic lately, for all of us. I hope this isn’t too upsetting, Sierra.”

“No, i-it’s…” Sierra bit her lip, choking on her lie. She wouldn’t express her disappointment, not over something so trivial, but it was how she felt. Even such a minor delay felt like a cosmic attack on her -- at which point, she realized she was being too silly. She nodded approvingly, “I can wait it out, i-if it’s just thirty minutes.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Duval replied amidst a stress-relieving sigh. Her smile returned briefly for Sierra before being aimed at the shuttle. “Let’s get everyone home and… and call it a day, haha~” Taking a moment to straighten her back, Duval then exited her office. The door closed behind her, but the clacking of her heels could be heard through it, a rhythm that Sierra was linked to until it finally faded too far.

She’s definitely been busier than usual, Sierra took note. It was the first thing to her mind the moment Duval’s footsteps disappeared, but it had been a recurring thought for the past several days. Ever since these check ups began, Duval appeared to move about the labs more quickly, at least the few times she could be seen at all. As the week went on, the overseer was seeing less of her subjects, between infrequent visits and not investing as much time.

Sierra was first drawn towards the medical station atop Duval’s desk. It was the only structure there that was scaled to her size, as well as a familiar place in general, having showered there two weeks before. It rekindled that memory among others, which she sought to walk away from; she had to change out of her uniform and into a patient’s gown for these check ups, and with Duval elsewhere, she figured it best to change now. Her bag was deposited on one of the empty beds, the privacy curtain was cautiously closed, and she was soon dressed in the breezy pink gown.

The open air chilled her skin where exposed with the essence of loneliness, but the huge emptiness of the office was something she actually enjoyed. The space to think and the freedom to explore were perfect attributes for meditation, but the thoughts rumbling in Sierra’s head were not stressless. When left alone to dwell on her thoughts, it was only a matter of time before Sierra burdened herself with unresolvable worries.

Like a sharp prick, Sierra reached a conclusion: Obviously Duval’s busy when she has to make time for me like this. The hard taste of regret was in the bite of her lips and how her arms crossed. It made too much sense to ignore, that by faking this injury as much as she has, she’s added more work onto Duval’s already steep load. It was only recently that Duval’s tired streak began, the same time at which these research-heavy check ups started. Although these sessions generally only lasted an hour, that was still one whole hour stolen from Duval’s day. That could be an hour sleeping in, Sierra argued, or an hour spent getting actual work done. Instead, I’m having her babysit me for something I made up…

The problem arm was given a look over. It had been too easy to trick Duval all this time, Sierra realized. The overseer was too huge to accurately read how injured the arm was, and so she relied on Sierra’s word. She had been expected to be honest and cooperative, but Sierra knew now that she had been acting selfishly. What was I honestly thinking?! she raged at herself, her anger manifesting in a cold scoff. Even a child could tell me what I did was wrong.

So, why did I do it? Sierra dropped to a seat with a huff, immediately taking her head into one hand. She breathed through her fingers, her thoughts coming up empty. There wasn’t an answer waiting for her, but the space to come up with one herself. The outline was obvious, I just want to be with Duval, but what was left unfilled unnerved her for how out of reach this part of her psyche was. There was more to this, Sierra considered, than just a typical crush in an atypical environment.

Those thoughts had time to dwell, and then even escape her. Sierra had closed her eyes, internally at conflict with herself, yet enough time passed that she felt the issue slip away. Her thoughts went elsewhere, but then she looked to the office chair that stood a short distance from the desk. It was huge, and empty -- “... Duval?”

An electric clock on the desk told the time, and it revealed to Sierra that it had since been longer than thirty minutes. “I must have dozed off,” she grumbled, concernedly getting to her feet and pacing around the desk. It wasn’t like she could fetch Duval herself, but walking around felt better than sitting in total helplessness. She knew it possible that Duval could be uncharacteristically late, given that nobody could be perfect, but time continued to tick even after she noticed how long it had been. Eventually, an hour had gone by since Duval’s leave, and another thirty minutes more after that.

Sierra had paced around the desk two complete rotations before she succumbed under the fatigue and worry. There was yet to be a hint of Duval’s arrival, and so Sierra wondered what was to come next. She had occupied the desk for an hour and a half, and only then did it dawn on her that she was stranded. She was trapped as this insignificantly sized person atop an office desk, abandoned and at Duval’s mercy. Who else would come for her otherwise? Who other than Duval did she utterly rely on?

There was a click, and a clack. Sierra’s head popped up. It was heard again, and so she twisted towards the door. Another click-clack from the hallway, a pattern that neared closer until finally, the mighty door was unlocked and opened. Sierra sprung to her feet at the sight of Duval entering her office, washed once over with relief, then again with uneasy suspense. Duval had walked in, but the air surrounding her felt incorrect.

The door was closed by the weight of Duval’s back. She leaned against it into a hard slam of a close, enough force to make Sierra hop even from her distance at the desk. Yet Duval was unflinching to the noise, seemingly even at rest to hear it, for she lingered there against the door while her arms hung loose at her sides. She wasn’t dressed in her lab coat this time, a fact Sierra immediately noticed. The coat was instead draped over her shoulder, freely displaying her earth-colored blouse and her strict black slacks. A curl of black hair was out of place, a particularly minute detail that Sierra also took hint of.

Most pressing, however, was the silence. Duval brought energy to the room with her massive presence, at least from Sierra’s perspective, yet it all died with the shutting of the door. The scientist had no greeting for Sierra, nor a remark towards anything. She stayed slumped against the door, her only motion being to raise her wrist so that she could check the time.

Duval yawned with graceless performance, not even a palm to cover herself. Sierra didn’t giggle aloud, but the sight tickled her in a unique way. “And that’s the day,” Duval sighed, a comment edged with a short laugh and a shake of her head. She peeled off the door and into a stumble of steps towards the center of her office, perhaps the most casual of walking Sierra had ever witnessed from the overseer. “Good grief. Let’s get old Ophelia into a chair.”

Old Ophelia? Sierra shuddered in how she restrained her giggle, thinking of that silly name. She openly smiled, but in her gut, she was uncertain how to feel. Is she joking around? she wondered, weakly raising one arm as a gesture towards Duval. As the giantess drew closer, Sierra spoke up, “H-How was the meeting? I was getting-- almost, a little worried, since--”

“Not that one…” Duval interjected -- so casually, it couldn’t have been intentional, but Sierra shivered from such an abrupt reply. Duval pointed at the lavender couch, like a spotted enemy, “I’ll fall asleep in that, I just… like last time…” Sierra barely followed the slurred words, a description she dared to admit was the case. Instead of sitting on the couch, Duval dropped her lab coat along the arm as she continued walking to the desk.

Her shadow swept over Sierra, colder than it ever had before. Duval reached for her chair and pulled it towards her, nonchalantly putting on display her power to move monuments -- Sierra stumbled nearly off her feet as the massive furniture was spun suddenly out of its stillness, and yet to that point, Duval herself hadn’t said a word to her. As the woman’s tremendous weight shifted over the chair, Sierra braced for the inevitable impact. Only a short distance from her, Duval’s massiveness collapsed into the chair, the action of her lazily claiming her usual seat imposing the gravity of a comet.

Sierra was startled into speaking up, “Duval!” Instinctively, she strayed towards the center of the desk, constantly looking up in hopes that she had been recognized in the slightest. But Duval’s next sweeping motion came, a throw of her upper body forward as she hunched towards something under the desk. “D-Duval! I’m right here!” Sierra desperately called out, but the overseer did not respond. She proceeded to open a cabinet, a door to a trunk-sized fridge, and from it she withdrew her prize; a tall, thin bottle of white wine.

Without delay, Duval uncorked the bottle. Sierra didn’t believe the popping sound, but it was happening before her eyes; the overseer was drinking. It was the stinging aroma that made her blink out of her denial, confirming how true the scene was. Duval scanned the shelves of her desk and only broadly across its top. When she couldn’t find a glass, she vaguely shrugged to herself, and drank directly from the bottle. Sierra found it possible to be even more astonished, circling back to rejecting the truth all over again.

A hum of satisfaction followed the taste Duval took. Her eyes remained closed, savoring the world the wine delivered her to. Gentle sways from left to right kept her relaxed but awake, her eyes never drifting too far from the lip of the bottle. Sierra was overcome with emotion, and so much of it could have been ecstasy, had she not felt the terror of being forgotten about. In this situation, she was a speck not only abandoned on Duval’s desk, but abandoned in her memory as well. The more comfortable Duval displayed herself to be, the worse Sierra’s stresses became.

Duval took another chug -- slam, the bottle hit the desk hard on its bottom. Sierra jumped to the side, as if dodging a bomb drop from only so far away. The wine’s impact rattled her where she fell, inflicting a persistent tremble while she tried to stand. She squeaked Duval’s name again, but the giantess grumbled over her, a nondescript complaint related to some other, unspoken thought. It didn’t matter to Sierra, who had fortunately thought of a way to get Duval’s attention -- an attempt, at least.

Sierra dashed to a nearby corner of the desk where a trio of pens had been brushed aside. Behind her, she heard Duval mumbling on about a supervisor, a director, but any noise the titan made only rushed her anxiety. Short of being in a rage, Sierra crouched down and grabbed a pen by its halfway point. It was lighter than she expected something so long to be, and so it was flung to the edge of the desk, skittering once across the polished surface before tipping completely off. Sierra ducked down and cowered, watchful of how Duval might react.

It was a delayed response, but Duval twitched and grimaced. A furrowed glare of confusion was beamed at where she heard the pen’s fall against the floor. The unpleasant expression gripped Sierra by the heart, as though she had disturbed a monster from its rest. Her lips quivered into forming an apology, melting into regret for acting so reckless.

The push of Duval’s stare fell onto Sierra. Her grumbling came to an end, leaving a pause where silence stood firm. “... Noo,” she feebly whispered; not the bark Sierra had expected, but a coo. “Oohh, goodness… Sierra…”

“D-Duval?” Sierra stammered. She peeked past the arm she had risen to defend herself, but still remained coiled on the desk. It was of little assurance that Duval’s expression had softened to that of sympathy. The wine bottle was still there, present in the corner of Sierra’s vision as tall as a telephone pole. She couldn’t ignore it, nor could she forget how Duval had so casually helped herself to it.

In a fluster, Duval slid the wine aside to the opposite end of the desk, as though relocating it so little would take it out of mind. “Sierra, I-I am so sorry,” she rambled with a twisted tongue, her nervous giggles making talking that much harder to do. Her hands were raised in defense, but there wasn’t an argument stowed away in her thoughts. “The meeting happened, and, err-- I just… forgot.” She shook her head and giggled more openly, her fingers stretching outward in a symbolic flash, “I forgot. Completely.”

Still imbalanced, Sierra struggled to say something in return. There was relief that she had been noticed and remembered, but the atmosphere surrounding Duval was uneasy. Gradually, Sierra accepted the explanation that had been given -- at least, what amount of it had been hinted at. She found herself fumbling an apology, “It’s my fault! I-I’m the one taking up your schedule!”

“No, don’t say that!” Duval whined, stroking her own cheek in distress. Her volume wasn’t as considerate as Sierra knew it to be, instead being as loud as though she were speaking to someone of the same size. “How could it be your fault? I left you here all day, oh god,” she took her head into her hands and sighed between them, “something could have happened! To you!”

Sierra swallowed, forfeiting the reply she had originally planned. Duval’s frustration at herself was seemingly genuine, and her concern for Sierra’s safety was uplifting. Where a moment ago, Sierra was tripped over with fear of the massive person, she now leaned in with a desire to comfort her.

“L-Luckily, nothing happened,” Sierra explained, timidly walking forward. “I was more worried about you, a-actually. You’re never late. I thought that something could have happened to you.” She chuckled, but only to herself. It was difficult to conceive anything troubling a woman so incredibly strong, before remembering how it was Duval that lived a normal life between them.

“Ohh, I’m fine! But now I feel worse!” Duval laughed, sparking out of the dismay she was hunched in just before. “All this time left alone here, a-and you were thinking about… something happening to me.” She sighed again, her hand naturally reaching but falling short of where the wine bottle was. “I wasn’t in any, well, real trouble. As you… might have noticed by now. The director was really unhappy, and a couple of the girls-- er, colleagues, wanted to get something to drink, and… I suppose I lost track of time with them…”

“It sounds like you were having fun,” Sierra said, her eyes faltering to the wayside. She knew it was unintentional, but Duval’s explanation stabbed into her. She was an afterthought, so it seemed, and worse yet was that she was interfering with more enjoyable plans. “You sound busy… P-Perhaps we can do this tomorrow. It can wait, I don’t want--”

“No no no,” Duval hurriedly argued, trampling over whatever Sierra had left to say. “I can do it now. We can do it! L-Let’s just get it out of the way!”

Sierra shivered -- never before had she been wary of Duval’s enthusiasm. “Um… Are you sure…?” She chuckled, glancing at the wine bottle and the hand that was close to it. “If you’ve been… drinking, err…”

“I’m not drunk, Sierra,” Duval giggled, “it was just a few drinks! Wine, of all things. Look,” and as a display of her sincerity, she claimed the wine bottle and swiftly deposited it back into the fridge. “Gone! I can’t be tempted if I can’t see it! So, don’t worry about that, let’s focus on that check up. If it’s not done today, it would hold me up tomorrow, realistically…”

“Oh-- um, well…” Sierra’s feet froze her in place. The last thing she wanted to be was a bother, but it seemed no matter what angle she approached the problem, she would be interfering with Duval’s schedule. Sierra’s conclusion came with a shrug, “Yeah, we can get it done now, if you’re feeling confident.”

“Absolutely~” Duval hummed as she moved her arms over her desk, organizing the items she would need for the check up. Among the most necessary items was the microscope, a modified version of the normal tool specially equipped to study shrunken subjects. Despite Duval’s efforts to move it delicately onto the desk’s middle, it was released from her grip to produce an audible thud. “Don’t do that,” Duval groaned at the technology. As she twisted away, she spoke back to Sierra, “Go ahead and, uh, get under. I’m not... forgetting something, am I?”

Sierra warily approached the microscope like an eerie house, one that had just been erected there by a tipsy god. The thought truly did amuse Sierra, even against the flow of stresses. She never imagined she could catch Duval like this, so unlike her usual self. The cautious way she moved was only vaguely present, the professionalism left behind back where the lab coat had been discarded. As Sierra took her position on the cold table of the microscope, she thought of these differences, but acknowledged that these were not two separate people. This was not Overseer Duval, but Ophelia Duval.

The lens hanging above Sierra blinked several times as Duval situated herself to use it. “There you are,” the scientist playfully remarked, earning a jitter out of Sierra. “Hi, Sierra.”

A blush bloomed across Sierra’s cheeks. “Err… Hello, Duval,” she muttered, waving up at the lens meekly. Her other arm, being the target of interest, was spread out to her side. She intended to follow the usual procedure, but right away, Duval was treading off course. Riddled with nervousness, Sierra tugged at the edges of her gown to as far as they could cover, hoping to survive the check up with minimal embarrassment.

The process never moved faster than a drag. Every step of the procedure was fumbled in some way due to Duval’s negligence. Documents were closed without saving and other programs were mismanaged, resulting in more than one vocalized curse from the scientist. Sierra also endured from her point of view, dealing with Duval’s mishaps as they came up; a blinding light was spontaneously turned on, the bed’s angle was adjusted back and forth while she laid on it, and multiple attempts were had at successfully obtaining an x-ray of Sierra’s arm. While Duval toiled through her work, Sierra remained patience, at a minimum grateful that thus far, she hadn’t been accidentally hurt.

There was a long pause where Duval was absorbed into her monitor, long enough that Sierra nearly commented on it. An abrupt sigh of frustration escaped Duval, “Why doesn’t it want to add up?” She huffed again, then heard a little series of coughs from under her. She curiously peeked back into the microscope, confirming that it was Sierra making such a noise. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

Sierra turned redder than she had been. She blocked her lips with a fist, “I-I’m alright,” she said, her breath being held. Finally, another cough escaped her, and with it she was able to admit, “Your breath… smells like the wine.”

“Oh… Oh!” Duval lifted away from the microscope and leaned back from the desk. She breathed into her hand so that she could smell it herself, and she giggled in agreement. “Well. I suppose there’s no easy way to tell someone that. Sorry, Sierra.” She was about to sigh again, but at the last moment, withheld it. “I’ve… never thought too much about how I smell to you, o-or any of the others. Never crossed my mind…”

Sierra allowed herself to take small breaths, but it was hard to not bust into a laugh at what Duval fretted over. “It’s never an issue,” she assured her, “sometimes we can smell your shampoo or your soap, that’s it. Oh, and your morning coffee, sometimes…”

“Even my coffee?” Duval complained. “I just can’t hide anything from you little people, can I? Go ahead and step back out.”

“I guess not,” Sierra teasingly replied, giggling alongside the overseer as she maneuvered out from under the microscope. It was a second after that Sierra dwelled on how Duval referred to her test subjects, but the emotion she felt left her without a comment. Yet, the conversation itself felt wonderful -- the two had just laughed in sync, and Sierra wouldn’t let the mood slip away. Her tongue dashed into talking once standing on the desk, “You couldn’t hide your drinking habits, either. I never expected the overseer to keep alcohol in the office.”

“Mhmm, how reckless of her,” Duval hummed, skimming through notes on her computer rather than looking to Sierra. She laughed and shook her head, “Now you’ve got me scared that you think I’m some sort of alcoholic. You don’t think that, do you…?”

Sierra’s smile was unmoving as she looked up at Duval and her pleading expression. It was a face she never before witnessed from the overseer, like a new painting that deserved to be treasured. “O-Of course I don’t, I’m just playing,” she replied after Duval’s words thawed through her. “I’m not trying to judge anyone. I’m sure it gets stressful around here.”

Before replying, Duval took to her keyboard and progressed with some of her work. “It… can be,” she said, nodding her head in agreement. “It usually is, now that I think about it. That all comes with the territory, I suppose. We are shrinking people, after all, and then keeping them for research…”

Sierra kept her hands together, patiently waiting for Duval to finish her work on the computer. The data she had collected was being organized and submitted, but a long list of papers had to be printed. She was grateful for the delay it would bring, allowing her some extra time to talk with Duval -- if she could keep the conversation alive. “I c-can’t say I’m envious. It’s a huge responsibility,” Sierra said.

“For something so small,” Duval joked, her laugh cut off into a snort. “No, no, that wasn’t funny.” Having to wait for the printer, she began clearing off her desk of the equipment she had brought out -- everything was pushed to the far back of the desk, opening up a wide space around Sierra. “And there’s a lot of money poured into these projects. So much. Investors get mad at the company, the company gets mad at the director, the director gets mad at me, and that’s how the wine comes out.”

Sierra winced at Duval’s dilemma. “That kind of pressure has to be intense… D-Does it pay well? I hope it does…”

“It’s worth it. Pays well enough for me to get drunk once a week,” Duval sighed, the humor of her statement underscored by the truth of it. Without thinking about it, her arm was propped up onto the desk, causing an unexpected thud on the floor Sierra stood on. Duval then rested her head into her hand and a yawn bellowed from her, “Well… wine drunk, at least. Believe it or not, I used to be more wild than this.”

“Is that so?” Sierra smiled, quite enjoying this particular topic. Seeing Duval relax the way she did inspired her to take a seat. “That’s hard to imagine. You’re so professional and careful, I can’t picture you more tipsy than this.” But she could picture it, a detailed image in her head of what a sloshed and gigantic Duval would appear like and what she would do. It tickled her enough to hide her trembling grin.

Duval giggled lightly, “This career makes you settle down. It was for the best, some nights I would end up returning home and I would… crash onto the couch, my stomach would feel awful, I would feel awful… I was once in bed all day before I could finally get up and get myself some water.”

“Oh, wow… No one could have helped you out?”

Duval shook her head, still rested in her palm. Her eyes faded to a close, “I’ve almost always lived by myself, so that means lonely hangovers.” She softly giggled, “I don’t think anyone would want to be around me like that, anyway. It isn’t very graceful…”

Sierra despised that thought like an insult -- how could Duval think that about herself? She was unsure of what to say, but her instincts rolled forward, “I wouldn’t mind. If you were that sick, you deserve someone at your bedside.”

Duval again shook her head, laughing more into her hand. She glanced at Sierra, then back at the computer monitor and its sluggish progress with the printer. “You say that now, but I can get ornery~” She giggled again, nostalgic for a time. “No one would have the patience for that.”

“I’m not so sure. If nothing else, it would be pretty funny to see you grumpy and hungover. If I had to watch over you to see that, I think I’d do it.”

“That would be lovely,” Duval sighed, which stretched into a yawn. Left at the edge of such a thought, Sierra began to burn red, only then realizing what she had implied. Duval continued, “but… I don’t think you’re big enough to do that now.”

Sierra’s throat swelled, but she pushed through it. “I-I guess-- I suppose, yeah.”

“Even if I was drunk or hungover,” Duval reached a finger out to Sierra, the tip hovering just above her head, close enough to pet her, “it would still be me watching over little you, wouldn’t it?”

Sierra shrunk under the fingertip. As belittling as Duval’s comments were, they were not false, and the concept intrigued her regardlessly. There was nothing she could do to or for a giant, drunken scientist. Even in Duval’s most miserable state, Sierra was nothing but a four centimeter-tall test subject, leagues apart from one another. The effort of tending to someone she admired would be both hopeless and recklessly dangerous.

Duval withdrew her arm when Sierra had no reply. Her head grew heavier and her wrist weaker, until finally she lowered herself into the bend of her arm on the desk. Sierra was only a basketball court away from that drowsy expression, perhaps the closest she had ever been to Duval’s face. She felt gusts at her feet from Duval exhaling out her nose, and she noticed the gray bags under her eyes, her make-up unable to conceal every feature from such a little perspective. Ribbons of black hair piled around where her head lay, encircling her like a blanket. All the while, the hum of the printer continued, ejecting one sheet at a time.

Sierra looked down at her legs, which she had hugged into her chest. “I am l-little, but I would make good company.” She scoffed amusedly at herself, “I’d try to be, anyway. Or, I’d make things harder on you… That’s how it’s been lately, hasn’t it?” She brushed nervously at her hair, keeping her focus aimed anywhere but the giant across from her. “I hate the idea of you being sick and alone, though, e-especially with how kind of a person you are. I wouldn’t trust any other person to be responsible enough for this… I meant it-- earlier, when I said you deserve someone to… look over you.” A hard blink could not warp her away from what she had explained. She lifted her head as it boiled over, “Wh-What I-I mean is, err-- oh? Uh?”

A long and easy breath in, and a long and easy breath out. A tiny snore, and an unconscious fidget of her head. Sierra hesitantly stood and spoke up, “Duval?” An unflinching silence -- Duval had slumbered off there on the desk. Sierra thought to call out to her again, but held back, swallowing emptily instead. Sierra leaned in as she approached, her footsteps slower and quieter the closer she was to the sleeping giant. She couldn’t actually have…? she thought, but the effortlessly closed eyes and the half-open mouth was evidence otherwise.

The printer ceased its droning as it ejected the last page, but Duval did not stir from her rest. Sierra drew one step nearer, not the least unaware that every bit forward was breaking new grounds in how close she had ever come to Duval. The roundness of her facial features were looked upon differently at this angle, due in part to how the giantess was angled on her side, but their sheer size naturally left the most significant impression on Sierra. The courage to speak up once more came to her, and she too dared to graze the nearby thumb, “Duval…?”

Without a response, Sierra retracted her arms to her chest and stepped backwards away from Duval’s face. Though this massive person devoured her view with her presence, the onset of loneliness began. The hugeness of the world crept on her all over again, a reminder of how dependable she was on someone of a normal size. With Duval asleep, it was just as if she had left the room all over again, and that same anxiety returned to taint what had otherwise been an ideal interaction with the overseer.

“Duval?” Sierra tried again, this time raising her volume above her usual timidness. “They really do overwork you, don’t they?” Still no reply -- not even a normal chat could stir the giantess. Other options had to be considered, but doubt clouded them all. Sierra took Duval’s thumb into both hands and rocked it back and forth; nothing, which proved to her how incapable she could be. She was too little, an obnoxious realization as those very words still haunted her.

Duval’s stillness was like a geographic wonder, and it inspired Sierra’s solution. I’m going to have to wait, she decided in a shrug. It wasn’t a comfortable predicament, but a far better situation than being alone and in suspense over her fate. As small and vulnerable as Sierra felt, there was still Duval to protect her, even in her slumbering state. Her head and her pillow-acting arm formed a threshold to feel sheltered in, a space Sierra could occupy and feel close to Duval. As time passed in this environment, where the air was thick with Duval’s breaths and the temperature warmed by her coiled body, Sierra felt differently about her problem -- was it even a problem, to have to spend more time with Duval?

More of these hidden blessings were found as Sierra immersed herself in the atmosphere of Duval. She spent a minute uninterrupted simply starting at Duval’s lazy expression, part of her expecting the giantess to wake up, the other part appreciating the view. From there, she scoped out the rest of Duval’s body and how it ran off the desk like a mountainside. The arc from her shoulders and down her back, or the peak of her head and its blanket of hair -- all were places that Sierra wanted to stand, like a traveler on expedition, but no place called to her more than what had spilled over the edge of the desk.

Boobs… Sierra could ignore them no longer. How Duval had slumped onto her desk, unconcerned for her posture, had brought her breasts up onto the desk. Her scoop-shaped collar boasted her cleavage significantly, one hill partially on top of the other to form a crevice only Sierra could appreciate -- only she would ever be aware of. A chilling tickle lured Sierra towards it, driven by lecherous intentions.

No further than a few steps from where she was did she stop herself. Sierra swallowed her sinful thoughts, “That’s… asking for a lot.” She couldn’t commit to something that unsavory, not while the guilt of two weeks ago still festered within her. The truth never did come up, and it had no reason to, that Sierra had masturbated inside a glove used by Duval. Greater than her perversions was her desire to not make a list of matters like this. “I’m already lucky enough,” she chuckled, not forbidding herself from an extensive viewing of the cleavage. “Maybe, the luckiest.”

Talking to herself, she realized, was begging for trouble, no matter how hushed she was. A stutter that began one of Duval’s breaths easily threw Sierra into uneasy twitches before learning that the giantess was still asleep. It was risky enough doing just what she was, wandering around Duval’s space. She feared the repercussions of being caught, but she couldn’t deny that such worry was what amplified her excitement. That lingering possibility restrained Sierra equally as it encouraged her, to test the limits of what she could get away with.

She broke out of her trance by whipping around, facing instead towards a ribbon of hair that unraveled down Duval’s arm. It guided her back towards that lop-sided expression, the face of a monument toppled over and sentenced to rest. Unlike a moment ago, Sierra had almost no guilt for taking a few strands of hair into her hand as she strolled by. Her fingers sifted through the threads as though passing under the blossom leaves of a tree, so delicate and light in her grasp yet it sprawled about with such volume. The scent of it clung to her hand after it passed through, the sweetness of a fruity shampoo which enraptured Sierra further in this orchard she had dreamed.

Following the hair had lead her, unsurprisingly, closer to Duval. The idle breaths of her sleep were no longer so passive, as each exhale had enough push to be a gust against Sierra’s approach. She hadn’t realized until then how close she was, doubtlessly closer to Duval than ever before. The face she observed dwarfed her, so large and wide that it couldn’t all be seen at once any longer -- it was unlike a face altogether, but rather a wall with sculpted features that resembled a face.  A beautiful and charming face, if Sierra had to describe it.

Sierra sealed the image in front of her to memory, cast away in a blink. “Duval…?” Sierra said, as loud as she had been before. One eye peeked open to see that her little voice still had no effect on her. She thought to reach out and touch a cheek, but she favored touching her arm instead, shaking and stroking it with both hands, to no avail. “You just pass out, huh?” Sierra laughed to herself, a brief remedy to her worry. “I did say I would watch over you…”

Her hands, so Sierra found, hadn’t removed themselves from Duval’s arm. Some of her weight leaned into the limb which stretched out like a toppled redwood. It was heavy and firm, as much as she could feel beyond the brown fabric of her blouse. Her fingers curled, massaging more than just the shirt but into the skin. Her reach spread outward so that the space between her hands widened, eventually becoming a hug into Duval’s wrist. Like a standing bed, she leaned her chest and cheek into the arm, so intimately close to the slumbering woman that she could faintly sense her pulse.

Sierra’s eyes closed. She sank into tranquility, a headspace where her thoughts echoed back to herself with great clarity. Questions became unavoidable, and so she pondered upon them, What am I feeling? What does this… achieve? Her mental image of herself scaled back, and she pictured herself as what she truly was, a speck of life that was attached to this superior being -- smarter, wiser, and so much stronger than her. She recollected a time where she wasn’t this way, before she shrunk for this experiment. What would Duval be like? What would she think of me? The relationship they had, certainly, would be different, but would Duval still be this godly?

The peace Sierra had acquired was abruptly broken by a jolt. The land-like Duval quaked, a shiver of movement that saw her arm inch away far enough that Sierra nearly fell forward. The tiny woman caught herself only so she could buckle down to her knees, quickly ducking into a defensive position that cowered under Duval’s weary glare.

But the giant eyes did not scan Sierra, and she felt this. Sierra sensed something amiss, and through her paralysis she shot up an arm, “Duval, Duval! Don’t move yet!” But the eyes wouldn’t turn down to her; the head rose off the arm, and while Sierra watched with utter fascination--

Slam, she was mercilessly shoved. Faster than she could have expected, Duval’s arm reeled back towards her enormous body, and the minuscule test subject on her desk was carried along. It was a race towards the edge of the desk and Sierra put forth every effort to stop herself, grinding her feet hard into the desk’s surface but failing to slow any part of Duval down. There was a squeak of a gasp, another shout to Duval that went unheard.

Duval’s torso moved as well; the scientist was stirring from her unplanned nap, and so she peeled herself of the desk as part of a waking stretch. Sierra gathered as much within the panicked moment, but what she gleaned most vitally was where Duval’s arm was unconsciously dragging her. Her destination, as it were comprehended, appeared over the desk’s end, a crevice of Duval’s body that was revealed by the scoop-shaped design of her blouse.

Sierra jumped -- a survival instinct, but she knew too well the shame that would follow. An instant passed and Sierra was face-to-face with what she had reached for from afar, forced into Duval’s bosom from a seemingly divine force. She immediately scrambled over the flesh, her sense of direction lost as she stumbled backwards along a surface too plush to find a foothold. An arm shot from Sierra, an attempt to grab anything -- a lock of hair, which had fared no better than her in getting caught between two behemoths of flesh. A glance back to where she had came terrified Sierra, for so quickly had she soared up high alongside Duval’s awakening.

The shade of Duval’s arm brought Sierra’s attention upwards, the very arm that had swept her in. It was completing its motion, the huge hand arriving at the mouth to intercept a yawn. It was a breathtaking sight, and an incredible noise; Duval’s yawn expelled a wail from her unglamorous expression, like an engine roaring to life and then steadying back to a relative calm. When Duval’s shoulders dropped back down, so too did her chest fall back into place. Sierra was thusly thrown deeper into the cleavage, with nearly enough force to have bounced her out of place. She gasped and again coughed up Duval’s name, but she couldn’t even look to the scientist for help. The bobbing of her breasts was akin to two waves of an ocean that threatened to swallow Sierra, and appropriately so, the tiny woman swam against the softness, sputtering out shouts that continued to go unheard under the bellowing yawn.

Then, all was at rest. The storm had subsided, the world shifted because of one unconscious yawn. As spontaneously as all the motion had begun, so too did it end, leaving Sierra to endure the results. All of the shaking and rolling had left her in a daze that she mentally fought out of, so that she could understand her miserable position. Judging by the stricter tightness that trapped Sierra, she assumed correctly that Duval had laid back down on the workspace, and in such a way that her chest was pressed flat into the edge. “N-No,” she immediately gasped, but there was no further denial. The giantess remained stationary, with such extreme weight that it seemed impossible that something so huge could move again -- though Sierra certainly knew better.

An untrapped arm smacked against the hill in frustration, “Duval! Wake up! Duval!!” Her pleas went unheard, of course; not only was the overseer too deeply asleep, but Sierra was trapped in a blindspot that no one would think a person would be. Panic bubbled within her as she rapidly ran through ideas to be rescued, but nothing was promising. All she could figure to do was struggle and yell, as fruitlessly as she had been. She put herself in that giant, faraway perspective, and how trivial a grain of rice on her chest would be to herself, something so ignorable and possible to look over -- she was worth less than a stain on the scientist’s clothes.

She could only stare up Duval while pinned between her breasts, helplessly yearning for this woman that was cherishing an office nap. The uneventful quiet from the sleepy office gave too much clarity to Sierra’s thoughts, allowing her to dwell on her perspective. It was dire, doubtlessly, and the suspense of another idle movement wrestling her into submission was always present, but ultimately, she was trapped somewhere soft, warm, and calmingly pleasant. Her drumming heart had eased into a regular pattern, and her immobilized body was not so tense. It was, after all, the overseer’s bosom that she was stuck to -- Duval’s boobs, her thoughts stagnated, I’m really here squished between her boobs…

Where Sierra’s freed hand had fallen along the slopes of skin, it massaged and pushed. They were gentle touches, just enough to test the plushness and to confirm just how real her situation actually was. In reflection, Sierra mentally laughed at her predicament and its incomparable nature. Facing a huge world in a shrunken body had always felt unreal, but this was a literal fantasy come to life. She was short of suffocating between two enormous breasts, the massive woman behind them none the wiser that she had a stowaway in her bosom. It was all too like a dream, and Sierra feared the inevitable rude awakening.

The meager allowance Sierra had to move was not going to achieve freedom anytime soon. She rocked her torso back and forth in a harsh wiggle, “Duval…! Please, wake up!” Her cry was hoarse, even less likely to stir Duval. Her writhing had only earned her a surprise plummet, sinking deeper into the valley of skin. If squirming was only going to submerge her more, she simply stopped resisting. She swallowed, overcome by the stillness that she now shared with the immense body.

Breathing was all Sierra was left able to do, but even that basic function revolved around Duval. The atmosphere was like a steam due to the scientist’s contained body heat, and thus her scent was impossible to ignore. Through her mouth and her nose, Sierra was breathing off the air of Duval’s body and nothing else. While the fruity aroma was not particularly offensive, it taunted her for being that same clean smell she had teased Duval about earlier. It was a subtle detail exaggerated into a constant reminder that she lived on the overseer, a straggler on Duval’s expansive body.

Sierra grunted and pried loose her other arm. With it, she stretched forward and dug her hand into the softness, pulling herself forward a marginal distance. The progress was too disheartening to continue. She withdrew her hand from where it had plunged into the cleavage, but then took note of the moisture along her palm. It puzzled her for a moment before she huffed, “Sweat…” It was rubbed between her fingers, its particular scent a semi-pungent standout from the soap she otherwise smelled. “It’s… Duval’s sweat…”

A laugh ended the lofty silence. Sierra muffled her voice directly into the skin, shaking her head in disbelief that fate had taken her here. A cosmic joke, karma sent from a greater force; whatever it was, Sierra found humor under the danger. She could very well die like this, squeezed flat between two hills of flesh because Duval fidgeted while napping, yet that very scene made her laugh again. Sierra dwelled on what she had done to deserve this, and it was no mystery. I wanted to live like a pervert, and so I die like a pervert, she maddeningly concluded. “Duval,” she whimpered, “Duval…!”

She regretted it all -- faking an injury to lie to Duval, hiding in her used glove while she was away, any and all efforts of her own to get closer to the overseer. Their relationship was meant to be professional, this was supposed to be a job. Sierra attacked herself, The money wasn’t good enough, was it? I wanted to be held and adored by a giant woman, too, so here I am. Stuck to her skin, like dirt waiting to be brushed off.

Sierra’s head hunched forward, her laughing having dwindled into a jittering giggle. Her arms stretched outward, spread around her in a circular swirl. She felt the mounds that enveloped her with the entirety of her limbs, pulling the fat inwards to her as if burying herself in autumn leaves. The flesh would retract away from her and jiggle about her body, an entertaining effect that she playfully repeated.

If I’m going to die here, then I get to enjoy it, Sierra explained to herself. Her cheeks flared with a red color, her temperature on the rise to compete with Duval’s. Few hesitations stopped her from groping the breasts again, and with each massage and pull at the flesh, it felt less like a woman’s body and more like an aspect of land. Duval wasn’t forgotten about, but her image was made more significant, holier. Sierra laughed and dove her head into the pillowy skin, nuzzling up and down with reckless motions, thinking to herself that she had fallen in love with a mountain.

Kisses came when her lips grazed some of the sweat. They were pecked about furiously, a giggle peppered onto each spot. The kissing became licking, and that escalated into wide strokes of her tongue going between the cleavage. One arm swirled like it had, but the other was given a task between her legs, squeezed into the tight crevice and worked into the bottom-front of her hospital gown. Wrong and right faded to the abstract in her mind, representing a morality that was vague in the confines of this dark, steamy world. She succumbed to it, to becoming little more than a human perspective warped into a lowly speck.

It was divinity that sentenced her here, so her logic followed, it could only be that same divinity to will her free. Every touch and kiss, every grope and lick, perhaps could be a prayer -- a desperate wish to this goddess, sent from a nigh-hopeless worshiper stranded somewhere on her majestic body. It was a fantasy that immersed Sierra and her miserable lust, but she soon sensed from all around her that, somehow, she had been heard.

Everything moved, but Sierra wouldn’t notice until the breasts themselves bounced from Duval’s motion. The world had suddenly jetted forward for Sierra, but it was Duval shifting backwards. Her seat rolled with her and her body peeled off the desk, but Sierra struggled to comprehend what was happening in the normal world outside her prison. It was all a sickening blur to look at while she rocketed upward, a mere attachment to Duval’s body as she rose up into a proper seated position.

“Ohhh, goodness…” Duval’s announcement began lethargically, her words morphing into a wide yawn that bellowed like a great wind. Sierra remained bunkered down after being bull-rushed by gravity, but there was no proper defense for what she was experiencing. It was the second time that she faced the ordeal of Duval’s heavenly stretch, but she was no better off than before. She braced herself, but when the giantess’s shoulders finally relaxed, there was no avoiding the drop. As though the cleavage hungered, Sierra was wedged deeper.

Both arms shot upwards in frantic waves. “Duval!! Duval!!” All anew did she try shouting up at the overseer, but being plunged further into the cleavage, it became even harder to call up to her. Flesh spilled over top of her, and her fight back to keep an opening available resulted in her falling further still. There was no winning, and worse yet, Duval was still moving, repositioning herself into a normal sitting posture. Every idle shake that the scientist thought nothing of was another quake that doomed Sierra into a deeper part of this suffocatingly soft trench. Only one arm still flagged past the surface, a muffled last attempt, “Duval, please…!”

“I’m sorry, Sierra,” Duval replied -- so it had seemed. Sierra froze with suspense upon hearing her name in a groggy grumble, but the huge face hanging in the sky did not turn her way. Duval blinked and massaged her temples with a thumb and forefinger, ever blissful that such movement was ushering Sierra further down her sweat-lined chest. “I-I think I dozed off for a moment. Were you saying something?”

As much as her binding allowed, Sierra jumped with her mouth aimed high, all to propel one more shout, “I’m on you, Duval, I’m stuck to you!” She tried again, but the darkness overcame her, leaving just the tips of her finger to claw at the cool office air. Sierra’s sobs filled the little space she had to herself with a humid despair.

“... Sierra?” Duval said her name, more curiously than before. Sierra’s hope still kicked; “S-Sierra, did you wander off? How long was I…?”

Blind to what was happening past the globes of flesh, Sierra could only guess what all the movement was about, but what she imagined was not far from the truth. Duval hovered above her chair, lifted out of it while she surveyed the desk once, twice, and thrice -- “I didn’t… put her away, did I?” Items were shuffled across the work space, everything being turned or picked up once, then set aside until the main level of the desk was cleared of everything but the keyboard. When her subject still hadn’t been found, Duval rushed to peek into the medical station at the corner. She checked behind every curtain and in the showers as well, but Sierra was nowhere to be found.

“No…” Duval stood completely out of her seat. In her hurry, her chair was rolled backwards, and she whipped back to make it still -- as still as her. Each of her movements going forward were calculated and specific, leaving her frozen in place while she gazed around her office. “Oh god, no,” she murmured, too nervous to even wipe away her beading sweat.

After a pause of consideration, Duval spoke with confidence, “Sierra, where did you go?! Do anything to tell me where you are!” The sense of emergency was apparent in her tone. There were no tipsy jokes or casual comments, but an understanding of the situation’s severity. Her head raced with protocols she had hoped, and expected, to never have to utilize, but for the immediate time being, what she could possibly do was limited. Every step, every action, put Sierra’s life at risk.

Sierra would have cried had she not been so panicked, so eager to be discovered. She chanted Duval’s name while swimming upwards, but she soon realized she had sunk deeper than she thought. Not even the cool air of the outside could be felt, for she was entirely drowned under pillowy flesh. It tormented her to hear Duval’s voice, which resonated from inside the body she was so close to. The concern was a rope tragically too short to be grabbed, but it was the one chance she wouldn’t let pass her by.

A barrage of kicks and punches stemmed from Sierra where she was trapped. In any direction and without any regard to the giant body, Sierra spasmed in a full assault for Duval’s attention. She forced open as much space between the skin as she could, throwing any part of herself into the walls. Each blow bounced back and coated her with a touch of sweat, but having unleashed her panic, Sierra spared no mind to these details. It was truly pathetic to resort to such mad desperation, but it was far more respectable than suffocating inside Duval’s blouse.

At that same time, Duval happened upon a possibility. She had studied her desk to figure out the method Sierra had left the desk, at which then her focus turned from beneath her, to onto her. With as little movement as she could, Duval brought a hand to her shoulder, then down the other arm, gently sliding two fingers along the places Sierra could be. There was no other way off the desk, not unless Sierra miraculously became an expert at scaling down furniture by hand. This left only her body as to where the tiny woman could be.

Her hands patted at her clothes while she concentrated on every square of her skin. She looked foolish patting herself down while standing behind her desk, she knew as much, but it was a necessary caution. Even her chest had to be examined with these tender grasps, Duval unable to rule out the possibility. She smirked halfheartedly, thinking, Certainly she did not go into--

Duval twitched upon feeling a lump. A moving lump, situated between her breasts. She stared straight down, both tickled and itched by what she felt, but ultimately held in wonder. “Sierra?” she whispered quickly, not instantly seeing a hint of the woman.

Light showered onto Sierra with a swirl of fresh air. In her squinted vision, she saw figures seep into the flesh nearby, digging into the softness without any trouble. Fingertips, Sierra realized, and just as effortlessly did they widen the cleavage. The wall-like breasts separated and opened the view to Duval’s gasping reaction, granting Sierra merciful relief -- only for it to be whipped away from her.

In her surprise, Duval flinched and pulled aside her breasts too far. It took only that instant for Sierra to slip, not at all prepared for the breasts to be moved. The moisture slid her deeper than she thought the valley went, and then further still. Just as she dropped from the bosom entirely, she was bouncing off the brown fabric of the blouse, tossed into the dark underworld of inside Duval’s clothes. From above, sparse light continue to shine in, but Sierra had slid out of Duval’s view, screaming as she plummeted down the towering body.

Too terrified to close her eyes, Sierra loosely watched the world around her be reshaped. She felt it as well, that Duval was surging into movement in order to rescue her. It happened so fast, despite how gargantuan every motion was. The distant sight below, of the tiled floor that a pair of high heels stood upon, was swept away by the black of Duval’s slacks. The giantess was sitting down, throwing herself into her office chair just as Sierra was at her stomach. Her lap was flattened out, making for an emergency platform that Sierra landed on. Twice she bounced along the firm surface, rolling down the legs like a ragdoll until Duval perked her knees up. As an additional safety measure, Duval also blocked off Sierra’s path with both hands, forming a wall that encircled the tiny woman’s position on her lap.

The harsh stumble had left Sierra dazed and breathless. Up and down were just suggestions while she came to, dizzyingly reaching out for support that wasn’t there. The spinning had made her sick, but she was too exhausted to even cough. She rose only as far as being hunched on her knees, both arms propped forward and pressed into the pitch black ground. The texture of processed wool was smooth under hands, a hint that she had yet come to terms with where she had fallen.

“Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!” Duval bombarded Sierra with her worries, leaned in over her test subject. One hand disconnected from the circle it had made so it could be there for Sierra, offering a fingertip that she could support herself with. Originally, she had wanted to scoop the woman into her hands and immediately carry her to safety, but Sierra’s staggered movements had her wait for the time being.

Duval stuttered over herself, at one point trying to lecture Sierra before devolving into an apology, which itself was mostly her berating herself for such carelessness. Sierra lifted a quivering hand to signal to Duval, but what it meant was uncertain. When she tried to explain herself, her throat was empty. Her mind had only then accepted that this black-dyed terrain and its peculiar roundness was, in fact, Duval’s thighs. Once having comprehended this, Sierra could think of nothing else, surveying her baffling surroundings. She looked to her hands and knees, how casually they graced this personal area of the overseer.

“Sierra! Speak to me!” Duval urged. An instinct to shake her leg for emphasis almost manifested, but she managed to sustain being motionless.  “Please, t-tell me you’re okay! I won’t forgive myself, p-please, sh-show me you’re okay…!”

It was enough to snap Sierra out of her trance, but she still babbled when it came to saying anything. She waved at Duval, but could not crane her head back enough to look at that mountain peak head. “I’m alive!” she called out, the first thing that came to mind. It was genuinely her best evaluation, otherwise unaware if she was harmed or in danger. “I’m… alive…”

Seeing that a fingertip was waiting for her, Sierra grabbed it by the nail and used it’s offer to stand up. She took a step forward without it, but immediately tripped off the rounded ground of Duval’s legs. Her stumble left her face-first in the crevice that was her thighs, but unlike Duval’s bust, this cleavage did not threaten to absorb her. She hurriedly crawled back up, grasping the fingertip and keeping it held while she regained some composure.

“You look exhausted,” Duval muttered, still teeming with nervousness -- Sierra could sense as much beneath her, how the legs just slightly swayed and rumbled. “H-How’s your arm? Tell me if anything, anything hurts!”

“I-I think I’m okay,” Sierra said, stroking Duval’s finger with both hands as if trying to calm the panicked scientist. “Really. I-I’m… alright. Nothing hurts, j-just dizzy-- erk,” her shoulder recoiled, the same arm she had landed on two weeks ago. Once again had it been injured, rolled over on top of at least twice when she spiraled down Duval’s body. “Well… m-maybe my arm,” Sierra scoffed, a half-chuckle at her predicament, “it may have been whipped a bit too hard.”

Duval maneuvered her fingertip so that it could lift the arm in question. The limb was dainty compared to the thick finger, drooping back to Sierra’s side the moment it was let go. After a quick study, Duval returned to supporting Sierra’s balance. “You poor thing… You just can’t catch a break.”

“I-I don’t know about that… I think, actually, I’ve been really lucky.” Sierra didn’t wish more stress onto Duval’s shoulders, so she shuddered away from mentioning how scared she had been. Truly, had anything happened differently, she likely would have become a splatter somewhere on the floor, or somewhere on Duval’s body. To end up dazed on the overseer’s thighs and with her tenderness being showered onto her, Sierra admitted, spoke volumes of her luck.

But just as Sierra was beginning to relax, Duval dragged her back to moments before. “What even happened, Sierra? Y-You could have died… Surely you realize that?”

“I do,” Sierra coughed, “I-I’m sorry. It won’t-- I swear, I won’t do that again.”

“What did you do? That’s what confuses me the most.” Duval frowned, burdened by this curiosity. She felt the little body shiver against her fingertip, a sign that something was being hidden. Her mouth stayed open during a pause, “Sierra… y-you were in my… shirt. Between them.” Her lips curled inward, not much more comfortable to bring up the subject than Sierra was.

Sierra hesitated to reply, instead wallowing in her own heat. Those moments from before, as dangerous as they were, felt so fantastic and so adventurous, but when retold by Duval, it was shameful and belittling. It had not been some grand tale, but a miserable anecdote, where her existence had succumbed to being little more than lint stuck to a person’s body. Her head swirling among those thoughts, it was a challenge to speak up of anything, when the truth was as ridiculous as any lie.

“Sierra?” Duval pressed it again, dissatisfied with silence. Though her volume was considerate, it stung with a serious tone. “How did it happen? D-Did I do something when I was drunk…?”

“No,” Sierra answered that fast enough. It ached her just to think of Duval misinterpreting things that way, that she had done something selfish and sinister in her drowsy state of mind. “I-It wasn’t like that, it was just an accident. You moved your arm and I got, well, pushed in.” Though finally peeling that off her chest felt relieving, it also left her exposed to the cold judgement. “I… got up close to you while you were sleeping. If I had stayed where I had been, then…”

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that in the first place,” Duval sighed, “but… true, you really shouldn’t have been there. What made you do that? I-I could have done anything in my sleep th-that could have hurt you, something worse than this. I wouldn’t even have known about it-- I almost didn’t know about this!”

“I was trying to wake you up! Yelling your name a-and even nudging you, none of it worked. I was too small, I…”

Duval’s hands gently formed around Sierra into the shape of a platform, ushering her into silence. Without argument, Sierra allowed herself on, and was then elevated slowly up to level with Duval’s eyes. Even when she wasn’t being looked down on, Sierra trembled in her vision. She sat on her knees and with one arm hugging the other into herself, awaiting to be lectured for her actions.

But instead of that, there was a pop of a question. “Why?” Duval asked as much, but seemed as confused as Sierra did regarding what she herself meant. She elaborated, a small shake of her head, “How can you be so comfortable around me? Why don’t I scare you…?”

Sierra still struggled to understand the question. When it was as simple as she initially thought, it was a muffled laugh that first responded. “A-Are you trying to be scary? Sh-Should I be scared of you?”

“... Yes! A little, at least!” Duval rippled with giggles that poured past Sierra, pooling around her and tickling her into her own fit. “O-Obviously you shouldn’t be terrified of me, you can trust me. But I am this… walking, breathing skyscraper of a woman to you. I’m huge! T-To you, anyway. Doesn’t that, err, bother you? Don’t you know-- you must know, Sierra, th-that when you’re around me, it would be… just, so easy. Something could happen to you.”

Sierra kept her head down, wishing for her bright blush to go unnoticed assuming her warmth didn’t give her away. The exact word choice Duval used was secretly exhilarating, for it was quite rare for her to speak so openly about her size. A pun here or there sometimes slipped out of the scientist, but the topic was usually avoided or mentioned vaguely. She wanted to hear it again, a recording to repeat of Duval admitting out loud, “I’m huge!” Such a cheery bounce in her voice, and so plainly stated.

She hadn’t meant to leave Duval on hold, but the silence spoke for her. Duval’s amusement trickled away. Before Sierra could reply, Duval submitted her own answer, weighing it in her head several times over, “I… get it. I’m sorry. Maybe it was more obvious a-and I should have noticed earlier.”

Sierra lifted her head, but much of her riled hair hid her eyes. She could see Duval’s grounded expression, notably how it glowed with its own redness. She leaned in inquisitively.

“It’s… important for me to know. It’s important for both of us, s-so I’ll just ask. Are you feeling attracted to me?”

It was like a car crash, a violent collision that began as just a glimpse of oncoming traffic. The question circled around Sierra like a predatory animal, cursing her with a frozen spell. All the fluster-made heat in her body was expelled and a chill settled in its place. Sierra swallowed, painting a smile for appearance’s sake, “What do you mean by that?”

Duval withheld a sigh, having lured Sierra in her hands closer than she realized. She glanced away, thinking her big eyes might overwhelm the shrunken woman when she was clearly at her limits already. “It came up in our debriefings, but I didn’t think it would happen. An effect we were warned about with the shrinking experiment was that the changes in perspective and power could… alter your ability to form relationships. That’s just part of why the lab is organized the way it is, with the subjects living together in a simulated community. The intent was to keep everyone socializing at a normal scale. Life was supposed to remain as normal as possible for you all, including who you interact with. Then, there’s our relationship, as an overseer and as a subject. It was considered that a shrunken person could theoretically develop an attraction for their overseer due to our height difference. You still process me as a human, but I’m… also more than that. A lot more, c-compared to you or any of the others. I’m big, a-and not like how an adult is to a child.

“I’ve noticed you a few times, especially recently, that you can end up… staring at me.” Her seriousness briefly collapsed with a giggle, “I-I don’t pay that much attention, mind you, but I’ve felt you looking at me. And I’ve felt you wanting me, enough that I’ve considered that your arm’s injury might have been a little exaggerated.”

Reflexively, Sierra gripped the arm that had been hurt, shuddering with genuine pain. “I-It is real!” she stuttered, looking between it and Duval’s observant eyes. “If you think these check ups aren’t valuable, th-then we can just stop them. I don’t want to be in the way…”

“It isn’t about that,” Duval assured her, raising her smile in hopes it might relax Sierra. “I’ve never minded our check ups, in fact, I’ve looked forward to them. But, if you really do have feelings for me, wh-whatever those feelings might be, it’s important for us -- and the experiment -- that we be on the same page.”

Yet Sierra’s heart still pounded as though she were caught in a trap. She regretted everything in that moment, from choosing to approach Duval while she slept, to as far back as signing up for the experiment. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she confessed, “I-I just felt alone. And you’re… always there, always looking after us…”

“I understand, Sierra, I do. When you’ve become that small, it’s natural to want to be cared for and to secure any kind of power.” Duval tilted her head, hoping that Sierra was following along. “It makes sense you would do so much to build a connection with me. I’m… big and powerful and independent. You… You’re not. It’s only natural that someone in your position would want more.”

Sierra fell silent while reflecting from what had been suggested. Could it be as simple as Duval phrased it? Certainly there was something that pulled Sierra towards the overseer, something strong enough to make her want to breach the standards of their relationship. This attraction wasn’t normal, she agreed with Duval on that. It was beyond anything Sierra had felt before, so certainly some element of the experiment was to blame. But she also wondered, what if that was the case? If her gravitation towards Duval was due entirely to being shrunk, or because of Duval’s role in the experiment, what of this affection had for her? Was her longing for Duval just a side-effect of being made tiny? Was this ever a sincere attraction?

“Sierra?” Duval asked quietly. “I hope I haven’t upset you.”

“I’m not upset, but…” Sierra started to speak, but her words sifted through her fingers like sand after only that much. “It’s… a lot to think about. It has felt like I haven’t been my usual self lately.” She brushed a hand through her hair, fixing the places that most bothered her while her tired expression remained downward. “I… I feel like a creep,” she confessed. “I’m sorry, Duval, really. I promise, none of this will happen again, I’ll stop getting in your--”

“Sierra, dear, i-it is fine! Seriously!” Duval giggled, her palms curling in towards Sierra but not closing in around her. “Your attention is flattering, after all! The way you look up at me has always felt just a little different from the others. It’s… more amazed, to put it one way. It feels special, and I suppose I haven’t minded it before all this time. Admittedly, i-it does build confidence to feel… worshiped. As if I were a god with… a little follower.”

Duval broke from her mumbling and into a laugh, her shaking too much for Sierra to not bunker down. “Sorry, sorry~ I think I’m still working through that wine, haha… What am I talking about…”

“R-Right,” Sierra swallowed, not speaking loud enough to be heard. She twisted where she sat; at the very least, what Duval said served as a distraction from the prior topic. Her heart beat to the rhythm of that fascinating concept, looking up to Duval like she was a god, and she did so then. The overseer was impressive and massive and anything she whimmed at her scale was made real, like divine intention. She giggled, which may have eased Duval, but truthfully what tickled Sierra was her wish for that to be reality. She wished that Duval were a real goddess to be worshiped, and that she be rescued from the anxiety of this lab experiment.

Duval stood up, reforming her hands so that a protective shell was around Sierra. “Ohh, Sierra, I’m… I feel awful,” she explained as she turned the corner around her desk. “Just awful. I’ve put you through so much because of how careless I’ve been. I owe it to you to at least take you home as soon as possible, let you get some rest after today.”

“Wh-What about our-- err, my check ups?” Sierra asked as the door was opened. She stammered in her hurry to come up with an excuse, “M-My arm is still sore after that fall, and--”

“We’ll definitely be meeting again,” Duval interrupted, intensely focused on keeping her steps stable through the halls while she carried Sierra around. “I… can’t say exactly when, but I’ll let you know.” She offered a sympathetic smile, which brightened when she saw that Sierra was turned around to look up at her. “Hah, there’s a lot from today that we need to discuss. But, I do look forward to having that time with you, Sierra. You’re always pleasant to have around.”

There was more Sierra wanted to say, but she didn’t have the heart to argue. The afternoon had been eventful enough, and Duval promised that there would be time to talk in the future. She recalled how excited she had been before to have a private appointment arranged with her, but now that same prospect produced dread and anxiety. Looking forward had strangled her into a silence, persisting up until she was standing on the one street, offering her farewell to Duval.

Sierra shuffled into her house, lacking the energy to even flip on a light switch. As weakly as possible, she undid her gown and let the fabric pool at her ankles. She only made it as far as her sofa before she rolled into it, gracelessly spread out upon the furniture. Her face sunk into the cushions, but its softness stirred memories, and those memories cast away the delusions that enveloped her. The living room, the house, the neighborhood; it was all a lie to hide reality, the truth of how small she and the others were. As normal as everything felt, she saw the shadows behind every surface, viewing everything like it were a theater prop pretending to be real. It was all too cramped, constricting, suffocating.

A desire then formed, like a pit in her stomach. She understood little as to why, but she wished for it be fulfilled. The world outside the community’s glass walls called to her, with all its dangers and freedoms. Only out there and in Duval’s possession did Sierra feel genuinely alive.

The only obstacle in the routine was its longevity, the sole factor that tested Duval’s will power to accomplish the task that day, no delays. Retrieve a subject, escort to her office, physical check-up, mental health interview, return to the terrarium, repeat. It was plain and simple, but when cycled over the course of forty subjects and each session lasting roughly ten minutes per person, the hours dragged on until collapsing from boredom was a real threat. The mess such an incident would make was worth fearing, at least from the perspectives of her shrunken subjects.

A hardy yawn concluded, dispelling more of what little spirit Duval had left. She groaned into her complaint, but she would not say it aloud, that once upon a time, this job was promised to be exciting and lively. Shoote Labs was on the forefront of amazing scientific advances, the envy of every aspiring scientist looking to break into radical new fields of research -- for a cost. Duval had been bought in, but the glamor that was proposed to her had faded over the years. The opportunity to work with shrunken people and to explore the benefits of that lifestyle were appealing when presented in a company theater highlighting the best and grandest qualities of the project. Yet, it was only earlier that year that Duval was actually working with shrunken subjects, and beyond the initial shock and awe, the job had only grown tedious and mundane.

Shrunken people, Duval had learned, were no different from regular people. Their lives were curated to be stress-free, and so everyday was another moment in paradise, as far as she was concerned. Tests and other experiments would occasionally provide peeks towards the destination Shoote Labs aimed for, but her career was far from shattering the world like she had hoped. Duval followed the motions of her job and applied herself as loyally as ever, but very little sparked that fiery curiosity she once had to unravel a mystery that eluded her.

“... and so that’s why I think I haven’t been drinking enough water,” Kendall said, wrapping up a long ramble she had spilled to Duval when asked about her health. “But at the same time, I feel like I’m drinking too much.”

“Mhmm…” Duval replied with a dull nod. Her eyes were not aimed down at her desk, not where a tiny human talked to her from, but were instead at her monitor, dully skimming a spreadsheet of data in order to find the next name on the list.

“They say you can never have too much water,” Kendall chuckled, “but then tell that to someone who’s drowning.”

“Mhmm… Yeah…”

“When I was a kid, my uncle almost drowned in a river accident. It’s not like how it appears in the movies--”

Duval’s hand dropped onto the desk with a bang, falling from where it had supported her chin against fatigue. The weight of her hand striking the counter was enough to bounce Kendall into the air, a shock so sudden that she landed perfectly back on her feet. Duval’s patience had faltered, she could withstand the conversation no longer with how boring it was -- but her expression had quickly shifted to that of an apology, admitting to a mistake. Duval was flustered by her act, while Kendall was startled stiff, her hands tightly clamped in front of her chest.

“I-I’m sorry, m-my hand slipped!” Duval explained, taking the hand in question away. “I-I didn’t mean to slam it like that! Are, err, you okay? Kendall?”

Kendall choked up the courage to speak up, still shaken by the quake that had run through the desk. “Yeah, y-yes,” she replied, “I’m fine… J-Just a bit loud. Haha…”

“Hah… Yes…” Duval swallowed and nervously scratched at her neck, pursuing some sort of distraction. She bit her lip, annoyed with herself -- I can’t be this careless, she told herself, no matter how tired I get. Every little thing I do…

That phrase echoed in Duval’s mind, stirring memories of when she first accepted the project. It was a warning, one she took to heart right away. Her heart felt hollow after what her minor slip had caused, spooking Kendall so terribly. She wanted to offer her hands as comfort, to act as a reassuring shield or offer some support to lean on, but she hesitated when she tried, deciding instead to grab something else. It was a pod, about the size and shape of a golf ball, the transparency of which allowed view of a singular seat and its many buckles and straps. It was the single-person transportation device designed for moving individual shrunken subjects. It had been used to bring Kendall into the office, and it would be used to see her out, like all the others.

“Well, I… I think that wraps up everything,” Duval chuckled, trying to hurry the interview along by setting the device up to Kendall. Opening the landing legs to stabilize the pod and then undoing the front hatch was like operating a plastic toy, but the device was undoubtedly more than that to Kendall. “I appreciate the cooperation. I can’t go into details right now, but the results will determine if you get accepted into a series of future tests. I’ll let you know if you’ve been selected, of course~”

Kendall entered the pod and began strapping herself in. “Sure, but, should I drink more or less water?”

Duval withheld a sigh. “... Just drink if you’re thirsty.” Leaving no room for a reply, Duval closed the hatch shut. After Kendall was fully buckled in, Duval lifted the pod and held it steady in front of her abdomen with both hands. She exited her office with an inhale; she needed the energy to last her for just a few more interviews, but there was something to look forward to. If nothing else, interviewing Sierra would provide a change of pace from the monotonous conveyor belt routine.

The terrarium felt different when Duval looked over the miniature neighborhood, expecting not just any shrunken person, but Sierra specifically. She found her in the center of the community, awaiting to be escorted next after Kendall. Duval smiled upon seeing her, uplifted from her work-induced slump and presenting herself more brightly to any other subjects that were out and about. Sierra could be pointed out from the other tiny faces, not because she stood out from a crowd -- she was actually quite plain-looking -- but because of Duval’s familiarity with her.

Duval blinked, having said nothing once reaching the caged community. Kendall had become a blank in her mind until that moment, where she then rushed to move the procedure along. “Sierra! You’re next,” she greeted, recovering some of her professional aura. The pod was quickly put down inside so that Kendall could depart, leaving the hatch open for Sierra nearby. “Do you need any help getting in?”

Sierra shook her head wide enough for the gesture to be seen, though Duval was especially perceptive, able to glimpse a small smile from the subject. “I’m totally fine now,” Sierra called up, taking the first step into the pod. Before hunching forward to settle into the leather seat, she first stretched and flexed her arm for Duval to witness, the same arm that had been injured weeks ago. “I’ve almost forgotten I ever hurt it in the first place. It’s no trouble now.”

Duval giggled at Sierra’s arm curls. “Whoaaa,” she calmly exclaimed, “you should warn someone before pulling out a gun!” Sierra shared the amusement with a laugh of her own as she finished strapping herself in. A tiny thumbs-up confirmed she was ready for lift-off, and so Duval closed the hatch with a finger and scooped the pod into her gloved hand. The initial rise out of the neighborhood was steady and straight like an elevator, but the experience was its own as soon as horizontal movement began, with Duval turning away to leave for her office.

As a precaution, the pod was enveloped by both hands as Duval trekked through the empty halls of Shoote Labs. It was a safety measure that left Sierra, or any occupant, surrounded in darkness until their destination was reached, and Duval disagreed that it was necessary. She chose to smudge her memory and bring the pod up to eye level as she walked, unveiling the rider when her left hand was removed.

Sierra was blinded by the light and Duval’s huge face, welcomed by a smile that widened with her surprised reaction. “Duval?” she asked, her fists clenching at the belts over her shoulders. “Um… hi?”

Duval giggled, feeling silly then for peering into the pod. “I thought you might enjoy some light,” she explained. “I won’t drop you, don’t worry!”

Sierra nonetheless nervously chuckled. “I didn’t think you would,” she replied, “until you… said that.” She craned her neck forward as to gaze down the bottom of the pod, past its clear shell and down to the floor. Duval’s steps thundered down below across a tiled plain that sped past like a stream.

It was easy for Duval to read that worried expression. “It would take a real miracle for you to get hurt in there,” she said, her words hinted with some pride. “These pods are designed to withstand an eight-foot drop without injuring anyone inside. It would take at least three-hundred pounds of weight to break it open, too.”

“Oh… Good,” Sierra acknowledged, yet her tone quaked. “That’s… better than if I fell without it. I’d probably still get bounced around, though.”

“Mm, probably~” The humor Duval found was lost on Sierra, a difference in their perspectives. Duval trusted Shoote technology, but the same could not be said of the shrunken woman making use of the product. She had to admit, however, that such security was not meant to be tested; though the body inside added almost no weight, the pod had become heavier by the time she arrived at her office.

The physical examination was underway soon after Sierra was released from the pod. The usual measurements were taken, putting the shrunken woman under a modified microscope for the utmost accuracy. Duval checked her heart rate and breathing, both before and after a minute-long jog on a tiny treadmill. The entire process went by smoothly, due in part to their familiarity with these personalized procedures. Amidst their casual conversation, Duval remarked on their check-ups from the past, when Sierra’s arm was still healing, to which Sierra replied that she had been thinking exactly the same.

Duval inputted the results onto her computer, updating a list of statistics that had been tracked since the test began. Reading Sierra’s extensive list of updates carried Duval through time, recollecting those check-ups and how far Sierra had come. Some harsh memories clashed with the good, a few careless mistakes that had not been repeated since, but her experiences shared with Sierra had developed a bond that she couldn’t simply ignore.

Studying the spreadsheet, however, had alerted Duval of a conundrum. It was an obscure problem hidden behind a horizon, but that distance veiled the issue and its potential. Her once elated expression to have Sierra nearby had soured into a serious stare, realizing that the numbers of the physical report were not averaging out how she had hoped.

The weight of little eyes focused on her was enough to pull Duval out of her trance. She glanced down for the first time in a minute, noticing that Sierra was staring hard up at her. “Oh! Y-Yes, sorry I-- I got… distracted.”

Sierra offered a smile, but her concern had not been entirely cleansed. “I can tell. Is everything okay?” she wondered, leaning onto the upper edge of Duval’s keyboard. “It isn’t-- Is it my results? From the exam just now? They weren’t low, were they?”

Duval started to nod, but then shook her head with a bitten lip. “S-Sort of, no…” It was difficult to explain, a matter that was meant to stay secret for the sake of genuine results. The uncomfortable future ahead should have been accepted as reality if true, but when such a tiny face filled with so much worry was perched at her keyboard, Duval hesitated to leave her questions unresolved. For now, some explanation would have to leak, “This data is being collected for a selection process. If you’re not eligible, well… nothing really changes. You’d stay here, while I… go away. F-For just awhile.”

Sierra flinched underneath Duval’s discontent smile. “Ah, I… I see, but… where are you going?” She laughed, thinking that a detail too important to skip, but her fingers tapped along the keyboard anxiously. “And for how long?”

“I-It would take about a week,” Duval answered, beginning with the easiest question. What else Sierra had inquired of, however, was what she had hoped wouldn’t be asked. She twiddled with a thread of hair, her gaze drifting back towards the numbers on screen. “We’ll be going-- err, I’ll be going to a conference, to showcase how far the experiment has advanced, alongside other Shoote scientists. We’re looking to bring subjects that are both ideal to display and capable of traveling out of state.”

The smile Duval had developed was hidden behind a hand, ashamed to feel optimistic about the upcoming event while breaking the news to Sierra. However, Sierra’s response was unabashed cheer; “That’s exciting! This whole project-thing is really moving along! And you’re going to be presenting it?”

Duval chuckled, “N-No! I’ll just be aiding things mostly. But, I will have to stand in front of a lot of people -- a lot of important people. Top-level scientists and huge investors, cherry-picked for a special presentation about shrinking people and the subsequent lifestyle. Every single word said on stage can mean a difference of millions of dollars in funding…”

“That’s… stressful,” Sierra said plainly, still reckoning with such a dense explanation.

“Fortunately, it won’t all be serious business,” Duval continued. “The venue is a massive hotel. There’s going to be parties all throughout the event, so I’ll have a few opportunities to relax a little. I’m worried I might have too much fun, knowing how I am…”

Sierra giggled, though she restrained her volume as to not come off as mocking. Of course she remembered the combination of Duval and alcohol. “Sounds fancy,” she commented. “What about, uh… the others? The subjects, I mean. What would we-- er, they be doing?”

“... Not much,” Duval admitted with a slight shrug. “Besides the presentation itself, you all would most likely be kept sealed in a vault. Somewhere safe, but cozy! Probably another terrarium in another miniature neighborhood.” Though the details were lackluster, Duval pushed for the positives. “You’d get to travel, though! I can’t imagine you all enjoy being cooped up in the same place, doing the same things, everyday.” She glanced at the windowless walls of her office, cramped with what little furniture she could afford to fit in. “I would want a change of pace at some point, at least.”

Sierra’s shoulders fell until her hands slipped off the keyboard’s edge. “I guess that’s all,” she said. “I suppose that makes sense, there isn’t much for shrunken people to do at a hotel.”

Duval swallowed, withdrawing any more negative details of the experience. “Y-You also get to be with… me,” she added. “It’s a week I’d be gone, and maybe more, too. Someone else would take over as overseer, of course, b-but… I’m the best overseer, aren’t I?” She smiled cockily, emphasizing her exaggeration. “No one else runs this show quite like I do.”

Sierra was warmed into laughter, but was still burdened by these facts. Duval strongly sympathized, not wanting to leave Sierra -- It’s just a week, she told herself, and then you’d return home to everyone. Yet, the prospect of “everyone” did not lighten her thoughts, not the same way it meant to return for Sierra’s sake.

Sierra backed away from the keyboard, forcing up a smile. “You definitely deserve a break, Duval,” she said, “even if you’ll technically still be working. Besides, I shouldn’t get my hopes up. After all…” She looked up to the monitor, which hung overhead like a jumbo television in a bustling city. Though the numbers were unclear to her from her perspective, she could imagine the lackluster scores of her results, and how that tarnished her chances of traveling.

Duval frowned as she studied the spreadsheet, leaning onto her desk with her elbows. “Well, you’re not totally out of the running, you know,” she said. “Even with your, uh, low performance, you could get selected if you’re deemed well enough to travel. That’s what the mental health interview is conducted to check. The… interview that we haven’t done, yet.”

Sierra was back to leaning on the keyboard, drawn towards the implication she heard. “And… I assume you weren’t supposed to tell me that…?”

Duval bit her lip. She shook her head, fighting back a smile as she clicked open a window. “But… we intend to answer honestly… right?” Duval winked, stoking the hope within Sierra. “So! Um… Question one! … Have you ever suffered from motion sickness before being shrunk?”

Sierra’s smile slowly spread to each cheek. She scoffed lightly, then composed herself for a very serious and real answer, “Never.”

The interview then progressed, but not without bouts of laughter shared in between each question. The process was irrecoverably untangled, neither party able to take the interview seriously. Sierra met every question with the best possible reply, so on the nose that Duval had to tone down the responses, afraid her supervisor could become suspicious. Though they could laugh about it now, Duval knew deep down how serious of an offense this was to the company’s integrity. She risked severe punishment for staggering the results and potentially jeopardizing the upcoming showcase -- only the most capable subjects were to be selected, not Duval’s favorites.

And that is what Sierra was to Duval -- a favorite. She could no longer deny that among all the shrunken subjects under her domain, this one woman ignited a unique flare of her curiosity. She was reminded of that particular check-up, a mishap of an evening where she arrived drunk to the meeting. In the daze it all had been, the emotional impact still lingered, so many thoughts admitted while so many others pushed away. It was to maintain the proper, clean relationship between researcher and subject -- sterile. It was supposed to feel flat, there was never supposed to be a spark of any kind. A job, nothing else.

That two-dimensional life, Duval realized, was not what she had dreamed of having. Science was an adventure of discoveries, and her spirit yearned to voyage past these barriers. Sierra, a tiny being that could confess to such wild passions, had inspired Duval to loosen the collar on her neck -- where it wouldn’t hurt anyone, at least.

“”There’s something quite interesting I could show you,” Duval said. “I shouldn’t… but I could…”

The interview had reached its biased conclusion. Both were assured that Sierra had a fair chance now at being selected, and in the aftermath of the interview, calm conversation took over. Duval’s proposal, purposefully meant to intrigue her, had overtaken the topic Sierra was last on. “... Oh?” Sierra giggled, “Are you going to tell me more? Or, should you not?”

Duval stifled a giggle so she could explain, “It has to do with the showcase, and something our engineers have prepared. It’s… cute. I think it’s cute.”

“What is it?” Sierra laughed. “Now I really want to know. It isn’t embarrassing, is it?”

“Well… I’m sure you can guess that all of the model furniture and things have to come from somewhere. That’s a lot of what our engineers do. For this showcase, we had a lot of tiny things made to impress investors with -- so we made a model city.”

Sierra shook her head in disbelief. “A-An entire shrunken city?”

“Hah~ Well, it’s very bare bones at the moment. A lot of props and stand-ins. None of the buildings are furnished, nothing has even been painted yet, last I saw. It won’t matter, they’re just for stage dressing. Everyone will be focused on where the actual shrunken people are. Very focused…”

A shiver fell from these words and passed onto Sierra. “How is that going to work? Are investors just going to walk around us on the floor?”

“No, no. It’s all very safe.” Duval rose from her chair and donned her white lab coat. She then rolled the transportation pod along her desk until it was rightside-up and available for Sierra. Her giddiness could hardly be contained, but she limited herself to a whisper, “Get on in and I’ll show you. We’ll be quick -- we have to be.”

Sierra was swiftly situated into the pod and taken into Duval’s hands. Through the first few halls, the same stature and balance was used by Duval as usual, maintaining a safe two-handed grip around the orb. Once reaching an intersection in the quiet halls, however, a different type of caution had to be practiced. A peek around the corner confirmed a distant gathering of colleagues that stood between her and the scale model studio.

Duval sighed as she slumped back against the wall, bringing Sierra closer to her face in order to speak in whisper. “I’m going to have to hide you for a minute or two. D-Don’t worry too much, okay?”

“Y-Y-Yeah…” Sierra replied, her voice shaking -- the whole pod shook, grasped by an unsteady hand that quaked in anticipation. “Y-You should-dn’t… w-worry either...”

“Eek. Sorry…” Duval dismissed the matter by pocketing Sierra’s pod. The shrunken woman was hidden inside an inner-pocket of Duval’s coat, stowing her away from any onlookers. There was more than one page in the handler’s manual for the pod detailing why not to do this, but it was too convenient to ignore. Sierra would get jostled around, Duval knew, but she would be safe the entire time.

Moving forward with a professional presentation, Duval strolled right past her colleagues, acknowledged by no more than a few nods and smiles. Despite the calm and casual environment, her heart was racing. It felt as though she was carrying an anchor chained to her back and that everyone miraculously avoided comment. There was a living human on her person, being smuggled across the building in just a pocket, which had earned several nervous glances from Duval herself. It all felt obvious to her that she was doing something wrong, that she was putting a shrunken person in danger just for the thrill of breaking rules.

Just as sweat dotted her brow, Duval reached the studio doors. A swipe of her security card granted her access inside, and she hastily slipped in, closing the door as quietly as possible behind her. She was relieved, but now warmer than ever. The studio ahead was built like a wide open garage, and so the air was stiff and heavy. As she continued through an aisle of tools and blueprints, she tugged up on the collar of her coat, exhausting some of the heat built up under the layer.

Once the landscape was in view, Duval decided then to retrieve Sierra. She dug into her pocket and plucked the pod out, but upon seeing Sierra, her eager smile faded to concern. Sierra was drenched in sweat and panting for air; she had been overheated being inside Duval’s coat. Duval stuttered up an apology while hurrying to open the hatch.

After getting unbuckled, Sierra stumbled out of the pod and into Duval’s hand. The tender ground tripped her to her knees, but it was a soft landing. “Oh, god,” Sierra groaned, swiping a layer of sweat off her brow, “that was… toasty…”

“I bet it was,” Duval winced, quietly stashing the pod back into the pocket. She loomed over the woman held in both hands, “I-I didn’t imagine it would get so warm, I was thinking too fast…”

Sierra sighed into a smile, shrugging the issue aside. “I’m… I’m fine. Really. A-Are we, uh, there?” Her head raised, trying to peer past Duval’s body and to the rest of the large chamber. “I want to see what you’re so excited to show off.”

Duval’s smile returned, inspired by Sierra’s interest, but that brought new worries. “I hope I didn’t overhype this for you,” she giggled. “Perhaps I’m just the easily excited type, but… just look at this. Isn’t it grand?”

Sierra’s eyes widened with awe as Duval turned her towards the studio’s contents. Encompassing several meters of floor space was a model city, or at least all the parts to make one. Several rows of buildings with various designs and intents were in the midst of construction, only a fraction of which were in a finished state. A few buildings were colored, but many remained a blank white, like towers of canvases waiting to be used. Instead of streets, there were uneven and disjointed spaces dividing structures into blocks, and instead of vehicles,, there were leftover tools and pieces scattered throughout.

Yet despite the evidence that this was fake, the initial image struck Sierra like a genuine vista. “There’s… so much detail,” she said, seated towards the end of Duval’s hand. “It’s like… like, well, a city. This is kind of unreal.”

“It’s a big jump up from your neighborhood, isn’t it?” Duval chuckled, ignoring the cityscape in favor of admiring Sierra’s fascination. A couple strides took her to the model city’s territory, and one more saw her congesting a theoretical highway with her heels. None of the buildings made it far above her waist, but the scale of everything was more impressive than the terrarium community she was used to watching over. Only here could she stand at “ground level” with tiny society, truly towering over her surroundings, but she had never felt big around the models before. Rather, her perspective saw them as the miniatures they were, effectively toys being built up in a garage.

But as she continued into the center of the so-called city, that exact feeling began to sink. Duval’s feet raised off the floor more carefully, stepping down only where she could confirm the space for herself. She leaned away from the buildings as she crossed through narrow passes, afraid of what damages she could cause. Every movement felt wider and clumsier, a sensation that never before plagued her when viewing the model city. Of course, this was not an ordinary visit to the studio. Her heart was still racing from the excitement of coming here -- Did Sierra hear that? she wondered, remembering how close Sierra had been to her chest moments ago.

As small as the city felt to Duval, it naturally felt more momentous to Sierra being carried high over the roofs, as if soaring over a skyline from a helicopter. Comparing the heights of the buildings to that of Duval proved just how staggering the proportions between them were; Duval was effectively a giant, genuinely concerned that a misstep could flatten something precious. The illusion only ended when looking too far into the studio, or when glancing past an oversized screwdriver.

The awe had brought a silence in the conversation that Duval would eventually break. “Very realistic, right?” she asked, standing over one of the more completed structures. It was tens of storeys tall, but its sharp roof only went as high as Duval’s hips. She knelt down in front of it and brought her hand up to one of the windowed walls, allowing Sierra to gaze inside. “Probably not much to see,” she admitted accurately. Without lights, or any electricity for that matter, every floor was submerged in shadows. Not a single piece of furniture occupied the empty rooms, resulting in an eerie stillness.

Yet even this impressed Sierra, who peered into a few floors, admiring the attention to design. “I can imagine it being… livelier,” she agreed. “Lots of people bustling in the halls… An office that an employee decorated… I can picture it. But, these are just props, aren’t they?”

Duval chuckled, stirring windy huffs that blew around Sierra. She looked to the side, towards another corner of the city. “Maybe one day they’ll be put to use,” she said, her body shifting to rise away from the building. “For now, all we have ready is, well… heh…”

Sierra turned and looked up at Duval. “Heh?”

“Hah, I’m too excited~ Let me show you, b-but promise not to tell anyone.” Nearly forgetting to be cautious, Duval hustled over to another block of buildings. There was a cylindrical tower in particular that was unlike the others, found in the heart of the model. Of its neighbors, this building was one of the tallest, its flat and circular roof stopping at Duval’s belt. It was not on display, but draped over completely by a dark sheet. Sierra had passively mistaken it as a genuine building still under construction, but Duval’s eager tone hinted that it was more than just another prop.

“So, what makes this building special?” Sierra asked, still studying the structure. “No more teasing,” she giggled, “show me what it is.”

“Alright… but,” Duval began, then squatted down to the floor. She cupped a hand over Sierra as she lowered her to the ground, not without ignoring the nervous fidgeting she felt in her palm. When Sierra was released onto the floor, she stood at the base of the blanketed building, its height given new respect from this humbled perspective. Sierra turned quickly towards Duval, a titan even more worthy of respect, but a reassuring smile from above eased her nerves. “This is the grand debut, after all! I want you to see it like the others will, eventually.”

Sierra was confused, but ultimately entertained by everything, and everyone, that towered over her. She readied herself, facing the building again. “Sure. Take it away.”

Duval leaked with giggles as she stepped around Sierra and onto the other side of the building, her eyes locked onto the tiny dot of a person she had willingly left on the floor. Excitement was overflowing as she grabbed two folds of the curtain and whipped it aside. “Ta-da-- ahhg!” In her carelessness, the tower she had just revealed wobbled in its place, where any real building would have totally collapsed. In any case, Sierra had cowered backwards and fallen from the shaking, though the building was unharmed and stable. “Heh heh… T-Ta-da!”

Once recovered from the scare, Sierra absorbed the unveiled creation. Amidst a city of clean whites in a studio of dull grays stood a bright contrast. The cylindrical tower was like a beacon of color with its tall, encompassing windows all tinted a different vibrant color. There were eight distinct floors, not including a base and roof that were both thick enough to be floors themselves, and each floor was its own room -- no walls, other than the central spire that several elevators ran through. Combined with the wall-sized windows and tall ceilings, everything within the building was easy to locate and observe, from a normal-sized perspective.

Duval waved a hand down the front of the building, presenting it with another flair. She studied Sierra’s reaction, though it was hard to perceive a tiny body and its gestures from such a distance. “I present to you, the Rook!” she announced, leaning to one side of the structure so she could admire its front with Sierra. “This is the most complete building for shrunken people we’ve developed yet. The engineers are quite proud of it!”

Sierra was baffled by what was revealed. It was far beyond the quality of the other buildings in every regard, and unlike any normal building she had seen before. Nonetheless, it felt very real, as though she were on the sidewalk looking up at a fanciful, modern-edge skyscraper. Yet even more wild than that was Duval standing behind this piece of work, her height far outreaching that of what she was showing off. Had Sierra been able to speak to Duval at such a range, she would have lacked the words to say anything at all.

“It’s more than just a model of a fancy building,” Duval explained, keeping a hand atop its roof as if keeping it on a leash. The toe of her iconic heels tapped against the black base, bringing Sierra’s attention to it. “It has wheels, so it can be moved around! That’s why they named it the rook. They. Not my suggestion.” She then knelt down by the Rook’s flank, pointing at the different segments stacked on top of each other. “At the showcase, our tiny subjects will all be in here while one of us moves it across a show floor. Investors will be able to look inside from just about any angle, and see for themselves what shrunken life is like!

“So… do you wanna go in?” Duval skipped to the point, pushed by adrenaline. As much as she wanted to be quick inside the studio, she could not resist pushing the limits of these risks even further. “Check it out! There’s an entrance in front of you, it will take you to the central elevator.”

There was a delay before Sierra moved, leaving Duval in suspense that all this was not as impressive to her as she had assumed. Her worries, however, were proven wrong when Sierra approached the base, albeit tepidly. Duval’s smile arced wider as she watched the tiny person below enter the Rook, disappearing from sight. She then twisted around the tower until she was at its front and seated on her knees. She waited for movement -- then, an elevator rose from the bottom floor, slowly ascending to its first stop. The doors slid open, and out stepped Sierra, entering a wide room that circled around her. Everything inside was cast in a pleasant blue shade, including Sierra herself, just like the tinted window that enclosed her.

Past the unique coloring was even more to take in. The floor was decorated like a gym, equipped with training weights, treadmills, and aerobic balls, along with a whole stock of devices Sierra could not immediately recognize. Although it was not what she had anticipated, she did appreciate having a new location to explore, fitted for her size. The array of fitness materials was all intriguing, but most interesting to Sierra was what lingered outside. Straight ahead of her and past the blue window were two giant legs bunkered onto their knees. It was obviously Duval that she stared at, made especially clear when her face ducked into view.

“Hello!” Duval waved with her fingers, her face close enough to fog the glass with her breaths. “Look at you, huh! You fit right in!”

Sierra’s arms joined together at her front as she replied with a nod. “I do, but… what is this exactly? A gym?”

“A gym-- yep, a gym!” Duval swallowed -- perhaps, she thought, this was not the best floor for introducing Sierra to the Rook. “This floor is supposed to showcase fitness and health. We’ll have a few subjects in here using the equipment like it was all normal. That’s the idea behind all the floors, offering different glimpses into everyday-tiny life. While you guys are doing that, we’ll be moving the Rook around, just like…” To demonstrate, Duval gently grabbed two sides of the tower and began shifting it across the floor. The wheels allowed it to glide smoothly for a quarter-rotation before coming to an end, “... this!”

Despite the tender attention to move the Rook carefully, Sierra still managed to trip as the world around her moved in an unnatural way. Her eyes were fixated on Duval as a point of reference, who stood outside like an unmoving pillar. The sensation quickly became dizzying, and Sierra swayed too far to the side she was rotated away from, eventually tumbling onto her side. Duval reacted immediately with a concerned gasp, but Sierra was unharmed, soon to be back on her feet.

“Y-You’ll get used to that,” Duval promised. “There’s going to be some practice sessions in the days before the showcase…”

Sierra tidied her attire as she regained composure. Though so much of her surroundings were mundane, there was never a moment she felt truly escaped from being small. It did not help that a giant was sitting right outside, peeking into the room, which brought to Sierra an interesting concern. “If this is the bottom floor, basically… how will investors see what’s happening?” She grimaced at the theoretical concept of being this low to the ground, watching boat-sized shoes thunder about outside.

“Oh! Right! There’s a feature for that,” Duval chuckled, rising away from the blue-shaded fitness floor. “The boys in the engineer lab think of everything. Err, g-get ready! It’s gonna move again!”

To continue operating the Rook, Duval stood back up and hunched over the building’s roof. Atop it was a panel of simple buttons, and with the press of one, the tower began to change. Sierra was warned well to prepare for movement, but the motion this time was vertical. The floor under Sierra rose towards her, forcing her knees to buckle. As if she were in an elevator, the entire floor was rising upwards -- all of the Rook was, expanding higher with all its floors stacked. The ascent stopped at its upper-limit, allowing Sierra to look up comfortably from her seat. Dead ahead was the black of Duval’s slacks, her hip arced towards the window as she finished using the panel.

Duval backed up from the elongated Rook, gesturing out to her sides for Sierra to view. The cityscape the small woman was once among the streets of was now leveled to her, even in height with the tallest buildings. Sierra awed at the scene, pressing against the glass and walking along its curve to enjoy this superior angle. Duval knelt slightly, keeping dark hairs out from her face as she peered into the fitness floor, ever curious of Sierra’s reactions.

“The whole tower is now taller,” Duval explained, filling in the silence. “You can’t really tell, but it’s about as tall as I am. We can adjust the height to whatever fits the moment. We can also…” She leaned back in, tapping at the panel a few more times. The fitness floor shook, then began to sink alone, disconnected from the other floors. “... do this. See? We’ll be up on a stage for some of it, so we can choose on the spot which floors we want to have visible, and to who.”

Sierra was tickled by the experience, but all the movement left her uneasy and leaned against the window. “This is so… weird,” she stated. “It feels so much like an actual building, and then it starts moving… It’s kind of scary…” Sierra scoffed amusedly; she was frightened by an elevator, but not by the giant scientist standing outside. She realized, however, that at the day of presentation, it would be much more than just her trusted overseer rumbling around this peculiar structure. “I suppose that’s the… least scary thing about this, though…”

“Ohh, no! Don’t be worried about a thing! You’re going to be very safe in there, i-it will feel like nothing, i-ideally...” Duval assured her, touching the glass where Sierra stood as if to console her. She so despised the idea of someone so small being overwhelmed and fatigued over this exhibition, but especially so when represented with Sierra. Worse still was what little she could promise, only ideals and hypotheticals. “Once we practice a few times, you’ll have the hang of it...”

“Ophelia?” It felt like a siren to hear a woman’s voice be added into the studio, chiming in from behind Duval. She recognized who spoke to her immediately -- everyone in the labs was familiar with Ericka Slate, one of three project supervisors with a level of authority just underneath that of the director. A chill stabbed Duval in the back, but the tone itself was mild and stable. “Ah, you are here. That’s what the others said, but I wondered why you would be.”

Duval sprung up from where she had been squatting next to the Rook, her jump so sudden that she had to lean on the building for support. “Er-Ericka!” she greeted, her fluster hidden only by the distance between them. With her body and drape-like coat, she kept the Rook blocked from sight -- a tactic she knew would not last as her supervisor approached, weaving through the various prop buildings.

Duval’s heart drummed madly in the face of this worst-case scenario; how was she supposed to hide Sierra? How could she possibly retrieve her from inside without drawing suspicion? I’m going to get fired, Duval panicked, her teeth tightly clenched. There’s no way around it. She’s gonna find out. This is it… The last time I’ll ever see Sierra…

“What’s brought you in here? The Rook?” Ericka asked, idly moving aside any of the structures that were in her path. Both her touch and stride were supremely confident, so familiar with the world that she keenly oversaw. Ericka was a reliable leader that maintained a productive work environment, a feat accomplished with a delicate but precise mixture of unflinching authority and sincere friendliness. She was only a few years older than Duval, but her experiences were far-reaching, a level of wisdom that could be gleaned from unwavering amber eyes. Wearing the same style of lab coat as Duval made two appear similar, though Ericka’s crimson-dyed short-cut hair told them apart distinctly. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, yes! Yes, n-not really,” Duval buzzed in reply, her back still turned to Ericka, just as she still had no idea how to free Sierra. Worse yet, she worried what Sierra thought about this intrusion. Was she freaking out? Was she trying to run away? Maybe they could sneak free from this -- Duval would have to play cleverly, but she had to try. “Err, j-just checking it out, th-the Rook… I haven’t, erm, seen it updated since… awhile…”

“It’s coming along, isn’t it?” Ericka smiled proudly, though she merely glanced up at Duval and the Rook, her focus tied down to a tablet she walked about with. “I heard you say you were practicing, or something?”

“Y-You heard me-- oh,” Duval sputtered into a cough-like chuckle, “w-was I… talking to myself…?”

“Yep,” Ericka nodded. “We all do. It’s the stress.”

“... Do we?” Duval blinked. “... We do. Err, yeah, I just was… practicing for the showcase. Getting familiar with how it works. Heh, i-in fact, uh…” While she had the chance, Duval tapped quickly at the top console, configuring the Rook to compact its height back to default. Shrinking it back down would make it easier to hide Sierra, but it also inspired a plan to sneak her out of the studio. “Yep, that makes it go down. Simple enough, r-right?”

“Indeed. I’m sure you’ll have it figured out by the time the event comes,” Ericka said, bypassing a wide lowriser by stepping over its roof. To Duval’s dismay, she now stood in the same oval clearing her and the Rook were in. “Which brings me to why I wanted to find you. Have you concluded your interviews yet?”

Duval dug into a coat pocket before turning around to face Ericka. She kept the backside of her legs pressed against the windows, keeping the inside hidden. She paused, rewinding the conversation so she could reply. “Um… not yet. I-I’m working on them-- was, rather. Err, then I came into here-- I-I’m almost done! I’ll email you the results, um…” She bit her lip before taking the first step of her plan. “I’ll… get to the bottom of it.”

“I… imagine you will,” Ericka giggled. “You never disappoint me. Or, anyone. Have you ever missed a deadline?”

“No, I-I don’t think I ever have, not at Shoote…” Duval swallowed; Ericka had moved even closer, pressing her to hide even more of the Rook behind her. “You know me, heh. I… I always get to the bottom of… things.” Quietly, Duval kicked her heel into the bottom level, emphasizing her code.

Ericka’s nose went into her tablet, but a few concerned glances studied Duval from over its edge. “... Of course,” she muttered. “Well, I had a few questions about the subjects I wanted to discuss now rather than later. Did you read the addendum to last week’s health policy?”

“I definitely did,” Duval answered, her reply whipped up as a reaction to keep Ericka suitably distracted. Leaning back against the Rook, Duval paid close attention to the most minute vibration that traveled through its center and to the roof of the structure. It was the tiny elevator at its core that she felt for its subtle mechanical life, the only sign she had of Sierra following her coded command. All of this was escalating the very real danger Duval herself had put her in, but there was no other way to retrieve Sierra without having her exit on the studio floor. In the suspense of waiting for the elevator’s descent, Duval boiled in her regret for ever stepping out of line -- greater than just her career, a human life was in peril.

The vibration ceased, and as relieved as this made Duval, she was burdened with anxiety over the next step. So much relied on this gamble, an almost literal roll of the dice. “Right, that’s what I submitted,” Duval responded to one of Ericka’s questions. While she spoke, she slid a hand atop the Rook’s roof, her fingers barely gripping what she had brought Sierra to the studio in: the transport pod. “According to the analysts I spoke to-- oops!” She released the transparent ball, staged as an accident. The device bounced several times before rumbling into a roll, somewhere amidst the shadowy floor. “Oh, I-I forgot I was holding onto that…”

“Was that a transport pod?” Ericka asked, peering around Duval’s side.

“I-It was! That was clumsy, hah…” Duval stooped down to her knees, no longer needing to keep the Rook hidden if Sierra was already at its base. Such was her plan, to drop the transport pod onto the floor where her partner in crime could sneak in and be taken away without notice. A boost in confidence for this scheme swelled within Duval as she knelt down, but that proved temporary as she ran into a problem, that being that the transport pod was actually missing. “... Huh? Wh-Where’d it…”

“Those things are a pain to lose,” Ericka sighed, joining Duval on the other side of the Rook. “They’re basically invisible, especially here in the studio… Well, we can’t let that go missing.” Deciding to join the search, Ericka got onto her hands and knees, angling her tablet’s screen to be used as a light.

“No!” Duval whimpered, almost ready to shove Ericka aside. “Err, no, w-we don’t want that lost, d-do we!” It was nearly impossible to breathe as she had watched Ericka’s feet stomp into the scene, so close to where Sierra was. Her supervisor had no inclination that a single misstep could flatten a person’s existence, making each footfall a climactic viewing for Duval to silently suffer under. The agony was intense, as though it were herself that was fearful of being crushed unknowingly. Sierra, certainly, was in a far more panicked state, which tormented Duval further. “I think… it may have rolled over there…”

Being pointed away from the Rook, Ericka turned and aimed her light in that direction. Her crawl twisted into a sideways seat as she did so, her back inches from the structure. Each of these movements inflamed Duval with worry, flashed with gruesome and humiliating deaths. This giant was careless and insensitive -- so Duval thought to herself, hyper-analyzing everything her supervisor did. She thought of herself as more careful, more gentle, but observing Ericka revealed how big and heavy everything she did had to be. Something as simple as sitting on the floor boasted an incredible amount of power, to anyone with a shrunken perspective.

“I’m pretty sure it didn’t roll this way,” Ericka argued, having found nothing up to where the props circled them. She stood up, striking fear down Duval’s spine when she used the Rook as support. “Let’s move this out of the way, it’d be a lot easier.”

Just as Ericka began to push the Rook and roll it forward, Duval rose as high as her knees allowed and blocked its progress. “Erk! Umm!” She stammered and shook her head -- what excuse did she have this time? How could she possibly think of a lie when she worried about Sierra, so dangerously close to the feet of her supervisor?

“Ophelia?” Ericka muttered, looking over and past the Rook’s peak at where her associate was crouched. “Am I in your way, or…?”

Duval’s mouth remained open to speak, but no excuse was formed. She retracted her arms and crept aside, opening the path for Ericka to continue, wordless all the while. Situated where she was, Duval focused her attention on the black business shoes Ericka wore, alert for any signs of life -- be it a gesture to be noticed, or a splotch of a bloodstain.

Ericka continued with only a shred of confusion over Duval’s mood. She pushed the Rook ahead, its wheels gliding it across the uncovered floor. Duval held her breath tightly, each footstep triggering a harsh wince as her supervisor walked over the space Sierra surely was. Each moment where a tiny human was not seen added another level to Duval’s grueling stress, and yet she had no way of reflecting this horror she felt, keeping her passion swallowed to burn her from within. Ericka, meanwhile, peacefully hummed as she rolled the building to be with the others.

Duval’s eyes shot open like an alarm. Her attentiveness paid off as she noticed a small flicker of motion, a wide wave from a little shape that had collapsed onto the expansive floor. Sierra! The name bolted into Duval’s head, overriding any hesitation she had with a protective instinct. Screw the pod! she decided, And screw Ericka! It was miraculous in itself that Sierra had dodged not just the wheels of the Rook, but the hammering of gigantic footsteps. Not wanting to push her luck, Duval scrambled to where the Rook had been, crawling over top of Sierra’s exhausted form.

Their eyes met, for what felt like the first time in months. Duval stared directly down onto the little life, threads of her hair forming a tent-like hood around her face and Sierra below. Positioned in such a way, Duval was able to keep Sierra out of sight, if only for this brief moment. She wished it could be enough to get this far, and that she could smile for longer knowing Sierra was found safely, but there was still more to overcome. Ericka was turning back towards her, yet there was no transport pod to put Sierra in. Left with only the one option, Duval boldly committed to it; she nabbed Sierra off the ground, swept into a curl of fingers, then disposed of her into the coat pocket.

“Did you find it?” Ericka wondered, returning to Duval’s side.

“No, w-wasn’t here,” Duval stammered tersely. She stood up at a sluggish speed, passing her slowness off as being observant of the floor. More than ever before, she was conscious of how huge she was, that Sierra was being thrown around in the confines of a coat pocket. She remembered the temperature that the tiny woman had endured in there once before, and she felt warmer knowing that there was even less protection against it now. That, in turn, brought her to dwell on how Sierra was without a barrier between her and the normal-sized world. There in her pocket, pressed against her chest, was a four-centimeter tall woman suffering in a swamp-like cell.

And still was there the obstacle of Ericka, who stood arms-crossed surveying the floor again for the transport pod. “... Those pods are expensive, Ophelia...” she remarked.

“I’m-- I know,” Duval sighed, resisting the urge to hold her chest. It weighed on her like a significant imbalance, that she was carrying on her person, an entire person. One hand kept her coat closed in an effort to not impose too much motion sickness onto Sierra. “Um… It has to be around here though,” she finally replied after a pause. Only with Sierra secure could she actually focus on finding the pod.

Fortunately, it was not long after that Ericka spotted the transport pod, having rolled into an alley between two prop buildings. “Here we are,” Ericka said, bending over to pick up the small device.

“Oh thank god,” Duval exhaled, a hand brought to her thumping heart. Far beyond the point of the pod being found, she was greatly relieved to be through with the search. Ericka thought the reaction was perhaps a bit over the top, but nonetheless, she tossed the pod back over to Duval, who nearly dropped it again when it was caught. “There! Err, th-thank you, Ericka, for finding that… Was there anything else you needed me for?”

“We can walk and talk back to your office,” she said, turning towards the door and sliding between structures. “The engineers will be using the studio tonight, so you should clear out now.”

Duval winced when Ericka wasn’t looking -- of course, she remembered, that the studio was going to be used. “Right, I’m coming behind you then…” Trailing behind Ericka, Duval’s footsteps were instinctively more considerate of her seemingly-tiny surroundings. With Sierra still pocketed, the feeling of being giant was accentuated by these miniature props, as though she had kidnapped a woman off the street and was strolling away with her. That feeling would linger even as she returned to the normal world of Shoote Labs; whether it was door frames or peers, Duval leaned away from bumping into anything, stumbling through the halls while holding a conversation just behind Ericka.

“... but that will be figured out next week,” the supervisor concluded, scrolling through her tablet as they reached Duval’s office. “So just message me when you have to those results--”

“Hah! Mm!” Duval squeaked suddenly, cutting off Ericka. She had grown giddy to finally return to her privacy, but it seemed Sierra was more impatient than her. Through her pocket, she felt the rumbling of a tiny person moving about, in no better of a place than directly where her nipple pushed against that spot. Past both her blouse and her bra, Duval was sensitive enough to be tickled by Sierra’s struggling, and at such a poor time. She hid her giggling under a cough, “Yes, I-I’ll send those… results. Tonight.”

Ericka raised a brow and scanned Duval from top to bottom. There was a tense pause between the two, preventing the meeting from ending like she had wished. Awkwardly, Duval tried motioning to her door, which Ericka was in the way of. Every second was torture to be hiding in the laughter that wanted to spill out, but gradually, Ericka backed away.

“One last thing,” Ericka declared. She smiled, “Get some sleep, perhaps? You’ve been acting sort of stiff today.”

Duval chuckled, unsure at first how to reply. “You got it,” she agreed while opening her door. “Th-Thank you, Ericka. I-I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ericka waved farewell past the closing gap in the door as Duval slipped into her office. The door was locked, and Duval rested her back against it. She was safe, and grateful for it. The past half-hour replayed in her mind vividly, recalling the close-calls and gambits. She could barely swallow, so ecstatic where she was on the very edge of these risks. And best of all, she had gotten away with it -- every rule that she broke, every lie that she told, it had all worked out to allow Duval to enjoy a special moment with one of her subjects, consequence free.

Said subject, of course, was still in her pocket, squirming and tickling her. Laughter bubbled from her throat, but it was slowed by exhaustion, her adrenaline long-spent on keeping her nerves under control while deceiving Ericka. Her eyes closed as her mind drifted, her back still against the door. She wanted to release Sierra and spare her from the oven that was the inside of her coat, but at the same time, she rather enjoyed her being there.

A hand, tepid and uncertain, crept towards her left breast, where Sierra’s strifes massaged her nipple. Her fingers enveloped the globe without ever crossing the tiny woman, not to interrupt her. A tender squeeze, almost nonexistent, added to the satisfying thrill that poured from this touch. She inhaled deep, her heart pounding harder again; if she could keep Sierra for herself, if she allowed herself to succumb to any craving she wished -- Duval smiled, imagining that world where that could happen. It was so close, the temptation allured her like a pleasant aroma wafting in the air. Her fingers crawled, knowing how wrong it would be to throw Sierra into her lust. It would be immoral, godless -- she would be the god, defining what was right and wrong. She would be a giant, unstoppable and unleashed, free to act and take as she pleased. It had to be wondered if Sierra would even hate her for that -- she admitted so much before, that fascination with her towering overseer. Duval imagined herself from that shrunken perspective, how terrifying she would be, how much power she would flaunt.

The other hand, less hesitant, was subtly hugged by her thighs. The barest touch against her crotch nearly tipped her over the edge that she was pushed to. Fantasies flew about in her head, fantasies that were within reach. A giggle teased herself of such thoughts, to give in to these desires and apply her lust unabashedly. She could do it now, without anyone’s permission. Sierra would never know, not while trapped inside a pocket. She could get away with it, pass it off as something else, lie like she had been. The taste of betrayal, though she had just tested its sweetness, had proven addictive, and she sought to fulfill herself even more. When else, she wondered, would she ever be able to masturbate with a tiny woman pressed against her tit?

Duval cringed as her conscience resurfaced to review what she had just considered. No, she plainly told herself, through gritted teeth. The tickling continued, but it pained her now, being unable to respond how she wished to. A woman squirmed under the weight of her nipple, and she dared think of it as entertainment, a situation to benefit from. Truly more piercing than that alone was that this was Sierra that suffered, a person Duval had come to know well and trust. She was a friend, not another test to experiment with.

With a huff, Duval pushed off the door and slumped into her couch. Her drop was faster than she intended, causing a bounce of her bosom that Sierra certainly had to endure. “Sorry,” she preemptively apologized, before she opened her coat and peeked into the pocket. The sight of Sierra, safe if perhaps shaken, immediately cast a smile between her warmed cheeks. “Are you hurt at all? I-I’m so, so sorry about all of that, Sierra.”

Sierra waved at her with one arm while the other swiped away a stretch of sweat on her brow. “I’m… I’m okay,” she answered. “I just… can’t... breathe in here well…”

“Right! Right…” Duval grimaced; she had likely made the temperature worse for Sierra with all of her fantasizing. Her hand came into view above the pocket, “I’ll get you out of there--”

“A-Actually, Duval, could I… walk out on my own?” Sierra held a soft defensive pose as she made her request; she shivered from fatigue, a meek sight there in the sag of a pocket. “Uh… I’m still a little dizzy, is all... All that moving around, a-all that heat…”

“Oh! Er, yes, if you wish…” After what she had put Sierra through, Duval was committed to appeasing her any way she could. When prompted with this suggestion, Duval first hesitated, but decided to lay across the couch so that Sierra could safely crawl out. Her adjustment was slow for the shrunken woman’s sake, concluding when Duval’s feet were kicked over one arm rest while her head was cushioned by the other. “Is this good enough? Can you get out by yourself?”

Sierra could, and proved as much by climbing out of the pocket. She was greeted by the brightness of Duval’s office, as well as Duval herself with her curious expression angled at her like a mountain’s slope. A stumble right outside the pocket saw her trip onto a ruffle of Duval’s blouse, inspiring a laugh that the overseer had to keep choked. Sierra revealed to be amused as well as she picked herself up into a seat atop the chest, which rose and fell with each of the ground’s breaths.

Duval shook her head while appreciating Sierra. “I can’t believe we got away with that.”

Sierra nodded, “I can’t believe it, either…”

“Were you worried?” Duval asked, though the answer was obvious, even if Sierra’s expression was all she had. “Oh, Sierra, I’m extremely sorry. I-I never should have taken you to that studio, I… I wasn’t thinking at all. I got obsessed with impressing you, and you… you almost died.”

Sierra chuckled anxiously while stroking her arm. “Almost,” she admitted. “It… was dangerous, but it was… fun.” She giggled more genuinely, “Really fun. And so scary. I-I couldn’t believe how big th-that other woman was…”

“Ericka?” Duval scoffed, “She’s no taller than I am. Am I not big to you anymore?”

“No, no! You’re huge, b-but I’m so used to you being huge. Ericka, she was… also huge, she was terrifying. I felt…” She withheld the word, the sourness biting her tongue as it formed. “I felt so small. I felt helpless.”

Duval winced, a motion she could not restrain enough to not shake Sierra with it. “Darling, that kills me to know this… That isn’t at all what I wanted, I-I wanted you to feel safe.”

Sierra mulled, then looked back up at Duval, deep into her eyes. “I felt very safe with you,” she confessed. “I kept thinking to myself, you know, Duval will figure this out. She won’t let me get hurt. She’ll know what to do. And… you did. God, I was so happy to see you after that building thing got moved. The moment you saw me, I just… knew to trust you.”

Duval fell silent while Sierra rambled over her perspective of events, her smile nervously cracking after each generous statement. She scoffed, “The truth is, I wasn’t sure what I was doing… Trusting me, maybe that isn’t wise… It was my idea to explore the studio, which put us into that trouble to begin with…”

“That was fun, though.” Sierra shifted in her seat, her fingers running over the fabric of Duval’s shirt. “I appreciate it, I really do. And… I still trust you, Duval. I always will, whatever you do.”

A strange emotion in Duval’s chest invoked a sigh, the wind of which ruffled Sierra’s hair regardless of how it was aimed away from her. Duval’s thoughts boiled in a fluster stirred by what she had been assured of. A nervous giggle was all she could respond with, stalling too long for a better answer, but the conversation had revealed something to her: there was no other subject she wanted to be breaking rules with. Sierra was her favorite, after all.

Duval’s tasks for the day were completed just as the rest of the lab began to unwind. Though she succeeded in concentrating on her work after such a perilous afternoon, it was immediately after the shift was over that Duval thought again of Sierra. The tiny woman with overwhelming faith in her could not be shaken from her thoughts; not in the lab’s halls, not on the commute home, and not even in her own bedroom. Of everything Sierra had inspired within Duval, the most lasting sensation was that of her size -- that dependability, that strength, an absoluteness about every motion and decision she made. Furniture felt weaker, space felt shorter, all while perceiving her surroundings with Sierra’s diminutive perspective in mind.

Shedding herself of her work attire, Duval approached her bed, naked and aroused despite nothing ahead of her. She glowed red with temptation now that she was safe and far from its risks, free to cherish and explore those deeply reserved cravings. She collapsed in bed, laughing at the waves her weight made, imagining the effects it would have on people so small that they could not stop a single, lonely woman from having what she wanted.

The sheets coiled around her as she sank into her dreams. Her fingers curled around an empty space, where Sierra would be hugged perfectly in her grasp.

“... as well as being able to move the Rook around the showfloor, we also have the ability to raise and lower the floors themselves, allowing us to bring attention to particular areas.” Duval demonstrated such features by rotating the structure and using a remote to alter its height. She was eager to gauge a reaction from her audience, which stood before her atop a mobile table. Sixteen subjects had been arranged, only three of which were familiar faces to Duval, whereas the others were lifted from terrariums looked after by other overseers. Yet it was Duval that was elected to lead the upcoming showcase, just as it was her task currently to explain the procedures the subjects would be a part of.

Impressions were positive, with nearly everyone awing at the structure presented to them and its unique properties. Nearly everyone -- situated at the rear of the crowd was Sierra, her arms crossed as her attention swayed to other corners of the studio they had been transported to. Not long ago had she been taken here before, a private and improper excursion offered by Duval. The Rook and its neighborhood of fake buildings had changed marginally since that time, and so rather than gasp and mutter about the feature like the others did, she instead looked directly to Duval where their eyes met and their smiles were subtly exchanged.

“But this is just the outside,” Duval continued, her hands clasped together excitedly. “I’m sure you all are interested about what you’ll actually be doing inside the Rook. Let’s all take a look and get comfortable, shall we?”

Sierra’s heart fluttered as Duval approached the wide platform she and the others were on, sensing the minute quakes of every footfall as it traveled up the table. She studied Duval intensely as the scientist wrapped around their positions and began lowering the platform to ground level via a mechanism on the side. While her peers were aflame with discussion about the Rook and the thrill of being able to travel outside the labs, Sierra was fixated on Duval, blatantly staring up at the massive person, her heart thumping the lower the table sunk. She earned an unexpected prize when her staring, she assumed, was assertive enough to make the overseer blush and look astray.

The subjects walked to the Rook’s base as if invited to an exclusive club, the height of such a structure imposed upon them like nothing their shrunken lives had seen before. It truly felt like a real, albeit elaborate building, despite its shortest form standing half as tall as their overseer. Their intrigue continued to rise as they entered the elevator within, but Kendall was jittering with anticipation as she walked alongside Sierra.

“It’s so nice to be out of the neighborhood!” Kendall stretched, relishing the new environment. Her arm swung down, nearly hitting Sierra beside her. “I can’t believe I got picked for this -- and you, too, Sierra!”

Sierra shuddered away slightly while brushing her elbow. “Pretty unbelievable,” she admitted, taking a gander over the other subjects. It was the first time in awhile that any of them had met new faces, let alone with folks equal to their size. Sierra felt especially cramped in the elevator, being surrounded by figures that were notably more fit than she was; athletic builds and confident postures alike belittled Sierra, who knew very well that her acceptance into this showcase was the result of smudged results.

Knowing that, however, was empowering in its own right. When the first floor was revealed, opening to the same physical fitness center that she had secretly explored before, Sierra immediately looked out the window to Duval, her ankles the only part of her in sight. That was her friend, she was reminded, a friend far bigger and more significant than anyone standing inside the Rook. A friend that was willing to bend the rules of her company just for her. As impressive of a structure as the Rook was, nothing interested her more than the giant towering over it.

Said giant’s face was then in full view of everyone after the Rook was risen and she had knelt down. Duval sported a microphone that wrapped over an ear and down to her mouth, too small to hide her grin. “Um, check, check?” Duval tapped the microphone, both her voice and her taps amplified within the Rook through speakers planted all along the inside of the chamber. “Hello~ Wave if you can hear me. Am I coming in clear? Good, good! I’ll be able to communicate to you through this when we’re on stage together.

“But, for now, welcome to the fitness floor!” Duval’s hands spread to her side as if revealing the blue-tinted room they had already entered. Curious subjects were already ahead of themselves poking around the various equipment; treadmills, weights, and other fitness equipment were arranged alongside heart monitors and exercise balls. A swimming pool sized for minor competitive uses was also built into the floor, though it remained unfilled; “Once we get the water generator ready, you can absolutely go for a swim! Err, of course, only if you’re assigned to the fitness floor.”

Kendall peered over the empty pool, hands at her hips. “I forgot that this is all just a… weird performance,” she chuckled, glancing at Sierra. “Where are you hoping to be assigned? I wonder if we’ll be paired up.”

“I don’t know yet,” Sierra replied, pretending to cast interest over the gym’s supplies. “I don’t think we can be a pair, though. Duval said earlier each floor will have a male and a female.”

“Oh, lame. Hah, knowing my luck, I’m gonna end up with Chase.” Only after saying his name did Kendall look back to make sure Chase was on the opposite side of the floor. “I hope I get a fun floor, at least.”

Sierra nodded, wondering the same thoughts as Kendall. She had already lucked out being selected for this procedure and would be spending so much time with Duval, so she had little concern with how else the dice rolled. “I’d like a relaxing floor,” she replied, putting aside how favorable fate had been to her. “One of us is ending up with him, though. I just know it.”

Duval then directed the subjects to continue up the Rook to explore the other levels. The next stop introduced a scene far flung from the one before it; rather than a gym cast in a blue light, the second floor was an illusion of an outside world, with a grassy lawn and stone pathways which connected the various locations. Here, everything was cast in a brilliant green, from the gardens to the plowed lots, and the tool sheds to the empty pond.

Greater than before were the subjects astounded by this new floor, Sierra included. She squinted through the surprising green color, stepping outside into an open stretch of grass. Under her feet was real dirt, and others were quick to point out that the vegetation growing was all genuine. Duval introduced this room as the cultivation floor, a glimpse at what agriculture will be like for a society of tiny people.

The tour continued, each earning unique reactions from the crowd. Subsequent floors included a work floor and commerce floor, chambers that expressed more modern and mundane aspects of life through the perspective of a cubicle office space and a typical grocery store. This concept peaked with the day-to-day living floor, which represented a stable household fit for a shrunken family. Above this was another natural experience, an outdoors floor designed like a forest mixed with both shrunken foliage as well as ordinary flowers, left to be big compared to the little people between them. After this was a return to normality with a floor dedicated to dining, a fake restaurant near the top of the Rook that allowed the subjects to see nearly eye-to-eye with Duval outside.

“Are we gonna get real food?” Kendall was quick to ask, hovering beside a dining booth along the curved wall of windows. She took a seat while Sierra sat across from her, testing the comfort of the setting. The view outside their table was a marvel to behold, though while Kendall looked out across the horizon of buildings, Sierra instead gazed at Duval, whose head bounced around the tower with bubbling enthusiasm.

“You will!” Duval replied over the intercom. The answer was a surprise to Kendall, not having expected herself to be heard. “There won’t be much food, just enough for the demonstration, but everything you see here is intended to be functional. We hope that one day,” she scoffed, knowing it to still be far, “entire societies could actually be living like this! Maybe not in the Rook, specifically, but with all the conveniences of normal-sized life.”

Sierra exhaled upon hearing Duval’s reply, her emotion turned away from Kendall. She would not speak of it, but there was a bitterness that weighed on Sierra with every new floor they toured, and the mention of conveniences tipped her to her own attitude. Though there were many outstanding features that the Rook heralded, none of it mattered to Sierra. Whether it would be a stroll under shady trees or enjoying a date in a five-star restaurant, all of this was inaccessible to her, so long as she dreamed of sharing it with the person she loved. All of these conveniences, truly, had been left behind along with her normal-sized life.

The subjects were then taken to the final and highest floor, a tier dedicated to luxuries and leisure. A purple shade set the tone as a scene of nightly pleasure, as though the volunteers had been taken to a high-class resort. They were in awe of their elegant surroundings, the entire floor a lounge with long couches, a square dance floor, three mini-bars, a pseudo-home theater, and two hot tubs. The open space allowed for maximum comfort, with the design intended to emphasize formal parties of special occasions. The atmosphere was of a lifestyle few participants had ever lived, particularly so with Sierra, who felt largely out of place in this room of decadence and prestige.

Meeting them outside the windows was Duval’s eyes, which were level with the luxury floor when the Rook was extended to its full height. “We expect this to be the most immediately impressive of the floors,” Duval explained, “at least… as far as the investors are concerned. If you ask me, I think the cultivation floor is a much greater achievement…”

The huge eyes then centered on Sierra, who for once seemed immersed with the setting. She strolled alongside the curved outerwall, touring the floor without Kendall following her. It was embarrassing for her to admit, but she was enraptured with the high-class environment. She felt rich simply walking through, admiring the postmodern imagery and the collection of liquor shelved behind each bar. Curious of that in particular, she took a bottle down, only to be surprised to find that it was empty -- all the bottles were just props for the show.

Sierra looked out the window ahead of her after glossing over the pinot noir she had taken. She had felt a concentrated gaze on her, and she smirked upon making eye contact with the overseer. She giggled nervously, prompting Duval to speak over the intercom, “I’m sure most of you will want to be stationed here, but it’s a lottery that decides what floor each person is assigned. We wanted this experience to be as… impartial, a-as much as possible...”

The stutter in Duval’s remark made Sierra smirk as she handled the empty bottle, well aware of just how impartial this process has been. “It’s a shame none of these are full,” Sierra said, as if commenting to herself -- her glance hinted otherwise. “I wonder if someone got to it before we could…”

Duval’s face lifted with a pout, her stare quivering on Sierra. She couldn’t say anything about that tease against her drinking habits, not without drawing suspicion. Instead, she simply poked at the window, gesturing to Sierra with its quiet tap. Sierra muffled her amusement, returning the empty bottle but with her thoughts lingering on it. An empty wine bottle, a prop, resonated within her as a symbol of her conflicting emotions; elegance without substance, a beauty to bewonder and nothing else to it -- a wish for fulfillment.

Sierra was joined at the bar by another subject. Leaning against one of the stools was Chase, his typical disgruntled expression aimed at the shelves of empty spirits. After her glance over him, Sierra returned the bottle exactly where it had been. As she did, Chase sighed and asked, “No chance of us having anything to drink if we’re stuck up here, huh?”

“... I suppose not,” Sierra replied, her head turned away from him.

“Probably for the best,” he muttered, shaking his head. He looked across the tier and all of its luxurious features. “This is already blatantly unfair, isn’t it? Some people get to relax up here all day, while others are going to be working on a farm. Doesn’t seem right to me.”

Sierra bit her lip, but not her tongue. “You could back out if you wanted,” she let slip her thoughts. “It’s a volunteer project. Why’d you come along in the first place?”

“Get some fresh air. Look around.” Chase rotated a shot glass while listing his mundane desires. “You don’t seem very excited, either. Why are you volunteering?”

“Well, I…” Sierra froze; it was not a complex truth that had her hesitate, but its simplicity. “... Duval chose me, I didn’t want to make it complicated for her. And, maybe I wanted some fresh air, too.”

Chase nodded. “Wouldn’t want to upset the overseer, right?” He slid the shot glass back and rose from the stool. “I wonder where she’ll end up putting us in this Rook thing.”

“She said it would be random -- a lottery.”

“Yeah. She said that.”

Sierra’s eyes narrowed on Chase as he left to join the others, his odd tone lingering in her mind. Wondering his implications distracted her so much that she nearly missed Duval’s directions for everyone to exit the Rook through the elevator. The tour was complete, and the Rook would not be seen again until the day of the showcase. Sierra had one week to mentally prepare for the adventure that travelling across the state would be -- a week to wrestle with anxious emotions and ever changing expectations.

The day of the showcase. Preparations began before sunrise. Sierra thought herself to look tired, but Duval seemed entirely sleepless when she appeared before the terrarium with a greeting that forced enthusiasm past the deep bags under her eyes. The first procedure worth the early effort was to load the subjects for transport, of which the other volunteers for the showcase had already been put into. Their homes, being so doll-like, were unlatched from their properties and carried into a large windowed vault where they would be docked securely inside. Referred to as the safehouse, Sierra thought of it as a cage that their homes were shelved into, limiting their freedom throughout the hours-long trip.

The travel itself was steady, yet Sierra still felt sick along the way. The safehouse was stored in the back of a closed truck, watched over by two scientists nearby. She had no sight of the world rapidly moving by outside, but she felt the distance being made, the speed they were going. Kendall and the others were content in their houses or out on their patios, but Sierra wrenched over a sickness on her sofa.

Ironically, it was when they had arrived that the shrunken subjects most felt jogged by the motions around them. The safehouse was taken into a secured room located at the convention center, and from there, they were given small packages containing their outfits, custom made to fit the floors they were assigned to. As such, this was also the reveal as to where they would spend the showcase and what role they would be performing.

Sierra gasped at what was in her package. It was a clean silk dress with matching gloves and footwear, a stylish design fit for elegant occasions. She tried to process what this meant, but her embarrassment befuddled the normal conclusion, that she was assigned to the luxury tier. Even when she accepted that reality, she had difficulty accepting the dress itself. She held it against the jumpsuit her and the other subjects wore, but she could not picture herself in it. Never before had she worn something so classy, and yet she was expected to be an example -- A model, she anxiously thought. Regardless of how she felt, she put on the outfit with an embarrassed grimace aimed at the mirror. She thought the shimmer was too much, that the collar was too low, and the back -- there was no back at all, exposing her skin no matter what posture she tried to take.

Sierra waited outside her home, her arms crossed over her chest as she checked in every direction. She blinked as her eyes darted from figure to figure, searching for the iconic white lab coat and rubber gloves of her overseer among the movements of the stage crew and assistants. Rather than see Duval, she heard her; the clacking of heels, still distinct even in the flustered environment. It was from someone Sierra had glossed over, only then realizing that the woman approaching them was in fact her: Ophelia Duval, appearing not in her work uniform, but a dazzling blue dress with a thin silver line down a flank, her shoulders and arms fully exposed, her wavy dark hair radically done-up and styled with an appealing shine.

Duval appeared far brighter than before, greeting the subjects with a smile as she leaned in towards the safehouse’s window. “Good morning! Er, again,” she said. “The showcase should begin in about an hour. If there’s anything you have left to do, now’s the time to do it!”

As if warmed by tender sunlight, Sierra showered under Duval’s glamorous presence, genuinely stunned by the beauty she witnessed -- not once had she expected a change of attire from Duval, though it made complete sense that she would be dressed for the part of a showcase presenter. Their outfits, to that end, were quite similar in their sparkling elegance, but Sierra could not even compare herself to Duval. In the gown she wore, she felt silly and out of place, especially compared to the clothes other volunteers wore; overalls for the cultivation floor, workout attire for the fitness floor, and other setting-appropriate styles clashed together as one mob of people waiting to be taken to the Rook.

Sierra savored that moment and its peace, knowing it would be fleeting. The process continued at its rapid pace, with Duval guiding everyone into a transport trailer and then moved over to the Rook. Despite being so close to her, Sierra still felt alone and distant from the woman she hoped to share this moment with. While loading into the Rook’s base, a bite of doubt gnawed at her after yet another glimpse of Duval; she would have stayed back with the others and waited for Duval to return, had she known the event would unravel like this. At least, that was what Sierra was telling herself, her eyes always drawn to where Duval lurked out of view.

At the top floor, Sierra stood away from everything, her hands close to herself as if afraid a single touch might break something. Chase was with her, dressed in a tuxedo that appeared purple in the luxury tier’s light, much like everything else. It had earned a scoffed giggle from Sierra that Kendall had been wrong about her luck, but she wondered just how much chance was truly involved with her being selected for the most desirable floor. That feeling of not belonging lingered as she hovered around the furniture, saying nothing to Chase as Chase said nothing to her.

The Rook moved, wheeled forward by Duval’s pull. The whole floor rocked slightly, but it was intelligently stabilized to make movement almost entirely unnoticeable. The jerking motion was enough to upset Sierra’s balance, and so she slumped into a chair by the windowed wall. Despite the movement being the source of Sierra’s dizziness, she was intrigued with the view of the world and how massive everything was. Perhaps the others did not mind as much, but Sierra shivered intensely to see so many normal things backstage, including the people that thundered by, their footsteps lacking the grace and consideration of someone like Duval. Indeed, she was a beacon of reliability for Sierra to observe, her hugeness providing comfort and security whereas all others imposed fear and worry.

The lights backstage dimmed. Stagehands hurried around the Rook as Duval wheeled it. An announcement could be heard beyond the Rook’s walls, bellowing from faraway speakers. Sierra held her breath, and so did Duval -- the showcase was beginning, and the unseen audience was ushered to take their seats. More lights went black and backstage crewmates quieted themselves, making way for a host that would act as the primary speaker. The music that occupied the auditorium faded, signalling the start of the presentation.

Duval kept an arm wrapped behind the Rook, her fingers nervously stroking the glass. Sierra saw as much, glancing to the back of the luxury floor and seeing her long fingers slide and brush along the glass. Somehow, it was comforting to know that Duval was as stressed as she was, perhaps even more so. After all, her only responsibility was to maintain a normal appearance for hundreds to see, while Duval would be in charge of so much more. Sierra was drawn to the back where this hand was, quietly placing her own hand where the pointer finger was on the other side.

“Good luck, Duval,” Sierra whispered. Her eyes went up above, to the intercom speaker hidden in the ceiling. She smiled, wondering if she could be heard by Duval like she was able to the week before. The shiver of Duval’s fingers did not go unnoticed.

The introduction began with the speaker first going over the fantastical concept of shrunken society, listing examples of where this could improve life, the conveniences it could revolutionize. Its lofty description made the idea seem ridiculous, but of course, that was part of the sell. Once hooked, the host passed the conversation onto Ericka Slate, continuing where it had been left off. She spoke highly of Shoote Labs and the sheer genius among its ranks, the incredible work ethic that made “it” possible. She posed it wonderfully, what this “it” entailed, and her smile lured the audience into a wanting applause.

Duval stuttered, “I-I-It’s time! Th-That’s our cue!” She cleared her throat and breathed away the last of her trembling, posing herself as confident and strong with every footstep forward. So obsessed with looking presentable, she nearly forgot the Rook, quickly lunging back to pull it along with her. Sierra chuckled, but her amusement was diminished as the Rook was seeped into blinding stage lights, and drowned by a rainfall of cheering.

“Introducing…” Ericka waved her arm to stage right, as if the one to cast a light in that direction, “... your first look into what a miniature life has to offer.”

Duval stepped out onto stage along with the pillar that was the Rook. She made no effort to bring attention to herself, instead letting the glamor of her dress and the strength of her strut speak on her behalf. Eyes were not directed to her, but the eight floors under her watch, the different colors separating each moment of life from the other. On stage, it was difficult to peer directly inside the windows, but the tiny movements confirmed that there was life bustling about in each tier, and the three giant screens that lined the back of the stage all displayed close-up views of the various people.

Sierra flinched into one of the bars as she noticed the telling purple color appear on one of the massive screens. She feared a camera was on her, but it was pointed onto Chase situated at the other half of the floor, lounging with an empty book in hand. Before long, the camera was onto someone else, but Sierra still trembled, never knowing when and from where she would be watched. Her dizziness was swelling again, and getting even worse, as the Rook began shifting its height and adjusting the gaps between floors.

Each floor was given individual time to be shown off and explained, a few words detailing the aspect of life it represented. Sierra prepared for this moment, but even with as much time as she had, the sensation of being watched hit her with a hard, cold wave. She inhaled and looked around the area she had mindlessly strolled into, her lip bitten as she thought of how to present herself. While the points of a luxury lifestyle were being mentioned and talked aloud, Sierra was stiff, flustered, and awkward -- I’m ruining this, she told herself, I’m ruining it all for Duval…

But a pleasant hum spoke to her from above, a gentle voice that her and Chase both heard. “Just relax and sit down,” Duval whispered, spoken just into the microphone clipped to her. “Anything you do looks perfect. You’re nailing this.”

Sierra unfroze, though her mind went blank while processing Duval’s suggestion. Without delay, she slowly spiralled into a lounge chair, sinking into the plush material and exhaling some of the excess stress. She saw Duval outside, the luxury floor made level with her shoulder. Just that glance of Duval’s lips, or the hair that swung into view, was capable of inducing relaxation into Sierra’s bones. Not realizing that a camera was pointed onto her, she smiled calmly and massaged her back into the chair, depicting the leisurely moment that was desired of her.

“Good job guys,” Duval spoke again, her voice barely audible over the round of applause the Rook had received. “Now for the hard part. Chins up.”

The presentation on stage was moving onto more advanced topics, and so the Rook was taken off the stage floor and down to audience level. Members in the audience, composed of esteemed scientists and investors, were allowed up-close viewings of the tiny people within. Duval was always on guard as she passed by the rows of seats, calm and collected while she knew her subjects were looked over. She read the expressions of those that looked in, the gasps of awe that overtook every single person to witness humans at such a tiny size, thriving in their simulated worlds.

But it was not at all joyous for Sierra, who had since clambered over to one of the bars for support. She was frightened by the many eyes that rushed into view, the countless giants spying into this little world she was trapped in. Her back bumped into the wine shelves, her hand instinctively flung to the bottles to prevent them from falling despite not being the case. The feel of the bottles resonated to her touch, adding to that persistent dizziness with its reminder of alcohol -- she was disoriented, beyond being just dazed or sick. Outside the window, eating at her view wherever she stared, was the grim reality she had chosen. Normal people studied her like some sort of zoo animal, normal people living their normal lives without understanding the weight of their movements, the consequences of every careless action.

Sierra grew faint, and she resided in a lounge sofa for the remainder of the showcase, huddled into a corner while maintaining only the most base level of awareness. Don’t ruin it for her, she scolded herself. This is so important for Duval. She trusted me. Don’t ruin it. These thoughts repeated in her head, only easing on her when she looked out the windows and to Duval. She wished to be held in the hand that managed the Rook, finding greater comfort there than to be locked inside this strange conflict between two realities.

Fortunately for Sierra, the end of the showcase was near. Duval, the savior she was dreamed as, directed the Rook back towards the stage floor. The presentation was formally concluded, but members of the audience were allowed and encouraged to gander at the miniature marvels as they dispersed out of the auditorium. Eyes more eager than earlier were keen on prying into the little lives, acting as one final test of endurance for Sierra. She tried to ignore the giants and how they thundered outside the tower, but not even Duval’s presence could ward off every unwelcomed look. Indeed, some investors were close enough that they poked at the glass, their tapping striking fear into Sierra’s heart as though they were beasts trying to get her.

The last curtain of onlookers was pushed past. The Rook was pulled back onto the stage through an incline and then ushered to the darkness of backstage. Even Duval had seemingly hit her limits, ushering through the crowd during the last leg with a particular impatience and meeting the stagehands with sluggish, tired reactions. She contorted the Rook down to its base height, gently tapping the roof proudly. “Good job, everyone,” Duval said into the intercom. “That was just amazing -- no other way to describe it.”

Sierra exhaled with a smile that crept wider the further away from the stage she and the others were taken. It unburdened her to know that Duval was pleased with the showcase, though she reflected on the matter in hindsight, wondering if she did her part well enough. Was her anxiety-caused slouching really going to win over any investor? The moment felt impeccably revolutionary and yet simultaneously dull and unmoving. She did not quite understand the measure of success, but she believed Duval, like she always did; more than ever, she wanted to console with her and talk, as if this had been another obstacle course or check-up where they could spend time afterwards together.

On the way through the backstage maze, Duval was called over and stopped. “Ophelia, over here!” The friendly greeting came from Ericka, cutting through a pair of stagehands in order to reach her. Sierra felt the rumble of Duval’s superior, though it was a rumble only she imagined, a recollection of how this woman once loomed right over her in a deadly situation. “Exciting presentation, wasn’t it? You did amazing, you looked great!”

“Hah, well… thank you,” Duval replied, her blinks a signal of her flustered thoughts. “Y-You were wonderful, too. The whole team was. Including them,” she giggled, patting the Rook’s roof again, “we were all great--”

“Indeed, about them. I’m headed to hotel security as it is,” Ericka said, her fingers already starting to claim the Rook from Duval’s grasp. “I figured I would see it off and let you get a headstart on dressing down.”

“O-Oh, thank you,” Duval stammered, “but that won’t be necessary.” She moved the Rook and all of its occupants closer to her, but Ericka’s grip was maintained. Sierra watched the scene from her perspective, only able to clearly see the hands and how they grappled the walls of the building. “I’m fine, I-I just need a little water on the way there.”

“You deserve more than just a drink of water,” Ericka giggled, reasserting her take on the Rook. “Don’t make me make it an order -- I have the others waiting at the VIP lobby, a big party in the ballroom is being set up. Lots of investors will be down there, you don’t want to miss these connections.”

“Err, I’m sure I don’t…” Duval sighed, letting the Rook slip from her possession. Ericka was persuasive with her upbeat attitude and, of course, her authority as a supervisor. This was no place for an argument, in any case, and so she was won over. The Rook was pulled from her, Ericka offered a smile of appreciation, but Duval stooped low, keeping the Rook from leaving. “J-Just a moment,” she requested. Ericka nodded, allowing Duval to have her goodbyes.

Sierra felt uneasy about the transition the moment Ericka took over. She paced around a circle of lounge chairs, nervous of something, though she could not quite describe it. Chase, certainly like the others, was nonchalant -- beat and overwhelmed, they cared little about who saw them back to the safehouse. But Sierra wanted Duval, yearning for her through the glass. She went up to the window as Duval knelt before it, hugging one arm as if to console herself.

“It was fun working with you all,” Duval said, forcing a positive expression. She glanced all through the floors, identifying the people she had gotten to know and work with, but she was naturally most attached to the subjects of her own domain. She smiled down at Kendall, then stared into the luxury tier where Sierra and Chase were posted. “I know this was a lot to take in, and it was probably scary. I seriously appreciate everyone’s work, even if no one else understands…”

Duval bit her lip, an emotion only the highest floors had a chance of noticing -- Sierra did, her spirit flinching at the emotion she studied. Before separating, Duval pressed a digit against the glass of the luxury floor. The lone pad of the finger spread across the window, just level with where Sierra stood. It appeared to be a gesture meant for everyone, but the weight of Duval’s eyes weighed on her singularly. The face, as widely sized as it was, spoke to her in silence. Sierra hesitated, but she offered forth her own hand, planting it against the glass with the finger, just like before.

The finger tapped, twice. Little beats, barely producing a sound, but distinct and audible. Sierra shivered as the vibration traveled up her arm, but she kept her hand there. A pause went by, then two more taps. The rhythm was the same, and Duval’s stare seemed intentional the longer it persisted. It came with another hesitation, but Sierra then tapped the glass back, her palm lightly smacking the glass the same cadence. To this, Duval grinned, and she tapped the glass as before once more. Immediately after, she was being twisted out of sight; the Rook was being moved along, navigated by Ericka. Sierra clung to the glass, following the curved wall and the picture of the giant, blue-dressed woman that was pulled away from her.

Duval disappeared, whisked away by her peers and lost behind busy workers. Sierra slumped away from the window, falling back to the tower’s center. Ericka had no words for the people under her watch. The walk to the secured storage room of the hotel was straightforward and silent, without so much as a remark even as Ericka unloaded the occupants from the Rook’s base into the grid of homes within the safehouse. From her patio, Sierra watched as the last of her neighbors were returned, and subsequently, the closing of the glass door that contained them. Ericka soon departed, leaving the safehouse behind with a few dimmed lights behind her.

Sierra wanted to collapse, but as exhausted as her body was, she could not find the peace of mind to lay herself down. Though the couch called to her, she chose to stand, feeling unfit for some time to move beyond where her feet were rooted. She felt like a package, some item from a stockage of others like her, and equally as lifeless as such an object would be. It was these cold thoughts that inspired her to find comfort in her living room, slipping under a blanket and curling into a corner of her sofa until this showcase event was completely over.

Overbearing silence riled Sierra awake. Having drifted into sleep so quickly and so early, she was unable to rest for the entire night. She spent minutes awake on the couch, twisting and yawning, trying to fall back -- but couldn’t. It gnawed at her to know that she was not in the usual neighborhood, with its simulated sounds and environment to disguise the silence. She was in a cage, a box within a cage, which itself was locked in a secure room distant from any normal-sized human. This did not feel like a world to be resting in, but one she should be escaping from.

Of course, there was no reason to escape, but the sensation burned inside her nonetheless. Sierra pondered if this was a natural reaction to anyone who was imprisoned; truly that was how she felt, captive to a situation she had no control over. At least let me sleep through this, she begged herself, flinging an arm off the cushions in frustration. She closed her eyes, exhaled, but remained wide awake.

Then, a tapping was heard. Sierra lifted her head, though she knew it was no knock at her door. From where she lay, she tried to peer out the blinds of the front window, but all she saw were vague shadows moving across what dim lights had been left for the shrunken people. It was evidence enough, however, that someone was out there. It was short of midnight, Sierra noted, so what business did anyone have in the safehouse?

The tapping happened again, but another detail was figured out. Sierra sat up, and she waited to hear it again. Another tap, two taps. The same as before. There was no coincidence to this pattern, its familiar but simple beat resonating in Sierra’s palm as if it was there to be tapped against. She stood up from the couch, only then realizing that she had never undressed from the white outfit given to her. It would have to come with her as she slid to the front door, curious and hopeful of what she might discover.

Outside the community and on the other side of the glass window, the gigantic face of Duval waited, her size swallowing the entirety of the view. Glimpses of her shimmering dress could be seen, indicating that she had also not yet changed out into other clothes. Her eyes lit up upon seeing the tiny front door open, the figure she had come for peeking out from the little gap. Excitement flourished across her expression, but she did not vocalize even a peep of that energy. Through the silence and sternness of her gaze, Duval communicated to Sierra -- she was breaking her out.

Sierra stuttered over nervous laughter, but Duval was quick to shush her with a finger against her lips. The situation was serious; this was no daydream that Sierra was lost in, but an actual departure from the safe and secluded storage of houses. Despite the risks, Duval had come this far, and she would not see her efforts ruined by waking up the wrong person. She was elated to have gotten Sierra’s attention, but it was urgent that they leave immediately, and so she unlocked the safehouse and opened its window just enough for her to sneak a hand in front of Sierra’s miniature house.

In Duval’s grasp was a transport pod, just like the ones used at the lab. Dozens of questions made Sierra hesitate, but the pleading eyes pointed at her persuaded her to take the same leap of faith that Duval had. There was no time or place to talk this out first, and so after gathering her courage and wishing for the best, Sierra hurried into the pod and situated herself in its harnesses. With the same stealthiness as before, Duval resealed the safehouse and crept out of the dim corridors of the security room, her hands tightly balled around the pod as to hide it from view.

Sierra could only guess as to what the world outside the hands was like as she was rushed through it. Only cracks of light filtered past the coil of fingers, followed by the vague murmur of people or an ongoing event. Duval was not caught saying a single word, likely hurrying past others and sneaking through the edges of crowds. It was a crime happening unbeknownst to any of Duval’s peers, a pressure that weighed heavily on both her and Sierra. There was a break from the noise only once they had reached the elevator; neither would dare jinx it, but both felt fledging confidence that they had managed to go undetected.

Finally, the fingers uncurled from around the transport pod. The light blinded Sierra after she had become used to the darkness, but she forced her eyes to open anyway, desperate to see Duval and where she had taken her. Her face was waiting for her, just like before, but there was now an uneasy smile that greeted her, a shamble of joy for having made it this far.

“Sierra… a-are you alright?” Duval asked, checking first for Sierra’s safety. She barely breathed, still choked by her own silence. “I-I was moving so fast, I was afraid I was shaking you, o-or that your harness snapped, or--”

“I’m… I’m fine,” Sierra answered, her hands held up to try and slow Duval’s rambling. From within the confines of the pod, it was all she could do to calm her. “I’m really confused, though. Uh, where are we?”

Duval sighed, relieved that Sierra was unharmed. Before answering the question, she first sought a place to set Sierra down, propping the legs of the transport pod so that it stood evenly on a black marbled surface. “Well, take a look,” Duval chuckled nervously. “It’s the only place where you and I can… be alone.”

With Sierra’s view of the outside fully opened, the answer spoke for itself that this was Duval’s hotel room, an elegant chamber that was plenty wide for the one person occupying it. A warm, secluded atmosphere was made by the color scheme of the walls and furniture, creating a prestigious scene of wealth and comfort. Where Sierra was placed was a mini-bar in the middle of the room, complete with two clean wine glasses out on display that loomed over her position. One half of the room was a living area with lounge chairs circling a coffee table, dimmed lights keeping only the minimum illuminated. The other half was a more open area that surrounded a pristine bed, its thick sheets and comforter yet untouched, and a courtesy curtain provided for privacy when demanded. Most stunning of these sights, however, were the tall windows surrounding the mattress, which offered a fabulous view over the nighttime cityscape.

“This is your hotel room?” Sierra exclaimed, so taken back by the setting that she struggled to undo her buckles within the pod. Even without the significant size of everything in relation to her, the impressive and rich design of the room itself was stunningly modern and elite. “It’s… so much. It’s so pretty!”

Duval glanced over the room and some of its finer details. “Shoote really, um, goes over the top like this,” she said. “We’ve traveled a few times, and it’s always to such gorgeous places like this. Normally, none of us even spend much time in our rooms…” Her attention went back to Sierra, smiling at how bewildered the little woman was in reacting to the hotel room. “Tonight, that’s going to be different. Tonight is very different, ha ha…”

Sierra worked her way out of the pod and onto the cool surface of the mini-bar. The openness immediately chilled her into huddling into her own arms, feeling no less alien to these surroundings while wearing a dress outside her usual wardrobe. “It’s certainly no lab,” she commented. Indeed, there was none of the structure or sterility that the labs were designed with -- it was an unexplored frontier, and Sierra’s spirit for adventure had succumbed to timidity under such overwhelming circumstances.

“I’m sorry for being so hasty about all this,” Duval chuckled nervously. She paced around the mini-bar, her heels clacking against the tiled floor of the kitchenette. “Y-You can imagine, I’m sure, that I had to be quick about doing this. You know… kidnapping a subject. Just kidnapping a subject…”

Sierra chuckled into a cough, feeling about as anxious as Duval. “Would it really be considered kidnapping…?”

“It’s breaking the rules, so it... might as well be.” Again, Duval snickered, but the seriousness clearly weighed on her. She sighed, “I didn’t think this through very far… I never do once alcohol gets involved…”

“Oh. You’ve been drinking?” Sierra had noticed how Duval’s cheeks were flushed and the slacking posture she walked with, but only then connected the thoughts.

“A little bit,” Duval admitted, fixing loose strands of her hair. “A few martinis, a-and some other drink Ericka gave me… oh, and the shots with all the overseers. Hah, th-they’re all partying pretty hard down there. The showcase was a big success… You should be down there too!”

“Me?” Sierra shuddered as she imagined such a scene. “Err… I don’t think I’d fit in.”

“I mean all of you! All the subjects!” Duval clarified. “You were all an important part of the showcase. Thinking of that was, well, what inspired me to come get you in the first place. I never feel comfortable in big crowds, anyway.”

“Neither do I…” Sierra turned where she had been standing, having been too hesitant to move once having exited the pod. “Especially, err, big crowds.”

“Mm. I suppose the experience in the Rook was… a little much?” Duval’s shoulders dropped, reading accurately into Sierra’s pause to reply. “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this, Sierra. I-I wanted this to be a fun experience… I’m hoping I can help turn things around.” She offered a smile, wishing to inspire some positivity, including within herself. “Oh! Y-You look amazing in that dress! I-It sure beats wearing that jumpsuit, right?”

Sierra glanced at her white gown, yet again forgetting she had it on at all. “I-It is lovely,” she bashfully replied. She gazed over Duval’s dress, an excuse to awe over the overseer’s innate charm. “But, you look… stunning. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when you came to get us.”

Duval giggled, her cheeks warmer than before. “It’s definitely fancier than a lab coat and slacks…”

“I do like the lab coat, though,” Sierra added, but after such a bold comment, she fretted back a pace. Though Duval’s smile was welcoming of the compliment, Sierra felt embarrassed for what she had said. The environment was so unusual to how they normally spoke to one another. As relaxed as the setting was, it equally had its own stresses. It could not be shaken from Sierra’s mind that she was alone in a hotel room with Duval, a dynamic that had her feeling even tinier.

Duval’s hands rubbed together as she sought to fill in the silence. “I suppose we should be celebrating, shouldn’t we?” she said, her eyes sparked with more life. “I did bring you all this way. H-How about I open some of this wine a-and we can have a toast?”

Sierra stuttered to answer, but Duval was already knelt down, fetching a tall bottle of burgundy from the rack under the bar. She was in her own world as she retrieved a wine opener and removed the cork, resulting in a gunshot pop that made Sierra jump. “Oops. S-Sorry about that,” Duval apologized through gritted teeth, continuing to open the bottle with more care. She sat the bottle on the counter and arranged the two glasses, casually repositioning what were tall pillars to the woman on the bar. Duval twisted the label towards her, “Do you, um, like burgundy?”

“... I-It’s alright, but,” Sierra coughed, “I don’t think I can… drink that.” She gawked at the bottle in front of her as though it were a monument that overshadowed her. Despite its grand weight, Duval made light of it in her hands as she reconsidered the idea. “B-But you can drink! Don’t let me stop you!”

“Are you sure…?” Duval wondered how good of an idea it was -- it was not a good idea, she plainly knew, to once again be drinking alongside a shrunken subject. That was a serious rule to be abided by, but the night was a trail of broken rules thus far, and so she was convinced to follow through with what would certainly ease her nerves, if nothing else. “I-I’ll find a way to make it up to you,” she promised as she poured what seemed like a swimming pool’s worth of wine from Sierra’s perspective. With the bottle still in hand, Duval lifted the glass and took a long, satisfying sip, not realizing how intrigued Sierra was to be watching such a mundane scene.

Sierra shied away into the middle of the mini-bar. The light scent of alcohol wafted in the air, tingling her nostrils with its alluring sense of excitement. As Duval enjoyed another drink from her glass, Sierra pondered on the amazing world she was surrounded by, and how out of reach it all was. All the luxuries that a normal person could cherish were far too huge for her; once again, she felt disconnected from her surroundings. It was only Duval herself that brought a familiar center to the surreal landscape, and like an idol to be followed, Sierra felt herself pulled towards this newly rebellious nature the scientist was exhibiting. All of this fraternization was wrong -- yet temptation nevertheless crept up Sierra’s spine.

Duval leaned forward as the pause kept her in giddy suspense. “Is there, uh, anything you want to do?” she inquired, eager to know how she could vitalize Sierra’s experience. “You’re finally out of your cage. D-Don’t you want to explore? You know, stretch out a little?”

Loose hair was nervously curled around Sierra’s finger. As Duval ushered closer and pressed more for her to open up, Sierra trembled towards announcing her obscure want. “Well, there’s… some place I’d like to be,” she giggled quietly, “maybe…”

“Oh, do tell,” Duval pleaded. Her eyes were bright with curiosity. “Anything! Or, anywhere! Ah, anywhere within this room, rather… I know it isn’t much, but…”

“C-Could I, uh, go onto the floor?”

Duval blinked over this request, her smile frozen how it was before Sierra spoke. “... Where on the floor?”

“Just… the floor. In front of you.” Her tenseness briefly broke as she slouched into nervous giggles. Whenever Duval spoke, gusts of wine-hinted breaths passed over her, the scent of desire wanting to lure her further. “I-It’s silly, forget about it.”

“It isn’t-- well, perhaps a tad silly,” Duval confessed in an abrupt giggle, “b-but I’ll do that for you. Sure! Just, uh, why?”

Sierra froze up again, realizing she had no real answer to that reasonable question. “... I’ll feel more comfortable, pr-probably.” She looked towards the edges of the bar, coming up with a lie. “It feels high up here. I-I think I’d feel more grounded if I was on the floor, for a moment at least.”

Duval rose off the counter just enough to extend a hand over to where Sierra stood. The depth of her cleavage was unknowingly on display while positioned this way, presenting a sight that Sierra stared into as she climbed aboard the flattened palm. Once the transition towards the floor began, Sierra instantly felt sick, as if she were exploring the outer boundaries of a dream. This clash of emotions, her intrigue versus her anxieties, riddled her with regret, but the move was over as suddenly as it began. Descended to the floor, Sierra nervously stepped off and turned towards Duval, who had knelt down onto her haunches to reach the clean tiled floor.

The hand disappeared back towards Duval, laid onto her knees with the other. Duval sat awkwardly over top of her heels, her balance no better after a night’s worth of drinks. Sierra initially feared the unstable pose the giant was seated in, but her angle of Duval was far too alluring to just ignore; instead of worrying that Duval might tip over onto her, she worried it would be too obvious that she was staring openly at how she squatted. The bottom of Duval’s dress was tucked between her legs, but Sierra’s perspective was yet advantaged to see the roundness of the giant’s rear, the plushness of each cheek sunk into the backs of her heels for support. Duval’s legs were like an elegant gate meant to be looked through, so big and significant in how it conquered Sierra’s sights. The grace of her blue heels, the smooth musculature of her calves, the boldness and weight of her thighs -- Sierra was immensely grateful that for being so small, her staring was certainly more difficult to notice.

Duval, however, did take notice of how Sierra did not absorb all of her surroundings. She told herself that Sierra was likely scared stiff and could not move on the cold tile, but another thought drunkenly swirled through her head. Her subsequent blink was slow as she wondered, Is she just going to stare up at me? Is that all she wanted? Duval’s cheeks grew hotter, though she believed the redness could not be seen by someone so low beneath her.

“Well… This is the… floor.” Duval giggled, though she managed to maintain her balance by keeping an arm pressed against the rack of wines beside her. Her legs closed together more tightly, hugged by her other arm. “I-Is there anything else you want? Err, to be honest, I’m worried you might get stepped on, even if it’s… just me that could, well, do that.”

Sierra’s stiffness melted into a shiver when posed with such a concept. She warmed into a chuckle as she replied, “I don’t think you’d do that.” She vaguely looked elsewhere around the hotel room, but the indirect mention of Duval’s feet had her focus swaying towards that lowest point of the towering scientist. The base of such tremendous weight, planted into the ground like unflinching redwoods, yet the exposed toes remained fluid, curling when Duval was ever nervous or shifting to stabilize her squat. The sole of her heels was intimidating by itself, but the life inside the footwear effectively sang to her; a pitiful and lowly part of Duval’s body, but at a magnitude that Sierra could not deny was impossibly attractive.

The trance Sierra had fallen into was broken when Duval began to stand. Sierra flinched backwards as if dropped back into reality, gawking up at Duval as she rose to her full titanic height. She stood so she could savor another taste of wine, but her gaze always kept the tiny woman in her peripheral, genuinely afraid she would otherwise lose track of her. Her swallow of the wine was not very smooth as her worries bubbled up mid-drink; casually repositioning a foot felt more immense, and she clumsily overcompensated her balance by shaking over Sierra.

“... Did you say something?” Duval chirped, tilting her head in confusion. She knelt slightly with her ear turned down towards Sierra, but she giggled rather than listened. “Gosh, i-it’s hard to tell when you’re talking or not. You’re so, so far away… or, maybe that’s the burgundy…”

But Sierra had said nothing, still trapped in her own silence as she surveyed the beauty of Duval’s height. She had been on the floor before with Duval towering overhead, including the time they snuck into the studio and Duval had to quickly retrieve her from under the Rook. During those times, Sierra was unable to truly appreciate the staggering scale at which the scientist stood. At full height, Duval was a sheer mountain of a person, one that teetered side to side, sneaking in an extra drink of wine. Leagues of emotion spiralled inside Sierra, and yet all she had thus far was a steep view of her overseer, enamored with her slow giggles and drifting gaze.

The massiveness then faltered -- Sierra gasped and cowered, falling into fear when she noticed Duval misstep and rebalance herself. The amount of power in this one accident was like a car wreck not far from where Sierra stood, but Duval merely scoffed at the trouble it was to center herself while drunk and in heels. Sierra’s shock went without notice, her feebleness overlooked because of sore feet.

“Hey…” Duval began, hesitating when she had trouble setting down her glass. “Uh, I would feel a little easier about this if I got out of these heels…” Without waiting for a response, Duval kicked one foot behind her and unwedged her foot from the shoe. “My feet are killing me, anyway… I-I hope this isn’t an issue.” She giggled in graceless bursts as that same foot was set down, allowing her to do the same to the other. She shook her head as she added, “Of course this isn’t okay. It’s a big, naked foot. Ugh…” Despite her self-disgust, she held both heels together in one hand, deciding that it was safer overall to be barefoot than risk stumbling forward in one lethal misstep.

It was an innocent gesture that Duval thought would be disliked, and to some degree, Sierra had expected the same. Yet when the naked feet, as Duval had phrased it, were rooted back onto the floor, an overwhelming trill danced through Sierra’s body. Her breathing hastened as if making up for the breathlessness of before, her heart drummed with an energy that she couldn’t justify. Duval’s feet had well been visible while inside the heels, but when stripped of that shell and placed on a level field, Sierra saw this lowest point of Duval as something innately more sensual. As her thoughts raced about in a blur, the odor reached her, a subtle scent of sweat and soaps that hypnotized her with abnormal desires. Beyond even the smell was an attraction to the noises Duval’s steps made, the fleshy thump of her soles flattening out against the hard tiles somehow a sound that Sierra was drawn one step closer towards.

“They’re gross, aren’t they?” Duval laughed in a drunken admission. Not noticing Sierra’s approach, she lifted one foot and tucked it behind the other, nervously sliding it up the calf. “I hate my feet. How can you stand looking at them down there…?” Both amused and tipsy, Duval moved the same foot to where Sierra stood, stretching out the big toe into a point. She giggled as it neared her, “Look out~ It’s gonna get you~”

When met with the toe, Sierra still lacked the drive to move aside, only retreating a step when the toe had hovered right in front of her. The round digit huddled into her, its size close to a big beach ball that was shoved into her arms; Sierra grasped it, stuttering over herself in a mix of conflicted feelings. She quivered into it, Duval’s toe more capable of supporting Sierra’s weight than the other way around. A husky chuckle hummed from high above in response to Sierra’s openness, and deciding to press matters forward, Duval pushed her toe more into the little woman, forcing her to stagger backwards even further.

“Heehee… Get it outta here, get it out~” Duval quietly teased, vaguely mimicking Sierra’s voice. “Th-That’s what you’re probably yelling down there, huh?” Far from obsessed with this interaction, Duval returned her foot to where it was, though she felt Sierra’s grip more tightly than she had expected.

The sudden movement left Sierra stumbling forward, but her brain was more tripped up than her legs. Blood rushed to her head for a dizzying result as she stared forward blankly, her emotions staggered like she was. Her fingers curled, remembering the texture of the toe’s skin; her arms shivered, remembering the width of the foot that could easily have bore down on her at any moment. Her heart felt beatless as she pondered what Duval thought -- was she oblivious to the effect it had on her? Sierra blinked and deciphered the expression hanging up above, a slightly amused arc in Duval’s brow with her grin hidden above her chest.

But Sierra also stressed over what that effect exactly was. The enigma that was her fascination kept her paralyzed as Duval buckled her knees, her hands crossed over her lap along with the heels she still held. Each one had the weight of a dump truck, and yet all it took was a casual toss towards the carpeted section of the room to dismiss them. Sierra jumped to life as she felt the distant sound and resonance of the heels falling to the floor, a shiver running her up her spine that made Duval wince with pity.

“Ooh, sorry…” Duval weakly apologized. She chuckled, “B-Better than getting stepped on, right?” Continuing her teasing, she lifted a foot over Sierra, its length away being indiscernible as far as the shrunken woman could tell -- despite being a fair height overhead, it might as well have been directly over Sierra’s head with how she tumbled onto her rear in astonishment. Yet, Duval still giggled, “I can’t even see you down there like this… Where’d you go, hm? Sierra~?”

The sweet singsong tone of Duval’s remark carried far more immensity than intended as it dropped on top of Sierra. From her prone position, Sierra studied the sole and the details that made it Duval’s own. It was familiar, this exact dynamic; it was a detail she envisioned faraway in dreams, a fantasy that she had assumed could never come to be. But as part of Duval’s drunken stupor, she was experiencing this secondary fascination, struggling to comprehend it as real. When the foot sank closer towards her, and its odor once again forced itself onto Sierra, there was no denying the sheer arousal that was overcoming her. She could argue against it no longer, that she was deeply attracted to this humiliating interaction.

The foot shifted to the side, revealing Duval’s mild concern as it lit up across her face. “Oh dear,” she muttered. “A-Are you alright, Sierra? I-I must be making you sick. D-Do you need a bucket, or…?”

Sierra choked on a reply, unsure of what she wanted. But when the foot began to slip aside to return to the floor, she sat up and reached for it. “Wait! N-No, err--!”

Duval froze, hearing just a cheep from Sierra. She knelt down lower and aimed an ear at her. “Sorry, what was that? I-It’s hard to hear--”

“I want your foot!” Sierra’s eyes clenched close, pretending that if she were blind, none of this would be real, and that her shouted confession would just be a figment. “B-Bring it back! I-I want to-- to hold it!”

“... Sierra?” Duval paused, then scoffed amusedly. “Uh, are you okay?”

Sierra felt too close to let the opportunity be pulled away. She remembered the risk she took sneaking into Duval’s glove, she remembered delving into her cleavage while she napped on her desk. Those were far greater risks to her literal life, and yet she had been bold enough then to leap. When presented with this dreamlike chance, in the seclusion of a hotel room separated from rules and regulations, she committed to her desires -- obtuse as they were.

“I… I want your foot…!” Sierra repeated, opening her eyes to the light of her request. She shuddered under the curling toes, but held steady. “I-I love your feet! I-I don’t know! I j-just love them…!” Her face boiled over with redness, but her glare hardly wavered.

Duval bashfully tried to veil how her lips quivered back and forth, uncertain of how to feel. A long pause persisted as she digested this confession, her flustered mind trying to piece together a puzzle like she would a math problem. “... What would you-- What do you want to do with… them?”

Sierra blanked.

“... Alright.” Duval’s voice was more blunt. Sierra motionlessly panicked, frantic over what ‘alright’ could possibly mean. Duval’s foot returned to the floor, seemingly spelling defeat for Sierra’s fantasies. She watched as the overseer swayed into the counter, downed the rest of her burgundy, and sighed contently. Then, her right foot slid forward while she looked back at the wine bottle, pouring herself another glass in silence until it was filled. “Alright.”

“... Al-Alright?” Sierra repeated the cursed word, nearly mad over the vagueness. She cleared her throat and spoke louder, “Alright…?”

“Yeah,” Duval nodded, her lips concealed by the rim of her glass. In truth, Sierra’s words were not heard, but her hesitation spoke volumes. “Go for it. I’ll watch.”

“Huh?”

“I just want to understand. I’ll observe.” A giggle bubbled into her wine as she sipped from it as an excuse to say no more.

The foot inched closer to Sierra, ushering its availability. Though confused, Sierra stood up and shambled forward, closing the distance between her and the row of toes awaiting her. When the big toe twitched, she flinched backwards and continued more cautiously. As if pulled by a leash, she was bound to this direction, incapable of fretting away like her instincts suggested. Her hand stretched forward, nearing a threshold of seduction that she fathomed could break her spirit.

After a touch with her palm atop the broad nail of the big toe, the anxieties plaguing Sierra melted away. There was a calm that followed as she felt the tremendousness of Duval through this lowly part of her, a single toe representing a skyscraper’s worth of weight in the shape of an ornately dressed woman. It was a plain connection to simply be holding her toe, but Sierra’s heart burned like an engine roaring to life, driven to seize the moment.

It began with a kiss before unrolling into a powerful lust. All restraints broke down after Sierra’s lips were laid upon the toe’s skin. Her head moved back with a heavy sigh, her eyes rapidly bouncing across the other toes. Her body shivered in delight before being flung into her desires. She slid between the big toe and the second, succumbing to its grip like forcing herself into an embrace. The wetness of leftover sweat immediately dampened her white dress, but Sierra took pleasure in the moisture, wallowing in its clinginess with an audible moan. Her teeth clenched, recognizing the moan as mannerless, but all rules were null in this space. Tight around her body were two of Duval’s toes, the most bottom points of the scientist’s idolized body; she moaned louder, grinding her crotch into a toe’s side while slumping her torso over the flat nail, her hands itching at their smooth surface like wanting to coil around bed sheets.

The intensity of Sierra’s unchained sexuality was scaled to that of a tickle for Duval’s foot. The reckless and passionate spasms of the woman’s fantasies coming to life were met with a curl of Duval’s toes, a normal reflex in response to the writhing she felt. Duval allowed the scene to unfold with as little interruption as possible, perplexed by what she witnessed and too curious to interfere. Sierra appeared lost in her own world, but Duval remained in the hotel room like she had been, unaffected by the emotional outpour happening at her feet. She felt pecks and gropes, all parts of a miserable display that made no sense to her, but undoubtedly made her feel prized. Beyond just desired, beyond just an ordinary crush, she knew this tiny woman worshipped her, a love that bordered on obsession. Even the most minor twitch of her toes sent chills over Sierra, her diminutive size nearly swallowed when the two toes rose up around her; it was a sight that had Duval giggle aloud, finally tickled enough to release a humble laugh.

Such a melodic tone lured Sierra’s focus temporarily overhead. She panted with her tongue hung out, dry from how it had dragged across the meager inch of sweat-touched skin. Above her, the weight of Duval’s gaze physically drilled onto her. Enormous as she was, Duval had to press her chest inwards in order to peer over it and down at Sierra. It belittled her how the overseer giggled, so unphased and distant, yet that was perfectly how Sierra wished to be humiliated, dismissed like a nuisance. The embarrassment drove her to more shamelessness, pushed past the precipice of regret, and so she nuzzled the knuckle of the big toe with her cheek, massaging what little fat clung to such a minor aspect of Duval’s body.

The rest of the wine was gradually being finished while Sierra tossed and squirmed. Drinking was all Duval felt comfortable doing, but the spinning sensation tempted her. Warmth bubbled up deep within her gut, surfacing atop her cheeks with a red glow. She dwelled on this interaction, this dynamic -- Sierra was an adult woman that willingly submitted herself to this, sacrificing her pride and even risking her health in order to succumb to some obscure fascination. It pained Duval to admit it, but the ridiculousness behind Sierra’s motivations was flattering, and how could it not be? Beneath her, wedged into her toes, was a willing soul that was eager to be not unlike lint trapped with her foot, looked up to like some supreme deity. She humored the thought that they were far beyond being mere researcher and subject, a joke that corrupted what little sanctity remained of their professional, sterile relationship.

Sierra felt the titanic body sway into the counter, her own body nearly uplifted as the toes moved to rebalance. The newly applied tightness on her body was more choking than she expected, but the fact that she had less control was only more enthralling. Duval’s foot succeeded in making her feel weightless as it gently lifted up with Sierra still stuck to it, lifted high enough that her tiny feet could kick at open air. The toes separated and thus her body eventually unclung from the flesh, dropping her back on the tile floor. Disoriented and numb, Sierra collapsed to her knees. She glanced up the enormous body, her questions already answered by what she saw descending over her. Like a stage curtain let loose, the beautiful blue dress Duval had been wearing was undone, released from her body and left to pile up around her ankles.

Sierra squeaked as the mounds of fabric dropped onto her, hiding her as less than a bump rustling under the sheet-like dress. Though lightweight in Duval’s possession, the dress was heavy and unforgiving to Sierra’s efforts underneath it, but she was able to work through it and into the center. Her reward for surmounting the challenge was what had been exposed above her, a sight she did not spare herself from enjoying. Duval towered overhead in silk lingerie, black panties and a black bra that had the privilege of hugging her skin. Despite now standing unclothed, the gigantic woman appeared more intimidating than ever before, stunning Sierra with a perspective and scope she could have only before dreamed of.

“I almost lost track of you… down there…” Duval stirred, her voice weary and unfocused. The coolness of the room did not bother her, as she had enough heat to spare radiating off her exposed body. “Mm… Stay close to my feet… so th-that I know where you are…”

Fearful of being overlooked, Sierra overcame her awe and hurried to the row of toes, collapsing over them so that her minuscule body was noticed. She fell over top the middle toe and wrapped her arms around it, its width still greater than how far she could stretch. Forfeiting any leftover dignity, Sierra unabashedly massaged herself into the toe, her hips guided into a grind along its curve. Her head was fully lurked back, her eyes unblinkingly attached to the sight bestowed upon her; how Duval’s hips curved with her underwear tight around them, the fabric strung in the crack of her underside, and how a blanket of fat was pressed out from them, as if the idolic body was too much to be contained -- details such as these were chronicled dutifully, savored as the luxury that they were by Sierra’s enthralled stare.

“This is enough, is it?” Duval pondered aloud. She smiled when Sierra was not moved by the sound of her voice, so immersed into her obsession, but the slightest shiver against her toe’s knuckle signalled that she was not being ignored. “All I have to do is stand here… and you’re pushed to this, huh…? Do I really have that kind of effect on you?”

Sierra flinched, a moan-turned-grunt bellowing from her when the toe she straddled suddenly hopped. The movement shook her into considering Duval’s remark, particularly noting the condescending tone. It reminded her of how pathetic this all was, striking her with the doubts that she had allowed to build up in the back of her mind. Though she knew her gestures could likely not be understood, Sierra still nodded vicariously, agreeing with the sentiment -- Duval’s toes alone were enough to drive her into madness, regardless of how sickening it simultaneously was to submit herself to something so humiliating.

Gracelessly, Sierra could withhold no longer. She peaked without warning, nothing more than an electric tingle that directed her towards bliss. Under gasping breaths, Sierra was brought to orgasm on top of the toe, her arousal having seeped through the dress she had long since forgotten about. She stuttered as if needing to explain herself to Duval, but it was herself that needed to be convinced of what this orgasm meant, and why it overjoyed her to experience it this way. Physically, Sierra felt invigorated and free, but at her core, she was hollow and lost, slowly sobering up to the consequences of her degradation.

“You, err-- You’ve slowed down,” Duval warily commented, having allowed moments of nothing to pass. Sierra remained slumped over her toe, motionless after what appeared to be an exciting build up. As small as the woman might be to her, Duval still very much felt the raw, sensual energy that had been committed to her -- to just her lowly toes of just one foot. “D-Did you… get off?” She chuckled over those eager words, “Sorry… I had no idea y-you’d be so… well…”

Sierra grimaced, hiding her disgust by pressing her face into the middle toe. Her fingers crawled, but their grasp on the skin was slipping as she realized that it was over. The event, spontaneous and intense, was lived through and experienced. She had succumbed to Duval’s toe like some desperate insect, and now reality was washing ashore, dragging Sierra to its surface.

Under where she lay, Sierra felt the world turn around her. Duval hunched forward, her foot left as still as possible as she knelt down to retrieve Sierra. The little woman was picked up without resistance, pillowed between gentle fingers that elevated her up into the air. When the hands unfolded away from her, Sierra was left stretched on her side, weakly looking up at the woman that held her. She winced like looking into the sun, burned by the gaze Duval concentrated onto her.

“D-Duval, I-I don’t… I can’t explain what I just did,” Sierra stammered, struggling to at least turn and face Duval proper in her palms. Her skin was still red, evidence to her that she should also remain ashamed. More challenging yet was that Duval stood nearly naked, a visual obstacle that Sierra could not plainly face. “Th-There’s so much that’s happened… I was overwhelmed, and--”

“Shh… Shh…” Duval shook her head, raising Sierra higher to be more level with her eyes. It was all she said for a time, but the calming coos were able to bring some level of calm over Sierra. “You… don’t need to worry. You’re-- You’re so small. You don’t have to worry.”

Sierra blinked, as if it was a riddle meant to be solved. “Duval…”

“Oh, no more of this-- whatever this is,” Duval giggled, beginning to sway back into motion. Sierra clung tighter to the skin around her as she felt the giant stir. “Only good vibes tonight… No headaches, no worries, just you and me.”

“D-Duval…?”

“I need-- no, you! You-- We need a drink, we both do!” As apparent in her voice as it was in her expression, Duval seemed to be cracking under an unseen pressure. Sierra, however, was none the wiser to describe what she witnessed, dragged along with her as she turned towards the mini-bar with a nearly mad look in her eyes. “Good vibes tonight, very good vibes… Y-You should try this burgundy, it’s so… tasty, just so tasty.”

A chill grazed Sierra as she watched the burgundy be poured once again into Duval’s glass. With only one hand to manage the bottle while the other contained Sierra, a clumsier effort was made, resulting in a splash that went over the rim. It was laughed off, the bottle dismissed with a heavier thud than Duval intended, and the glass was whisked quickly up to her lips. Sierra watched and heard the beverage slip away, eerily close to the very throat it was being washed down.

Only then did Sierra finally voice her concern. “I… can’t drink that,” she reminded Duval with a disappointed tone. “That’s too big. M-Maybe you’ve had too much--” Her sentence was broken by a jerk of a movement; Duval was moving elsewhere, away from the mini-bar and over towards the grand bed.

“I said good vibes only~” Duval chimed to her palm, smiling over the little woman while always keeping the glass nearby. “You have your overseer’s permission-- permission to drink this wine! Here, should I…?” The glass was then angled towards Sierra, its murky red color threatening to overflow over the side in a wave. Sierra trembled away, but a tilt in the hand under her urged her back towards the rim, enough so that she had to put both hands on the lip to control it. Duval insisted, “I-It’s really good, try some~”

“Du-Duval! I can’t!” Sierra argued in a fit of nervous laughter. The aroma of the wine being forced upon her was strong enough to tease the idea of being showered under the alcohol, at least until its boldness made Sierra cough. “Y-You can enjoy it for yourself! Ah, more for you, right?”

“Nooo, I want to share with my-- my favorite!” Duval whined, showing a gap in her usual maturity. Her word choice was particular and precise, visibly earning a small reaction from Sierra when it was said. Duval’s smile widened far, “My little favorite… I just want to control the whole world for you…”

“Duval…” Sierra shivered, feeling weaker despite the glass’s weight lightening up against her. Duval no longer pushed the rim into her, but it was kept just level underneath where she was held, a pool well within jumping distance. Just as Sierra worried about being dropped in, that possibility came to be; Duval’s hand tilted further, tossing the shrunken subject into the glass with a pathetic splash faster than she could gasp.

Submerged and surprised, Sierra struggled to resurface as quickly as possible. The thickness of the oversized beverage weighed her down, as if purposefully wanting to grip at her from all sides and drown her in the red depths. Upon reaching fresh air, Sierra gasped and called out, “D-Duval! Duval! Wh-What the hell?!” She could not see, not with the alcohol wanting to burn her eyes, but through weak glimpses could she understand the world swirling outside her glass cage. If nothing else, she deciphered Duval’s amusement through the giggles dripping over her head, seemingly entertained with how Sierra splashed and suffered.

“This is too cute,” Duval whispered as she twisted the glass slowly in her fingers. The slightest tilt or sway was enough to conjure waves around Sierra, causing her to rise and sink along the uneasy surface. “You are just… a dot. A speck in my wine.”

“Duval…!” Sierra clung to the glass, her hands never able to get a grip on the sheer surface for more than a couple seconds at a time. Once her vision was cleared, she could see how Duval surveyed her in this embarrassing situation, having to gawk up at the curious smile hanging above. “I-I can’t swim like this! Duval, it’s so heavy…!”

“You sound mad~ Don’t be mad at me, Sierra! I wanted to share!” Duval continued to giggle over Sierra’s dismay, but the genuine fear was not lost on her. Scaring the little woman was intended, but she did not wish to terrorize her. She lifted the glass up so that the surface was even with her eyes, placing the pad of a pointer finger up against where Sierra drifted. “Don’t you trust me? We’re just having fun, Sierra~ I promise, it’s all just fun.”

Sierra breathed frantically, suffocating with each alcohol-ridden inhale. So easily was her world lifted up to Duval, brought to her expansive face to be looked at directly. With her begging expression considered along with her tone, Duval managed to be convincing over Sierra, at least as far as it took to trust that she was not in any danger. This was Duval, after all, that made this promise, and the gesture with her finger on the glass harked back to their interactions at the Rook and the safehouse. While still kicking to stay afloat, Sierra’s hand met with Duval’s own on the other side, approving of whatever fun Duval wanted to cherish.

Immediately after did Sierra’s world flip around by the whim of a wrist. A vortex of swirling wine dragged Sierra into the center of the pool while Duval took a seat at the mattress’s edge, a bounce into softness that shook Sierra’s cage. Every motion had some magnitude of effect like that, a detail Duval had taken deep interest in as she studied how the wine ebbed and flowed with a tiny person in its middle.

Balance was not allowed to be found for Sierra as the world shifted again. Drawn to where gravity went, Sierra gasped at what took over her vision; the parting of giant lips planted along the rim of the glass. The sight was unreal, a straight shot into a human mouth -- Duval’s mouth, of all mouths, opening just wide enough to allow the nearly endless amount of wine to pour in. The stream was too strong to resist, even if Sierra had the nerves or power to do so. She was carried by its flow regardless of how she feared the prospect of being swallowed, a reality that was swiftly upon her.

Sierra crashed into the upper lip, her fingers digging into the pillowy texture so that she could not get dragged down and submerged. She very well felt that possibility at her feet as the wine continued to filter past her, sipped into the gigantic mouth to never be seen again. A leg was nearly pulled in, and Sierra screamed with her head just above the bubbles, “Duval, no!!”

At that moment, the world shifted again. The pool of wine tilted back the way it was, and so Sierra was washed back into its middle, twisting and writhing about in the beverage that drenched her. She spat up wine that had forced its way down her throat amidst her efforts to stay afloat, her head swirling with more than just grief and fear. For the time being, the risk of being swallowed alive was no more, but Duval’s carefree giggles suggested that had never been the case.

“You know I won’t actually drink you,” Duval coyly remarked. “You do know that, right? Did it feel like I would?”

Sierra stuttered in a rushed reply, “Y-Yes! Yes it did!”

Duval shook her head, “I would never! Oh, Sierra, I… told you to trust me.” Her smile faded, but did not disappear entirely as it was aimed into the glass. “... Weren’t you sort of turned on? Don’t you like this kind of thing?” Sierra did not reply, her face having fallen blank under such questions. “You were so excited just to have my toes. I had hoped you would like my lips as much, err, maybe more...” She choked slightly on the lingering taste of alcohol, but her grin persisted. “A-And for me, i-it felt incredible… knowing what you were doing down there… how you felt about me… I-I wanted to see it closer, just what you looked like…”

Sierra was speechless and pale, every breath a fight to overcome the wine’s scent and stay afloat at its surface. The glass was tipped again, resulting in waves pushing and pulling at her towards the rim once more. She heard the wind whip as Duval inhaled, the wine pouring over her lips while Sierra swam against the current. Her efforts were useless as the stream forced her towards the giant’s mouth, but her scream was subdued, minimized to a quick shriek when she felt her legs slip into the abyss, tickled by the wine’s flow. Again was she gripping onto Duval’s upper lip, her body pressed against it while resisting the weight behind her.

Yet impossible to resist was the emotion churning inside Sierra. At the core of all her fright and horror was a pounding heart that wanted this. Though her sights were blurred by splashes of red and an intoxicating air, Sierra saw clearly the details of Duval’s massive face. She felt a gust rush down her, wind that was exhaled through Duval’s nose while she savored the drink. Her lips closed together, trapping Sierra’s legs between them. Their plushness proved difficult to kick free from, but she was encouraged to stay when the lips nibbled at her calves and thighs, tenderly smothering them as though they were a treat to be suckled. Sierra grunted and complained, but her panic was instinctual; still deep down did she find this to be dreamlike, made even less real by how Duval equally desired this.

Sierra slipped further between the lips, pulled there by a careful bite that encompassed more of her body. The boundary she was situated on, the border of the glass and Duval’s mouth, began to widen. The glass was being taken away, forcing Sierra to grapple the upper lip to avoid the fall below. Plucked out from the drink and without support, Sierra groaned as she arced forward, grabbing hold of a nostril to keep herself hugged into the lip. This nearly failed when Duval scoffed, a mundane exhale that threatened to blow Sierra down and away, but she endured and remained with her lower half still caught in the massive lips.

Pinning Sierra between her lips was causing Duval to ward off a fit of giggles. As concerned as she was for the little woman’s safety, she was also endlessly amused by how she was at her mercy, bound to her. Of course, she would never let Sierra slip and fall, and a free hand hovered nearby below as a safety net, but the tiny pinches around her lip and nose were sincerely desperate, a very valid fear. So much emotion and drama, all centered around her and these drunken whims.

The mouth opened as Duval’s head reeled back slowly. Sierra squeaked as she felt gravity warp around her, putting in her a position where she no longer risked falling down the massive body, but was more likely to be swallowed by her mouth. Sierra pushed down to rise up, but her attempts to kick her legs over the pink lips failed as the serpentine tongue under her tangled around her feet. All at once, Duval’s lips parted completely, leaving Sierra dangling above a black pit that clicked with saliva. The edges of teeth teased her torso and a warm breath traveled up and over the wine-stained dress. Sierra closed her eyes tight while still trying to squirm her way up, but the tongue craved more than just the tips of her toes. It rose out of the abyss and behind Sierra, barely in the corners of her vision as a beast awakening just for her. The tongue then smacked her back, curling as if trying to drag her into the cavern. Sierra gasped and flailed to fight back, all while maintaining her grasp and balance along the lip.

“Duval! Duval!” Sierra shouted, but no volume could break the scientist out of her trance. Drunk and empowered, Duval had a mission in mind that only she could understand. Her tongue took Sierra decidedly, no longer pretending to be fought off. It wrangled her legs and pulled her back between the lips, a stubborn stickiness keeping her locked in place. From there, it continued to bend around Sierra’s curves, overpowering her kicks and punches while rhythmically traveling over the pitiful body, particularly where she would be most sensitive or vulnerable. Her legs and ass were not just licked, but savored; in response to such deliciousness, Duval moaned pleasantly, a hummed tone that vibrated Sierra’s body further. She was enjoying this thrill of power, and Sierra understood how fortunate she was to be at its other end, the powerless victim that was being toyed with. Though terrorized by the tongue, its wet strokes across her frame were not aimless, but intentional attempts of coaxing Sierra into arousal again.

Duval closed her eyes, concentrating hard on not laughing at how much control she had over someone. So many thoughts with drunken logic wished to be teased aloud, but she restrained herself, dedicating that cleverness instead to how her tongue performed on Sierra. It lapped around her hips, it hugged her chest tightly, as if manipulating the most intriguing lollipop. After some time, she noticed that Sierra’s screams had ceased, succumbing to the lust and instead shifting into long moans. Rather than push or pull in an attempt to escape, Sierra instead squeezed at whatever flesh she could grab, her body falling limp like a ragdoll. This was fair for Duval, whose most fun was knowing she had this incredible effect on someone, the power to take over their world and their body and to thrust all that into a scene for her entertainment.

Quicker than anticipated, Duval felt the quivering of an orgasm. Her eyes lit up, all motion of her’s pausing while it cherished how Sierra spasmed between the lips. A dry voice unleashed a whining moan that spoke Duval’s name like a plea, a tune that had Duval shiver with excitement. A mere drink of wine and some whipping of her tongue had produced a woman’s second orgasm for that evening, a sensation that satisfied her to no end. This diminutive person was obsessed with her, and Duval was addicted to this dynamic.

Duval released Sierra into her hand, a graceless exit for what had been a belittling scene. A glob of saliva clung to her legs, a reminder of what had occurred and how spontaneous it had all been. Duval winced at the results, “You got so dirty… You look like a little mess…” Splayed out in Duval’s palm, Sierra could not disagree, glancing at her crimson stained dress and the spit soaked into it. She could barely budge, her legs lifeless after what she had been exposed to, but her staggered efforts made Duval giggle with bubbles of pride; I did this, she thought to herself happily, I’m responsible for all of this!

Sierra found the strength to sit up, but not any further than that. Dazed and flustered, she could not accurately describe the feeling she was in, a combination of bliss and panic. The world seemingly did not matter, but reality hovered at the edges of this plateau Sierra stood from, like gray storm clouds brewing on a horizon. What more did this ocean of opportunities promise? That ocean, after all, was Duval herself, her whims being the tides that dictated where they would explore.

And exploring was all Duval dreamed of doing. The sensation of being a god-like figure had fully consumed her in its enticing grip. Never before did she have this much power and authority over another person, and that power manifested itself in sheer arousal. Witnessing this little woman peak over such minute aspects of her body had tickled her like nothing else, swallowing her into a vortex of desires. Before the night ended, she wanted to achieve her own wish with Sierra, though the image of what she wanted remained a spiral in her mind.

“L-Let’s get you out of this,” Duval said simply, without the poise or stature that one would expect from neither a goddess nor a scientist. Two fingers pinched the back of Sierra’s dress, lifting up on it with a careful tug. Though hesitant to be so exposed like Duval was, Sierra also disliked wearing a dress that was heavy from wine-infused spit, and so she did not refuse being stripped. In any case, the cold of the hotel room instantly spun Sierra into shivers, prompting an empathetic hand to embrace the half-naked figure. “You are too cute, e-even when you’re all shaky like this…”

Sierra meant to reply, but she could only cough on her own breaths before she felt everything twist around her. Duval collapsed backwards into the range of pillows, her comfort coming at the cost of Sierra nearly being jostled out from her grasp. Though that did not happen, it encouraged Duval to put both hands around Sierra, cradling her with a thumb under each arm and the rest of her fingers forming a seat for her to occupy. Sierra felt uneasy about the world taking shape around her, but her trust in Duval was unflinching. It was difficult to not trust such a massive smile and gleaming eyes, nor did she need convincing that Duval was in total control.

For a long moment, Duval simply stared at Sierra, and Sierra stared back at her, unable to turn away or do anything else. “You are so precious, Sierra,” Duval sighed, her fingers lightly massaging her. “It’s so hard to not just squeeze you… I never want to let go…”

Sierra’s breathing was finally on route to becoming tamed again, certainly aided by Duval’s comforting touch and tone. She was able to relax after such a heated encounter, melting into the fingers that held her and cuddling against them so that the affection was returned. She was never good with opening herself, and even worse when in front of Duval, yet the words flowed effortlessly from her, “I love you, Duval. I love you.”

Duval laughed and shook her head, her huge eyes too feeble to look into Sierra’s after such a remark. Instead, she glanced at her own body, its mountainous scale compared to Sierra. An eye opened, clumsily relocating Sierra into its vision. “I wouldn’t want anyone else here to look at me like this. It’s so embarrassing, b-but when it’s you… I just can’t let go. I don’t want it to end. If I could, I’d… close my hands and keep you forever, you know?”

Sierra swallowed. She lifted herself to speak, stuttered, then chuckled into her thoughts, “I-Is it bad that… I wouldn’t mind that?”

“Is it bad? Mm, hmm…” Duval pondered the weighty subject over, but her drunken thoughts were not going to make heads or tails of something so complex. “But… this all feels wonderful. For once, I feel like my own person… No limitations, no restrictions. What I want, and what you want. That’s it. So, so simple… for as long as this lasts…”

The hands placed Sierra down, but not onto the mattress or nightstand. Duval placed her on her stomach, her tiny knees and hands sinking into the expansive softness as she tried to find balance in this new zone. Sierra was bounced off her feet after finally managing to stand, due to a jitter along the landscape caused by Duval’s amusement. She tumbled backwards, but rolled forward into a crawl position, surveying her surroundings while sorting out her confusion. Though there was no prompt for being put here, Sierra would not argue, taking the moment to appreciate the geographical-like beauty that was all around her.

“... Explore me,” Duval urged, her eyes slipping closed peacefully. “I want to feel you moving around, making me feel huge… Can you do this for me…?”

Sierra blinked, her fingers curling in the pillowy ground as she processed the request. Knowing she would likely go unheard, her response was to move forward, up the subtle incline that was Duval’s lounging body. Each step squished into the skin, a sensation that worked a laugh out of Sierra as she stumbled ahead, unafraid to trip into something so plush -- and so much of it, to catch her wherever she explored. After not one, but two climaxes induced by Duval, this opportunity to travel her gigantic shape felt overdue, but she was stumped with regards to where to go, where she was wanted.

But just those few staggered steps up her belly was satisfying for Duval, at least to begin. She moaned quietly, her legs squirming against one another as she felt the tiny pinches and presses of a tiny person moving up her great body. It was challenging to resist not swiping away at Sierra and pushing her aside akin to a fallen hair, her hands risen up reflexively when Sierra’s trips were especially ticklish. Her giggles, she knew, roused the very world the little woman trekked upon, yet another detail that had her driven to feel bigger and grander.

Sierra flinched down as Duval’s hands flew overhead towards the barricade-like bra. Contained behind the black fabric, and teased to be released, was an overflow of flesh that her fingers dug into, flexing into the softness and working out a craving sigh. She opened an eye, as if to quietly spy on Sierra’s approach up her body, having found the woman to have come to a standstill. She grinned, “Keep coming~ Come up here…” Middle fingers massaged where her nipples budded into the bra, calling Sierra over with their motion. “Climb them… Are you able to…?” She chuckled, again imbalancing Sierra. “I remember… I remember you climbing into them before…~”

The truth made Sierra wince with shame, but it only electrified her obsession with feeling so lowly and pathetic. Given the command, she would follow through, and so she trudged forward against the steepening incline, moving forward in a crawl-climb towards the massive breasts ahead. The closer she was, the more the pair swallowed her vision, their motions of being pushed in and pulled by Duval’s hands hypnotizing her to continue without question. Once in reach, she lunged for the middle of the bra and took hold, using it to pull herself up into the valley Duval had opened for her.

Her prize for making it this far was for the fleshy walls on either side of her to close in. Duval giggled as she trapped Sierra in her cleavage, fascinated with how the tiny figure could disappear from sight. She released her breasts, causing Sierra to slip down with a bounce, flushed in a new tone of red. The breath had been squeezed out of her, yet all Duval saw was comical toiling, her best friend having been threatened with suffocation there between her boobs.

“You poor thing,” Duval mumbled, insisting a finger underneath Sierra’s nude rear. With the tip under her, she lifted Sierra up, surprising her into a squeak as she was ushered up the right breast. Where the bra hugged the flesh at the round peak was where Sierra was left, her hands instinctively grabbing at the fabric to prevent sliding down either side. Each breath saw this hill rise and dip, demanding Sierra to find balance at its center -- an erect nipple pushing through the padding became a beacon to cling to.

Duval’s hands hovered to the wayside, electing to allow Sierra to lay atop her breast without interference. She fought back the laughter brewed by the tiny woman’s touches, subduing her amusement into loose giggles. Unknowingly, each of her breaths brushed over Sierra, sending her naked form into chills that rustled against the nipple. At the foot of the bed, Duval’s legs twisted together in a squirm, a distant sight for Sierra to observe while balancing herself on the breast. Such a visual confirmed the raw arousal building up in the world under Sierra, an energy running across Duval’s plains of skin like an electric current she was a part of.

“Come on… Keep going~” Duval urged, tentatively staring down hard over Sierra and the hesitations that had slowed her. She hoped a wide smile might spark some enthusiasm. “Is even this fun for you…? I feel too good, hah, like I’m hoarding all the fun…”

Sierra enjoyed her entertainment from her position, embracing the shape of the nipple even tighter when pressed to do more. It pushed against her as it grew erect, its firmness increasing until it was more like a stone that she massaged her face into. Her expression came with shades of pain as she stretched up and over the nipple, using her own chest to squeeze tightly around it. She hoped her thumping heart, as powerful as it felt in her center, could be sensed by Duval, even as just a little rhythm of life. For her own selfish desires, she pecked kisses all around the bra, savoring these moments for all that she could.

Duval was cast in sweat as the encounter prolonged. Her knees arced up the mattress and her fingers clenched at the sheets. Every motion felt sweeping and heavy, a combination of the alcohol mixed with the power rush she was situated in. Overcome with heat, her body throbbed and swayed, threatening to toss Sierra aside with how she jittered. Sierra clung to the nipple, but the silk fabric around it was too smooth to stay attached to for long. Only then rediscovering her voice, Sierra chirped for help, but a low moan bullied out her plea as Duval delved into her own headspace. Her body rocked, its rippling weight like an avalanche that ultimately beat Sierra’s grip and forced her to cascade in a graceless roll down the body she had just scaled.

In the midst of tumbling, Sierra slid down a stretch of fat that managed to catch her feet well enough to stop her fall, albeit with a few slips. Sierra was out of breath by the time her descent ceased, hugging the skin not just for protection but to stabilize her swirling head. In just an instant, the softness she had grown accustomed to was replaced with a thicker, more expansive plushness. She deduced it was Duval’s stomach, not far from where she had begun, that she had wound up atop of. On cue with this understanding, a bubbled laugh ruptured all around Sierra as Duval found humor in where the little woman had stumbled.

“There you are… Almost didn’t notice where you went…” Duval teased, her head craned into view above Sierra and offering a clumsy wink for additional effect. From out of Sierra’s view, a finger pressed down on her from behind, shoving her deeper into the pillowy gut. Sierra’s surprise manifested as a tickle against Duval, her scrambling for freedom the exact response she had expected. Just as suddenly as she pushed on Sierra, so too did the finger relieve her, with such a pop of release that Sierra slid further down the skin and closer to the territory of Duval’s panties.

“This would bother me,” Duval remarked aimlessly. “A giant stomach… not appealing at all… What would it even be like in there…?” Her disgust was not hidden, a frown tainting her fun as she soured over the context. Unknowingly, her commentary exhilarated Sierra, reminding her just how insignificant she was to something like Duval’s stomach. Compared to it, she truly was a castaway crumb that clung to the belly helplessly, having to feel the rumbling ongoing within. Under closed eyes, she imagined the insides of that organic chamber and what contents must be pooled together; a shiver-inducing imagination that was only broken free from when she was pinched by two log-sized fingers.

Duval forced the speck of a person elsewhere on her stomach, her smile returning strongly the closer the woman neared her belly button. Sierra did not grasp what she was pointed to right away, the size of such a minute feature of Duval’s body distorting how it was comprehended. When understood to be a belly button, the next moment saw Sierra shoved into it, the soft flesh allowing much of her head and shoulders to sink in. Sierra resisted how she always did, facing the threat of suffocation, but the lack of oxygen drove her other senses aflame. She gasped Duval’s name in fruitless attempts of being recognized, all the while being ushered into renewed arousal as two fingers manhandled her body with pushes and pinches intended to make her squirm and kick.

“Even a belly button could eat you up~” Duval mocked, having reached a relative cool while surveying Sierra’s struggles. As she pushed harder into her stomach, she was able to squeeze out a whine from her stomach. It shocked Duval, but immediately after did she hunch forward with laughter, sealing Sierra almost completely into a trap of fatty flesh. “Sorry! A-All that alcohol, i-it can’t be sitting right… Was that loud? You probably got yelled at… yelled at by my stomach…”

Sierra winced as these muffled words reached her. The sound still quaked in her mind of the stomach’s whine, and as if commanded by it, she found herself licking and kissing the skin that enwrapped her with open affection. Regardless of where it hugged her, Sierra twisted about however she could to kiss every pinch of flesh, an action that progressively riled Duval more and more. Particularly tickled by a circling lick around her belly button, Duval roared with a moan and shifted along the bed, lounging with her back flat -- a reposition that flung Sierra upside-down in the hole she was head-first in. The fat clung to her as if not wanting to let go, but Duval’s fingers hugged her hips and plucked her from the containment, allowing the red-faced woman to breath air that was free of collected sweat.

As her giggling slowly faded into control, Duval placed Sierra at the very bottom of her stomach. Exhausted and staggered, Sierra could not hold herself on the rounded surface for long, and she soon after slipped backwards from fatigue. The slope behind her was that of Duval’s crotch bound by black underwear, its material too slick to grab in what little window Sierra had to stop her fall. She could only gasp midway down before she was bouncing on the bed sheet, two wall-sized thighs risen up on either side of her. Imposed upon by Duval’s legs, Sierra felt as though she had been whisked into a new setting and situation, so drastically different from where else on the human body she had explored.

But her confusion paled to the fascination she had with what was in front of her. Robed in a layer of black silk was Duval’s cunt, huge enough to humble Sierra into speechlessness. The underwear outlined the lips as a simple mound, but its size intimidated Sierra, kneeled before it like a mural to worship. She basked in the humidity it and the thighs produced, so alarmed by the crotch despite Duval doing nothing with it. From where she relaxed, her head had to crane forward to see where her friend was, hidden behind that very mound she was obsessed with staring at.

Duval shifted forward for comfort, excited to observe Sierra’s exploits. In doing so, the very point of interest Sierra stared at came rushing at her with a push, knocking her off her feet as if tackled. Keeping her imbalanced was the rocking of the bed and how it reshaped itself around Duval’s body, an element under her control. Blinking free from her gaze on the giant cunt, Sierra gawked upwards instead, caught under the spotlights that were Duval’s eyes.

“Hah… Well… This is sort of familiar,” Duval remarked, idly scratching at her cheek. Her face reddened, but it could not compare to Sierra’s glowing, full-body blush. “Deja vu… Almost…”

Sierra hesitated to move, not particularly wanting to leave this humiliating position. She swallowed, wondering what Duval meant until she admitted to feeling the same sensation. Between Duval’s mountainous legs, posed before her mighty crotch. It was a visual she had never seen before of the scientist, but it was a scene that had played out in unspoken dreams. And just like in those dreams, Sierra’s heart seemed to pause, giving way to the greater significance of what was ahead of her.

“You’ve been here before, I swear…” Duval continued, her slurred giggling difficult to interpret every word. Her legs stretched wider apart, only by a short margin but enough so that it reeled Sierra forward, like massive doors opening for her. Duval stuttered, “N-No, you haven’t… Not actually… But, I’ve thought of this before, you know… How small you are… even to this…” As if needing specification, she drew a finger outside the bulge of lips, revealing to Sierra how plush it was under her touch. That same finger then toyed with the elastic of her panties, allowing it to snap into her waist and force a flinch from the tiny woman. With the fabric having been adjusted, it was more obvious how wet Duval had become, her fluids leaving glossy hints at the corners of her perineum. “You’re actually s-smaller, there,” she stumbled onward, “smaller than I… imagined…”

Sierra’s mouth opened to speak, a hundred ideas dashing her mind, but not one of those thoughts manifested into words. Of all her fantasies, whether daydreams had while staring up at Duval within the terrarium, or when coiled up in her bed alone, it had never been expected that Duval shared in these obtuse desires. Small, Sierra repeated to herself, smaller than she imagined…

Thoughtlessly, Sierra found herself creeping forward to the black wall of fabric. The conversation was paused, and had been since those last words of Duval’s. Permission was boldly not requested before Sierra reached forward and trailed her palm down the panties. The titan did not shiver or move, unfeeling towards such a light touch on her clothes. Another palm joined, and with a small push, Sierra felt the skin beyond the fabric give way, rousing the long legs around her to twitch.

Yet Duval still said nothing, her heavier breathing the only indication of a response, that she wanted the escalation. She took a finger down her underwear, startling Sierra slightly with its presence being on the other side like an animal moving under the silk. The finger throbbed, and another was added. Sierra stood her ground, her hand combing over one of the writhing limbs as it worked to masturbate Duval.

“You… Y-You might want to back away... “ Duval whispered, her pitch higher than usual, more timid. She chuckled nervously, “I wouldn’t want you to… to get hurt, you know…”

Sierra’s heart melted under the heat of Duval’s concern for her. “I… don’t want to,” Sierra said, her volume only loud enough for herself to hear. “I-I want this. I want to be a part of this.” At first slow, her lean into the crotch became a lunge onto Duval’s active fingers, her arms tightly hugging them so that she could be noticed. Her face dug into the panties where she announced, “I love you, Duval!! I’m not afraid of you!!”

Duval’s fingers froze. Sierra, from such a low perspective, worried over what this meant, if she would just be dismissed or pulled away. Instead, a soft voice spoke down to her, “You’re… ridiculous… and I love that.” Sierra looked up at the smile overhead, as if peering up at a cloudless sky. “Everyday with you, i-it’s something new to look forward to… I learn something, sometimes it’s about you… sometimes me… I never want that to stop. You could convince me that you make the planet spin. Tomorrow isn’t tomorrow without you.

“I’m ridiculous too, aren’t I?” Duval scoffed at herself. The muscles in her fingers relaxed into a slow massage over her muff. “Hooking up like this, w-with one of my subjects… but I couldn’t stop myself. Doing this without permission made me so alive… I never want it to end, Sierra. This night… should just be forever, shouldn’t it…”

Sierra gently laid her head against the knuckle of one finger. “I wish it could,” she said, stroking the long digit from outside the panties. “I don’t want to return to anything. I only want to be yours.”

“I-I… I want you to be mine.”

Duval’s body curled forward from its lounged position, her upper body rising high above Sierra at her crotch. Displaced hair was slow to cascade back down her shoulders as the scientist stared down at her subject with a weary, uncertain gaze. Sierra blinked back, happy enough to have even this attention, but there was more to be involved in. Under hot huffs of breaths, Duval pulled forward her underwear, creating thin openings along either thigh for Sierra to enter. She stuttered to give directions, but found them unnecessary when Sierra took the initiative with a few timid steps, peering past the fabric to uncover Duval’s snatch.

As if welcomed into a warm tent, Sierra made headway into the new territory, immediately in awe of what she saw despite how dim. Curls of hair coated this private sector of skin, growing up the wall of flesh like garden vines. A pet pushed aside some of the longer curls as Sierra stepped further in, allured by the bitter scent of human sweat and the little glimpses of pink skin. The air was especially thick, but Sierra savored that feeling, immersed into her environment with such focus that she was slow to realize that the panties had closed behind her. The snap of elastic first alerted her, but then the movement of the fingers spooked her into a hop, as if a machine had been activated just beside her.

The world shook and even seemed to groan with the noise Duval made. A whimper mixed with a moan, Duval felt an erotic pulse with Sierra sealed in her underwear. She stared at the little bulge made of Sierra’s outline, the only evidence that a human being was trapped there. The thought crossed her mind of what it would be like to don her normal uniform, lab coat and all -- would anyone notice? No one had when she stole Sierra across the labs and to the studio, so certainly no one would blink an eye at her if that close friend was hidden inside her pants. The concept truly amused her into a frigid grin, exploring this thought to all its ends while her fingers passively twisted around her clitoris.

Down below, Sierra was a dedicated observer to the initial windings of Duval masturbating. Shuddered with shame for being exposed to this intimate scene, Sierra’s whole body glowed red and shivered with excitement. She reached out and touched the index finger as it worked diligently, its outward power impressing her to know that such strength was used expressly to feed Duval’s lust. It was but a finger, yet it expressed the sheer brawn of a monster all of its own, so huge that Sierra’s presence was ignorable.

And if that were the case, Sierra felt emboldened to include herself, riding that high of insignificance. Without a stable thought in her head, Sierra climbed up the coils of hair, using the finger and the black panties as occasional footholds to push herself up. The hair entangled her like a proper bush, but she willingly submerged herself into its humidity, inhaling the odor that was seeped into every fiber. Handfuls of hairs were bound into fists; Sierra worried this might hurt Duval, but what she found was that the titan hummed pleasantly alongside all her touches. Duval desired this, or at the very least, Sierra was convinced of it, and so she dove further upward, her attention squared onto the pink bulb that the mighty finger protected with swirling motions.

At last, Sierra’s efforts rewarded her with the prize she had eyed from below. Magnetically drawn to it, she first touched the guardian finger that stimulated it, her hand grabbing the hard nail and urging it aside. She wondered if such a meager force could even be detected, but Duval’s finger did retract, curling aside and exposing the clitoris. Another step up the slick slope, and Sierra was upon the bulb, nearly drooling over it with her mouth wide open. She blinked, comprehending the wider scope of her situation, relishing in how little she felt to be propped up on pubic hairs and pussy lips. Then, lacking restraint, she pushed her head forward and nuzzled the clit, guiding her nose around it in circular swirls while her tongue occasionally poked out in tiny licks. The response was immediate, a tremor of Duval repositioning herself slightly on the bed, a muffled moan heard distantly above. Sierra paused while the world settled before returning to her ritual, now applying both hands in a deep massage around the sensitive area.

Sierra was tampering with a planet’s core. Every touch and twist worked up a huge reaction from Duval, even if it was just small spasms of excitement on her end. Sierra was engrossed with this capability, laughing to herself as she dug into the clitoris with a push and then a pull, meeting its tip with her tongue in a messy kiss. Her dedication to the clit resulted in Duval panting in a melody, her whole body rocking to its rhythm as though Sierra truly did have reign over her. It was an unreal sensation for Sierra to be behind such power, to be under something so incredible and greater than herself, and so her own arousal was thrust forward, her legs spreading far to each side in order to grind her cunt into the crevice she hugged.

By surprise, Sierra found herself lifted from her butt and pulled out into the open air. She squeaked, hooked between her legs by a curved finger that was nearly too wide to be seated upon in such a way. Duval reeled her out from the underwear, exposing Sierra to the chill-inducing atmosphere of the hotel room. She leaned onto the fingertip with the same grip she had on the clitoris, her muscles aching to continue much like her spirit -- pulled away from her work, Sierra’s expression was distraught and bothered, her inner heat clearing taking a toll on her swirling thoughts.

But Duval’s grin hanging sweetly above like an adrift cloud was all Sierra needed to see to have her anxieties cleansed. Held in such a lax way, Sierra giggled and sunk over the finger, overjoyed to feel so weightless -- to feel Duval’s raw power so casually applied. Duval was amused as well, her free hand used to keep a breast pressed aside so that she could peer down at her friend. A slight flex of her finger was enough to make Sierra yelp into laughter, her body bobbing up and down with the finger’s motion while Duval’s drunken smile crept even wider. Sierra’s legs tightened around the tendrill for support, yet she always trusted that she would be safe with it.

“... You’ve gotten me so worked up,” Duval chuckled bashfully. “It’s embarrassing, you know~”

Sierra cuddled the finger, her giggling suppressed into the skin. She lifted her head wearily, “Imagine how I must feel.” She grinned, wanting to admit that the situation was sexier knowing how Duval felt about matters.

“It’s been in my thoughts,” Duval teased, her eyes narrowing into a sultry gaze. “How big am I…?”

Sierra stuttered with too many thoughts swelling at once. “... Massive,” she replied in a light laugh. “More than a mountain. Y-You’re huge.”

“Mmm… Is that so…?” Duval tilted her head, a stray thread of hair pinched by her lip. “Is that what I look like to you…?”

Sierra leaned further on the fingertip, her arousal rising as the conversation continued. She nuzzled sweat off her brow onto the finger, “Honestly, n-no. You’re so much bigger, a-and so much… greater. I don’t even know where to begin…” Her words felt frantic, faster in pace than what was normal for Sierra. Enthralled with how tiny she felt, her thoughts rambled on, “Every part of you is… is like a world I want to live on. E-Even now, I wish I could be small enough t-to fit on your finger… even the little ridges…” A finger of her own traced the prints of Duval’s fingertip, circling around them with an intense stare. “You seem like everything, Duval. And I’m so selfish, wanting all of you…”

Duval giggled, her tone low and entertained. Her eyes closed, and Sierra felt the hand around her sink down towards the crotch she had been freed from. “Sierra, Sierra~” Duval sang loosely, “we’re both incredibly selfish… There’s no one else that can appreciate me quite like you do, is there…?”

Sierra scoffed, simultaneously inspired and belittled by this remark, unable to speak up as Duval submerged her back into the humid confinement. Rather than simply leave her to continue where she had left off, Duval’s finger surged and pushed Sierra against the muff, uncaring and unaware of how her pubic hairs coiled around the writhing limbs. A volcanic moan escaped Duval as she pressed Sierra firmly against the pillowy lips, stroking her forcefully up and down the moistened slit. Sierra was bullied by the finger, its length riding her backside furiously and constantly shoving her into the hot crevice. Despite the physical toll this cost Sierra, she was immersed in the sensation, moaning wildly with Duval’s name stuttered throughout as she felt her body -- the encapsulation of so much passion and emotions -- meld with the great warmth that was Duval’s all-consuming lust.

The landscape that was Duval twisted freely across the bed as her ecstasy peaked. A wide smile broke out into a gaping gasp, her core pulsating with burning waves of joy that her heart could barely keep up with. A free hand soon addressed the sweat cascading down her face, sooner than her busy hand was to relieve Sierra of such humiliating treatment -- not too quick to give up her ograsmic bliss, Duval pushed the limits of how long she could keep Sierra pinned to her cunt, jittering with amusement whenever she felt a tiny twitch or kick. Sierra herself embraced her position, nearly drowned in the wetness Duval had produced, peacefully accepting her lowly place as a human-toy used by a tipsy scientist.

When the hand’s muscles finally relaxed, Sierra was left to catch herself among pubic hairs to avoid slipping all the way down Duval’s underwear. She did so with a thrilled squeak, hugging the soaked hairs that entangled her, but she was not forgotten. Multiple fingers curled under her and combed her out of the bush, wrapped around her frail frame like an impressive hug while lifting her out from the panties. Once Sierra was removed, Duval was free to topple backwards into bed, crashing into the mattress like a hundred trees had fallen together. Such a mighty fall rattled Sierra, but Duval’s grip over her ensured she would be contained safely.

Sierra was released between Duval’s breasts, a brief freedom before both hands clasped the tiny woman against the chest. Under the blanket-like palms, Sierra felt Duval rock side to side while giggling aloud, still afloat from an incredible high. The rapid beating of the heart beneath Sierra was like an active engine whose rhythm could lull her to relax. Just as Duval reclined and cherished this otherworldly sensation, so too did Sierra roll on top of the chest, stretching out far while laughing aloud with her friend.

The moment seemed eternal, an unbreakable monument of their romance coming to blossom. Sierra could not recount the hours leading up to the hotel room, having forgotten the realities outside while submerged in this fantasy come to life. The anxiety of traveling and partaking in the showcase all fell behind her, barely a memory that explained how she was here with Duval in this surreal situation. Neither wished for it to end, both breathing heavily under a spell of silence with aimless smiles.

Sierra stroked a hand across the canvas of skin in front of her, exhaling over what she touched. “Duval…” she finally spoke, her throat dry as it recovered. Saying her name after what they had experienced together was a sensation all of its own, like the first word written in a new book. She still giggled, long after she had been tickled, “This feels more like a dream than real life… I-I still don’t really believe it…”

Duval’s hand tightened around Sierra like a strict cuddle. Her eyes closed, rekindling the warmth she had sparked. “It’s… a dream come true, isn’t it?” she replied, her words spoken loose and quiet. She chuckled as her thumb tenderly swirled over Sierra’s back. “A perfect dream… almost. Hah… the headache I’m going to have after this…”

Sierra felt the weight of a hand lift off her, tending to Duval’s temples where a hangover was surely brewing. On her slow descent back to reality, Sierra remembered the stickiness of wine over her body, its scent spurring an electric chill down her spine. When Duval took a deep breath, Sierra felt the hugeness of the inhale, a reminder of how human this woman truly was -- a reminder of how this moment came to be.

Emotionally activated, Sierra toiled under the pressure of a deep question. Observing Duval from under her hand only pushed her to ask it aloud. “D-Duval, you’re not just… drunk… are you…? What we did, i-it wasn’t… just an accident, or--”

Sierra stopped when she felt Duval shake in response, as if the whole world disagreed. “No, no… Sierra…” Duval lifted her head, her hair still a mess from how she tossed and turned on the bed. She smiled down at the little head revealed from under her palm. “Th-This wouldn’t have happened if… I didn’t… love you. I-I don’t know how else to say it,” she giggled nervously, “but I will say… I’m not that drunk, b-but it did wake me up to… to admit what I wanted. I tried to deny it all this time, but… but now, this is where we are.”

“But… what happens now…?” Sierra’s gaze upwards faltered, burdened by these worries. “Tomorrow, and the day after… Where do we go…?”

Duval wanted to provide an answer, an instinct of her’s as an overseer. Her mouth opened, but there was no reply. She dwelled on the question, dancing around the logical obstacles until her mind could dance no more. The future was a flat, featureless vista. It was territory that she had never ventured through, not even in her dreams.

The pause was deafening, but Duval held tightly to what anchored her to hopefulness. “I do not know, Sierra. I can’t tell you what lies ahead, but… I can tell you that I love you. I can tell you that again and again. I love you.” Staring at Sierra conjured tears to the corners of her eyes, and so she looked away, out towards the cityscape past her windows. “We’ll have to meet tomorrow together… and discover what that means for us then.”

Sierra curled her head into a finger, nuzzling against its tip. Her eyes never left Duval’s, perpetually absorbed into their color. “... I love you too, Duval.” Silently and begrudgingly, Sierra agreed with this assessment of uncertainty, and though it pained her to be unsure of the future, her heart did not waver, not while immersed in the peace she and Duval shared into midnight.

The halls were soulless, deathly quiet. The drum of hurried footsteps tore through the silence of 3 AM. Before anyone could be expected to stir into the new day, Duval knew she had to return to the hotel security storage. She had woken up in a startle realizing how late it was, and that Sierra was still beside her, passed out in the crook of her arm. As whimsical of a night as it may have been, reality was dawning, and it was time to take Sierra back to the safehouse.

Duval dashed down the halls whipped up in a nightgown, both hands shielding the travel pod containing Sierra. She double checked every intersection as she made her way down to the first floor, quietly entering the secured room where the other subjects were kept. There was no time or space for a proper farewell, and so Duval’s send-off was a worried gaze cast into the pod, kissed by Sierra’s stare back at her. Wordlessly, Duval slipped Sierra back in front of her home, just how she was picked up. A gentle wave goodbye was the last image of Duval as she closed the safehouse and tepidly exited.

Sierra stood at her patio, watching Duval’s leave through the glass barrier with legs unwilling to move. She stumbled into her door when she finally had to, weak from the whirlwind of a night she had experienced. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, but her smile persisted, even as it pained her cheeks to do so. More than ever before in her life, she was fulfilled. Though the future ahead remained a blur, Sierra embraced what she achieved, holding the memory close to her like a beacon of warmth.

Duval sighed as she snuck out of the security storage room, her movements slow from exhaustion. As burdened as she was by the anxieties of what lay ahead, what slowed her the most was her gravitation towards Sierra -- a destiny of her own making that she was deeply attached to. Leaving her after such an intense night of passion felt criminal, she wished that they could cuddle together into the morning like an ordinary couple. But the reality was unshaking, as was her drive to maintain what little she had managed to make for herself.

Her confidence had swelled, only to deflate as she stepped into the hallway. Her path was blocked, a sight so unexpected that it paralyzed Duval in midstep. She stuttered, unable to say the name of the supervisor that had followed her. Across from her, Ericka felt that same hesitation, afraid to admit to herself what she had caught Duval in the midst of.

Ericka closed her eyes. So long of a pause could only be ended by her. “... We need to discuss this, Ophelia...”

A single finger curled around Sierra’s waist and hugged her into an equally large thumb, pinching her into an embrace that plucked her from the ground. The open air tickled her naked skin, her only recourse against the chill to nuzzle into her captor’s hand, to rely on her grip. The world outside the gentle fist shifted and twisted in a blur of movement, and then, at the peak of her ascent, Sierra could inhale again and breathe in the view above her. That gigantic face and all of its details came together like a mountainside, the beauty of the scientist smiling over her little form akin to an unbelievable vista that swept Sierra’s spirit into a freeing wind.

Duval, the name chimed in her head, replicating the very tone she used to address that overseer -- a purr to get her attention, an instinctive whine that earned her pity. Despite being washed over with such a feeling of powerlessness, Sierra truly never felt more electrified, more in control. The life she wanted, the world she wanted, had all been her’s -- at least, for that one night that was spent in Duval’s hotel room.

“Slow down there, Sierra!” Kendall’s voice was crudely interjected into the fantasy Sierra had been enjoying. Without that breaking her focus, she may not have ever remembered that she was running on a treadmill there within the community’s rec center. “What are you running away from? A bear? I’ve never seen you like this!”

Sierra chuckled, her throat too dry to reply any better until the treadmill’s pace was brought down. The weight of her weariness only then began to sink onto Sierra, each subsequent step falling further and further out of the rhythm she was entranced by. She slumped off the treadmill with an exhausted sigh; one hand swiped the sweat from her brow, the other clumsily found the water bottle she carried with her.

“Yeah, drink up,” Kendall giggled, standing by with her hands on her hips. She was worked out as well, but had far more control over her poise compared to Sierra. “Something really put a kick in your step, huh?”

After a long chug of water, Sierra gasped for air, nodding to Kendall’s inquiry. “I’ve, uh… I suppose I have some energy to burn…”

“Hah, well, I was about to ask if you wanted to get coffee before heading out, but--”

“Coffee sounds nice!” Sierra laughed, uncurling from her post-exercise hunch. Kendall was surprised again to see this much pep from her friend, who was quick to begin towards the rec center’s lobby. For once, it was her following a step behind Sierra, and she was proving hard to keep up with.

It was lively at the rec center, a spike of activity having risen since the showcase five days prior. There was a fresh feeling among the community, including those who were unable to attend; from their homes in the terrarium, they were able to watch the showcase for themselves, and all were fascinated by the simulated environments and new technologies promised to be on the horizon. Sierra was among those riding that wave of interest, but what her neighbors could not comprehend was the full scope of that which drove her.

“Sorry for the wait,” Sierra apologized as she made it to the booth that Kendall had picked out. She slid Kendall’s order across the table after sitting opposite of her. “All the self-service machines had such long lines. I’ve never seen it so busy at the rec center…”

“I’ve rarely ever seen you at the rec center,” Kendall teased, swirling a spoon through her beverage to cool it. She noticed how the heat and bitterness had no effect on Sierra like it did her. “Did they replace you? At the showcase? And not tell any of us?”

Sierra giggled into her drink, having to set it down to reply. “What?”

“You’re usually, well… How to put it…” Kendall chuckled over every attempted wording in her head. “Uh, you’re normally secluded, at least until you got back from that trip.”

“It was really exciting,” Sierra said. “You were there. Wasn’t it amazing?”

Kendall nodded, but her eyes were not as lit up the way Sierra’s were. “It was fun to get out of this cage, that’s for sure,” she replied. “Exciting, sure. Amazing? I think you had a more fun time than any of us.”

Sierra glanced aside as she delayed her reply with a sip of coffee -- she was quickly running out. “Maybe I did,” she said. “After all, I got to experience that luxury floor.”

“Yeah, that’s probably more fun than cutting wheat in a field,” Kendall laughed. “Was it really that relaxing? When the whole showcase thing was over, you seemed pretty out of it.”

“I-It was a lot to take in. But, I’m really glad I went… It was such a wonderful night. Maybe the best night I’ve had since shrinking.”

“I wonder if we’ll go on something like that again?” Kendall blinked at her coffee’s murky surface. “... Wasn’t the showcase in the middle of the day…?”

“... You’re right,” Sierra nodded, “I-I meant-- it was a wonderful day.” She shook her head to express clarity. “Wow, i-it really felt like it was at night up there! Crazy…”

Their own evening was approaching, with their artificial sunlight beginning to set over the western glass wall. The two women walked back to their neighboring homes together, Kendall separating with a yawn and a promise to sleep early; Sierra, however, was alert and awake, pumping with energy still to burn, and a plan on how to burn it. As soon as she had her front door closed and the curtains pulled over their windows, the tickle of loneliness got her to giggle, her amusement tripping her into the couch with a bounce.

After rolling onto her back, the memories naturally came flowing to her. That stark angle of looking straight skyward had her vividly recall what it was like to gawk at a gigantic, skyscraper-sized woman. Even if it was just her boring ceiling, the image glistening in her eyes had her itching under the fantasy -- Duval, standing impossibly tall over her, her feet larger than any of the houses she kept watch over, her smile hanging high overhead like a faraway cloud.

Sierra cozied into the corner of the couch, her grin spread wide as she reclined. “Her smile is so different,” she mumbled to herself, “after just a few drinks…” Fingers played with the waist of her pants to pull them down, her other hand caressing her breast in a way that swirled her shirt up to her shoulders. When she paused, it was only for a brief breath, to savor every moment of these memories just as she had savored every moment of when these memories occurred.

A slow start, but she quickly picked up momentum. Sierra sighed as two fingers rubbed her clitoris with drilling intent. Her legs were spread apart, one flung over the couch’s back while the other lazily slumped off the side, both twitching with jolts of excitement. Giggles turned to moans, her temperature rising as she fell more immersed in her memories. She remembered being between Duval’s toes and her desperate dance with them, and she remembered being picked up, made to feel so light and insignificant in that woman’s palm. Duval’s movements were momentous and sweeping, always impressing Sierra even in these recollections -- she still shuddered with sincere fear when she imagined Duval’s drop of weight hitting the mattress, an injection of worry that only accented her arousal, not muddle it. Her body twisted more as she pleasured herself into a graceless position, trying to rekindle those exact feelings of her body being manipulated by Duval’s fingers.

It was not the same as back then, not as real, but her fantasy of the past was genuine enough to bring her to climax. She winced with her hips thrusted forward, orgasming with Duval’s lips envisioned around her and her fingers replaced with that madly lashing tongue. Fully red in the face, Sierra flipped forward and muffled a whine-like moan into the armrest, allowing herself to be unruly in her own privacy.

After holding this tight position for several seconds, Sierra sighed and allowed her body to relax. She had resurfaced back into the silent reality, the only noise being the whirring of her ceiling fan. Even at this end stage of her masturbation, Sierra treated herself to memories of Duval’s voice, her lingering tenseness dwindling away with every comforting word whispered to her.

“I… love you, Duval,” Sierra said to herself, almost too giddy to mutter it aloud. But reaffirmed and smiling brightly, she said it again, “I love you, Duval…”

Duval waited outside the supervisor’s office, seated in a chair with her fingers gripped together and a knee tapping anxiously. Her face was downturned and her expression distant, focused on something that was not there. Every once in a while, her hands would open up and she would stare into her palms; these moments were when she inhaled after going lengths without breathing, too distracted with the conundrum she had tripped herself into to do so naturally.

Before the showcase, thinking of Sierra in her hands was a simple joy to keep herself positive in her low points. As she waited to be called into Ericka’s office, however, the thought of Sierra caused more distress than calm. It was all she could think about -- all she was supposed to think about. Ericka had said as much when they first returned to Shoote Labs, warning Duval that she would need to prepare her case in the coming days. In that time, Duval had readied a number of arguments -- excuses, lies, and half-truths -- but in her throat constantly was the want to give Sierra an apology.

What is she going to think of all this? Duval pondered with a blank gaze down at the floor. Sierra… She was so excited… She was so happy for once…

The door beside her opened, alerting her to sit up straight. Ericka peeked the corner, carrying a lifeless but professional smile. “Shall we?” she said, pushing some perkiness. Duval nodded and followed her, but not without sensing some of Ericka’s own nervousness.

Duval quietly claimed a seat, but Ericka stood by the window that looked over the central complex of the building. In the moments after they shuffled into place, Ericka studied the scientists and engineers down below, watching them move from post to post in the midst of their work day. She did this often, always particularly pleased to be seeing everything in its place and in the proper motions.

It took a sigh from both women before Ericka finally turned and began the meeting proper. “Ophelia… The thing I’m supposed to do here, is fire you.”

The atmosphere had been decided: straight to the point. Duval expected as much, “I-I understand, Ericka… That would be following protocol…”

“It would be,” Ericka exhaled, already twisting back to the window. She contemplated for a moment. “I have to ask, you know. Why?”

Duval sat on the one-word question as though it were the tip of an iceberg, begging her to glide down its slope. She could have played dumb, but it would not have distracted Ericka for long. “Th-They agreed to it,” Duval timidly answered, “t-to being taken, I mean.”

“That doesn’t change anything, Duval,” Ericka replied. She scoffed, “It doesn’t even answer my question. Can’t you tell me why you took someone? What was worth that risk?”

“Ericka… I-- Well, they--”

“And I don’t just mean the risk of your job,” Ericka interjected, looking at Duval through her faint reflection in the glass. “You put this person’s life in danger. One of your own subjects -- so much could have happened!”

“Ericka--”

“You know this, Ophelia -- I know you know this.”

Duval winced, but mentally, she was in a tantrum. In her perspective, she was far more aware of the dangers than anyone else. She had experienced that risk firsthand, on multiple occasions, and she knew the peril Sierra was put into. Since having spent time with Sierra over the course of the project, never before had Duval thought so keenly about her motions and actions, the incredible weight she carried above much tinier people. To be told off like an unruly student in school had her gripping her slacks out of frustration.

But the conversation continued, none of Duval’s emotions making it into her tone. “An… anonymous volunteer... agreed to be my personal subject… for research that I’ve been conducting on my own.”

Ericka turned back to face Duval, lured in by such an interesting point. She leaned against the back of her office chair, “What kind of research is this?”

“Tangent to our own,” Duval confirmed quickly. “B-But nothing that puts them in danger! I-I would never… It’s all just been data collection a-and interviews, nothing that could even affect the project here!” Ericka seemed absorbed into her thoughts, allowing Duval to add, “I-I wanted to bring something exciting to the team, something of my own.”

Ericka bit her lip sympathetically. “This… This really isn’t the way to make a statement in the company, Ophelia…” She pinched the arc of her nose and leaned more weight on the chair’s back. Duval felt that pressure on her own spine, enough to put a drop of sweat on her brow. “If this volunteer ended up hurt because of this independent research, just… Do you realize the disaster that’d be? The PR mayhem that’d cause?”

Duval shuddered. “I’m aware…”

“No,” Ericka scoffed, turning her gaze off of Duval. “You barely know half of it…”

“E-Excuse me…?”

Ericka shook her head. “N-Not now.” She pushed off the chair and paced towards another corner of the room. The bookshelf her eyes glazed over offered no consolation for the decision she was having to make. “Shoote Labs needs only the best and brightest working on this project currently. We need all engines working efficiently as we get closer to a true launch of what we’ve been working on. Incidents like these… have made my trust waver in you, Ophelia.”

Duval felt a sting in her heart, her fingers numb as if chasing something out of their reach. “Ericka, please--”

“That’s why I need you on the team, and to stay focused.” Ericka faced Duval with her arms crossed, her seriousness looming from her corner of the office. Duval replayed the words in her head, only loosely recognizing that not all was lost -- she was being kept. “There’s only so many eyes and ears we can have involved in this project, and only so many of those have written a peer-reviewed thesis on molecular rearrangement. We can’t-- Shoote can’t afford to lose you, and I don’t want to terminate a friend.”

Duval was still; she was in the headlights still, a deer frozen in front of a fate that was seemingly passing by. A scare, a frightening scare at that, but still only a miss. She stuttered, “Th-Thank you-- Ericka, seriously, y-you’re unbelievable--”

Ericka stopped her there, and put a hand before Duval to stop her from lifting out of her chair. “I’m not firing you,” she specified, and her glare narrowed, “but you’re not leaving my sights. I can’t let something else happen like this, not without one or both of us getting nixed.”

“Wh-What, then? What do you want me to do?”

“I just need you to continue working,” Ericka explained, drifting back to her desk in order to retrieve something -- a small black box. “This is a measure I’ll have to take, to make sure your authority as an overseer is practiced properly.”

“Oh, I love what you did with your hair~” Kendall could not resist brushing a finger through a lock of hair that hung off Sierra’s shoulder. The threads spilled right over the digit, so clean and brightened. “It’s so pretty! You should style it more often, Sierra!”

“Hm, do you think so…?” Sierra awkwardly shielded her bashful smile, but she did not mind having her hair toyed with. After all, she did spend the time deep washing it and straightening it, and so having it be noticed was especially affirming. She wanted the change to be as noticeable as possible, considering it would have to catch the eye of one gigantic overseer. “I-It’s not too much, is it?” Sierra asked, lifting some threads of her own into her vision.

“No~ I’m loving it!” Kendall laughed, continuing a step ahead of Sierra. They were headed to the transport station, as well as the other citizens of the terrarium, all prepared to be reviewed for their semi-annual evaluations. “Let me guess: you’re excited to see the overseer, huh?”

Sierra turned cold, but she would not show a single shiver of hesitation. Her lips coiled quickly into a smile, “I-I guess!” It was truly the best route for an excuse -- for whom else would she have styled her hair for? “It’s been awhile, after all,” she went on, her voice a little more subdued. “And that showcase, I think, sort of gave me a new perspective on… this. All this.”

“I might know what you mean,” Kendall replied. Her arms stretched high above her head as they approached the line forming at the station. “It’s nice to be noticed when we’re this small, right?”

“... Right,” Sierra weakly agreed.

“It feels a little too easy,” Kendall chuckled, “that we could just end up forgotten about, or overlooked. Scary stuff, but hey, that’s why we have-- ah, feel that?”

Sierra swallowed, indeed feeling that. Sooner than the others, she sensed the rumbling of footsteps, followed by the distant clacking of heels against the floor. It was routine at this point, but today, Sierra’s heart fluttered more than usual -- her next breath was exhaled shakily as Duval turned the corner, dressed in her clean lab coat and equipped with a tablet for work. It had been several days, and so Sierra felt relieved to be reunited once again with the woman she adored.

Yet, something had felt incorrect to Sierra as she continued to feel the light tremors of footsteps. She hunched that Duval was not coming alone, and she was unfortunately proven right when, just behind the overseer, another woman entered the terrarium chamber. Following Duval up to her side was Ericka, a project supervisor that the shrunken subjects rarely met.

Her presence earned a few questioning glances from the community, but no one was as alerted by Ericka than Sierra. She blinked in attempts to disperse this additional person; Is this really necessary? she wondered. Whatever she has to say, couldn’t Duval just say it?

The two women towered over the terrarium as they stopped a few steps in front of it. Ericka was poised upright with a cheery grin, her hands clasped together at her waist. Duval, however, was motivated only enough to offer a half-smile, her shoulders slumped until Ericka glanced at her. Sierra allowed none of this to fly over her; she was keenly attuned to Duval, and sensed that something was amiss.

“Good morning, everyone! You all look so healthy and lively,” Ericka began, her voice kept subdued similarly to Duval’s controlled volume. “You might remember me as Ericka Einhorn. Duval must be keeping good care of you all. She only ever has positive news to report! The progress you all have made together is astounding, and that showcase only proved it.”

Ericka motioned to the train car that everyone had been boarding. “Go ahead, continue filling in!” she urged. “Everything is still going according to schedule, but I’m here to quickly announce a few adjustments we’re making to some of our routine procedures. These are mostly increases to your security, but none of you should be expected to do anything too differently -- it’s largely all on the end of the overseers.”

Sierra was stalled by what had been explained thus far, but everyone else was continuing into the transport car. Kendall waited for her a few paces ahead, a silent gesture to get Sierra to move along with the others. Still, her gaze was hooked on Ericka, up until she was seated and buckled in. Placing herself in that seat reminded Sierra of that first time she was allowed outside the terrarium, and furthermore, that first time she was able to be alone with Duval. There was a magic to that day, even for how chaotic and absurd it became -- it was an important stepping stone in Sierra’s future, and so it was a fond memory to latch onto.

But that uncanny sensation of something different kept haunting her, and she soon understood why. Ericka continued, “One such change in procedure is that we will be broadly limiting the methods with which overseers interact with you all. We want to avoid unfortunate happenstances as much as possible, and incidents are prone to happen when subjects are being handled by the overseer directly. From now on, we’ll be using mechanical, safer methods of transporting you from location to location whenever possible.”

Sierra was confused, far more than anyone else in the train car. While she nervously tugged at her seat buckle, Kendall nodded optimistically; “No more shaky rides in Duval’s hand?” she stated with a smile. “I can live with that.”

The replacement method of transportation was wheeled in by Ericka, but it remained out of sight to those in the train car. It was a mobile table of sorts that could be pushed around the labs like a cart, but rather than just a flat top, there was a smaller terrarium to keep the intended shrunken subjects safe from harm. A small door was opened in one glass wall, which was then pushed into a similar door to the tiny terminal station. From there, it required only a press of a button for a conveyor device to push the train car up the rails and into this new chamber -- no human contact required.

Sierra stared outside her window longingly while the transfer happened. From her angle, she could not see either of the two scientists, yet she yearned to know what Duval must have been feeling. She wished terribly to ask her upfront what this was about, but their relationship could not allow such a thing. As the mobile table began to move, Sierra decided to hold her tongue until later; at the very least, it was still Duval herself to be pushing the cart forward, and that was thus far enough to tide Sierra over.

Ericka, however, had more to discuss along the way, and every point she brought forward was like a piercing nail to Sierra. “The safety of our subjects is, of course, our top priority,” the supervisor affirmed. “Now that you’ve become more adapted to being with normal-sized humans, we’re going to be pulling the involvement of overseers back to keep those risk factors limited. Tests from now on will keep the overseer at a distance, and there will be stricter policies in how an overseer can interact directly with a subject.”

It all made logical sense, and the rest of the community silently agreed to what was explained. It was only Sierra who broiled under these changes, sweating bullets as she thought of what this meant for her and Duval. I need to talk to her, she told herself. Something feels off, and Duval knows it, too.

The community was rolled over to a lab where they were connected to a similar terminal as before. Within that station, the subjects were dressed out into their noticeable orange jumpsuits, and were then queued in line in front of an individual transport pod. One at at time, they would load into the pod, be taken to a separate work table, and then returned to be swapped out for the next in line -- a slower procedure than usual, but doubtlessly safer than being moved in a human hand without any protection.

What exactly they had been taken to be tested for was their bi-annual vitals check-up. Six months prior, all of the subjects underwent a similar procedure shortly after being awoken in their newly shrunken forms. Back then, the entire process was done by the volunteers themselves, as normal-sized contact was not yet ready to be established. Today, they would be guided by Duval, who would also be marking her own observations of the subjects as they followed along with the routine.

Sierra’s anxiety festered as the queue progressed, reserving her thoughts to herself until she could have her opportunity to be with Duval. She shuddered at the front of the line until the quaking footsteps returned to warm her. Duval rejoined them at the station, lowered the transport pod, and allowed the person inside to step out. Sierra grinned excitedly, and stepped up to the pod as soon as she could--

“Ah-- please, step back until instructed,” Duval interjected with a cold tone. Like a wall, her voice put a block to Sierra’s movement, stopping her outside the pod. “You will be told when to enter.”

Sierra stuttered as badly as she shivered, fretting back from the pod like she had been told. “S-S-Sorry, I-I--” she struggled to speak, blindsided by such a reaction. The little bubble of excitement she had conjured had been popped preemptively, leaving her stunned and disconnected. She stood completely still, awkwardly so in front of the line of subjects behind her, until Duval spoke again after a short interval.

“You may now enter the pod,” Duval said after finishing writing a note. “If you need assistance, wave to me.”

Sierra hesitated only for a moment before following the order to enter. She climbed aboard and strapped herself in, very familiar at this point with how to do so -- it was somewhat insulting to be suggested she could use assistance, but it also struck a more intricate chord in Sierra. This being so unlike Duval, it felt obvious that this was a peculiar way for her to act; indeed, she was acting this way for someone else’s benefit, and that someone could only be Ericka.

After Sierra was settled into the pod, Duval closed the device’s door and lifted it up with an especially tender grasp. The warmth from her hands filled the pod, bathing Sierra with that essence, and further teasing her for that which she yearned for. She hoped that in time this barrier between them could be removed, and that she could sit in Duval’s palm and appreciate that feeling of weightlessness again. It was easy for these daydreams to distract Sierra, but when she looked to Duval, she saw only a serious expression that was only ever aimed straight ahead.

Fortunately for Sierra, the vitals check-up was to be performed one room away. It was a small window without much leeway, but it was a precious opportunity to be away from Ericka -- perhaps the only chance they would get. Sierra planned on what to say as she exited the pod and walked out onto a square-shaped plate, awaiting Duval’s directions.

There was a pause while Duval prepared the station in silence, her eyes never adrift and her expression never cracking. Once ready, she stood a foot away from the counter with a steady posture. “We will begin with a full-body scan,” she said. “This machine will scan you once, and then you will turn and be scanned a second time. Is that understood?”

Sierra swallowed, deciding to act plainly. “I understand.” With her arms stretched out to either side, a scanner swept down the platform she stood upon, then rose again with the same speed. As instructed, Sierra pivoted and allowed Duval to scan a second time, but not without comment: “I-It doesn’t feel like it’s been so long,” she said, “since we did this at the beginning. It’s hard to believe, b-but it’s been six months, hasn’t it?”

Duval’s stare would not cross Sierra, instead retaining focus on numbers that appeared on a monitor. Consequently, she withheld any reply to what Sierra had said, not even a nod of acknowledgement.

But Sierra pressed on as she stepped off the platform and onto the desk. “I remember being terrified of everything I touched… Back then, i-it didn’t quite feel like we had shrunk, but somehow, it feels better now to know just how small I am.” The spirit in her voice was dwindling as she rambled on, unrewarded with a response from Duval. Bitten with frustration, Sierra spoke more boldly, “I-I appreciate you being here, Duval! A-All of us do…”

Another pause was prolonged as Duval occupied her stare into that same monitor, before finally turning back towards Sierra -- the first time their eyes had met. “Thank you,” the overseer said calmly. “We can continue with the procedure. Follow me.”

Duval motioned for Sierra towards an area where she could sit in a specialized chair that would monitor her breathing and heart rate. Both of Sierra’s arms were inserted into pressurized slots, a clamp was pressed to either side of her neck, and finally a mask was equipped over her mouth for her to breathe into. As coldly as these instructions were given was how Sierra followed along, silently obeying Duval and moving forward with the procedure quickly. A long silence persisted while a mechanical hum activated, but after a minute, her arms and neck were released, finishing the procedure.

“That completes today’s assignment,” Duval declared, her face hidden above Sierra behind her tablet. “You may now return to the transport pod. Thank you.”

“Th-That’s it?” Sierra muttered, her voice further dampened by the mask over her mouth. She was slow to start moving, removing one arm at a time from the depressurized slots, but her head was racing with worries, realizing how brief this moment with Duval was to last. She had thought there would be more to do, but she knew now that had just been a hope.

In a bid to have additional time with Duval, Sierra came up with an excuse. “Duval, uh,” she spoke up with a wave of her arm, “I think my mask is stuck, actually. I-It won’t come off.” She fiddled with the mask in a vague way, taking advantage of how her tiny size was hard to decipher. The mask could easily be moved aside if she wanted, but for the sake of some interaction, she pretended that it would not budge.

Duval was hesitant to respond -- for a moment, Sierra wondered if she would help out at all. After that pause, Duval’s hand jittered into view, “Do you… need help, Sierra?” Her eyes, for just a flicker, darted to the side where the door was; Sierra was sure to notice this. “Well… let me see what the problem is, then.”

A finger extended out and drew near to Sierra’s face, careful to not move unexpectedly while at the same time trying to be quick. Duval bit her lip in focus as she worked her nail gently between the mask and Sierra herself, and with no effort at all, the mask was popped off -- as simple as it should have been.

But while Duval’s digit was there, just after undoing the mask, Sierra suddenly leaned forward. A strong kiss, with all of Sierra’s weight, was planted onto the fingertip, and she reached out to stroke the nail as an additional push of affection. Sierra burned like a fire after acting so spontaneous, but for that instant, she felt as light and free as a cloud, appropriately hovering out of the chair with a brimming smile.

Duval, however, was quick to curl her finger away. She tore it out of Sierra’s grip and kept her fist high and away from her, even turning her body as though someone so small could still reach her. Sierra was dumbfounded, paralyzed after having risen out of the chair so confidently, only to discover another long spell of silence. She stared deep into Duval’s perplexed expression, but Duval’s eyes only glimpsed over her with as much uncertainty as the words she was struggling to form.

“S-Sierra, pl-please…” Duval began in a hiss-like whisper, but an inhale interrupted her thought. She reformatted, leaving Sierra in suspense as she thought up her reply. “... You may now return to the transport pod. The others are waiting to continue.”

“Duval…” Sierra’s hands curled into her chest while her legs weakly followed the command, slumping ahead with every step. Instinctively, she wanted to move along, even if it meant being brushed aside so callously, but her emotions spiraled and sparked recklessly, encouraging her to vocalize those feelings. “It’s been several days since we last saw each other,” she argued, coming to a standstill towards the transport pod. She could not move any more than that, barely able to turn her neck up towards the giant woman. “A-Aren’t you… happy to see me?”

Duval withheld the first words she had to say. She swallowed them, and just like before, restarted her train of thought. “... Of course I’m happy,” she answered in a low volume. It was the first thus far that Sierra had heard a genuine tone in her voice, off from that robotic personality. But then, in a hard blink, it returned; “I’m happy to see everyone. It’s good to be back at work. Now, can you enter the transport pod? The others are--”

“I don’t care about them,” Sierra scoffed, “th-they can wait! Err, c-can’t we talk a little? J-Just you… and me…?”

“Sierra, no…” Duval winced, then pressed a thumb against her temple in distress. She breathed and asserted her tone again, “Should I bring Einhorn in to have a discussion?”

“Ericka? N-No, don’t…” Sierra shuddered as though threatened -- she felt much that way, but was impacted more by how Duval relied on it. It was like a tool specifically to disarm Sierra and to dismiss the conversation, a period to end their time together. “... I’m sorry. I-I’ll just get in.”

Maybe we can talk later? Sierra prayed that one of them would say that, but after getting strapped into the pod and being carried back to the other subjects, she was left devoid of that hope. The next in line took her place, taken into the same routine as all the others. As Sierra watched on and continued with the check-up, an emptiness within her expanded, an ailment that was only ever eased by the sheer confusion of the situation.

Sierra was in a shell for the duration of the procedure. Kendall took notice almost immediately, but no questions or concerns could pry Sierra into opening up about what weighed so heavily on her mind. Even her own introspection was at odds with the issue, every thought gray and bleak with what it left Sierra to conclude. The artificial daylight of the terrarium did nothing to brighten her spirits as she found herself marching mindlessly back to her home, unsure if she had said a word to anyone about anything along the way.

She was in her bedroom after a blink -- she had no recollection of moving herself there, left to sit on the corner of her mattress surrounded in dimness. A glance at her pillows and sheets sharply reminded her of how positively she glowed that morning. Today was supposed to be a magical reunion, the first of many days they could steal away for themselves, like how often they had before; under the watchful eyes of the labs, they were supposed to be a secret couple, the risks of which intended to excite their relationship into an adventure all of their own. Looking back, Sierra chided herself for dreaming so wistfully about that future, but nonetheless was her heart damaged by Duval’s distant attitude that day -- she was a different woman than the goddess she vowed her love to those few nights ago.

That evening at the hotel was a prized memory, but Sierra reflected on it now ridden with guilt and anxiety. It felt unreal then, just as it had felt like complete fantasy in that moment. Badly did her skin crawl as she thought warmly of being in Duval’s grasp and exploring her divine body. Her arms wrapped over her stomach as she felt a turning inside her, simultaneous with how her perspective of that night was shifting.

I was delusional the entire time, Sierra told herself. It was never a precious moment. She was drunk-- we both were. Excited, and confused, and… feisty. But it was just a game, wasn’t it?

Sierra shivered into the bed, laying atop the comforter as she huddled into herself for warmth. Was everything so disingenuous as she imagined them to be? Was Duval merely an opportunist, taking up on this chance to have a willing tiny woman all to herself? It was agonizingly easy to believe to be the case, that their night together was a drunken fling meant only to be remembered foggily. What they did was wrong, she admitted both now and then -- but Sierra was serious about what she wanted, how she longed to have that night be her entire life, and she remembered Duval speaking so truly about promises for the future. Had alcohol disguised the reality of their relationship, or was it the catalyst of what Sierra had dreamed for them?

There was, as well, a worse possibility. It plagued the recesses of Sierra’s mind, cast aside but not ignored, growing more and more significant as she dismissed other lines of thought. Such a possibility was a grim conclusion, but a substantial one to consider. Alcohol and circumstances be damned; What if Duval just… just doesn’t love me anymore? She bit her lip, choking back what would have been an unnerving whine. What if she regrets what we did? What if she’s trying to move past it?

“God, no,” Sierra muttered, sweeping a hand across her brow. “No, no. God…” She spat into a laugh, because it was funny -- “If she didn’t love me… I’d just be here then. I’d be here, with nothing. Here… shrunken.” She giggled while massaging her neck, “Th-That isn’t right. I’m not tiny and alone. I can’t be… I can’t end up stuck like this…”

That amusement paled into a disturbing silence, where even Sierra’s inner thoughts were stalled. A dead gaze went across her bed and to the wall as blank as her expression.

After a long dwelling, Sierra pushed herself messily up from the bed. She grabbed at facts to support herself; even if her relationship were to be ruined with Duval, even if she were alone in this tiny glass-sealed world in a lab, there was always time. She could heal, but most importantly, she would return to normal -- all the subjects. In a matter of years, bitter or otherwise, the project would reach its end, and Sierra could return to her ordinary height. She would get paid, she would grovel back to her family, and she would live on.

There was hardly solace in that realization, but it affirmed her when nothing else could. She still thought long about how Duval acted, and how there felt like an unseen pressure pushed onto the overseer. Ultimately, she both believed and wished that she was wrong about everything. Duval loved her, and she loved Duval. She wanted it to be so simple, or for things to go back to how they were, somehow in a natural way.

The introspection was interrupted by a whine Sierra could not control. She had gone the whole day without eating, but despite what her body craved, she had no will to feed herself. Her thoughts were too full for her to realize, her appetite browbeaten by worry and anxiety. The aching felt good, like a justification, at least so Sierra was able to convince herself.

A new message awaited Duval when she first logged into her office computer. Atop a long list of lab-wide announcements and discussions was an email, sent by one of her own subjects within the terrarium. Immediately did it kick Duval awake with curiosity -- contact such as this was reserved for important notices, anything short of an emergency that could not wait until later.

“Kendall, hm?” Duval said the sender’s name aloud, finding a distant relief in knowing who it was from -- or rather, who it was not from. It had been sent earlier after midnight, a peculiar time for Duval to be needed. She opened the message and read what little was written:

“Hi Overseer Duval! I think Im sending this message correctly but i think its important. Lately ive noticed that my neighbor Sierra has been acting oddly. She looks and sounds sick! I tried getting her to talk to you herself but shes being more stubborn than usual! I hope shes okay. Can you check up on her asap??? I think shes trying to not cause trouble for anyone :( “

A stiffer expression scanned the email a second time, leading Duval to the same concern. It weighed heavy on her heart to worry over Sierra’s well-being, but compounding that was her anxiety of how to proceed. Any emails sent by subjects were also forwarded to the supervisors, denying Duval the chance to take Sierra aside privately. It seemed there were no other solutions, regardless of how she racked her brain for another answer; all she could do was follow protocol and work with the permissions Ericka allowed her.

Duval marched hurriedly through the halls, absorbed into her thoughts. It had been three days since she took Sierra’s vitals, and even back then did she suspect her beloved subject might attempt something. She felt Sierra’s yearning to be with her, but did she crave Duval enough to attempt faking an illness? It was an uncomfortable idea to assume, but so too was it to hope that Sierra was genuinely unwell.

Preparing a serious and stone-like persona coming up to the terrarium room, Duval was first met with Ericka, stationed outside the door expectantly. “Good morning, Ophelia~” the supervisor greeted her. “I suppose you saw the message from, err, Kendal, was it?”

“Kendall, yes,” Duval replied. “I-I appreciate you coming down here to help, but I should be able to handle this. It’s a straightforward procedure, so I--”

“Indeed, very straightforward,” Ericka emphasized. “So I’ll just be right behind you if you need me, ma’am. Lead the way!”

Duval blinked, but there was no breaking from Ericka’s watch. She proceeded inside, fixing her lab coat and applying new gloves as she approached the tabled community. Though she made her footfalls subdued as usual, her entrance still caught heads to turn towards her from within the terrarium. A number of people were already active in the morning, making for an audience Duval would have to speak in front of.

With all eyes on her, including Ericka’s, Duval spoke to her subjects. “Good morning, everyone. It has come to our attention that one among you is... in need of medical attention. As a precaution, I will be escorting the individual to a medbay station. Err… Sierra, could you please step outside?”

Her words stirred not Sierra, but her neighbor to step outside and inspect the situation. Kendall was clearly concerned, looking back between the overseer and Sierra’s home. When there was not an immediate answer, Kendall dashed around their fence and up to Sierra’s door, gesturing to Duval that she would help.

“Sierra? Duval is here-- oh…” By the time Kendall knocked on the door, it had just been opened on the other side. She leaned towards the slither-sized opening, peeking in to find Sierra hanging back in the darkness of her house. Kendall pushed forward an optimistic grin, “Hey~ Are you feeling okay?”

“A-Am I feeling…?” Sierra muttered it back, her glare flickering between different expressions of disdain. “Wh-What is this about…? Kendall, wh-why are they…?”

Kendall winced, still bearing her positive smile. “I-I had to say something,” she explained, “after our talk last night… D-Duval will help you, I bet! She’ll at least make sure you’re not sick--”

“I know I’m not sick, Kendall…!” Sierra whined, but she neither the will nor convenience to argue. She felt the vibration of Duval and Ericka peering overhead, a pressure that pulled her out of the door -- how could she ignore being summoned by two giants? She stepped outside, deciding to display her weary state of being to all those watching. Revealed by the sun-like lamp was a complexion much paler than usual, a hunch in her posture that also affected her gait. She stared up in a squint, her balance only maintained by supporting herself on her porch and eventually a helping hand offered by Kendall.

“S-See? Something isn’t right,” Kendall said, putting an arm around Sierra and urging her down the steps. “C’mon, let’s get you out…”

Sierra was pulled forward, feeling as though she were being dragged to her execution. All of the attention cast onto her by those nearby amplified the very fatigue she was called out for. She shuddered in front of Duval, only able to glance up at the cold expression pointed down at her. It was impossible to tell yet if this was another part of their ongoing curse, or if this was a blessing in disguise, an opportunity for her to be alone with Duval -- similar to that time months ago when she staged breaking her wrist.

But in this circumstance, this was no act; Sierra’s weariness was real, and Duval was cut by what she witnessed. Badly did the overseer want to reach down and lift the little woman into a tender grasp, to cradle her into comfort and provide her with everything she wanted. An apology stammered at her lips, but Ericka’s presence petrified her into the expected rhythm of lab protocol.

“Please, uhm, c-continue into this transport pod,” Duval directed, fetching one from her pocket. She shakily placed it down into the terrarium, right outside Sierra’s lawn. Whether or not this ailment was genuine, Duval found the future ahead to be uncertain and disorienting -- how would Sierra act once they were seemingly alone?

Sierra was strangled by those very same thoughts, silently strapping herself into the pod with Kendall’s assistance. She could not believe it was happening, that Duval was taking her away because of Kendall’s concern, but she could only hope this time with the overseer could be as magical as it once was. It could very well be her only opportunity to be able to speak with Duval personally, and to bring resolution to the vagueness of their relationship.

The transport pod was lowered into a small chamber through an open ceiling -- from outside and above, Sierra only saw glimpses of where she was to be deposited. It resembled the medical station she used once before, but the inside of where she was placed was not as familiar. The pod fitted perfectly into a round divet in the ground, allowing her exit into this garage to be flatter than usual. When Sierra stepped outside, she felt the chill of air conditioning, an indication of how tightly controlled her surroundings were.

A wide, wall-high window stretched around this drop-off station. Sierra saw past the blue tint and out to where Duval and Ericka stood, their torsos side-by-side as they towered next to what was likely a counter that the medbay was on. Not yet instructed where to go or what to do, Sierra shivered by her lonesome; the sight of two giants looming outside a strange, caged environment reminded her distinctly of being surrounded by titanic crowds back at the showcase.

Duval and Ericka exchanged whispered words above the medbay. After flipping to something on her tablet, Duval looked at Sierra through the open ceiling. “Continue through that door on your left,” she explained, “and take a seat on one of the beds.”

“D-Duval?” Sierra spoke up, unsure if she should shout through the glass or up through the ceiling. “Wh-What is this place? I don’t recognize it, I don’t think…” Nonetheless, she opened the door and entered what appeared to be a hospital bedroom. There were two simple beds separated by curtains, a pair of basic chairs around a small table, and a few ordinary appliances for day-to-day living. Tepidly, she still sat herself at the end of one bed, staring outside this room’s wall-high window.

“This is an upgraded medbay station,” Duval answered. “It’s been reserved for critical situations, but… we’re using it now in response to nearly all medical situations, when possible.”

Sierra quietly repeated that word; “critical.” Her fingers played with one another nervously. “Duval, I-I’m… am I going to be okay?”

“Oh, dear…” Duval bit her lip and knelt closer to the medbay, enough that her sympathetic expression filled the window. “I-It’s going to be okay, Sierra. I’ll--” She stopped when Ericka pulled lightly on her shoulder, gesturing for her to rise up to full height. As if being stolen away by Ericka, Sierra watched as Duval’s face lifted back out of view. “Er… We’re going to do some scans, and ask a few questions regarding your health and behavior. Please… lay flat on your back, and be as still as you can for a minute.”

As usual, Sierra obeyed, stretching her weak body out on the mattress. A machine hanging above her buzzed with activity as it began its scan. While it did so, Sierra’s worry festered over Ericka’s involvement. With her being there, she and Duval would never have a moment alone together, prompting her to boldly ask, “Does… Einhorn need to be here? Or, is this part of some research…?”

“Oh, mm…” Duval thought to ask Ericka herself, but she imagined another cool hand pulling her shoulder. “Einhorn is just here to… well…” She stopped; what was Ericka here for? Duval knew well that she was here to monitor the process, but how could she explain that to Sierra?

Fortunately, Ericka had her own answer. “Am I too much?” she half-jokingly asked, a hand over her chest in amusement. “I don’t mean to stress anyone out by being here. Duval, you won’t need me for anything, will you?”

“I-I… No, I don’t believe so.” Duval’s fingers curled tight on the tablet.

“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Ericka decided, stepping backwards from the counter. Sierra watched in stillness, surprised at how easily the supervisor would give in like this, until she heard her continue: “I’ll review everything later this afternoon. Stay positive, Sierra! Duval will make sure you’re feeling better than ever.”

Ericka then left the room, but her aura lingered after what she had stated. Sierra was not alone in feeling this way, as Duval shuddered after the door closed and she turned back to the medbay. The imminent awkward silence was luckily relieved by a ping. “Ah, th-the results…” Duval stammered, as if beeped back into reality. “Y-You can rise now, Sierra. You can change into a medbay gown, i-if you’d prefer.”

Sierra remained quiet, unsure yet if now was her chance to speak to Duval openly -- since Duval continued to act so steely, she assumed it was not. She followed along, grabbing a gown off from a shelf and unfolding it in front of herself. A glance past it saw Duval’s torso again outside the window, but Sierra wished to be watched, wanting that attention while she changed. Slowly, she undid her jacket and continued to the rest of her clothes, biding every second she could.

“Does that report… say anything?” Sierra inquired, not wanting to live in silence all this time. “I-I dunno what could have happened to make me feel this way…”

Duval reviewed the report from her tablet. “There’s… notable weight loss,” she began, finding that to be the most pressing detail. “Signs of dehydration, as well… Have you been eating less?”

Sierra was grateful that her flinch went unseen. Having her shirt halfway over her head, she lied, “I’ve been eating like normal, p-pretty much.” Her pants slid down her legs, leaving her exposed in just her underwear -- yet Duval still would not look, no matter how badly Sierra silently wished she would. “I’ve felt really low energy these last few-- well… this last week, really. Since the showcase…”

Duval bit her lip while a finger stalled at a point on her screen. That hint did not go undetected by her -- Sierra was still attached to that night. She closed her eyes and tried to sort her emotions, but ultimately, she lacked the words to speak to Sierra. In truth, she lacked the ability to speak, shackled by workplace restraints.

“... There should be a computer you can use between the beds,” Duval continued. “We will have to run some extensive tests. Your condition is… somewhat serious. There will be--”

“Duval…! I-I’m…” Sierra hugged the unworn gown against her chest and leaned against the window. Her hand pressed into the glass in a vain stretch towards Duval. “... Can’t we talk?”

“There will be time for discussion later, Sierra,” Duval replied plainly. “If it does not relate to your condition, then please… please refrain from d-distracting me, or anyone that might be helping you.”

“Am I distracting you?” Sierra was appalled, her hand slipping down the pane.

“N-No, you’re not, but…” Duval stepped aside and sighed away from the medbay. She pivoted completely, burning with uncertainty. “But for now, I… need you to cooperate. It’s… for your safety, Sierra. Try to understand.”

Sierra trembled, arguments in her head unwilling to be voiced. Her forehead dropped against the window, and when pushed off from it, she looked again up to Duval. It was so little, almost meaningless, but she had at least earned Duval’s face, the overseer having leaned down slightly to her level.

“I-I’m nervous, Duval,” Sierra whimpered. Her hand tapped the window in a little rhythm, pressed harder against it than before. Her eyes spoke volumes with how much want there was in their shine.

Duval took notice of what Sierra was trying to signal. She lifted her own finger, opposite of Sierra’s hand, and-- it curled back down, and Duval craned up to her full height. Sierra only wanted to feel her touch through the window, but even that was denied to her. Wordlessly, Duval shifted over to a computer, leaving Sierra at the medbay -- an unbearable distance between them, only arms length away, yet separated far from one another.

The medbay was a lonely place to be left for an entire night. It was perfectly safe and suitable for someone her size, but inside it, Sierra was isolated -- abandoned. When the day was over, Duval had to leave like any other scientist, but her being gone was little different than her being there. So limited was their time together that it felt relieving for the overseer to be absent, for at least then, Sierra did not need to toil so close to her lover.

It was especially dark when Sierra finally found motivation to move up from the simple bed. She had been told to rest and certainly acted the part, but her head was far too occupied with buzzing thoughts to be genuinely rested. Did Duval still love her, or did she regret that night at the hotel? Were these obstacles Ericka’s doing, or was Duval hiding behind them?

These worries racked at Sierra’s brain even as she paced around the room, the few dimmed lights of which made any of the space visible. She explored the medbay as much as there was to, but the wide window of her room naturally drew her to the view of outside. Of course, even this was themed towards Duval; she remembered her size above the medbay, how this entire building could be swaddled up into her arms, and how Sierra wished she would have done anything like that with the time they had. She longed all day for Duval to rebel just like before, but that spirit was not there like it had been leading up to the showcase.

Things were different -- Duval was different. From Sierra’s perspective, it was too unlike her. Certainly, she assumed, even Duval in her precarious position as an overseer could afford some chance to speak honestly with her. Sierra scoffed when she thought how simple it would be to pull her aside and be blunt about matters; Just pocket me for a moment and take me somewhere private, she envisioned, a warm thought despite how frosty her attitude was. Whatever is happening, can’t I know? Isn’t it better if I know?

Sierra crossed her arms and put her back against the cold glass. She bit her thumb, delved into a new line of thinking: What if Duval can’t tell me…? She had yet to consider that possibility, that Duval was just unable to speak honestly to her. Something could be blocking her from having that moment together, and that something could be anything, or anyone. Of course, it was likely Ericka’s constant shouldering that got in the way, but what of the times she was absent? Was she still watching then? Is she watching now?

There were no cameras in the medbay, none that she happened to find at least, but she was sure there were cameras elsewhere in the larger room outside. If surveillance had been strengthened around the labs, then perhaps Duval was having difficulty getting to be alone with Sierra. It could be worse than that -- and that was probably the case. Sierra only then realized how straight and tight all of Duval’s movements were, as if she were burdened by something. Ericka’s insistence was peculiar, as well; more than just Shoote Labs upping its security, it was true that Duval herself had been planted with her own personal camera with which to study her from.

-- and that was probably the case. Sierra remembered then how Ericka urged Duval to stand straight and tight, as if she were burdened by something.

A camera… Sierra felt sure of this conclusion, as much of a theory as it still was. In Duval’s chest pocket had been something new, but at the time, Sierra thought little of it. Only now did it strike her that it was likely a body cam, fitted to her lab coat so that the supervisors could inspect every interaction she had with her subjects. If she were being tailed that intensely, then naturally Duval would have no chance to speak privately with Sierra, not without revealing their relationship to Shoote.

Sierra pushed off the wall and towards her bed, wanting to believe it was her overthinking. She drank a glass of water, but the idea persisted, ushering her to conclude that Duval was trapped, perhaps more so than herself. Sierra looked around the medbay, left to regret what led her to here. If she had kept things ordinary and followed along, they could at least be enjoying a quiet and distant life with one another -- but Sierra did not want that kind of life. She wanted it all, for her life to have real meaning, and so she thought of how to undermine this surveillance. She desired a proper reunion with Duval, and she dreamed of how to get there.

“... And, you still feel unwell?” Duval bit her lip as she asked the question. “Do you feel better or worse than before?”

“B-Better, a bit,” Sierra replied, crossing her hands together nervously. “But I still feel shaky and weak… and I didn’t sleep well last night, either.”

Duval glanced behind her to where Ericka waited. The two had barely greeted each other for the day before beginning their check-up with Sierra. “You might sleep better back in your own bed,” Duval suggested, but she saw that it did little to persuade Sierra inside the medbay. Getting her back home in the community was what she wanted, more than just because it was pushed upon by Ericka. The terrarium was not only safe, but normal and mundane -- Duval wished to have that with Sierra and to be over this hump of awkwardness, but without Sierra being in a provably better condition, it could not simply be forced.

“Let her stay another day,” Ericka proposed with a wave of her hand. Her tone was faster than how it usually was. “Check her weight and pulse, schedule a big meal, and after a good sleep, she can be taken back. Does that work?”

Duval nodded. “I-If that’s what you recommend…”

“Any longer and Sierra will be taken into the next level of care,” Ericka warned. She stood up from her seat and made her way to the door, seemingly rushed. “We can’t have you sidetracked with this for days. There’s a lot that needs to be worked on. You made sure to schedule in that 4 pm meeting, right?”

“I-I have,” Duval responded after a breath of hesitation. “Er, I’ll see you then, and I’ll let you know how Sierra is doing.” Ericka was barely heard saying farewell as she turned the corner out of the room, leaving Duval to finish procedures with Sierra. It was only a matter of compiling datasets from the medbay, yet Duval’s sigh was too heavy to be only preoccupied with that much.

Sierra knew that expression, having studied and inferred that same bend in Duval’s brow for months. “Things are getting busy again, I guess?” Sierra asked through the window. “I hope I’m not getting in the way, but… it sounds like I am.”

“No, i-it’s not about you…” Duval said as she loosened her coat from off her shoulders and onto the back of her chair. She lurched over a keyboard, her head held in one hand. “The showcase got us a lot of financiers who all have different demands and priorities-- i-it all jumbles together, and the supervisors, well…”

Duval’s eyes widened, finally darting away from a screen. She looked to Sierra, then forward again. Somehow, a conversation blossomed so naturally between them, and when noticed, Duval immediately silenced herself. Though it was only a few sentences shared, Sierra cherished what little they could have, even if it was by mistake.

She’s so charming when she gets careless, Sierra wondered. As much as it pained her to have Duval so distant, at least she could still watch her. That, however, was limited as well; Ericka was forcing Sierra to be either returned to the community, or pushed up into someone else’s care. Today was her last chance to have privacy with Duval, and still did she need a way to actually secure that privacy.

Fortunately, the pieces to her puzzle were coming together. Until then, Sierra had the scheme to get out of the medbay, but nothing to follow after escaping. It was in her favor that today had already put Duval in a hectic mood, especially so when Duval finally left the room on her way to other duties. Sierra had to put herself on the mattress to contain her excitement and keep it secret, but she was over the moon to have found that Duval had left behind her lab coat, draped over the back of the office chair.

Everything had to be situated for her plan to work. First, Sierra used extra pillows and gowns to create a person-sized lump on her bed, wrapped up in blankets and sheets. It made for a convincing disguise, at least, Sierra assumed -- it would have to be passing enough at a glance so that no one knew she was missing, including Duval. None of this felt better having to be some grand lie happening under Duval’s nose, but it was necessary for getting around whatever cameras could catch them.

There were no convenient exits for the medbay, at least none that were unlocked for Sierra. Instead, she would have to be crafty and make use of the garage from where she entered. The transport pod still sat in the divet, and by climbing on top of it, Sierra could stand tall enough to see past the open ceiling hatch. From there, Sierra jumped through the opening and up to the roof, a feat of acrobatics that was more challenging than expected, but was accomplished nonetheless. It left Sierra exhausted at that point, but she could not lay tuckered out just yet. There was still a long trek to the lab coat, and then the matter of actually getting into it.

Sierra shivered in the vastness of space she had to herself. It had been quite some time since she experienced such a thrill, back when her relationship with Duval was first kindling. She remembered fondly her antics of hurting herself, receiving personalized care from Duval, and then eventually finding herself alone with her glove. That sense of adventure lived true in the moment, she admitted as much while on the long walk across the counter there, but the stakes were much higher. Appropriately so, Sierra felt tinier than usual, knowing she was sneaking about and putting herself at great risk, all so she could speak with Duval.

I think I’m going crazy, Sierra said to herself. What am I looking at here? How am I supposed to do this…? A desperate gaze stretched across the leap that was between the edge of the counter and the seat holding Duval’s coat. Sierra looked down the gap, trembling at the sheer drop to the tiled floor. From the medbay, the lab coat seemed so close, but that was an illusion; every ounce of doubt Sierra suffered seemed to extend that distance by another inch.

Sierra prepared herself with a few stretches, knowingly delaying the inevitable jump. There was no other solution, and waiting for too long risked her being found by Duval, or someone else. She developed a mantra out loud, “Think of Duval… Think of Duval…” It did little to encourage her, each run-up to the edge ended short by hesitation.

Then, the door opened, just as she reached the final step of another attempt. The clacking noise distracted her from her own doubts, and so her jump was committed to, pushed over the ledge with her arms and legs cycling in motion. She was breathless, wordless, thoughtless as she flew in the air, every fiber of her being expecting a fatal failure.

Duval entered the room, lingering at the entrance as she spoke to another overseer. “I’ll catch up,” she said with a hurried wave. When the door closed, she huffed in a fit. All day she had been called to back-and-forth, dragging her to 4 pm sooner than expected.

A few printed reports were picked up as Duval swept through to grab what she needed. In her rush, she made time to glimpse inside the medbay, “Sierra? Are you--” She stopped upon noticing the bundled up figure under the sheets, realizing her sole patient was already asleep. She stepped away with a smile, her next breath a soft sigh as she moved along without her.

Duval delayed her departure for the meeting by leaning against the back of her chair, taking a beat to center her thoughts. Ahead of her was a dreary discussion, but one that had to happen. She took her coat and whipped it over herself, taking the time to straighten her collar and brush up her hair. As it was the end of her day at the lab, she also removed the camera fitted into her coat pocket; like unshackling a prison weight, she sighed with relief. After that, Duval was out the door and marching down the hall, a folder of reports tucked under her arm.

Meanwhile, a lump in a lab coat pocket situated itself in the ever-twisting confines. Sierra was jostled in all directions as her fabric hideout rocked back and forward to the rhythm of Duval’s footsteps. Such chaotic movement made it easy to forget the earlier risk with her life; her bound from the counter to the chair had been a success, but there was no time to celebrate. After sliding down a wrinkle of white that slowed her fall, Sierra had to instantly fling herself into the one exposed pocket. She buried into it at the last possible minute, tossed to the bottom when Duval picked up and wore the coat.

In her plans, Sierra had not even imagined this segment of her adventure being so exhausting. When she had been pocketed before, it was in the safety of a transport pod, but without that protective shell, she was left to endure the bumpy ride herself, shaken and spun as every footfall slammed into the ground far below. Weak as she already was, Sierra felt sick enough to faint, but she swallowed and withstood. She was well beyond the point of turning around, and was now at the whims of a world unaware of her diminutive presence.

Eventually, Sierra became accustomed to the webb and flow of Duval’s walk from within the pocket. From where she was crouched in the deepest corner, she could see slithers of the outside world from the opening, though what images she saw were too thin to make out. She flinched under many of the shadows, afraid any one of them could be the person that points out to Duval that she had a stowaway subject hidden in her coat. It was all terrifying -- but exhilarating and heart-thumping.

And though Duval knew nothing about her there, Sierra yet found comfort in being so close to her. It was all too possible that the overseer herself could be the one to cause accidental harm to her, but Sierra believed it would not happen, that it could not happen. It was nonsense, even she agreed against herself, but that belief persisted as she lay quiet during the walk. Because there was nowhere else to go, Sierra invested everything in this risk.

I only have to wait, Sierra thought. At some point, she has to be alone. I’ll talk to her then -- even if I don’t know what I’m going to say… What is there to say? What is she even going to think when she sees me? It was not that she hadn’t thought this far ahead, but rather that the questions did not ever distract her.

Between the stress of the situation and the warmth of the pocket, Sierra was sweating out her fears. It seemed eternal to be trapped in this uncertainty, but the halls were getting quieter, the distance she had crossed surely amounting to a few relative miles of travel. Sierra pressed herself against the body-side of her placement, as if trying to hug the giant wearing the coat. Through this touch, she could embrace the tremors that rippled up Duval’s legs, pleasure taken in how she knew that she was hugging her hip. The rumbling provided another calm, but only just before a change of rhythm.

There was a sudden stop, at least so from Sierra’s perspective. She was thrown forward in the pocket after Duval had reached a door to open -- it was likely the meeting room. Curious of her surroundings, and confident she could go unseen, Sierra shakily clambered to the opening of the pocket, poking her head out from its refuge. She scanned the wide world outside, acknowledging a huge door be pushed aside by her overseer as she entered. It was a circular space with a long table in the middle and a generous amount of seats all against the walls. The murmurs of a gathering were heard before Sierra saw any of the people; various Shoote employees of different ranks, from supervisors to lab techs, had taken their seats, but only the most important figures of the labs took a seat at the center.

Duval earned a few turned heads as she rustled in, warding awkward small-talk with a polite smile and an urgency to reach a chair. She had made it just on time, exactly like she wanted to. Her seat at the table was claimed like a prize, but she was made tense again when the seat beside her was taken by no other than Ericka.

“Good afternoon, Ophelia,” Ericka greeted, sporting her usual smile. “Everything well today?”

“B-Busy,” Duval replied in a chuckle, “but, it’s nothing I can’t manage, right?”

Sierra was startled when Ericka was suddenly in her vision, her huge body witnessed taking a seat just as Duval had. The experience rocked Sierra into slipping back into the pocket, but her glare was as stubborn as ever aimed up at Ericka. She scowled at the supervisor, seeing her as nothing more than an obstacle. While she and Duval passed some friendly chatter, Sierra took solace in that she could spy on Ericka like she was. If she could, she would taunt Ericka for her being able to escape and sneak about without her realizing.

The pettier of Sierra’s priorities dwindled away as all conversation in the room came to a hush. From where she was stashed aside, Sierra could not tell what all was unfolding, only able to see a variety of different legs underneath the table. Then she heard a voice, reserved in volume and modest in tone, that of an older woman’s. Tepidly, Sierra leaked from the pocket in order to hear what was being discussed, instinctively inclined to eavesdrop while she had the chance.

Sierra was tipped back when Duval started to move, slightly straightening her posture for the sake of this speaker. It went unknown to Sierra, but Duval knew very well that it was Director Coles leading the meeting. All of Shoote Labs’ projects were managed by her, her hand involved in every department, the shrinking project included. Her long stares across the room pressed Duval to act on her best behavior, fully prepared to engage with the topics.

After a minute-long attempt of listening in on the meeting, however, Sierra found too much of the discussion to be alien to her. Scientists spoke of chemical make-ups and mathematical formulas, while the supervisors and overseers argued over schedules and procedures. Numbers and terms were spat at one another, but Sierra could make little sense of what was said. She sighed as the meeting dragged on -- waiting was proving to be more difficult than she assumed.

Rather than dwell on the broader meeting, Sierra turned her attention to Duval specifically, positioning herself again at the edge of her pocket so that she could gaze up at her lover. It was all she could to bide her time, and it did well to rejuvenate her waning energy. Whether it was a motion as simple as moving her arm to the table, or switching which leg was kicked over the other, every one of Duval’s actions carried a magnitude that thrilled Sierra. It was no night at the hotel, where she was blessed with the freedom to look up at Duval under her watch; the excitement was different, a chill that went up her back because of how discrete it was, the danger she was put in.

Minutes went by, and Sierra had only one thought to swallow on. I really am… incredibly tiny to her. It seemed silly to state that specifically after all this time, yet it occupied her head fully. She really doesn’t know I’m here. No one does. Only me…

Before slipping into a weary trance, a commotion of noise shook Sierra awake. She was jostled when Duval began to move again, urging her to dive back into the pocket just as a hand swept nearby. A few pairs of legs that Sierra could see pushed out from their positions and took leave; the meeting was coming to an end.

Sierra felt her adrenaline pick up once more, expecting to endure another long walk through the halls, but she found instead that Duval was mostly unmoving. Other than shuffling her papers and leaning on the table, Duval remained in her seat, as did several others such as Ericka. Sierra struggled to see a pattern, but after a minute, the staff present had been more than halved, cut down to only the most vital scientists and managers.

When the doors closed again and the remaining staff was to themselves, there was a notable shift in the air. Even Sierra felt it from within the coat, a silence that droned for a little too long as people rustled anxiously in their seats. The mood was stiff, but unexpectedly, it was Duval to break the quiet.

“Why are there still errors? Where’s the progress we were talking about last month?” Duval attacked; at first, Sierra thought it was someone different speaking. “All I see are the same results we’ve been having -- all year.”

“Straight to the chase, eh, Ophelia?” Ericka shakily replied. She extended an arm out to Duval’s shoulder as Sierra watched, but Duval was still to the gesture.

“I don’t understand,” Duval said. “How can we be so loose about this?”

“We’re not having this argument again,” cut in that stern voice from before; Director Coles had interjected with her own authority. “We’re this far along with revolutionary science. We know the problem, it’s simply a matter of solving it -- which will be done in time.”

“This isn’t… It can’t be considered acceptable,” Duval pushed. “This should be our top priority. The project never should have left the ground!”

“It wouldn’t have,” Coles snapped, “but we’re flying fast now, Duval, and we can’t cut the engines. Everyone goes down with this project and I’m not letting it go that way.”

“It’s going to end exactly that way if we don’t find an answer for these people!” Duval bolted up from her seat, a shift in position that had Sierra squeak in shock. “What’s going to happen when an investor finds out? What’s going to happen when the public hears about it?”

“Ophelia,” Ericka said, “we’ve taken measures to ensure--”

“How does this project end? Because the conclusion we predict isn’t at all what they expect -- what they were told!”

There was a pause, only a huff from Duval until the director spoke again. “There have been no broken promises. We still have time. The regrowth team has been able to restore up to one percent of an experiment’s size as of last month, and today’s projections are only better--”

“One percent is nothing! Ten percent -- nothing! If we cannot grow these people -- these humans! -- back to full-size, then we’ve irreparably ruined their lives!”

“Enough of this, Overseer,” Coles commanded. Such a striking tone instantly retook order, pushing Duval into a stunned quiet. “This is beyond your post. Your concern could jeopardize the entire project, and then what of the subjects? What would they do if our labs lost funding -- if we were shut down? Do you know what would be the fate for them?”

Duval shivered, but she tried to stand strong. “Then we should dedicate all efforts to--”

“That is not your call to make,” Coles decided. “You fail to see the bigger picture, Overseer. By no means is this the situation we wanted, but this is the reality our science must prosper in. These are the facts our future will be built on.”

Duval’s lips twisted with bitterness and her fingers curled against the papers on the table. This was not the first argument with the director she had waged, nor would it be the last. The progress she was hoping for was still just a faraway hope. It hardened inside her, this rocky emotion with jagged edges towards her peers. The matter at hand had her despising the very labs that employed her, but after a breath, Duval returned to wearing the mask she always did. She was an overseer, an accomplished scientist, and a likeable coworker, but only once she had exhaled.

The meeting proceeded as expected by Duval. Failed tests were reviewed like autopsies, analyzing every detail for the points of error, of which there were many to compile. Duval was critical, as was Ericka, with regards to where to experiment next -- but all the while, Duval struggled to find a purpose for it all. Her eyes fell dim as the conversation carried on, her spirit graying to the same shade as her coworkers -- her co-conspirators, all numbed to the reality they had created.

They’re trapped. That point remained impaled in Duval’s mind. They’re trapped. It was us who trapped them. And we’re trapped, too, now -- trapped with what we’ve put together. Trapped in what we wanted to learn.

“Dinner?” Ericka’s suggestion shook Duval from her downcast glare into her papers. The meeting was adjourned and casual conversation took over where the serious discussion had once persisted. Ericka was out of her seat and behind Duval, grazing her shoulder with a touch. “I know you’re hungry~ because I know you skipped lunch. Come with me, won’t you?”

“Oh, th-thank you,” Duval replied, still recovering from a daze. She began sorting her documents back into a folder, “I’ve got, uh, plans for tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”

Ericka giggled and playfully shook Duval by both shoulders. “That’s a promise,” she laughed, joining the flow of the others in leaving the room. “Get plenty of rest tonight, Ophelia! Thanks for the work today!”

Duval smiled and waved, both empty gestures as she dwelled on what the meeting had covered. As the last to leave, she turned off the lights and locked the door behind her, but still did that room burden her thoughts, as though she had never left it. All down the halls and up to the main lobby, Duval kept her stare away from others, unable to look them in the eyes on her way back to the outside world.

Her sluggish departure made her the last of the cars in the company garage. Nearing her vehicle was already providing relief as she sought it like a shelter, her escape to the mundane. Everything could be left behind each night, a status quo she maintained through her years as a scientist. Even the most serious matters could be laid to rest for the time being; Duval knew it did her little good to take work home with her.

After getting into her car with a slumped motion, Duval sighed away her stresses and gripped the steering wheel for balance. A moment of contemplation, not only to sort herself out before getting on the road, but to pick out a show tune for the drive home, her go-to genre for staying sane. She started the car and was scrolling through a playlist on the console, until--

“Duval…” A whisper, or maybe just a whine. The tone was only just distinct enough to make her hesitate, enough time for her to process the voice, and to hear it again. “... Duval! Don’t start yet!” Duval blinked, but a glance out the windows showed her no one nearby -- which left the overseer with only one implication. “Duval!!”

Crawling out from her coat pocket, wedged between her body and the gear stick console, was the flailing arm of a little body. Sierra had climbed out to reveal herself, clawing at the white fabric while waving up at the mountain-sized woman. Her calls for Duval’s attention were desperate and loud, but it was only when the overseer’s eyes befell her that her tiny voice could be comprehended -- those same eyes that widened to twice their size upon realizing Sierra had been in her pocket.

“Holy--!!” Duval gasped in a burst. She frantically pushed away from the center of her car and into her door. She looked away, looked back, away again -- “No, no, no,” she muttered, her head shaking, “please, not like this--”

Duval’s shocked response was somewhat expected, but still just as eruptive for Sierra. The jump of fright had caused her to tumble out of the pocket and onto the driver seat itself, where a corner of space had been made for her where Duval had slid away from. Before even catching her balance, Sierra was already chanting up at Duval, “I’m okay, Duval! I’m okay -- look! I-It’s not bad! It’s just me!”

But these points failed to calm Duval -- they flustered her further. “No, Sierra, no! Y-You can’t!” she argued loudly. “You cannot be here, y-you just-- can’t! Oh, my god, Sierra…”

“No, no, i-it’s all fine, Duval! Trust me, I-I-- No one knows! No one knows I’m here--”

“Exactly! W-We need to take you back,” Duval scoffed, “this is-- oh my god, you’re going to die out here like this, Sierra…!”

“Please, Duval, just listen to me…!” Sierra shouted, only now turned onto her back after the fall. The sight above her had her choked; Duval’s glare amidst her nervous reaction was particularly imposing, a side of the scientist that Sierra had never seen.

“No…! Sierra, no…” Duval closed her eyes in frustration, a trembling hand brushing across her brow and down her cheek. “How did you-- No, no, it doesn’t matter! This is so wrong…”

Sierra tried to speak, but a swirling in her stomach slowed her. After two heavy breaths, she squeaked, “Please, c-can we talk, Duval?” She shuddered pathetically, her tiny body quivering in Duval’s shadow. “Please… I just came here to talk to you, Duval. Th-That’s all.”

“That’s all? J-Just to talk?” Duval swallowed on what would have been a sarcastic laugh. “... You risked your life, just to try and talk to me?”

“Yes!” Sierra jumped. “A-And I-I’d do it again…!”

“Stupid,” Duval winced. “I’m sorry, but that’s… absurd. It’s so reckless, Sierra.”

Sierra was shaken by the reply, but she persisted, “It’s… what I had to do. It’s all I could do -- you were ignoring me! I-I could never have a chance to just talk like we used to--!”

“We can’t, anymore! We… We can’t talk like that! I-It’s too complicated for you--”

“No, I know everything!” Sierra stepped forward, closer to Duval’s thigh so that she could caress that side of her. “I… figured it out, th-that you’re being recorded. I know what’s going on.”

“You…?” Duval bit her lip, the expression hidden behind her palm as it stretched down her face. “Sierra, you surely only know so much about what’s happening. If you did know everything…”

“I-It’s because of Ericka,” Sierra interrupted. “Right? Sh-She must have seen something, or she’s trying to get you fired -- either way, that… that’s not going to get in between us! N-Nothing will!”

Duval’s eyes closed again, her body cramped with stress. “Ericka is… only one part of all this,” she groaned, “Sierra… I-I wanted to explain it to you, but that’s exactly what would make things worse. And now with you doing this… I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Can’t you just tell me?” Sierra asked. “I-I want to know when this’ll be over. When can we go back to normal? When am I supposed to… be with you? I’m confused, Duval, a-and… it’s so scary not knowing what’s happening.”

Duval frowned, upset with herself for lacking the answers Sierra strived for. “... I don’t know if there’ll ever be a normal like before,” she admitted, parsing out her words. “Ericka… caught me at the hotel, after I took you back.”

Sierra became still, her hands flexing to her chest in worry. “D-Does… she know…?”

“She only knows I took someone,” Duval continued, “but she didn’t ask about who. She didn’t care. She… wanted to protect me, as much as she could. She wanted to protect me from myself.”

“She just doesn’t realize,” Sierra said. “She doesn’t know we’re… in love. She doesn’t know what she’s doing--”

“She’s doing her job,” Duval cut in, “like I should be doing…! This has gotten so out of hand… I-I--”

“No, no Duval,” Sierra stuttered, both hands now on Duval’s leg. “We can get through this… I-I’m sorry, for having done all this sneaking around… I-I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be here…”

“... How long were you in there?” A blink of silence. “When did you get in my pocket? When-- What did you hear, Sierra?”

“Wh-What do you mean?”

“At the meeting. You had to be there. What did you hear?”

“I don’t-- er, I… I heard you all talking,” Sierra shrugged in distress. “About… things-- It doesn’t matter! I-It doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“Sierra--”

“I know! I know, I-I can’t… There’s no returning to my normal size.” Sierra paused, her throat frosting over after speaking the truth for the first time. “No one can. I-I heard that… How Shoote isn’t able to grow the subjects back to normal…”

Stricken with pity, Duval’s body compassionately began to relax, but still as stressed as before. She offered a hand, shaky as it might have been, and scooped Sierra into her palm gently. She lifted the little woman to chest-height, and with the seat now available, situated herself back into a normal posture in front of the steering wheel. Sierra was equally as untalkative as this shift occurred, neither wanting to progress the lingering topic.

“... Like I said, it doesn’t matter.” Sierra spoke up to the mighty face before her, less afraid of Duval’s size than when she stood beside her. “I don’t care about that. I just want… you, t-to be with you, to have you. And I want to be like this! I want to be tiny and held like this… Th-This is what I want! It’s okay!”

“No, it isn’t okay,” Duval countered. “You-- We can’t live like this. I’m your overseer, y-you’re part of an experiment, and you’re… like this! You’re small, you’re… vulnerable. What’s our life supposed to look like…?”

“I-It can be anything we want it to be!” Sierra pushed. “It’s our future, isn’t it? We can become anything!”

“I want us to be together, but wanting alone… doesn’t change reality. I want you terribly, Sierra, but can it really be like… this? Can we truly just decide to live together like this?”

“Yes… Being with you, while tiny, i-it’s all I think about. It’s not easy to explain… b-but I want to make you feel important, significant. I want us to have… meaning. It’s my dream to be like this with you forever.”

“A dream, right,” Duval sighed. “That’s it, I think. That’s the difference…”

“Duval…”

“You’re able to dream, Sierra, and fantasize about what we could do, and what you want to do. I… I don’t do that. I’m a scientist, Sierra, w-we calculate. We don’t dream, we hypothesize. And this logic you have, it doesn’t work -- you don’t see the future, you see what… what you desire. You’ve made an end-goal in your mind, but… how? How do we get there?”

“I don’t know, n-not yet,” Sierra admitted quickly. “But… I know you want this too. And if you do want it… I know you’ll think of something for us! I know you will!”

“Do you think I haven’t? I’ve tried, Sierra! But anything I do to continue… this… it’s going to risk my job. I worked so hard for this project, I’ve put so much of myself into this revolutionary science… and damn it, that doesn’t even matter-- I’m risking you! Not just your health, god knows that’s important too, b-but they could take you away from me! They could send you to another overseer, they could-- no, I don’t even want to think what they could do to you! Th-This is what I mean, Sierra, it… isn’t possible! We can’t!”

“We can, I-I believe that…!” Sierra whimpered, her arms whipping to her sides without something to grab or shake or push like they wanted. “We can… deal with this! I can deal with it, I can wait… When this project is over, which it has to end, y-you can take me! Eventually it’ll have to end--”

“What if I’m reassigned?! What if I’m just straight-up fired?!” Duval attacked with her arguments, all of which had been great blades pierced into her conscience since the showcase, since that night at the hotel. “Did you not think ahead like this? Well, I did! And that’s why… why it just has to… end…! There’s not a guaranteed happy ending to any of this. There’s only a long, long road… spanning years, where everyday is a risk to what this thing we have is.”

“Is that what we’re supposed to live with? A-Am I just supposed to be happy that I can even see you through a glass wall?” Sierra looked astray, as if beaming her vision directly to where the terrarium was inside the labs. “I don’t want to be there, Duval. I feel trapped there. Everything’s frozen… It’s not what I expected. But you-- I love you. And… you won’t say that back to me, will you…?”

“I love you, Sierra,” Duval confidently claimed. “You are a treasure, I-- but… you’re so precious, too. You’re too precious for me to lose to something like this.”

“Then… Th-Then just run away with me…!” Sierra stood up, taking a desperate stance on this suggestion. “We can go now! They couldn’t catch you!”

“Sierra…”

“If you love me, th-then do it…! Drive away with me, right now! And then, wherever we go, th-that can be our life! We can--”

“No, Sierra.”

“We can make this happen…! We love each other, and I… can’t go back there…! Not now…”

“Sierra, it can’t be like this.”

“Because… there isn’t anything for me. I can’t even go back to a normal life. I’m stuck like this. Like all of them.”

“S-Sierra… They’re working on a reversal procedure. I-It can happen, they’re trying--”

“No. I don’t want to go back to normal. I want this! I want you! I-I want us to escape!”

“... And just throw away everything I’ve worked for?!” Duval’s volume raised, and appropriately did it raise the heat around Sierra within her palm. “You don’t understand, Sierra! I’ve gone through hell to get this! This is what I wanted! To be on the cutting edge of science! To discover something that changes the world! And I watched my sisters fail to get there, and I watched my friends fail to keep up with me, and I competed with coworkers to have this…! And now I should throw that all away, and run away, from everything I had wanted…?”

Duval breathed. All while she had spoken, her hand had rumbled with her emphasises, talking over the whimpers Sierra defensively produced. Only after ranting did it sting Duval back, realizing her tone, her bluntness -- Sierra was visibly quivering, coiled helplessly in her hospital gown. The life drained from Duval.

“Pl-Please stop…” Sierra said, her voice shrunken and meek. “Don’t… Please d-don’t yell at me…! I-I’m sorry!”

“Sweetheart, no--”

“I’ve ruined it! I-I’ve ruined everything…!”

“Sierra, listen to me, please…! I just wanted you to understand--”

“No-- I know now! I do understand…! I-I get it! It… can’t! It just can’t…! And all I’ve done is-- is make you risk it all!”

“You’re worth these risks, Sierra! I want you in my life -- I want to share my world with you…! Please, don’t act this way--”

“I get it-- a risk-- is what I am…! That night, I made you risk throwing away everything you’ve made for yourself…! You’ve worked so hard -- you’re right, Duval, I’m sorry, Duval, I-I’m--”

Duval stammered into Sierra’s words, and then into Sierra herself. She pushed forward into a kiss, dwarfing the woman into the gesture like a powerful wind. Her eyes closed, but in her hum of delight, there was pushback. Sierra complained, her limbs flailed outside the mouth -- “No! Don’t you-- No!” she hissed at Duval, until finally the lips lifted away in a gasp.

“Si-Sierra…! I was--”

“Shut up! Y-You can’t just-- you don’t just do that! I-I can’t-- I can’t!” Sierra heaved, slipping in Duval’s unusual grip on her body. She kicked away in rattled movements, but Duval’s hand was all she could flee to, and Duval’s worry was all she could see. Sierra wheezed, a timid voice all that could continue on, “I can’t stop you…! I’m too weak…! I’m-- I’m p-powerless…!”

Trickles of tears turned to streams. Sierra wept, tangling her arms around the ring finger into a desperate, craving embrace. Duval lowered her away, making what little distance she could create in the cage-like car. The energy of their argument strangled them in their own ways, the air resonating with tension. Duval hesitated with every thought, crippled by Sierra’s shaking, and then cut by the wetness of her tears, their touch on her skin like steel.

“Put me down…”

“Wh-What?” Duval’s throat was dry. “Where…?”

“Anywhere! I-I don’t want to be held…!”

Duval stiffened. Sierra… You trust me, don’t you?

Sierra huffed. She wouldn’t repeat herself, if she didn’t have to.

Duval lowered her to the gray plain of the passenger seat. Sierra slipped through the fingers in a crawl. A final whine dismissed the hand, leaving her to weep and shake on her hands and knees. Duval dragged her own hand away, respecting Sierra’s wish regardless of how it hurt her.

There was no will to keep arguing. Duval turned away, a deep gaze cast out the window and through the parking garage. In her own space, she cried, muffled sobs kept hidden from Sierra. The conversation burned on in her head, repeating the bitter truths that had been concluded. There was more she wished to explain, and more she wished that could be done, but greater than that was her regret. She overpowered Sierra. She forced her, pushed her, a complete breakaway from the tenderness she practiced. As surely as Sierra could not trust that hand, neither could Duval herself any longer.

The rays of sunset eventually glared into the garage. Shoote Labs had locked its doors, and accessing the building after hours would raise a flag in security -- Duval would be found sneaking back to the medbay, if she even tried to attempt it. This was realized in stoicism, only a sigh to exhaust the stress Duval was settled into. Sierra shivered in an uncomfortable sleep, collapsed where she was. Logic illuminated the only decision Duval could make, and so she progressed, taking herself and her partner to their only refuge.

Home.

The sky was an empty orange, and the horizon beneath it was a shadowy stretch of highway. Street lights began to turn on over the evening traffic, which flowed smoothly and quickly. For once, Duval wished her commute was slower, even never-ending; awaiting her at her destination was an uneasy conversation, an inevitable discussion that would be the crossroads between very different fates. As cars rushed by and the hum of the vehicle persisted, Duval thought over her career, her romantic life, her peers, her daily life, and Sierra -- everything wanted to turn to Sierra, including her own glance, when she could afford to look away from the road.

Sierra lay slumped in the cup holder of the car’s middle console, a circle-shaped pit that kept the little woman pooled into herself. Her body rocked with the bumps of the car, but otherwise remained still, frozen in time. She dwelled over their last conversation, piecing together the arguments like glass of a shattered mirror. It had been minutes since then, but every word felt blurry, just out of reach to fully remember; all the same did the emotions of that argument weigh over Sierra.

“... We’re, uh, almost there,” Duval said, her face held forward. In her peripheral vision, she studied Sierra’s reaction, of which there was not. Sierra had been told by her before where they were headed, how the lab doors were already locked with no confidential way to get back inside. There was nowhere else to turn except for Duval’s own home, where Sierra would have to spend the night before being returned early that following morning.

It should have been a dream come true for Sierra, who admitted as much to herself in her dwelling. But her heartbeat was as steady as ever, unphased by what they approached. She listened to the turn signals, the twisting of tires, and the mechanical opening of a gate as if it were a countdown to despair. The only change she felt was that of her temperature, sinking lower and lower as Duval parked her car and unbuckled her seatbelt.

“... Ready?” Duval asked flatly. Sierra replied by standing up and adjusting her hospital gown. After a quiet sigh, Duval reached into the cup holder, bending her fingers to form a platform Sierra could then stand on, and then rose the tiny woman out with a delicate slowness. In Duval’s hand, Sierra remained about as motionless as before, only moving as much as necessary to balance herself in the palm while the scientist stepped outside the vehicle.

The first of Duval’s steps towards the house jostled Sierra into looking up, and in doing so, her stubborn glare softened into an expression of awe. Curiosity bounded within her as the vision of Duval’s house towered in front of her. She saw a clean walkway directing her from the driveway to the front patio, a humble entrance to a two-story house that was impressively wide, the orange of the sunset bringing a faded warmth to its cool blue paint. The lawn was neatly trimmed, an open front yard that lay unoccupied with anything between the square hedges around the house and the black fences that surrounded the property.

Sierra fell speechless, a hand clutched at the collar of her gown. Her trance with the house was broken when a stray wind blew right into her, just as Duval ascended the two patio steps. It took Sierra by such surprise because it was real wind, the atmosphere of the actual outdoors; just as that was no simulation, nor was Duval’s house some lab experiment made up of props and illusions. Such realizations unraveled in Sierra’s mind only just when the door was opening, revealing a world within that took what little of her breath was left in her lungs.

“Um, so, I don’t… usually have company,” Duval began when the door was being unlocked -- a tricky feat to be done one-handedly. “If it’s a mess, I-I’m really sorry.” Despite the warning being mostly for herself, Duval stepped into the foyer with a slight cringe at what she saw. Her eyes immediately darted to the worst looking areas: her disorganized shoe rack by the door, the slop of unopened mail left on an entry table, the old coat she had left hanging on a closet door handle since winter -- after such an intense day, returning to a messy household with a guest in-hand was the last place Duval wanted to be.

Yet that guest was not at all affected by these little details, but was instead amazed with everything else around her. Sierra leaned forward in the crawling position she had taken in Duval’s hand, eager to study this new and important location. Each room was stylistically designed, architecturally created with as few sharp corners as possible past the foyer; different areas melded together with walls of a gentle curvature, the passageways tall and without doors, thus making for a connected atmosphere across most of the first floor. Corridors and staircases branched off from a central living room, of which there was enough space for both a conventional entertainment area as well as a trendier conversation pit. A fireplace lay cold and idle beneath a sprawling wall-mounted television, but that cozy scene paled to the image just beyond it: a beautiful landscape of the rolling hills dotted with homes of their own, though Duval’s sat high above them like a crown, complete with an outdoor terrace garden that overlooked the neighborhood even more steeply.

“Your house… is gorgeous, Duval,” Sierra commented, her mouth hanging open. She shook her head, denying to herself that she was impressed solely because of her tiny scale; her admiration was sincere, and seemingly enough to wash away her jagged attitude. “I-Is that real? That garden outside, i-is that yours…?”

Duval unslung her purse off her shoulder and onto a couch before finally looking to where Sierra had pointed. She hesitated before answering, “Uh, it is. It is real, and… also mine.” After peering out the glass doors to the terrace, she winced. “I don’t, err, take as good care of it as I should. I-I normally just let the gardeners handle it…”

Sierra scoffed at how casually Duval dropped the mention of gardeners, how it meant so little to her that she hired people to regularly take care of her home. To Sierra, that was a dreamy and distant idea for what she imagined a house of her own to be like; she had known it well already, but clearly Shoote Labs paid its top scientists handsomely.

No wonder Duval loves this job so much, Sierra concluded, a thought that deflated her. I don’t think I could ever land a job that makes this kind of money. She really did work hard to get where she is. And so, as wonderful as the setting was, Sierra slowly crept back into her despair, more than before understanding the difference in worlds between her and Duval.

Pulled away from the luxuries and glamor, Sierra’s attitude shifted as she looked elsewhere around the home. Duval had continued into the dining area and kitchen, two areas that Sierra noted were especially still and lacking -- it was devoid of signs of life. No stains on the table, no decorations along the counter, no recipes or coupons clinging to the fridge; yet Sierra caught a glimpse of sparse dishes occupying half the sink, leftover from possibly days ago or longer. It was not that the space was unlived in, Sierra thought, but that it reeked of loneliness.

Duval flipped the lights, illuminating more of the hollow interior. There was only one remarkable feature that caught both their attention, which was a wine rack occupying a long row of counter space. Various labels were turned out for display, and emphasizing the dozen bottles were soft gallery lights. It was impossible not to look at the collection, but where it captivated Sierra with delightful envy, it chilled Duval with anxiety and temptation.

What am I doing in here…? Wh-Where was I going? Duval stuttered in her own headspace. She reached a corner of counters, turned to the fridge, then blankly looked back to the cabinets -- I wanted a drink, but…

“You… really do like your wine,” Sierra said, her volume almost too gentle to hear. Duval lifted her slightly higher, prompting Sierra to say again, “I-I always thought a wine collection was… classy. I kind of figured you… you might have something like this.” Her voice trailed off in a mumble; just as she had approached comfort with Duval, her heart sank, not yet ready to rise like she wanted.

But Duval took to heart Sierra’s off-handed remark to break some silence -- her head was elsewhere, dwelling on that drink she wanted. She licked her lips nervously, the taste of alcohol suddenly souring as she imagined it. After a beat, she shook her head, rejecting the wine and shuffling towards the fridge. No excuses, Duval told herself, no more alcohol. Not around her… Maybe not for a long while…

“Uhm, oh,” Duval awkwardly giggled, “thank you f-for noticing.” Already moved away from the subject, she proceeded with making herself a glass of ice water. She hurried through the steps, managing to do so with the one available hand and her hips to close the fridge door behind her.

Careful as she may have been, Sierra was nevertheless shaken and fumbled as Duval’s hand tilted along with her motions. She fell onto each of her sides back and forth, her hospital gown twisting around her to make correcting herself more difficult. The exhale of freezer air brought on shivers, and the avalanche of ice cubes falling into the glass was booming. There was a thrill to being a part of these everyday, real-life things; both exciting, and concerning.

“D-Duval?” Sierra piped. Duval was just then preoccupied taking a drink; from her chest-high location, Sierra fell captivated to this basic scene, losing her train of thought to it. She heard the water from overhead flood between those plush red lips, and heard the stream be swallowed into her throat before becoming lost into her torso. Duval had not heard her, so Sierra spoke up again, “Duval!”

“Mm! Y-Yes?” Duval choked, shakily lifting Sierra closer to eye level. “I-I’m sorry, I-- wh-what’s wrong?”

Sierra caught her breath. “I-It’s just that… you could set me down, if you needed to.” She tried to look into the huge pair of eyes she was taken to, but her head always went heavy. “If it’s safe, c-couldn’t I stand on a table? Or the counter?”

Duval blinked, only then realizing she had kept Sierra in-hand since leaving the car. She began searching for something; “You’re right, v-very right,” she said, “so let’s find somewhere to put you. Somewhere safe-- safety first.” She set her water aside to bring that hand into a cup around the other, its coolness shared with Sierra subtly. “God forbid,” Duval huffed, “anything happened to you while you’re here. We can’t afford a single scratch, n-not with the way they’re watching us…”

Sierra was dragged along as Duval began opening drawers around the kitchen. The objective was unclear at first, but Sierra pieced together that Duval was judging the cabinets for their space inside -- she was, in her fluster, looking for a place to lock Sierra away.

“Hey… Hey!” Sierra squeaked, kicking down at Duval’s middle finger to get her attention. She was rocked by Duval’s sudden stop, throwing her emotions forward; “You’re not! I-I won’t just be closed up inside a cabinet, Duval! You can’t just--!”

“N-No, no!” Duval stammered. “I-I wasn’t-- I wouldn’t keep you there, j-just for the moment! I don’t want you to f-fall or something…”

Sierra bit on her frustration. “No. I don’t want to be put in a cabinet,” she asserted. “Not even for a moment! Please, Duval…”

“It wouldn’t be like this,” Duval argued, “not in the kitchen. Y-You would be so much safer in my nightstand. Right beside me, i-if an emergency came up--”

“I said no.” Sierra pointed firmly up at Duval, striking a second of stillness in her. There was a tense silence before that point aimed away at a counter. “Set me down there. I won’t fall, th-that’s… just not likely…”

In being slowed down, Duval could admit that her reasoning about Sierra’s safety was extreme. Being outside the lab with a shrunken individual had altered her perspective; everything was sharper, steeper, and unmade for a tiny person. But, harking back to their argument from before, Duval sympathized with Sierra’s strive for independence despite her condition.

Against her instincts, she lowered Sierra to the marble counter, far away from the curved ledge. Duval glanced around for any potential dangers, but there was nothing along the space to possibly hurt her -- her own weight was the greatest threat to Sierra’s well-being, she figured, and so she trembled a step backwards. With her hands freed, she reacquired her ice water and dotted her brow of sweat, allowing Sierra the moment to fix her gown and hair.

The kitchen was flooded with an awkward tension, both women holding their breaths without remark. After having gotten so heated towards Duval, Sierra found herself quickly cooled by the countertop against her bare legs. Not long later was she missing the warmth of a protective palm, but she stood by her decision -- whatever that decision meant. She crossed her arms, realizing that in all this, she wasn’t sure what she truly wanted.

Duval found herself in a similar position, though where she stood, it was less about what she wanted, and more of what she needed to do. The options in front of her were few and uncertain, a maze of different deadends that could result in her and Sierra facing punishments. Every choice felt incorrect, yet she dwelled on what she was capable of doing, her stare aimed long and empty into a wall when it wasn’t flickering to Sierra.

Then, after a long stretch of silence and stillness, there was a grumble. Sierra turned her head to the noise, deciphering the source when Duval stroked her stomach between the buttons of her suit. The low sound could have been ignored, but Sierra was struck with the same pain, though her belly rumblings were much quieter. She remembered then how little she had been eating, as was part of her plan to get medical attention. What with everything happening, Sierra had forgotten to eat -- and seemingly, so did Duval, her stomach whining again as her fingers curled around it.

Duval sighed. “I suppose there’s no reason we can’t eat,” she said, her voice quiet and aimed away. “I’ll make us something-- i-if you’re hungry, that is.”

Sierra hesitated to reply, thinking she might deserve to go hungry after having caused so many problems. She was about to turn down the offer, but a preemptive chill of regret was changing her mind. This was the first, perhaps the only time she would be able to enjoy a meal alongside Duval in her own home, or anywhere outside the lab. She despised these feelings of still being in love, still wanting to treasure moments like these, but was exhausted from being stubborn. Her shoulders slumped with her exhale, “I could eat something. Uh, what would you make?”

The quality of the kitchen suggested a delicious, intricate meal to match the upper-class atmosphere would be in store. Sierra had dreamed of Duval’s cooking before, imagining the overseer to be an adequate chef capable of serving fancy dishes. Those expectations were dashed and ditched after Duval’s reply: “I have some pre-cooked fish, and th-there’s rice I can put to boil. Oh, I-I think I have a pot ready for that…”

Sierra blinked as she watched Duval begin to “cook,” or as involved as the process asked of her. There was nothing spectacular or even noteworthy about her preparations, every step as lackluster as it was described. Two seasoned filets of fish were taken from the freezer and laid out to bake, while a pot of water was set to boil for the rice to cook in later. Sierra could admit that her expectations were farfetched, but that Duval had to read off the directions to prepare rice was a surprise.

This is Duval I’m looking at, Sierra thought as dishes and pans clanged together in a nervous rhythm. An unbelievably intelligent scientist… but she looks so lost when she’s in a kitchen.

“... D-Did you need something, Sierra?” Duval wondered, her voice rattling Sierra out of her trance. Duval glanced over where her last few movements took her around the island counter. “Uh, I didn’t… forget something, right? You seem giggly.”

Sierra tensed up quickly, her fingers clenching at her gown wherever they happened to be. Not having known her expression was so full with a smile, she melted where she stood and shuddered to turn away. “I-It’s nothing,” she said. “Sorry. J-Just staring.”

“Ah, r-right…” Duval nodded, leaning over the pot of water as a distraction. She cracked a weak laugh, “I, uh… You can probably tell, but I don’t usually do much cooking. So, I’m sure it’s… funny to watch.”

Sierra shivered, feeling called out on her earlier giggle, yet she giggled aloud again. She coughed to adjust her tone, “I-I just figured that… since you’re so organized and precise at the labs, I assumed you’d do well in a kitchen.”

“I’ve heard that cooking is a science,” Duval joked, “but it’s definitely outside my field. I used to cook more, but I don’t… really have that sort of time most days. And to be honest, I don’t see a point to it. So much work for just a single meal, i-it’s not very fulfilling…” She looked to Sierra, but her stare was weighed back down to the floor.

“... I never put much thought into how busy you must be,” Sierra replied, her voice leaning back into timidness. Directionless, she began strolling up the counter, personally noting the unused kitchen appliances and the untouched seasoning rack. “Even your life outside of work gets swallowed into it. I-I understand not wanting to cook… I wouldn’t want to cook either, if I had to live like that.”

“Sorry. I-I really should be able to make something better for when I have a guest, at least.” Duval made her apology, but she found it too lacking for what it meant to her. Sierra, after all, was more than just an unexpected visitor -- it was Sierra, and as little as a week ago was she fantasizing about sharing a meal with her favorite test subject. Thus far, nothing had gone according to those dreamy visions.

Sierra came to a halt and her arms fell to her side. “I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Duval swiftly said back, gesturing the apology aside. She chuckled, “It’s no problem at all making you some food, of course.”

“No, n-not just the food, Duval…” Sierra inhaled fully, strengthening herself against her own emotions. “For everything. It’s all because I’ve been so selfish…”

“S-Sierra, please…”

“It’s true… I’ve only been thinking of myself, I-I hardly considered what all this was doing to you… what consequences it meant for you. I can’t be that wedge between you a-and what you’re so passionate about.” She swallowed, her throat trembling. “... Maybe it’s just not meant to work out. You know, what we had… really was never right to begin with.”

“Sierra, wha…?” Duval approached Sierra with light and sensitive footsteps. She only got so near before deciding her looming would only make matters worse. “What do you mean?”

“Come on,” Sierra sighed, turning a pathetic look up to Duval. “This relationship… It’s not healthy. C-Can’t we agree? You’re a scientist, doing this… experiment, all this studying on me, and all of the others, too. It’s… unethical.” She turned away upon admitting that, her arms tossing up once in defeat. “And just look at us, standing next to each other. It’s absurd… This whole thing, i-it’s been wrong from the beginning…”

Duval’s tongue twisted just like her heart was inside her chest. She mumbled disagreements, but lacked the energy to really counter what Sierra had to say. Indeed, Duval too felt bitter about the conditions of their relationship, the dynamics that brought question to the sincerity of their bond. All this time, she had guessed that Sierra simply didn’t think of these factors, worried not about them; clearly, she suffered from these migraines as much as Duval herself did.

Searching within herself, however, Duval found support for her and Sierra, a stake that affirmed what she desired. “It is complicated,” Duval said, “but… so is a lot of love in this world. And I do love you, Sierra. This is a very difficult situation we’re in, though. It’s going to take sacrifices from both of us.”

“And will it be worth it? Worth all these risks?” Sierra asked, her tone barely audible. “By reaching out to one another like this, w-we’re putting so much at risk. My safety, your job… Neither of these things should be played with. Eventually… it will happen, when something goes wrong, and it all falls apart. We’ll end up unable to see each other ever again… No matter how I think of things, it always comes back to that ending. For one reason or another, us being together… our relationship just isn’t meant--”

A mad hiss of steam interrupted the conversation, the water in the pot boiling over onto the burner. Having been left unattended and walked away from, Duval had to toss herself back over the stovetop in a gasp in order to remove the water off the heat, flinching to each pop and sizzle as it spilled out of the pot. Sierra was even more shaken, having tripped onto her knees after initially spasming away from the sharp and sudden sound.

“Gah, shoot…” Duval complained, wafting at the steam that rose from the stovetop. She stood tense for a long moment as she looked over the situation, then grabbed the packet of rice to add it into the pot. “Well, that was great, Ophelia… Another little mistake.” She shook her head while criticizing herself quietly, far more weighing on her mind than just spilled water. She closed her eyes, then opened them again onto Sierra. “I’m sorry… You were talking.”

Sierra swallowed, remaining seated where she had fallen. “Y-Yeah, uh,” she stuttered, unsure where to pick up where her words had been left. Her chest ran cold as she thought of where that conversation had been headed. There had been more to still say, but she lowered her chin, “Th-That’s all, basically… There’s just, you know, always something, but…”

Duval exhaled as Sierra’s voice trailed away. She continued to cook without conversation, digesting the emotions of what all had been aired out, thinking ahead of what their relationship was and what it could be. The two were at a precarious crossroads with no way to turn back -- the choices ahead were serious and largely final. But, if there was anything to call a silver lining, it was that they were not in a rush to decide on any course of action. They could wait, at least for today, and definitely through one freshly cooked meal.

A single plate was put together with a fish filet laid out over a serving of rice; it was Duval’s best attempt at making a presentation out of her food, an attempt to impress her tiny guest. Sierra was walked over to the dining table where Duval sat at, lowered to the opposite side of the plate. Duval was eager to read her reaction, but with Sierra simply standing still, it was hard to parse what she was thinking.

Truthfully, contrary to Sierra’s empty stare, her head was full of thoughts and opinions. She said nothing without being prompted, but when she eventually felt Duval’s curious stare, she realized she was meant to say something. “I-It smells really good from here,” she began. “There’s… a lot of it.”

Duval giggled as she picked up a fork to cut apart some of the fish. The little selection was then cut into smaller chunks along with a portion of rice, which was then pushed to the edge of the plate where Sierra stood. “I hope you like pre-seasoned foods,” she quipped, earning a short chuckle from Sierra just before she took her first bite.

It was awkward to hold in her hands, but the fish and rice were both easy for Sierra to chew through and enjoy. She prepared subsequent bites while her mouth was already full, each swallow reminding her how empty her stomach had been these past few days. As much of a relief as it was to fill herself, there was a spiralling regret that bittered the taste, her hunger having been a pain of pride, her dedication to Duval. Now that she was eating again, and in such an important setting, the whole scheme of starving herself felt silly in hindsight.

It was enough stress to bring her dinner to a pause, swallowing slow and hard on some rice before her focus went to Duval overhead. She watched for a moment as the scientist ate the relative mound of a meal, a plain scene that played out from her lower angle. It was normal, this interaction they could share with one another, a glimpse of what an everyday life could look like for them -- If I wasn’t being so ridiculous, Sierra thought, and making life so much harder for her…

“I’m really sorry about all this, Sierra,” Duval said, stirring Sierra out of her trance. “I know this is all… terribly awkward, what with everything going on, and… now a disappointing meal to add to it.”

“Disappointing? Duval, no,” Sierra shook her head, “th-this is… It’s wonderful.” She glanced at the food that happened to be in her hand, more grateful for it then than she had been. “I really appreciate this. N-Not just the meal, but, well, everything you do for me.”

“Sierra… You say that like I’ve been humoring you or something.” Duval shifted in her seat, her fork held idle in her fingers. “Everything I’ve done has been out of love for you, dear. We’ve both made serious sacrifices, and if this is to continue… there’s going to be more sacrifices to make. But I hope you can understand--” she stopped, breathing in deep before continuing, “that I can’t jeopardize this career. It… isn’t realistic, n-not after everything I’ve been put through. It would be washing away all those sacrifices I’ve already made…”

Sierra nodded slowly, the food in her grasp gradually being put back down. She crossed her hands atop her lap, dwelling on Duval’s remarks. “Duval… c-could I ask a strange question?”

“Mm, I don’t see why not.”

“It’s… a different topic,” Sierra admitted. “I wanted to ask if… if I could call you by your name.”

Duval lifted her head against the proposition. “You mean, Ophelia?”

“Y-Yeah. Ophelia.”

Duval smiled. “Of course, sweetie. You can call me anything.”

“... Your coworkers call you Ophelia. And your friends probably do, too. This whole time, u-up until now, it feels like I’ve only known Duval, the overseer. If it’s possible… I’d like to start knowing Ophelia.”

Duval’s cheeks flushed with warmth, bringing life to the pale complexion she had developed. She giggled over herself a few times, wrestling with her swelling heart to speak. “I-I suppose I understand what you mean,” she finally managed to say. “This type of work does, somewhat, instill a bit of a… split personality. But whether I’m Ophelia or Duval to you, I hope you trust that I love you all the same, Sierra.”

Sierra smiled weakly. “I love you, too… Ophelia.”

An electric current of romantic power existed between the two, but the words they spoke to one another rang with a certain hollowness. Both women felt that empty chill in what they said, understanding that these whimsical words being shared were short of being able to relieve all the tension of their situation. It brewed quickly just after their talk, the stress and worry of what the future had for them beyond tonight.

The meal was finished, leaving behind a plate with two distinct sizes of scraps. Once confirming Sierra was done, Duval rose and took the plate to the sink. By the time she returned to the table, the same thought had crossed both their minds, but it was Sierra to ask the question: “What do we do from here?”

“Well… I don’t imagine we want to sit in silence until morning comes,” Duval replied, mulling the question over. “Though, to be honest, th-there isn’t much to do here at my house. Much less anything I trust us to do with your, err, size.”

Sierra begrudgingly agreed to that with a nod. “After dinner, what would you normally do?”

“Hmm. I want to tell you that I’d do the dishes,” Duval joked. “I don’t think you’d believe me, though. Usually after a meal, I just want to curl up in a bath with a glass of wine, and call it an evening.” She stretched as she imagined such a night, an unintentional display of her height for Sierra to cherish. “Considering all that’s happening… perhaps I’ll have to push that off until tomorrow.”

Sierra listened along with growing interest, up to the mention of Duval delaying her bath, which triggered an itchy shake of her head. “Wh-Why tomorrow…?”

Duval chuckled, “Obviously my hands are a little full. I don’t think I could get myself into the mindset to relax when I know that you’re--”

“Y-You deserve a bath, Ophelia! I don’t want to interfere with you getting a chance to relax,” Sierra pushed as she felt dots of sweat along her brow. “After everything we’ve been through-- and especially you, I-I just think a bath would be refreshing.”

Duval hummed in reply, her grin spreading as she watched Sierra. She planted her hands on her hips, “And what would you be doing while I was in the bath? Staying out of trouble?”

“Absolutely. I-If that’s what it takes to let you relax a bit, I-I’d be fine with being put away for a bit.” Sierra said as much, but her subconscious gestures -- twisting on her feet, tugging at the edges of her gown -- said otherwise of how she felt. Duval picked up on as much, the source of her extending smile.

“Oh, you… Don’t be silly.” Duval bent her knees and offered a hand flush with the table’s edge, providing a platform for Sierra to be invited into. “As if I would want to miss this opportunity with you? And after everything you argued for, could I really just shelve you aside while I enjoyed a hot bath?”

Sierra replied with shivering silence as she sheepishly climbed aboard the palm. As she did, her stare beamed into the huge eyes looking over her, blinking several times before they could close once. The world swirled around her as Duval stood to full height and walked towards a semi-circular staircase, but what made her particularly dizzy was not the motion, but the fantasy of what was ahead.

The bathroom was wide and illuminated softly, its gentle white and blue colors encouraging a heavenly atmosphere. The one window was high off the ground and tactically fogged, and so when Duval closed the door behind her, the two became sheltered from the outside world. Sierra felt the chill of that fact; the burdens, stresses, and worries quietly faded to the background of her mind, everything cutting to quiet as they entered a private pocket of reality.

Duval kept the conversation steady and casual as she readied the bath. She spoke about details of her home and her daily routine, nonchalantly mentioning a maid that kept the property tidy while she was away at the labs. Sierra listened, but said nothing in return as she was carried around, eventually set down atop a wide, granite ledge around the bathtub. She was in too much awe to speak, pivoting where she stood several times as she scoped out her surroundings. The cleanliness put her at ease, reminding her of the sanitized environment of the labs and how orderly everything was there.

The depth of the tub was impressive by Sierra’s perspective, and even considerable for Duval’s normal-sized standards. Situated into a corner, the tub offered plenty of space for the one occupant it would have, provided with wide ledges of polished stone that allowed Sierra a broad path to stand upon near the edge of the tub. Along the wall opposite of Sierra, a rack of candles promised warmth and freshness, while up above it were shelves that hosted a variety of beauty care products. For a moment, it was the lavishness alone of the bathtub that struck Sierra with awe; the scale of it all only accentuated what was already envy inducing.

Duval’s body lurched over Sierra as she reached down for the bath valves. A loud torrent of water began filling the tub gradually, but in the meantime, Duval continued to make preparations. She surprised Sierra as the water was running, offering in front of her a shallow plate that she could step into; it was a soap dish, perfectly sized for a tiny person to bathe in. After looking it over, Sierra turned her stare up to Duval, whose smile was bashfully bitten back as to not appear overly eager -- She seems excited for this, Sierra noted, leaning onto the dish’s lip for support. Has she considered this happening before…?

When Sierra next looked back at Duval, she was greeted with a heart-pumping image, a scene that had just begun to play out. Button by button, Duval undid her blazer, and while it was still loose on her, she proceeded to unbutton the white shirt underneath. She stood only semi-turned away from Sierra, but her head was completely angled to the side, her red-cheeked expression too embarrassing to let be seen. All the same was Sierra hypnotized by the undressing, addicted to each of the tops coming undone and falling softly to the tiled floor, revealing the masterpiece painting that was Duval’s back, stretched high into the air like the wall of a skyscraper. Over her shoulder, Duval peeked at Sierra, only long enough to confirm that she was diligently observing.

Indeed, Sierra could not focus on anything but the giant in front of her as the clothes over her gradually came apart. Duval stepped out of her skirt with a sigh before curling forward to roll down her tights. She plucked them from the ground in a pinch, lifting them up to intentionally boast the used article to her guest. It was a brief showcase, but Sierra embraced what she could, silently staring at the wrinkled fabric before Duval dropped it into the pile with the rest of her clothes.

Duval swallowed a giggle of nervousness as she continued to her underwear, not a word yet spoken between the two since the water had been running. Shivering fingers unlatched her bra and allowed it to drop, passing by Sierra like something fallen from the sky, but the tiny woman’s focus was straight back to Duval, anticipating the last of her clothing to be removed. Duval was the most hesitant here, but there in front of Sierra, she drew down her panties, bending forward and stepping out of them before letting the elastic snap. Fully exposed, Duval still hadn’t the heart to face Sierra, remaining turned away with only a peripheral stare watching over the rising water.

She was unable to see Sierra and how her body was flushed red, not unlike her own. Sierra’s soul had evaporated from her head, her body a husk that could only look forward at the colossal nude body. A blink was all the life she could spark within herself, wistfully glossing the wonderful shape of a woman as though it were a landscape she was revisiting -- as huge as Duval was to her, her body was very much like an impressive mountain range, a vista Sierra fondly remembered from the hotel.

The depth of their silence could only be understood once Duval had shut off the water. With the chaotic torrent ceased, the air was as still as the women, neither moving more than what their itchiness made them. Duval looked to Sierra, finally sharing eye contact after looking away for so long, but immediately did the attention have her conceal her chest with a hug around herself. Sierra felt about as bashful, despite still being dressed in her hospital gown -- a detail Duval took notice of.

“W-Well, I’ll just, er, step inside…” Duval breathed, gathering her courage before lifting a leg into the tub, followed by the other. She stepped around the corner opposite of where Sierra was, intending to disturb her as little as possible, but Sierra’s body tensed up regardless of where the scientist stepped in from. Duval’s massiveness was impossible to ignore, splashing into the water no matter how gentle she tried to be, her weight breaking into the surface and causing it to rise. Like watching an uneasy ocean, Sierra stayed close to the soap dish as if it were a shield, ready to bunker down against a stray wave if it came to it.

That almost became the case when the rest of Duval dropped into the water. Even the smallest of motions from her was enough to stir up directionless currents, but when her rear was sinking into the water, it was as if a boat had been dropped into a lake. Sierra braced for a wet impact as the surface crashed into the sides of the tub, making way for the immense volume that was Duval, but all that reached her was a spray of water that managed to climb above the tub’s side -- just enough to startle her into a jump.

“Mmm, so warm…” Duval’s relaxed sigh as she sank into the water was in contrast to the peep a startled Sierra had made. She kept one eye open to watch her shrunken friend, controlling how she shifted so that as few waves rocked against that side of the tub. “Oh? Did you get a little wet?” she asked, just as her head rested against the back wall.

Sierra wiped down the few droplets that had made it onto her hospital gown. Despite the steam of the bath having risen up to her like a fog, she felt a cold pressure all around her. “J-Just a little,” she meekly replied.

“The water feels wonderful,” Duval hummed. “I-I didn’t ask beforehand, but, I figured you wouldn’t want to turn down a nice bath. Y-You’ve been through so much today, after all, i-it would certainly help take your mind off things.” She promised as much out of experience; her worst days at the lab could always be cleansed with a long enough bath.

Words struggled to form in Sierra’s throat, distracted as she was by Duval’s magnificence soaking in the lake of water. “That… does sound nice,” she quietly chuckled in agreement, putting more of her weight onto the soap dish beside her. “Err…”

“Mm, let’s try this…” Duval gently brought a hand out from the water to politely retrieve the dish Sierra leaned on. She took it away temporarily, dipping it into the bath water she resided in and putting it back half filled. Before the water finished sloshing around, Duval added a thin string of soap before applying a much greater amount to her own bath. “How’s that?”

Sierra peered inside over the dish’s lip. It would be an unusual place to bathe, but she was obsessed with wanting to enter the water, pulled by the fact that it was Duval’s own bath water being shared with her. Mentally, she wanted to leap into the water with a cheer, but in her blushy way, Sierra stayed composed and shakily began undoing the knots of her gown. Halfway down did she become too embarrassed to keep facing Duval, and so she turned away as the garment dropped to the granite ledge.

Her intention to coolly enter the makeshift bath as her partner had her own was challenged, however, when she found her legs too short to kick over and inside. Sierra struggled for a moment, her bare leg propped up as high as it could go while the other hobbled for extra height. Duval, taking an amused pity on the tiny woman, put forward a helping finger that lifted Sierra upward by her butt. Beyond just pushing her up higher, the sudden touch electrified Sierra into a jump that took her well into the water with a graceless splash.

“Pff-haha! I’m sorry!” Duval apologized in a burst of laughter. “Sorry, y-you jumped so quickly! Are you okay?”

Sierra shook her head out from the water and pulled aside her soaked hair. The water was hotter than she expected, but she still found herself sinking under its surface to keep her naked body concealed. She dwelled under Duval’s question for a moment as she pushed herself into one side of the dish. “I’m getting settled in,” she eventually replied.

Duval grinned as she propped an arm along the ledge, taking up a road’s worth of space where Sierra originally stood upon. Her other hand rose out from the tub like a serpent, but its approach was tender, singling a finger forward to dip into Sierra’s bath and swirl the soap around. Sierra craned away from the digit, yet was infatuated with the pink soap spreading through the water and foaming into bubbles. After that finger was withdrawn, Duval dabbed a small amount of soap on top of Sierra’s head, giggling as she did.

“Better?” Duval wondered. She shifted to the center of her tub, using her weight to mix the bubbles of her own bath. “It’s a dragonberry scent… One of my favorites.”

Sierra was instantly compelled to breathe in that desirable aroma, though her subsequent exhale was released in shivers. She absorbed this scent that was distinct to Duval, quickly identifying its familiar presence across the scientist’s landscape body. It lulled her into sleepy thoughts, brought back to times she explored the stretches and corners of her beloved overseer. Washing herself in that same soap, Sierra felt intensely bonded with Duval, as though she was seeped in the other woman’s energy.

But when the pause for a reply lasted too long, Sierra shuddered to say something coherent. “It’s nice,” she repeated timidly, lifting her palms to be level with the bobbing surface. She meditated on her hands, but in reality, she was focusing herself on anything besides awkwardly staring up at Duval, a temptation that itched at her constantly.

As Sierra was seemingly content, Duval slowly submerged deeper into the water, lounging back to where she was while keeping her arm laid out by the soap dish. She ran water down her chest and tilted her hair back behind her, continuing to bathe herself while Sierra diligently observed. Duval may have kept a straight face, but she was salivating over being watched, tickled to know that her relaxing bath was a fantastical display for her tiny visitor. She imagined the waterfall that swept over her breasts, the vortexes her hips spun when she turned in the water; from Sierra’s perspective, a simple bath with the woman she loved was this miraculous event, each routine motion a splendorous showcase of her significance.

All of Duval’s guesses were hyper-accurate with regards to Sierra’s point of view. Indeed, Sierra was breathless whenever the titan in front of her maneuvered in the huge pool. Nothing in her normal-sized life could compare to what she witnessed, this scene of something otherworldly happening before her very eyes. It seemed terribly unreal, a dream-like tease especially after how tense the day beforehand had been, yet Sierra’s thumping heart and tickled skin nestled her in this mythical reality. Her worries and fears melted into a wide, unapologetic smile, her fingers curling at the lip of the soap dish with desire burning at their tips.

“Under normal circumstances,” Duval began with a little joke, “this would be complete with a little wine in my favorite glass… The perfect way to unwind after a long day…”

Sierra crossed her arms along the dish’s side and rested her chin atop them. “I noticed you had a lot of wine,” she mentioned. Even as she spoke, her eyes idly trailed the shape of Duval’s body, diving into the water to gaze at her legs before resurfacing again at her torso. “Did you not want to drink tonight?”

“N-No, not tonight,” Duval answered, speaking as soon as she could after Sierra. She scoffed, “I feel clumsy enough as it is… I don’t want something to happen. S-Something that could hurt you.”

Sierra’s legs weaved together under the water with anxious movements. “I know you like your wine, is all…” she said, concocting a half-lie about her feelings. “I-If it’s me stopping you from drinking, well… I-I’d hate to be a burden…”

Duval smiled as her stare fell into the bathtub. “It’s…more than that, actually,” she elaborated hesitantly. Upon seeing Sierra’s interest rise with her head, she realized more needed to be explained, though even she was having trouble sorting these thoughts. “Alcohol, y-you know, it’s a… funny thing. You’ve seen for yourself,” she chuckled, “more than anyone else, you know how I get when I’m drunk, o-or even just tipsy.”

“You’re a lot more outgoing,” Sierra quipped.

“E-Exactly! And that isn’t really like me,” Duval laughed, her nervousness manifested in the rocking of the water around her. “I love the feeling, b-but obviously… there’s a time and place for that sort of thing. Hah, maybe this is the place, but… right now…”

Sierra sighed into her folded arms. “I understand.”

Both women felt choked to say anything else, until Duval chipped at the ice between them: “You’d like if I was drunk, wouldn’t you?”

“What?” Sierra quaked and shook her head, sinking a little more into the suds. “N-Not really, err-- I-I just want to know you’re relaxed, i-is all…”

Duval’s smile trembled, pained to confirm what she had worried about. “I know what you would like, Sierra,” she said in a lower tone. “I know that it must be exciting when I… I let loose and act out around you… Certainly you know how irresponsible-- how dangerous that attitude is. But, really, what it comes down to… is whether or not I’m being me.”

Sierra’s stare strayed, contemplating Duval’s argument and tilting with submission -- Duval was right about those risks, as right as she always was, but she was on the mark regarding her expressed personality, these two halves that made up Duval. In their most treasured moments together, their love-twined interactions were the result of Duval drinking, even just a little, and falling loose enough to explore their romance together. It had been a concern in the back of Sierra’s thoughts since their night at the hotel, that Duval’s feelings were only as sincere as she was bubbled with alcohol.

“Sierra… I love you to pieces,” Duval stressed, clasping her hands together over her stomach. “A-And I want to show you that when I’m not, well, intoxicated. You deserve better than someone messy like that.” It burned both of them to have that stated, as if they were begrudgingly pulling the veil off their troubled romance, but Duval pushed positively, “I want our love to be deliberate. The choices we make together should be intentional, n-not the product of… wine at the workplace, o-or too much to drink at a party…”

As soon as their eyes met, they parted to different corners of the room. A silence followed where only the tides of the bath made any noise. Under the water, Duval’s hands curled into fists, guilty for having killed the mood of their time together.

“Hah… Th-That was reckless of me, wasn’t it?” Duval mused about her drinking habits. “Fun, but dangerous. Like sharing a bath. I-It’s a cute idea, but far too risky…”

Then, a splash sounded from the water. Duval blinked before turning to the soap dish, but Sierra was absent -- just then did Duval realize that her guest had dove into her own bath, her diminutive mass making an equally small splash in the water beside her.

“S-Sierra!” Duval hiccupped, lunging backwards in the tub to curl as far away from where she supposed Sierra was. But, due to the foam riding the surface, Sierra was impossible to find right away -- “Sierra! Wh-What are you thinking?!”

Badly did Duval want to dig through the bath and retrieve her tiny companion, but she hesitated, particularly aware that one wrong move could very well injure Sierra, if not worse. She was trapped in a paralyzed panic, her shocked expression suspended while she waited for Sierra to float to the top, if that were to happen at all.

Then, after a few stressful seconds, Duval felt a minuscule slap against her thigh. Her upper body shivered upwards in surprise, but she was relieved with what had been beached onto her leg; “Sierra!” Uncomfortably, Duval contorted her position in the tub so that her thigh was risen out of the water, dragging Sierra fully above the surface.

It boded poorly for Sierra to be collapsed over as she was, but she pumped a positive wave over her head, signalling to Duval that she was fine -- more than fine. Between gasps for air, Sierra was swept into staggered giggles as she stared up at the colossal image. She had washed ashore onto an island, and that island was Duval, naked and nervous, as tall as a mountain.

At its peak, however, was a wrestled expression, quivering in stiffness as she stared down at Sierra. Duval inhaled, “Wh-What happened? H-How did you fall in?!”

“I didn’t fall in -- I jumped!” Sierra laughed as she crawled over the wet thigh, coughs slipped between some of her amusement. “I thought you were watching, b-but I’m fine. Hah, wow…” Only in that beat did Sierra look back at where she dove from and realize what a height that had been. Never before had she acted so boldly, not even in a swimming pool.

“Al-Alright, well, you’ve had your fun…” Duval sighed. She tilted her body, pushing tides aside as she did, so that her leg was an incline urging Sierra downwards. To meet her, Duval offered her hand for Sierra to stand on, protectively stroking her with two fingers as she did. “L-Let’s put you back, before something dangerous happens--”

“Ophelia… I want to be here,” Sierra replied sternly, her hands having met those petting fingers with a grip that steadied them. She refused to step down, inching up closer to Duval’s knee in protest. “This is exciting! I’ve-- I-I know this is weird, but I’ve dreamed of being here…!”

“Sierra, this isn’t…!” Duval grumbled in her stone-like state, eventually losing the will to bicker. After everything that had been discussed, and all the turmoil that had been dealt with, it seemed only tragic to deny Sierra -- and herself -- this minor joy. Truly, however, the key to convincing Duval had been Sierra’s keen use of her first name, which she heard as a precious melody coming from her beloved so earnestly.

“I promise,” Sierra continued, both hands wrapped around the tip of Duval’s forefinger, “I won’t get myself hurt down here. Trust me?”

Duval exhaled her tension away from the bathwater, easing her body back into relaxation. “Of course I trust you,” she said. “I’m the one that has to be careful, afterall…”

With as much caution as possible, Duval shifted in the water back into a position she could relax in, albeit with considerations for her tiny guest. Sierra clung to the thigh as it moved around the surface, gradually pulling herself up to the knee as it became a lonely isle for her to stay beached on. The somewhat rounded ground left her footing uncertain, but Sierra was able to stand there and peacefully survey her unreal surroundings. Her attention, of course, was bound more towards the giant behind her, humbled by the beautiful body that patiently watched her every movement.

“Enjoying yourself?” Duval asked, her little giggle enough to make the water quake from her rumbling chest. “Y-You won’t slip? I suppose, even if you did, you’d just land in the water…”

“Everything is fine, O-Ophelia,” Sierra stuttered; that name still managed to trip her. She breathed in deep as she scoped out Duval’s body, her legs and fingers attracted to their opposites as she shivered in place. She hated to be caught staring, but her eyes were magnetically drawn to her partner’s breasts, the pink of her nipples that were submerged under clouds of soap. A hand jittered in desire towards those globes afloat, but it was redirected to her mouth, hiding the wild grin that was cracking between her reddened cheeks.

Duval, meanwhile, was content with watching, even if Sierra did little to nothing. “You almost look lonely,” she said, dotting the top of Sierra’s head with a small pet. There was not much land for Sierra to make use of, keeping this fantasy-come-true for her restricted. “I… want you to come a little closer,” she then added. “You look especially tiny just standing there. It’s adorable, b-but… maybe you’d like to come… closer?”

Sierra’s thoughts looped only a selection of words: closer, she heard again in Duval’s voice, I want you. Sierra’s toes curled into the bare skin that was a kneecap, but that energy had no way to be used, stuck where she was in the middle of the bath. “I-I won’t say no to that,” she cheeped bashfully, tickled by the prospect.

Duval’s smile flashed eagerly. “You could join me up here,” she proposed, controlling her tone to sound passive and cool, despite how her stomach was twisting into a knot. She swallowed before saying, “You can sit on my shoulder, i-if you wanted. In fact… maybe you could c-come up here yourself…”

“Up there?” Sierra repeated in a mumble. “By myself…?”

Duval giggled, “Why not? W-Would that not be fun?”

Sierra spasmed into shaking her head, “N-No, it’d be fun! I just…” She stared into the center of Duval, tracing a path with her eyes that she could utilize to scale the inclined torso. Her touch craved the plushness of a massive stomach pressed under her feet, to feel the fat of breasts squish into her hands as she climbed over them. “I-I just need a moment, err…”

“You look so red,” Duval chortled. “A-Are you scared? Even if you fell…”

“Y-You’re red, too, you know…” Sierra pointed out, her arms crossed under her chest. Mentioning that caused Duval to flinch, which in turn imbalanced Sierra and tripped her forward into the water. She resurfaced quickly, brought to a swim amidst a group of bubbles.

“Oh, dear… Slipping on your first step,” Duval teased, but her hand was at the ready down below, in case Sierra had been in worse trouble. Upon seeing Sierra take to swimming naturally, her lounge relaxed even further. “So, you won’t need my help? You can make it to my shoulder?”

Sierra swatted aside soap foam, clearing a path up to Duval. “Yeah,” she plainly replied as she gently swam forward. She reached land a moment later, a beach of flesh that welcomed her arrival with a pillowy greeting. Her boob, a single thought that overtook Sierra’s mind while her body moved on its own, shoring up onto that very part of Duval as if crawling out of a lake.

Duval held her upper body steady, but the same was not so for her feet and legs. They twisted and curled with suspense, nearly kicking out when Sierra’s little hands first pinched her skin on arrival. Sierra heard the uneasy waves rumble behind her, but was otherwise too fascinated with this world she had ventured onto to notice Duval’s swirling anxieties. The overseer did well at keeping herself composed otherwise; though her head was steamed by this ticklish contact, she maintained a pleasant, calm smile at the peak of Sierra’s route.

“This next part seems difficult,” Duval said. Each word she spoke caused tremors down her body that riddled where Sierra had crawled up to on her right breast. It took an effort from Duval to not laugh at her predicament and cause even harsher vibrations. “Sorry~ I’m only making it harder, aren’t I?”

Sierra was stressed to stay atop the breast as it shivered from Duval’s voice, but by no means was she displeased with her situation. When given the opportunity, she clambered up a distance while Duval breathed in, making it as far as one dive closer to her high-away destination. Sierra agreed with what was said; not only was the incline ahead fairly steep, but the freshly-washed skin was slick with soapy water. She discovered immediately how challenging the climb onward would be when both hands and knees failed to find footholds. Sierra fell face-first into the globe and slipped down to where she started, straddled atop Duval’s nipple.

Duval winced with pleasure as she felt Sierra’s grip tighten just outside her areola. Though the tiny woman’s touch was weaker than even a mild pinch from herself, Duval was entranced by the knowledge that it took so much more stamina from Sierra to stay grappled onto her breast. A long breath heaved her beloved out of the water, like a whale rising above the surface, but an equally dreamy exhale brought that beach of skin back down, a whimsical giggle sung over Sierra’s head as the body became level and still once more.

“Don’t give up~” Duval hummed, cherishing the contrasting dynamic; while Sierra struggled and worked, she was at peace in her bath, entertained by this tiny challenger wishing to surmount her. “Even for you, it isn’t that long of a climb, is it? You shouldn’t act so defeated and put out~”

Regardless of how motivated Sierra was, however, there was a physical limit to how much she could do. Between her panting as she began to climb upwards again, she giggled dryly, thinking back to the obstacle courses and tests Duval would have the volunteers run through. It seemed to be in preparation for this exact moment; unfortunately for Sierra, she was never very adept at those tests.

Coincidentally, Duval had similar thoughts filling her mind, and as Sierra reached a halfway point up her boob, she was freshly tickled by an idea. “I know what you need,” Duval said coyly. “Inspiration. How about… a reward? For making it up here?”

Sierra slipped into a stop, tightly pinching into the flesh to stay where she was. “Wh-What kind of reward?” she called up in reply.

Duval’s smirk basically spoiled the surprise. “A kiss, of course,” she bubbled into admitting. “One little kiss for anyone brave enough to climb all the way up here.”

That was all that needed to be promised. Sierra took those words to heart and was renewed with life, immediately setting forward again in a rush up the incline. She stumbled and wobbled, but this sprint of a climb earned her the distance she needed, quickly scaling up to the distinct collar bone -- an important checkpoint, and only a stretch away from the sought-after shoulder.

But that trickle up her breast was too much for Duval to contain. The feeling of Sierra’s legs slipping and stomping around her wet flesh had brewed a hearty laugh that bellowed from her openly. Sierra clung tightly to Duval’s collar bone before continuing, but it was costing her precious stamina to simply hold on. That would all prove to not be enough when Duval’s hand ripped out from the water, quickly flying to her mouth in an attempt to muffle that unabashed laughter. A wave of bath water came with that motion, and it splashed over her chest like a curtain, sweeping down her body and unlatching Sierra in its current.

Duval noticed this occurring and shifted swiftly. In a giggly gasp, she tensed her shoulders and arms, puffing her chest outward where Sierra was slipping. The breasts had been parted wide while she lounged in the tub, but by doing this, those mounds squished together and formed a creek-like cleavage that the water funneled through -- Sierra included. Hugged in this crevice, Sierra was filtered out from the soap and water, left to dry there as she made sense of what had unfolded.

“A-Are you okay, honey?” Duval asked, her superior tone staved for the moment. Until she was certain Sierra could get up on her own, she remained postured the way she was, her elbows supporting her breasts to keep them squeezed. “I’m sorry,” she giggled, “y-you just felt so… slippery!”

Sierra waved up at Duval, though this gesture was not as fast as she was seconds ago. “Yeah,” she said, “I’m alive…” She unplugged her hips and legs out from the cleavage and crawled atop one of the breasts, which, when Duval relaxed, swayed back into the angle it had been. While the rest of the pooled water emptied into the bath, Sierra clung tightly to the breast as it settled into place.

Then, without provocation, Sierra trudged ahead on the path she had been on. Making up for lost ground, she made a scramble up to the collar bone once again, using it to pull herself up into the subtle ledge. Duval blinked in surprise, but reserved any other reaction, lest she cause Sierra to slip and fall all over again.

“Ahah~ So close,” Duval whispered, her volume taking Sierra’s closeness into consideration. It was possible to kiss her beloved right then, if her head dropped forward and planted one on top of her. But, excitingly, she convinced herself to wait, to let Sierra earn that prize exactly as promised. “Almost~ Keep trying your best, Sierra~”

Those praises pulled at Sierra to push onward. The shoulder was in sight, just a dash away. Sierra caught her breath, studied the slickness of the surface ahead, then leaped forward. She kept her head low as she hurried underneath Duval’s chin, but that plus the steepness of her path caused her to trip into the skin. Refusing to give up, she made a reach for a lifeline: a locket of hair, draped flat down Duval’s shoulder with moisture.

Duval instantly felt the little tug on her hair, a strategy she had not accounted for. “Ooh, very clever,” she cooed into a content smile. “You’ve always been keen at finding alternate solutions… The straightest path just never suits you, does it?”

Sierra was tickled by the commentary sung from overhead, holding her position for the meantime while she caught her breath. Victory was only a few steep steps away, and with Duval’s strand of hair, it was entirely achievable. Sprouting some confidence, Sierra lifted her head and continued, pulling on the wet hair to drag her weary body onwards.

But after her second step of climbing, that saving rope failed her -- the lock she had grabbed onto uncurled from where it was tucked behind Duval’s ear, suddenly letting loose a slack that caused Sierra to slip and swing away. Her legs kicked in protest, but her soles could not find friction on the soapy skin. Fortunately, she held tightly enough to the hair that she avoided dropping back into the bathwater; she hung adjacent to Duval’s left breast, slapped against the wall-like body where the armpit began.

Duval lifted that arm slightly after observing this mishap, careful not to move too quickly. Unintentionally, she exposed her armpit to the shrunken woman dangling there, but an unglamorous glimpse of such a place was not her first concern. “Oh, dear, y-you just get tossed around by anything…” she muttered into a terse chuckle. “Can you still do it? Do you need help?”

Sierra estimated those odds sincerely, glancing both up and down to gauge how much trouble she was in. It made her scoff to comprehend how the most meager of Duval’s movements had such consequences for her, but dwelling on those thoughts was guaranteed to distract her. “I-I can do it!” she said assuredly, kicking one foot up back into the climb. “Like you said, I-I’m almost there…!”

Duval giggled, “Indeed you are!” Keeping her arm suspended as it was, she relaxed the limb onto the bath tub’s ledge, occupying the space Sierra was originally bathing. Her forefinger idly swirled in the soap dish, remembering when her beloved was there. “Mhm, are you going to keep me waiting for much longer…?”

Once Sierra’s pace had picked up momentum, the greatest obstacle she had to face was her own laughter putting pauses to her progress. As she neared her goal, the humor of the situation truly dawned on her; she was exhausted as any wall-climber would be in her position, and in that delirious state, she became immersed in this fantasy. She was truly scaling a mountain-sized person, her longest strides earning her pitiful amounts of height compared to the woman whose chest she traveled up. Sierra was lightheaded with giggles as she finally rolled up onto the shoulder, clawing at extra hairs to support herself with some level of pride.

In the corner of her vision, Duval happily witnessed this success, her heart rising up to her throat with glee. “Wow! Congratulations, Sierra~” she sang as the tiny woman crawled onto her shoulder. “You made it! Oohh, you look so tuckered out from all that…! Hm--?”

After having praised Sierra, Duval felt pecks on her shoulder, small and dot-like. The rhythm was fast, almost desperate -- kisses, Duval realized. Sierra was kissing the shoulder she had mounted, planting as many as she could while catching her breath. She did so in her crawled position, a pathetic image that Duval could barely make out in the edge of her vision, but a scene that no less brought warmth all over her body in response.

Duval’s pause ended with giggles as that tickling pattern climbed the curve of her neck. “Sierra~” she softly hummed, unaware how her throat rumbled in Sierra’s grasp -- not a frightening tremor, but a pleasant vibration that was warm with airflow. With her eyes closed and her mind afloat in wonder, it felt no different than any other lover lining her neck with affection, each dot of a kiss churning the emotions spiralling inside her core.

The smile Duval had sustained, proud and confident, turned towards Sierra’s position up on her shoulder. “A promise is a promise~” she giggled, and before Sierra could respond, she pushed forward to bestow her reward, her plush lips overtaking the lightweight body. She felt a spasm of touches, that of Sierra’s startled reaction to the gesture -- her tiny arms flailing as she was overwhelmed by Duval’s grace, searching for conventional places to grasp like she would a partner her own size. She found nothing but the curvature of Duval’s lips and the softness of her cheeks, fine enough places to rest her touch and push back with her own force of a kiss.

A tingle ran down Duval’s spine, urging her to turn her head and exhale away from Sierra. In releasing that breath, she became sober regarding the circumstance, that she was sharing passions with a diminutive lover. Despite the warm water, her gut turned cold during this pause, conflicted with emotions -- but she was certain that immersing herself into another kiss would reignite that spark and stave away that worry. Duval giggled as she angled her neck again towards Sierra--

--but Sierra was absent from the shoulder; a little splash bubbled behind Duval, a small sound that kicked Duval forward in an instant. “Oh, Sierra!” she whined, her jostled movement creating waves that sloshed in the tub. Afraid of where someone so tiny could end up in the water, Duval lifted most of herself out of the bath, craned forward into a crawl that she stood still in. “Sierra, a-are you okay? I’m so clumsy, I-I’m sorry!”

Sierra had fallen down from the shoulder without a sound; she was cast into a daze, lost in the world that was her kiss with Duval, too slow to realize that she was slipping from her perch. She was eventually pushed off the wet skin when Duval relaxed that shoulder, slipping down the slick slope of her back before plunging into the bath. Sierra kicked into swimming as soon as she could, but she was powerless against the motions of the water, swept into currents spun by Duval’s act of caution.

With barely a breath having been held, Sierra threw herself to the surface, even as waves rocked her back and forth. “D-Duval!” she gasped, gathering her bearings in what felt like a new environment. Duval’s reposition in the tub was as if a mountainside had changed shape overnight; rather than a colossal of an island that sat like stone in the water, Duval had transformed into a hanging bridge of a fantasy landscape that overshadowed Sierra’s belittled position, her arms and legs like grand pillars that supported the titanic mass. Sierra was instantly enthralled with that image, gawking at the strength of those enormous legs, how water trickled off of the breasts suspended overhead like a light rain.

Duval’s head dropped forward upside-down, peeking beneath her body to locate where Sierra had fallen. After suppressing her chest to remove the blindspot, she found her stationary partner safe and afloat at the surface. She sighed, “Oh, y-you scared me! Are you okay? Th-That must have been quite a little fall…”

Sierra thought she could reply to what was said to her, but in being so enraptured with her lowly view, she was too still to even speak. She moved only enough to keep herself stable in the water, her head gradually rotating as to digest the wide scope of where she was -- quietly praising whatever fortune brought her there. Duval smiled, becoming aware of why Sierra’s stare was so strong, and so with just a hum of notice, she reached beneath herself and scooped the miniature body into her hand. Sierra was shaken out of her trance as the water bowled with her in the palm was filtered through Duval’s fingers, the lengths of which Sierra found herself caressing out of instinct as big eyes fell upon her.

“Seems you’re having fun,” Duval teased, the winds of her breaths blowing a chill over Sierra’s skin. Her fingers curled inwards slightly, bolstering a shell that ensured a safe hold of the shrunken woman. “You’re so slippery! You should be more careful~” As a joking form of punishment, Duval prodded Sierra with a fingertip, tickling her exposed sides until the quiet woman was thrust into laughter. Duval bit her lips to restrain her own amusement, lest she risk laughing too hard and too loud above her favorite subject.

Sierra listened as the enormous pool of water was being drained; similarly was the sunlight outside being rinsed, the orange glow of its setting cast through the fogged gloss of a thin window there in the bathroom. The passage of time continued regardless of Sierra’s wish for their moment together to last eternally, but there was a silver-lining to Duval exiting the tub. There was more time to spend together, precious hours to cherish their forbidden romance. Sierra was quiet where she was placed beside the sink, hazily observing Duval as she retrieved a crimson towel to dry with.

“For you,” Duval chimed as she approached the countertop, a wash cloth pinched in her fingers. She offered it to Sierra as towel-equivalent, but she underestimated its size relative to her. The fabric was dropped less into Sierra’s arms, and more aptly draped over her whole body like a tarp. Duval winced, but Sierra was soon revealed again after twisting the cloth off over her head. “Sorry~”

“Thank you,” Sierra whimpered -- only then did it dawn on her how voiceless she had been, that speaking at all felt out of place. Her face was warming up to a redness akin to that set of towels, flustered by Duval’s impressive presence. She could only take her eyes off the towering beauty for moments, though the overseer’s image persisted in her mind regardless of where she turned. It was important, seemingly, that Sierra observe every motion of Duval’s routine, studying even the most meager actions; how her hair unfurled from the towel, how she stretched and massaged her body to soak up the wetness clinging to her -- droplets, Sierra imagined, that were not much smaller than she was.

Duval peeked over her shoulder as she was bent forward, catching a glimpse of Sierra’s stare. She had felt those eyes beaming on her the entire time, a gaze she gleefully welcomed with a facade of unawareness. She hoped that her figure was presented well to someone so keenly watching her, uncertain if that waist-high perspective was anything of a flattering angle. Duval’s faith was not misplaced, of course, as Sierra remained captivated by that casual posture which highlighted the curves of her hips and legs.

Before the opportunity could escape her, however, Sierra reached forward for Duval’s attention, the wash cloth worn on her shoulders like an oversized cape. “D-Duv--- Err, Ophelia… Could I ask something? A-A favor…”

Duval smirked as she pivoted to face Sierra, slyly brushing her towel across her bust. “It’s nice of you to ask this time,” she teased, “rather than just diving down to wherever you want to be.”

Sierra chuckled, “Sorry about that…”

Duval approached the counter and brought her face lower towards it. “Tell me what you want.”

Sierra hesitated, distracted by the view that Duval presented. “While you’re drying off, um… could I be at your feet…?” She meekly pointed down at the tiled floor, but all she could see was the huge body directly in front of her; though she was certainly comfortable around Duval, Sierra could not deny that intimidating presence, which she was most sensitive to when making a bizarre request.

So bizarre it was that Duval thought she heard wrong -- flashbacks to their night together at the hotel reminded her of Sierra’s peculiar interests. It could not be thought about without giggling; “I-Is there something special about my feet?” she wondered. “You seem… attached. I guess you must like them…”

Sierra suddenly wanted to curl over into death, sickened by a flush of embarrassment. She endured, however, standing her ground in an especially solid stance. “Sort of,” she awkwardly replied, breaking eye contact to have said as much. “... They’re cute.”

“Are they?” Duval muttered, moving her feet idly due to how conscious she was of them. In her head, it was unthinkable to be so small and to want giant feet surrounding her -- but Sierra desired that dynamic. Logical or not, Duval felt wanted, able to bless her little lover with that obtuse fantasy whenever she pleased, so why would she not grant that wish? Duval hummed, “I can’t say no to a polite request like that. But…~”

Sierra blinked, her heart suspended in a chokehold. Duval’s tone urged her to ask back, “B-But…?”

Duval bit her lip to try and control her grin. She lifted her foot, slowly and easily, until she could perch the middle of the sole onto the countertop’s edge. Her toes stretched in display, still moist and warm from her bath. Sierra noticed those fine details in her perplexed position, staring into the sole like she would read someone’s expression. After silently boasting enough, Duval’s foot curled onto the counter so that it was mostly flat with the surface -- Sierra could guess what would be asked of her.

“I’ll carry you down to the floor,” Duval teased. She maintained balance with one hand on her hip and her other arm supported on her uplifted knee; it was a posture of dominance, at least to the shrunken woman beneath her. Her big toe and long toe spread apart like two limbs opening for a hug, its empty space waiting to be filled. “But I want to hold you like this. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

Sierra paused to consider the condition; not because she had reservations, but because she wondered about Duval’s intent. If this were one of Sierra’s dreams, she would have plunged herself between the toes and happily be plucked away. As it happened in reality, it was difficult to believe it to be happening at all, that Duval and her cautious personality would come up with such a strange and specific request. The toes then rolled in a quick rhythm, pressuring her to make a decision while Duval leaned in with interest. It was an unusual sensation that took over Sierra’s body, tickled all over but without the voice or breath to laugh and exhaust that feeling.

If she meant to say anything at all, Sierra vocalized herself with just a whimper of a response as she walked up to the foot, dismissing the wash cloth behind her. The closer she drew near, the thicker she felt of the steam radiating off the skin. The clean smell of soap could not completely hide the foot’s inherent scent, but together, the aroma was hypnotic to Sierra, calling her forward until she was wedged between the toes and in position to be grabbed.

“Hold on tightly,” Duval whispered, as if she were breaking some sort of character. Her confident personality wavered, as did her one-legged balance, as her toes embraced Sierra and lifted her away from the sink. Duval, as she had expected, could feel those minuscule arms squeeze her toe, but she also felt Sierra’s legs flinching at the open air below her. Without sacrificing safety, Duval hurried to take Sierra to the floor before some accident could happen.

Shortly after being delivered to the floor, Sierra had to stabilize herself against Duval’s staggered steps backwards as she regained balance. Only then could Sierra appreciate her altered perspective, spiralling once where she stood as to take in the depth of her surroundings. Of course, her attention centered itself onto the monolithic woman, the overseer garbed in nothing but a towel loosely held in her arms. It felt familiar to Sierra to crane her head back so far, like gawking at the height of a skyscraper -- she had been there before, but there was no haze of alcohol to blur her mind. Now when she looked at the feet, she sensed their sheer power, conceptualizing their ability to crush cars or even houses that were proportioned to her, and still was she captured by their allure.

Duval waited for any explosive reactions, but when Sierra stood unresponsive, she understood it would be up to herself to breathe life back into the moment. Her fingers curled into the towel as she rolled it higher up her body, revealing more of the length to her legs. “I’ll just… carry on, then,” she said, following through with Sierra’s request to continue drying off as she had.

As Duval resumed back into motion, Sierra was snapped out of her trance -- enough so, at least, that she stumbled away from the huge feet as they began to rise and fall like creatures with their own wills. Her gaze was unbroken, however, as she eagerly watched Duval’s ordinary routine. The immersion was nearly complete, the illusion that she was some sort of pervert sneaking into an everyday scene -- the only dent being that Duval was not oblivious to being watched, and was in fact privy to Sierra’s exact location so that her footfalls avoided her. That was precious in its own right, according to Sierra; she figured herself to be less of a spying pervert, and more like a pet being allowed at Duval’s feet, grateful to be beside the most lowly part of her as though it were a blessing.

Like a magnet, Sierra approached one of the feet as it remained rooted for some time. Duval’s face was massaged into her towel, gently scrubbing away her work-related tensions; it was a quiet opportunity for Sierra to near the toes and become familiar with them again. She huffed at the difference between then and days before, how she once collapsed onto the toes into a desperate flurry of kisses. Standing before them now, she found herself quaking, as if her shoulders were burdened with an invisible weight. A lot had changed, but she struggled to understand her own hesitation, just as the fascination itself was confusing to her.

Sierra had reached for the toes when she was suddenly flinching backwards, her arms circling away. The foot spun rather quickly, faster than its weight had implied to someone so little. Sierra looked up, expecting the motion to have had meaning, but Duval’s movement was just to turn and dry herself at another angle. A passive pivot, but Sierra respected it like a truck in gear; the damp thud of the pads of such feet promised that kind of power behind them.

Yet she was not disheartened, but rather more deeply infatuated. Sierra pushed the boundaries of a “safe distance,” perpetually edging closer to make up for whatever distance grew between her and the two gigantic feet. Her arms remained tepidly crossed over her torso, curious to touch while also ready to defend, as if the danger of her situation could at all be guarded against -- it was all instinct that drove her, including the direction of her skyward stare. Being directly below Duval like she was, the only method to observe her was to gawk with a head fully craned backwards. Long, distant gazes had to gradually climb the length of the woman’s body just to watch her mighty hips bounce and rotate; like staring up at the sun, Sierra was strained to awe at Duval’s ass, which rocked to each footfall, teasingly stroked into a shine whenever the red towel swept over it. The trace wetness added an extra polish to every curve, emphasizing the smoothness of her skin which her fingers glided along. Which parts of this display were incidental, and which parts were intended, was fully blurred to Sierra, leaving her to guess whether Duval was putting on a performance, or if she truly was absentminded about the shrunken woman on her floor.

Duval could only feign so much obliviousness. Behind her easy grin and calm glances was a mountain of concern regarding Sierra’s safety. A single misstep would devastate Sierra, but she noticed that Sierra herself lacked any of the same worries. She was bold and involved with this little play between them, but most importantly, she had trust in Duval. Buried in her heart, beneath layers of paranoia, Duval too had trust for Sierra -- a light of hope that they could survive together.

After shaking out her hair -- which made a brief mist fall over Sierra’s location -- Duval glanced down and positioned her feet apart. Sierra was caught in the center like a target, nearly rolling backwards with how far she had to recline to stare up the imposing body. Duval giggled at that effort, flushing herself with embarrassment when she imagined that perspective of her own body, that unflattering view of her bush and perineum. Her posture ordered attention, pulling Sierra’s head out of the fantasy she was enraptured by.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself,” Duval giggled, wearing the towel over her front. She then dried herself down, crouching onto a knee so that the towel could be used on her ankles and feet. Her weight was significant as it lowered towards Sierra, and by being so close to her, Duval could more adequately read into that wide-eyed expression and to sense what desires brewed. Her smirk flickered, “I suppose I’m done drying off, so could you do something with this for me, sweetie?”

Sierra held her ground in shivers when Duval knelt down in front of her, but could not move a muscle afterwards. She was captivated by the warm radiance brought near to her, and her eyes flashed between points of interest all over Duval’s impressive form. She processed Duval’s words only enough to nod in reply, and so she was made alert when the enormous towel was lifted above her. That next moment, the fabric was racing down onto her, spread out across the ground and making Sierra just a bump of life underneath it.

Sierra had first squealed in fright when the towel initially draped over her, pushed hard to her knees by its surprising amount of weight. The fabric muffled her little sounds of struggle, just as it muffled her own thoughts. Greater than the mass of the towel bearing on her was the sensation of warmth and moisture, the essence imbued into the towel -- Duval’s essence, scrubbed into the towel’s many fibers. It was not just a heat that lingered on the towel, but the body heat of the woman she obsessed over, having traveled over the many lengths and turns of her shape. Where Sierra originally tried to escape the towel and shove it aside, she hastily developed a craving to relish in it, hugging it over herself however she could, even dropping to the floor and rolling her body around in the remaining wetness. Deep, deep inhales were meant to ingest all of that essence, to make it part of her -- she wished Duval had used her like a towel, something so graceless and humiliating, But I wouldn’t mind, she told herself; I’d be satisfied to be anything of Duval’s, even if it was just the towel she used…!

In her red-faced rush to explore the towel, Sierra came upon the light of the bathroom once again. She had crawled out from where she had been turned towards before, but Duval, giant as she was, was gone. Sierra found her a moment later, led by the dull thump of a foot. Duval had stepped over her while she was lost in that pleasure, moving aside so that she could retrieve a short, plastic stool. Seated there, she went ahead with brushing out her hair and undoing any leftover tangles by hand -- her eyes were already laid onto Sierra, expecting her to have popped up any second.

“Over here~” Duval laughed, pointing at Sierra and luring her in with a curl. “Hehe, I was worried you would get mad about that.” She sat leaned forward, her knees hugged together and her breasts pillowed on top of them. A sigh from her sailed down to meet Sierra as tiny footsteps brought her closer. “I didn’t expect you to have so much fun under there, either.”

Sierra breathed, reliving that experience from just seconds ago through the scent still attached to her. She hoped that aroma, so full of Duval, would never leave her. “Erm, th-thank you…” she whimpered, her body heavy with awkwardness. She felt a need to explain herself, but when she looked into Duval’s eyes, she silently understood that none was needed. That smile, producing a warmth all on its own, settled any of those restless emotions, leaving Sierra exposed in the color of her blush.

Duval’s heels bounced lightly in excitement. She could resist no longer, and swept forward at the floor, both hands scooping around Sierra to boost her up onto her lap. Sierra’s grip tickled Duval wherever it grasped for balance, especially so when those tiny hands pinched at her bare thighs. “Sorry! You’re just too adorable right now~” Duval sang, her upper body hovering above Sierra’s head. More firmly than any time before, she stroked Sierra with several fingers at a time, sometimes rolling gentle taps down the side of her body, or curling her palms around her like a hugging shell.

Every second, and every touch, was cherished for as much as Sierra could. She laughed and pushed back at the playful fingers, all of her strength needed to keep just a couple digits at bay, hands and feet raised up in defense. Duval never pried too uncomfortably, her method of tickling being sensitive and tender. The amusement shared between the two seemed unending, until the moment went for a heartbeat too long, and the drip of the bathtub faucet reminded them of where they still were.

Duval shifted in the plastic stool, causing its legs to screech against the tile. Both she and Sierra winced at the noise. “L-Let’s go into the bedroom,” Duval suggested, bringing her grappling hands to a calm around Sierra for her to stand in. “I can’t believe what time it is already…”

Sierra lounged in Duval’s hands, resting her ribs after laughing so long. Her chest pumped up and down with relief, but her core was cold with anxieties that could never thaw from her veins. She closed her eyes and focused on the rhythm of Duval’s walk, that huge, building-like body drumming across the world that was her bathroom. In this trance, Sierra developed an appreciation for Duval’s nuance, the simple things such as balancing her arms with every step so that there was minimal shaking, or how she turned around corners with a particular slowness so that her tiny traveler would not be thrown aside. Sierra embraced that concern, that she was always considered somewhere in Duval’s mind; though not a word was mentioned, Sierra’s trust kept her at ease when fingers rolled over her into a fist, concealing her into darkness as Duval neared the door.

When the movement was over and the fingers unfolded, Sierra looked behind herself and up at Duval, who was then seen wearing a clean white bath robe loose over her figure. She was still tightening it over her frame while Sierra was realizing that she had been carried through one of the sleeves. Their eyes met and each inspired the other to smile; it was the moment that any good dream would end, but Duval yet stepped into the hallway and traversed it to her bedroom.

“I warned you before th-that I don’t often get company,” Duval began, nervously giggling as she pushed her hip into the bedroom door. “So, y-you might imagine that I don’t have many people come up here, especially. I hope you can feel comfortable…”

Sierra aimed herself forward in preparation for the bedroom, a scene she had dreamed of experiencing in-person -- when her dreams were not swamped with more extravagant fantasies, at least. She heeded Duval’s warning much like the others, but still pressed herself to the tips of her fingers, eager to scope out the room. Duval must have noticed such excitement when she hesitated to enter, taking a deep breath before stepping forward with her guest in hand.

The cool air of a stagnant room exhaled out the door as it opened, sweeping past Sierra as she awed at the interior waiting within. A generous amount of space welcomed the pair into a pseudo-circular shape, the layout of furniture adjusted to the unique dimensions. One round corner opposite of the entry was a wide window curved around a narrow seat, presenting itself like a centerpiece landscape painting; the vista outside was impressive, scanning over the roofs of houses lower into the hills, the quiet slopes and streets like tranquil brushstrokes of that real world they had quietly departed. That grand view of the night pulled Sierra’s attention away from the details immediately around her; she noticed in blinks the scattered arrangement of Duval’s make-up at her vanity, the unshelved books crowned with a coffee mug that took up her nightstand, and the mound of worn clothes piled onto a chair. Even after Duval flicked on the lights and cast the ceiling fan to begin, there remained a vacancy to the space, brought on by the mauve color scheme and general openness of the room.

While Sierra marveled at the room and absorbed her surroundings, Duval progressed inwards at a slow, melancholy pace. She was pulled forward to the window, her free-hand responsible for keeping the chest of her bathrobe secured as she neared her reflection in the glass -- an image, she realized, that was unfamiliar to her. Painted above the landscape of lavish properties was herself, robed in white, carrying in one palm the existence of an entire person, so curiously peeking past the edges of her hand. It struck her just how rare it was to see this dynamic from another perspective; all her time spent with her head lowered, her eyes honed onto something so small, had always preoccupied her from seeing just how truly large she was, the aura she manifested by being this divinely figure. No less was this learned by Duval as she stared at this image of herself against the city skyline, those distant silhouettes of buildings relating her to a giant, all-encompassing size.

“It’s a gorgeous view,” Sierra chuckled, thawing that silence in the air.

“... It is,” Duval said softly. Her eyes outlined her reflected form once again, warmed by that image and the confidence that came with it. She blinked; “I-It really sold me on the house, th-the view from here. Or, anywhere in the house, every window has such an amazing look over the neighborhood.”

“The walls are so bare, though.”

“... Are they?” Duval turned away from the window and looked to the walls, half-circling where she stood to examine the room. Other than shelves and light fixtures, there really was nothing on the walls. “Mm. I’ve never really noticed.”

“Sorry,” Sierra said, “i-it’s just something I noticed. You absolutely have a lovely house!”

“Heh. Did you expect something different?”

“P-Perhaps. I suppose it’s… a little silly,” she giggled, “maybe it’s just from movies I watched, but I always expected…-- I thought a house, like this, would have a gallery of beautiful paintings.”

“Really? Hmm.”

“Or perhaps… one big portrait, of the owner of the estate,” Sierra joked. Nervous pauses broke up her speech, but Duval’s amused response helped calm her. “I can almost imagine it. But, really though, m-maybe you’d like some abstract art. Something you can get lost in.”

Duval nodded along. “Do you like paintings?”

“Sort of. I used to paint, i-it was kind of a phase. But at my old place, I would keep up a lot of paintings, anything I’d find. A lot of simple scenes. I didn’t, uh, have nearly as good of a view as you do at my apartment. So I tried to make up for it with pretty paintings. I could get lost in some of them, like portals to different worlds…”

Duval’s fingers curled closer around Sierra, pulled to her like gravity. She dwelled on that idea, taking to heart Sierra’s suggestion for a painting. The many windows, wide and clear as they were, offered her many ways of looking at her world outwardly -- always staring off to the horizon, some other day. A painting, she considered, was introspective, a look into herself, though she debated what she wanted to see there and what it would mean.

“... I’ll have to browse around for something,” Duval said, smiling at her precious friend as she shifted towards the bed. “I wish I could have something you made. I would think of you any time I looked at it!”

Sierra laughed. “Y-You wouldn’t-- They were never very good,” she clarified. “But, I think with the right painting, you could find something that reminds you of me.”

“Oh? Could I?” Duval gently dropped onto the corner of her bed, reeling Sierra closer to her chest so that the movement was less stunted. “What would a painting like that look like?”

“I guess that’s up to you,” Sierra giggled. “What reminds you of me?”

“Fires…”

“... Really? Like, a house fire--?”

Duval huffed, “Really! Like, small fires. Like candles. Often when I’m holding you, it feels like that’s what’s in my hands. A warm, little flame. And I have to be careful with it. I don’t want the wind to put you out. And I don’t want to get burned, either.” She shared a smile with Sierra, pointing out a finger from her robe-clutching hand so it could gently prod the tiny woman. In an act, that finger flinched back after contact; “Ouch! See?”

Sierra laughed along with Duval and playfully pushed the finger away. Duval gave in to the tiny shove and allowed her whole hand to be moved aside, allowing Sierra to “win.” Incidentally, Sierra’s prize was bestowed to her; where the hand once kept the robe together, there was now a part between the two halves, giving a glimpse of cleavage that was within arms reach. The sight instantly struck Sierra into stillness, her jaw frozen mid-giggle as her stare took over.

“There are other things, too,” Duval continued, building a list of things that reminded her of Sierra. Her glance reached for the window and its vista again. “Of course, I think a lot about you at the lab, if that counts. You’ve made me think a lot about my rubber gloves after your little stunt,” she teased, her eyes still held forward. “There’s also… hm?”

Duval was interrupted when she felt a tickle of touches at her chest. Her attention then returned directly onto Sierra, noticing that she had, with her diminutive strength, tugged apart the robe to create a wider gap that further exposed her skin. Sierra marveled at what she uncovered, modestly allowing just one hand to caress its smoothness in a downward stroke. The tips of those fingers pressed into the skin’s softness, just short of grasping it.

But restraint anchored her. Her touch weakened until just one finger lay pushed into the skin. This isn’t the hotel, Sierra toiled. That night is gone. I let it all out then, and so did Duval. How could I want more when I’ve already been given so much? She bit her lip, her stare piercing past that wall of a body. Because… that was a different Duval, wasn’t it? All that we did was what I wanted for so long, but it was Ophelia that I wanted it to be with. It’s Ophelia that I’ve fallen so in love with… but Ophelia wants so much more, and I’ve only been in the way.

“Sierra…” Duval sang her name like a lullaby, gently drawing her focus. “You worry me when you freeze up like that. Is everything fine?”

Sierra hesitated; while processing the question, she listened to the tempo of Duval’s heartbeat that drummed nearby. Her reply was breathed weakly, “I-I don’t know.”

Duval raised a brow, shuffling in her seat so that her chest popped forward slightly more. “You seemed… interested in something,” she hinted. “Was there something you wanted?”

Sierra looked at the cleavage, which had opened as the robe fell looser around Duval’s torso. It was impossible to not stare into, but Sierra again turned her vision aside after a moment. “I don’t know what we want,” she specified. “And I don’t even know what’s right for us…”

Duval noticeably became still with concern. The minuscule weight in her hand felt heavier in that moment, not like the fire she had compared Sierra to earlier. A deep breath brought her back to life, “I knew there would still be a lot on your mind… I’ve thought a lot about that, what it is that I want. I, honestly, still don’t quite know. But…” Her fingers curled again, but it was a twitch of excitement that bent them. “I think what I want is something like this.”

There was only a beat of time for Sierra to hang on the tail of Duval’s words, for in that next moment, she was being shoveled forward without warning. She was flipped upside-down, her naked body flung between the breasts she had been admiring at a touch. A squeal of surprise went muffled into the globes as her head was plunged into the flesh, her little body enveloped by the cleavage. It was a fight to earn herself space, pushing with both legs and arms awkwardly against the immense plushness, but that struggle was squashed when Duval, caught in a laugh, hugged both breasts together. Sierra was wrestled in the middle, churned and swirled by the rotating motions that followed.

The pressure was relieved when the breasts were pulled apart, revealing the mop-haired Sierra that was pressed-stuck against one’s roundness. Wearily, she pulled out from the skin that clung to her; she would have slipped down, but Duval had reclined her posture so that the slope was not so steep. Despite this, Sierra trembled to stay where she was, still short of breath after that blindsided experience -- as that flustered feeling lingered, she wondered what it had been in response to.

Duval’s giggling eased into a coo of concern. “Oh, d-did that rough you up too much?” she asked sincerely, peeking down at the figure between her boobs. “I-I got ahead of myself. You just looked so cute waiting there… like you needed a little push.”

Sierra coughed -- That was a bit more than just a push, she remarked to herself. Her arms gripped at the fat of the breasts, using what she could pinch to support her position while also fixing the mess made of her hair. Even after her sense of balance was restored, she was left puzzled in the aftermath, looking back and forth between where she lay and Duval’s curious expression above.

“What… was that, exactly?” Sierra wondered, fully aware that her body was glowing with redness.

“Hah! I’m not sure,” Duval honestly replied. “An urge, I guess. Something I had to do.” She sighed, and Sierra felt the fullness of it as her chest lifted and sank. “I couldn’t help myself~ It’s just that you made me realize that there’s a lot of life I haven’t been living. I try to deny it, but I am getting older -- time is passing by, and not with a lot to look back on.” Her smile persisted, but like dusk, it was caught between two shades. “Everything I’ve accomplished… won’t mean as much if it just takes me to some lonely office at the top of the world.”

Duval’s hand was offered flat for Sierra to slide into as she explained herself. She was returned to the position she had been in front of the robed bust, but now with her heart racing far faster than it had. That unexpected push that tossed her into Duval’s cleavage rang with familiarity, yet again harking back to the hotel -- how her body was picked up and used, that meltingly warm laughter, the smell and touch of sweat. Duval, by her own admission, was succumbing to these urges, not unlike how she did when alcohol was involved, a detail that stormed Sierra’s overactive imagination.

In a jolt of motion, Sierra had grabbed at the robe again, just after Duval had reset her perch on the bed corner. She tried tossing the fabric aside, but her whole body was required to move it as far as she wanted -- to reveal most of one boob, enough to expose the firm nipple hiding underneath. Duval was startled into a stutter, seemingly more surprised by Sierra’s burst of energy than having her robe forcefully opened, but did not interfere. Her curiosity kept her refrained and observant, allowing Sierra to do as she had wanted.

Sierra hesitated, but then lunged into the breast with her arms spread apart. She pushed with her knees in an attempt to lift some of that mound up, but all she could manage was an armful of flesh that spilled over her, bouncing back with its own weight. Sierra stumbled, but threw herself back onto the skin with diligence, her hands groping the expansive area in swirls around that precious areola. Like trickling a piano’s keys, Sierra conducted shivers and flinches from Duval, working as hard as she could to replicate what one idle hand could massage at normal proportions. The effort exhausted her and her already weak condition, but she was inspired, driven to try and to live for this legendary opportunity.

Duval read hints of Sierra’s emotions, deciphered through her lustful methods. Stutters tried to ask Sierra directly what she wanted, what she was trying for, but the feeling got through -- Sierra was being chased by despair and loneliness, and so she was savoring what she could. There was desperation in her fingers’ grip, a solemn pace at which she exhaled over the globe, all signs to Duval that she was dealing with a heavy heart.

It eventually was explained, without Duval needing to sort out her stutter. Sierra shyly looked up, much of her face veiled in the way it was pressed into the breast, and she said to Duval, “I have so many urges… Can I fulfill them, too?”

Duval blinked, her smile slowly blossoming while a thumb curled into a stroke down Sierra’s back. “Sierra… Of course,” she giggled -- a subtle shift in her tone, spiced with a certain sultriness. “If I’m your entire world… I want that world to be a fantasy come true to you. Tell me anything you want.”

“I--” Sierra began quickly, but choked just as fast. Her face was a volcanic red, but her hands continued to swirl in a pattern that calmed her. “... I want to kiss you again,” she whispered, only audible enough for her tiny voice to be heard.

“I’d enjoy that,” Duval softly replied. She licked her lips, tasting a thought; “I shouldn’t make you work for it again. Here~” Both hands were steadied together, elevating Sierra from chest level up to Duval’s lips. Sierra froze during the shift, stumbled back as she comprehended the huge face put in front of her, her stare pointed into the nose that pointed sternly back at her. She naturally noticed Duval’s smile, the breaths that leaked through its thin part, how the corners coiled with amusement. “Whenever you’re ready,” she teased when the pause went on.

Like trembling before a great treasure, Sierra nervously rocked forward and crawled up to the lips. A breeze of a breath washed over her face when she leaned in close, but it was that intimate aroma that drove away the last of her restraints. Sierra dived into the lips, attacking with a long kiss that pushed deep into the tender spot. She shivered upon feeling an inkling of Duval’s saliva, the trace amount present on her lips; that sensation prolonged her kiss, extending it even further until she pulled back and exhaled. The before and after looked exactly the same, but Sierra’s soul felt featherweight, still savoring that contact while it was fresh.

Sierra wiped her own lips dry, though even her fingertips fiddled with that minimal moisture of spit taken from off her cheek. She glanced into one of Duval’s eyes before turning her head in embarrassment. After getting hyped up for such a desire, the result left Sierra quiet and contemplative.

Duval licked her lips again, retrieving the taste Sierra left behind. “That was adorable,” Duval sighed, “it was so small… but, how about a kiss from me?”

Sierra blinked, an empty breath her only noise -- until she was yelping from shock, her body conquered by those same lips. She was rolled into giggles, then massaged into wild laughter; Duval’s lips plucked at her body, ensuring every inch and side was glossed with overbearing affection. Sierra pushed against the lips in tickled resistance, but the addition of Duval’s tongue had those attempts thwarted. The pink limb snaked around the shrunken woman’s shape, every effort to stop it only squishing into its flexible form fruitlessly. A coat of drool was cast over Sierra, but Duval was tidy enough to keep most of her palm clean -- that evidence of precision and care did not go unnoticed by her little partner.

The lips pulled away for a relief of air that both cherished, but Duval was plenty eager, warped into her passion. Without her habitual second thoughts, she spun into her mattress, carrying Sierra with her as though she were pulling a normal-sized partner into bed beside her. Their scale positioned Duval on her stomach, lurking above her beloved possession with a growing grin. Sierra, tossed about like she was, was still understanding her situation when she was then blanketed by another kiss; at first, it was an ambush of a peck to steal Sierra’s attention, but those lips then bore onto her just like before, completely locking her onto her back no matter how she spasmed under the bountiful kisses.

Duval was graceless in this act, posing however was necessary so that Sierra looked to her at a divine angle. Her bathrobe shimmied loose from all the movement and twisting; the chest completely came undone, her breasts pouring from the center and spreading the gap wider, while the band around her waist eventually slipped free and fell aside. Her legs enjoyed the lessened restrictions, crawling across her sheets as she continued to bury Sierra beneath a flood of love, but it still proved to be too much for Duval. In a huff, she bounced away from Sierra and shook the robe off her body, letting it cascade down her shoulders and then the rest of her frame.

In that moment, where Duval stood on her knees, the white robe dropped into a pile around her, she looked down at Sierra and breathed in a vital realization. Towering above Sierra and reading her diminutive but steamed reactions, it dawned on Duval that this was her desire. Every detail had fallen into place like a dream, but it was beyond the qualities of their size or the setting in which their romance flourished. She felt attractive in that moment, outrageously beautiful -- like any goddess would, looming above a singular mortal, stripped of her robes and yet still proud of her nudity. A glare was affixed to Sierra, the stare of a hunt; Duval had finally found what she was searching for.

And in the target of those eyes, Sierra shuddered into herself, left cold in the layer of spit soaked into her. The humiliation she felt was not unwelcomed, in fact an important aspect of what turned her on. Her romantic gestures, as full of heart as they had been, were nonetheless minuscule to such a huge and powerful person. Inversely, Duval could drown Sierra into her lips, a single kiss strong enough to tackle her off her feet. This outlandish difference in power left her feeble, but not afraid. In truth, she was immersed, her own fragility a token point of what then drove her to unabashed masturbation.

Duval snickered at the sight, biting her bottom lip with delight -- and rekindling that taste of Sierra once more. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked, her head lifted for an extra inch of height. Every bit of superiority fueled Duval’s fascination with their dynamic, developing a picture of herself that was poised and unflinching. Sierra remained in her rhythm, affording only one eye to answer the massive woman’s question. “Mhmm~ I must know what has your attention,” Duval inquired, pulling at her lip in dreamy thoughts. “What is it? What about me is on your mind…?”

Sierra was caught mid-boil in her arousal, her fingers working diligently around her clitoris even as she was spoken down to. It was a degrading perspective, but it was exactly that tone which pushed Sierra’s heat higher and higher. She struggled to budget the breath to reply, “Y-Your… hair…” Unclear as she was, Sierra jerked her head up, a gesture to where those pillar-like legs led to. “There…” she whimpered, “your… pubic hair…”

“My pubic--? Hehe…” Duval giggled earnestly, nearly blinked out of her moment -- Such interesting tastes she has, she mentally commented. She hummed back into the circumstance at play; “You’ve become so quiet, sweetie. Are you ashamed of something? Does looking up at this embarrass you?” Fingers brushed through the curls of hair at her crotch, gentle circles of motion that hooked Sierra’s gawk of a stare. Duval kept her smile hidden, pulled back so that her chest was sure to conceal her joy. “What about it? Is there something you want to see…?”

When Sierra offered no reply, Duval took initiative and lowered herself onto the bed, shifting forward so that her crotch was placed directly in front of the tiny woman. Sierra’s pleasure was interrupted by all the movement, brought to a halt as her stare delved into the growth of hairs. She studied every vivid detail, from the tangles to the wetness binding them; Duval’s arousal was introduced with its distinct aroma, a scent that twisted Sierra’s tongue with its intimate allure. Pushing herself up against the pillow behind her, Sierra itched back into her masturbation, swapping hands so that the one could rest.

The bush crawled closer to her, its weight and that of the legs flanking its sides pushing down on the malleable plain that was the mattress. Duval’s giggle continued to chime in periodically, each sound gushing over Sierra’s reactions. The closeness of her crotch and the stretch of her legs kept her cornered, allowing Duval to savor all she wanted -- until she was ready to engage.

While Sierra’s eyes were closed and her mind clouded with lust, Duval delicately reached out with a finger and brought it onto her little lover. It was a soft stroke, but Sierra was initially startled by the contact, flinching when it massaged her side and rustled her hair. Soon after did she find comfort in the finger, leaning into the touch wherever it routed her body, until that touch tickled down her center. Duval’s fingertip went back and forth between her breasts, pressing just firmly enough to feel her ribs and even a tiny tap of a heartbeat. Sierra’s tempo slowed as it continued to go lower down her body, swirling at her stomach, and then going no further.

Sierra waited, but Duval was content where she was, evidenced by that pleasant smile that shined down on Sierra like a streetlight. Sierra’s fingers curled where they were between her thighs, but she hesitated on her expectation -- she desperately desired Duval to take over, but the overseer wanted something in return, something yet to be said, a suspense that completely captivated Sierra.

Duval sighed a short breath, aware that Sierra’s attention was entirely honed in on her. Only then did Duval speak: “I want you to beg a little…”

“B-Beg…?” Sierra panted the word back. It struck an electric chord deep inside her, more than the word ever could have before. She swallowed and curled forward, tepidly grasping the finger’s length as a means to pull herself. The unusual request had her guessing what was appropriate, but she was dedicated to her obedience, gripping Duval’s skin more tightly, more wantingly. “P-Please keep going… Please…?”

Duval bit her lip, filled with heartache upon hearing those diminished pleas. Under any other circumstance, that tone would have instantly won Sierra anything out of Duval. Rather than cave into her caretaker instincts, she held her breath and steadied her finger on Sierra’s stomach. “Hmm? Did I hear a peep?” she teased.

“Please… I-I really want you t-to touch me…!” Sierra’s whimpering turned to a growl halfway through, her impatience slipping into frustration. But Duval’s expression merely blinked, and her finger coldly remained. Sierra moaned, “I-I… need you to! God, please… Please d-don’t make me wait, Ophelia…”

Duval chuckled, purposing her free hand to occupy the arousal brewing between her own legs. Fingers combed through her bush, gradually unveiling the slither of pink hidden within. The slight touch of her own wetness inspired her next venture. “Kiss my finger,” she commanded. “Kiss it like you would kiss me, if you weren’t so teeny-tiny, heh~”

Sierra shivered when given the order, blinking as she studied the finger and shaped its image into that of Duval. Even then was this vision overbearing, picturing Duval as a statuesque woman that matched the finger’s length and strength. It was easy for Sierra to succumb to her own illusion, and so she propelled into a kiss, first greeting the skin under the knuckle with her lips before massaging a cheek into its side. Both hands trailed up and down the digit, each touch capturing more of Sierra’s lust until she had it wrapped in her embrace, her kisses becoming frantic and fast. Long licks proved Sierra’s dedication, but as entertained as this all made Duval, the overseer still wanted more.

The finger lifted, then pointed to Sierra’s face, so directly that she flinched away from the nail’s edge. It then bobbed at her, a gesture for her attention; a glance upwards at Duval’s dominating face suggested clearly that Sierra should proceed with just the tip of the finger. And so she did, muffling a moan into its width and kissing all around the pad. Her hands grabbed the fingernail as a means to control it, allowing her to tilt it best for her affections to be considered. Kissing turned to suckling, and Sierra’s grasp on the finger found its own rhythm of pumps, respecting the finger and its unique dimensions as much as her miserable size could offer.

Time was stopped for Duval as she dwelled on this reaction, her expression largely unchanging while her thoughts swirled and shivered. Eventually unfrozen by Sierra’s dedication, she positioned her finger where promised, gently pushing apart the little legs in her way. “Adorable,” Duval whispered, admiring the pose Sierra was struck in; her now-vacant arms barely hiding her chest, her blush-filled expression shyly aimed aside, her legs quivering in suspense. The slightest increase in pressure from her finger exponentially drew spasms out from the shrunken woman, and Duval was delicate in her process, developing a sinking-rising pattern around Sierra’s crotch that was keen to its sensitivity.

Sierra choked a breath back, a palm tossed over her mouth. What she had meant to say was exhaled as just a hiss of arousal; “O-Ophelia…” she stuttered, a name worth thousands of words. Her legs clamped onto the fingertip, disregarding the sharpness of the nail. Her expression twisted inward as she gasped, “Ah, god…”

Duval’s motions slowed and her face lowered near to Sierra, as much as her posture would allow. “Are you comfortable?” she whispered. “Hehe. Is this all it takes…? Just my fingertip…?” Her head tilted with coyness, happy to hear staggered breaths as a response. “So easy to please, when you’re just this little thing to play with. You must really be crazy over every part of me, hmm~?”

Testing such a thought for both their benefits, Duval released a blow of air from her lips, casting a gust that swept over Sierra’s shambled shape. The coolness tickled Sierra pleasantly and lured her into hugging the finger for its warmth, but beyond that was the scent of Duval’s breath which claimed all of her senses. It warped her to another world where Duval was everything, even the air she breathed; castaway in that sort of fantasy, Sierra’s shuddering accelerated, her moaning silenced as a rush of ecstasy guided her in every way she required. Suddenly, her hug on the finger turned iron-tight, her legs coiled around the fingertip, and her head lurked back as if unleashing a shout -- but there was just silence, a stuttered whine of an exhale that mimicked how her body fell frail and oozed down the digit’s length.

“Mhm. You look satisfied,” Duval said quietly, drifting her finger apart from Sierra’s crotch. She brought it to her lips which eagerly licked away the moisture it had acquired, that which it had rightfully earned. Sierra’s flavor was exhilarating, like an injection of adrenaline, and Duval openly hummed with pleasure as that taste was burned into memory. She chuckled, “It’s almost nothing~ but you must be very pleased with yourself. Mm, I hope that put you into a thankful mood, because…~”

Sierra had little time to relax before the mountain of a woman was shifting again, causing the landscape to bend and contort to wherever Duval applied her weight. She tried to watch where the massive limbs were taking position, but when that bush of pubic hair rushed at her, it demanded her full attention. Tiny tangles were forced around her as Duval’s crotch barreled ahead, pinning Sierra between it and the pillows. Caught up in the hairs, Sierra struggled to pull away, an effort that was swiftly diminishing; as ensnared by the pubic region as she was, so too did her mind belong to Duval’s clutches, anxiously awaiting the overseer’s intent.

Once Sierra was caught, Duval continued to lay out like she wanted. Her legs curled up onto the pillows so that her crotch was ushered skyward, and crowned within the hairs was Sierra, still making sense of how her surroundings had spun around. In her confused state, Sierra could have forever spent her time sightseeing and appreciating the geography that was Duval’s naked body, but Duval decided to dismiss those distractions by plucking up her lover and turning her about correctly there in the patch of curls. When finished, Sierra was buried into pubic hairs and directed to the exposed clitoris, the shape of which was as big as her head.

“Now, you can return the favor~” Duval laughed, her head lifted forward so she could peer down her body. Her hands nervously hovered away once Sierra was in position, the fingers still clearly twitching with excitement. “I’m not going to help you this time,” Duval warned. “Do your best, sweetie~”

Sierra understood her mission immediately, silently accepting the challenge. She crawled through the hair, careful in how her limbs interacted with each thick strand, until she had Duval’s clitoris aimed under her. Shamelessly, she dunked her head down and circled its shape with her tongue. After two revolutions, she licked in the opposite direction, her hands pushing at the labia to make the swollen nub more accessible. Her efforts were not in vain; despite her diminutive size and output, she felt the world under her knees quake in consequence, that humid atmosphere rising higher and drawing the sweat from Sierra’s pores.

But to that extent, Duval’s arousal was only beginning to climb, and those shivers were forgettable from her perspective. She eyed Sierra closely, curious as to what her approach would be when tasked with such a difficult chore. Obviously, she was disadvantaged without any help, but those pathetic efforts were what drove Duval’s energy up the walls, that someone as small as Sierra would willingly subject herself for the sake of her pleasure. She was a proven worshipper, dedicated to pleasing a body that was magnificently huge -- truly, Sierra felt she belonged nowhere else than in servitude to Duval’s desires, and Duval wouldn’t disagree.

Regardless of that overflowing passion, Sierra understood that her insignificant size made for an uphill obstacle. It was bound to be a lackluster performance at the rate she acted, and so her strategy changed. Her lips broke away from the clit after one last kiss so that she could align her crotch above it, pushing forward in the bush until her hands were seeped into the labia folds. Duval’s entrance was drenched with her arousal, loosened enough that Sierra’s ounce of weight sank into its wetness, and thus was Sierra allowed to stroke the inside and taste the source of that flavor she craved. Her legs buckled onto the clitoris so that she sat straddled around it, massaging its roundness in a perpetual cycle that kept herself sufficiently energized.

All of this effort worked to Duval’s favor, her head relaxing into the bedsheets while Sierra performed upon her. She cherished every resulting twitch, conceptualizing those jitters of motion for what they were to Sierra. Simply extending a leg out and upward was a spectacle for the little woman, a movement that demanded her wariness. The thrill was that her sexuality was its own danger, a real threat to the shrunken person on her body. She was huge, she was beautiful, she was deserving of Sierra’s worship -- she was a planet pending to implode, and that tiny woman was the cause.

Teased to the precipice of her pleasure, Duval could stay withdrawn no longer. Her eyes flashed open with an electric impulse, and her hand was thrown to her crotch. Fingers ambushed Sierra in a net-like sprawl, haphazardly capturing her from her undignified pose. She was hoisted away only briefly, for Duval intended to intensify her purpose; she plunged Sierra into the wet crevice, which accepted her for all of her flailing and spasming. That burst of resistance tickled Duval into a boisterous and steamy laugh, releasing Sierra where she had been designated -- her legs kicked up into the air, her upper body submerged into Duval’s core -- and tasking her hand then to stimulate her clit. Warm waves of muscular power hugged at Sierra from all sides, swallowing her inch by inch into the cavern that was Duval’s cunt, but not all was strife for her; Duval shared her ecstasy onto Sierra, pinning her by the underside with a drill-like finger that not only maintained the little woman’s position, but played with her lust, well on its way to achieve a subsequent orgasm from her.

Duval focused on what was ahead, as if she were flying through the sky. Everything was in its place, the world had been spinning to become this very moment. The stresses of life, both romantic and professional, melted from her skin as beads of sweat. There was a crystal-clear clarity that revealed to her the essence of her desires, that faraway endgame that had always existed in a fog. It was painfully straightforward, how what she wanted was already in-hand. Sierra was hers, and they were together, their souls united against those terrible odds. Edging towards her completion, Duval closed her eyes and listened to the belittled squeaks that were Sierra’s moans and coughs, until finally her smile blossomed upon hearing that name from her--

“Ophelia…! I love you…!” Sierra gasped, her head flung up from the hairs as if refusing to drown. Her volume then fell flat, suddenly pronged by an overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation; “I-I want you… t-to be happy…! I want… I…”

Tension and relief clashed within Duval to keep her uncannily still, locked into the sexual position she had spread herself into, barely a breath held in the suspense. As bombastic as Sierra’s orgasm had been, Duval’s was a calm and cooling experience, as if staring at a distant horizon. From her peripherals, the shade of reality was slowly returning, but it did not disturb the image in her mind. She had found a precious treasure, and so unexpectedly -- as moments with Sierra often were.

Ophelia. Her own name rang like a bell, but only in Sierra’s voice. It chimed, repeating in her ears long after Sierra had sung it. It was the first in a long time that her first name made her so happy; it was a part of her identity that she had spent years distancing herself from, a name attached to the dreams and wants that the scientist had shelved so long ago in favor of ambition, the pursuit of her career. Sierra had brought that identity to the surface once again, like a sunken ship retrieved from ocean depths, but only now could Ophelia appreciate its majesty.

Her trance persisted for several moments, her dreamy stare beaming upwards into the ceiling fan. Like water easing after a storm, Ophelia’s body laid in rest, made heavy with fulfillment. A hand faintly fell over her chest, sensitive to that drumming rhythm; her smile flickered to life, giggling over the idea of what her heart must sound and feel like to someone as small as Sierra. Ophelia sighed, “Sierra… Come here, won’t you…?”

“I’m… mm…”

Ophelia lifted her head lazily upon hearing that weary response. She struggled to peer past her chest and down to her crotch, where she last had her beloved. “Sierra?” she muttered, her smirk maintained for only so much longer. “Come here, sweetie. I want to see you~”

“Hhah… I’m c-coming…”

From the tangles of Ophelia’s bush, Sierra struggled to speak up. It was easier for her to be recognized by pulling at the hairs than to try and throw her voice while her throat was still so dry. That was enough to rouse Ophelia’s concern, but she was made more alert by Sierra’s staggered pace, how she collapsed from the hairs after dragging herself to the start of her stomach. Sierra flipped onto her back, sticking there even as Ophelia craned up into a seat, her worried expression and mess of hair coming to hover over the exhausted shrunken woman.

“Sierra? Ohh, dear…” Ophelia swallowed nervously, turning stiff to avoid making Sierra anymore uncomfortable. Her hands twitched at her sides, wanting to act; “Uhh, err-- W-Water? Do you need some water?”

“Yes…” Sierra exhaled, her nod in agreement massaged into the fat of Ophelia’s belly. “P… Please…”

“Water! O-Of course! On it! Umm…” Ophelia was flustered back to life, acting promptly like a good host would. Swept in embarrassment for forgetting the importance of hydration, she carefully but hurriedly removed her lover from a knot of pubic hair and sat her aside. In record time, she sped to the bathroom and back, returning with a small glass of water that was adequate enough for Sierra to drink from. After Sierra took her few, minuscule sips, Ophelia claimed the rest for herself in one gulp, only then aware of her own fatigue.

Minutes of the evening ticked by as the two recovered. Sierra was silent, as she usually was, but Ophelia was especially quiet, often caught by her partner staring towards the window with hollow eyes. Ophelia had reapplied the bathrobe over her shoulders, but left it loose and open so that the cool air could refresh her sweat-soaked skin. She sat on the corner of the bed, lost in thought while Sierra stood closeby, cradled in the wrinkles of a comforter -- but her mind was not so relaxed, fought over by the weights of reality and the fantasy she had experienced just moments ago.

Ophelia was the first to move, shaking the bed as she twisted where she sat in Sierra’s direction. She hesitated to start a conversation, but after glancing down at her beloved and noticing her long stare, she knew something had to be said.

But Sierra was a step ahead, speaking up before Ophelia could. “I’m fine,” she said, quelling any fears so that the massive woman would not have to worry. “Just… a lot on my mind. A lot that’s happened…”

Ophelia bit her lip and nodded. “Yes. A lot,” she agreed. “That was fun, though. It was… hah, m-maybe the most exciting… thing… to happen to me.”

Sierra smiled, warmly surprised to hear that from her. “I… definitely feel the same. I wish it didn’t have to end.”

“So do I,” Ophelia chuckled. Her body lumbered to the side, casually posing herself as a long wall just behind where Sierra laid. Like a blanket, she tenderly placed her palm over Sierra, shielding her from the bedroom’s chill against her bare skin. “Tonight has been truly wonderful, hasn’t it?”

“It’s precious,” Sierra specified. “It’s rare. And now, it’s basically gone. It’s happened, and so… in the morning, everything goes back. Back to normal.” Upon saying as much, Sierra expressed a soured smile, shaking her head up at the ceiling. “I almost forgot how hellish it is back at the lab… I’m just now remembering that I… won’t be able to see you. This could be it, you know… Th-The last time I get to see you.”

“Darling… I-I don’t think--” Ophelia began, but fretted from saying anymore. She hated to see Sierra depressed, but she could not lie either -- Sierra was not wrong in her fears. Ophelia knew better, too, then to make promises only meant to keep Sierra content. She sighed, “I-I’ve been worrying about the same thing, actually. Maybe not today, I-I doubt it would come to that… but eventually… this will catch up to us.”

“I’m sorry, Duval… I didn’t want to drag you into more trouble, n-not after the night at the hotel. We-- god, we had a second chance… to make it right, and set things straight, but… I’ve messed that up.”

“... No. Sierra, you’ve made things clearer than ever to me. I’m not letting us go back to that -- not like that.”

“Th-That can’t happen…” Sierra paused, her glare steepening. “You’ve done so much to make it here. Your career is precious, too, i-it’s worth so much more than me! I’m just… I’m a nobody. I’m not a doctor or lawyer… I’m not even a normal-sized person anymore. I’m an experiment. I’m your test subject.”

“You’re my lover -- before anything else,” Ophelia asserted, her grasp over Sierra becoming a soulful embrace. “I’ve had to leave you in the dark, and stay quiet about things… That wasn’t right. You’re important to me-- too important to not communicate with. It’s not going to happen like that again. We won’t be pushed away, not forever.” She bit her lip, wishing that her earnest wishes could revitalize Sierra. “No matter what the labs do or say… I’ll keep coming back to you. We’ll be together.”

Ophelia’s skin ran cold; Sierra huffed, tears in her eyes. “I don’t want this night to have to end… I feel free. Alive. At the labs… That normal life that th-they try to simulate… I hate it. It’s… just a prison. A cage. I-It isn’t about you, or the experiment… Anything would feel this way if it was keeping me from you.” She massaged her temples, but that effort was quickly forfeited. “I know I have to… but I don’t want to go back.”

“There won’t be any more distractions,” Ophelia whispered. “No more doubts. Sierra, I know what I want. You. I’ve been turned around a lot this past month, and I’ve been terribly indecisive. I know this… a-and I regret what it’s done to you. I hope you can forgive me. I-It’s not really an excuse, but… I haven’t done this very much-- er, I’ve never… been in love like this before.” She breathed in deep, trying to cool the redness that was overtaking her complexion. “I’m still new at this…”

“No… You’re so…” Sierra wrestled for a better word, but giggled into what she could think of; “You’re so silly. Acting like this is all on you…”

Ophelia scoffed amusedly. “I think I’m a major reason for a lot of these, err, hassles.”

“I’m responsible, too. I’ve been so careless… so stupid.” Sierra scratched at her burdened head. “I’ve put myself in danger, only making things worse for both of us. I almost risked you your job, I-I almost risked us. I’m so sorry, Duval, I’m--”

“Sweetie~” Ophelia interrupted Sierra with a kiss, her lips perfectly forming around the side of her little body before releasing her just as softly. “Please… I love when you call me Ophelia.”

Sierra curled up, reaching for the lips that had just graced her like an angel’s touch. She looked into Ophelia’s eyes, the lakes of sincere emotion that they were, and she trembled into a sob. “I love you, Ophelia.”

“I love you so much.” Ophelia’s smile shined in its most natural form, only cracking when she began to think ahead. “I suppose we should get some sleep. We need to leave early tomorrow if we want to--”

“No, n-not yet.” Sierra stood up, forcing herself onto her feet. “There’s no way I can sleep. I really… I really don’t want this night to be over yet.”

“Ah. Neither do I.” Ophelia sighed, but Sierra stood her ground, unwavering against the breath. She rolled her head to the side, her body becoming more relaxed in its sideways lounge. “I’m sure we can think of things to do~”

Speckles of stars could still be found illuminating that purple morning sky as Ophelia drove down the empty highway. Though no traffic was present to slow her down, she insisted on driving fast. She may have had schedules for Sharpe Labs memorized, but she did not want to risk anyone getting there before her. Sierra had to be returned to the med bay, and without a soul taking notice.

Fortunately, just as she had hoped, Ophelia was the first person to arrive at the labs. She allowed herself in at a normal hour to enter, avoiding the suspicion of monitors that tracked arrivals and departures. The final moments to be together with Sierra and Sierra alone were coming to a close, a reality she begrudgingly faced head-on as she lowered her beloved into the med bay and locked it up behind her.

“Ophelia!” Sierra called out, waving through the wall-length window. She shivered in delight when the overseer’s face consumed that outwards view in its entirety. “I-I just wanted to tell you to have a good day at work…”

Ophelia giggled. “I hope you can enjoy yourself with something,” she replied, nervously eyeing the door to her office. She made sure to smile bright for Sierra when she looked back. “I’ll see you later today. I love you.”

Sierra hesitated to reply, but Ophelia offered another way to respond. She pressed the pad of her finger against the glass, then tapped gently against it, a soft drum of noise. Sierra smiled and put her hand against the glass as well, sharing in one last touch before the day was to begin.

A long day pitted Ophelia against a tall workload, but she happily endured with an attitude that excelled where she had previously been dreary. There was new inspiration in her life, and for that day in particular, there was something she wanted to do. After leaving the labs and driving into the city, Ophelia stepped outside the boundaries of her routine in search of a painting that would turn her house into a home.