Lana’s long, slim fingers crumpled the letter when she has finished reading it.  DARPA was no longer interested in funding her, citing that insufficient progress was being made, and without that the university would stop paying, too.  Her project was coming to an end right when they were on the cusp of beginning animal testing.  Six years of her life flushed down the drain by some bureaucrat who ran out of patience.  She should have been furious, but as usual with her there was very little emotion beyond the initial outburst.  Instead, she immediately started planning some way to continue her research.

 

With the task they had given her, it would have taken a lesser scientist a decade or more to reach this stage.  The “super-soldier serum,” as they had come to call it around the lab, was no less than a wish list for superpowers.  When injected with it a person would become greatly augmented, with quicker reflexes, more speed and endurance, and the strength of ten men.  In addition to that they would be nearly indestructible, resistant to the strongest blows, poisons, and acids.  Any of those on its own would be a major breakthrough, and she had managed all of them at once.  None of it could be reported without tests, though.

 

Lana’s dark blue eyes peered out from her office while dropping the crumpled sheet of paper into the trash.  She adjusted her thin, silver-framed glasses and rolled her chair out, making her shoulder length straight black hair bounce.  With a sigh she stood, stretching her long, stockinged legs as far as they could go while she reached her height of six feet and a couple inches.  Quickly she straightened her burgundy corduroy skirt over her slender legs and pulled her black turtleneck tight over her thin frame before walking into the lab proper.

 

The lab’s stark appearance matched Lana’s skin, though out of sterility than a dislike of the sun.  Everything was scrubbed until it gleamed, and all cabinets stocked and neatly ordered.  Lana’s flats clicked with each step of her long feet on the tile floor as she walked to the far end.  She grabbed a small aluminum box from the top shelf and set it on the counter, cradling it carefully with both hands.  Her thumbs punched in the combination, then popped the latch.  Inside, surrounded by hard foam, was a single vial filled with a thin, light blue liquid.

 

Lana picked up the vial with trembling fingers and held it to her eyes for inspection.  This one glass tube contained all of the serum they had managed to synthesize, enough for a single dose.  It was just enough for a single dose, which would be enough to make the changes total and permanent.  Carefully she pulled the cork from the mouth, then picked up an injector from the counter with her free hand.  She pointed it straight upward so the feed was toward her and gingerly inserted the serum.  A quiet hiss indicated that it was ready to inject the fluid as soon as enough pressure was applied to the tip.

 

She looked at the tip, a single pin ready to pierce someone’s skin and fill their veins with the transformational liquid.  Briefly she considered putting it into her own aorta, but she could hardly test its effects on herself.  Not only would that raise many questions about her objectivity, there was the outside chance it might have some harmful side-effects.  If one of those manifested, she would be the best to deal with them.  Ultimately, though, she wanted her name at the top of the paper.

 

Water rushing from a faucet grabbed her attention, and Lana’s head snapped to see one of her assistants washing glassware in the sink.  She nearly called out to him but thought better of it.  This particular assistant was a small, weak man, both physically and morally, and would not see the value of testing this by any means necessary, let alone being her guinea pig.  It was better not to give him an option and come up with an explanation later.  If she offered him co-authorship, she figured, he’d forgive her when it makes his career.

 

Lana crept behind him, her footfalls drowned by the sounds from the sink.  She looked down at him and held her breath, working herself up to go through with this.  Slowly she reached for him, waiting for him to present his neck as a wide-open target.  When he stood on his toes to place a beaker on the shelf, she saw the opportunity.  Her hand clamped onto his shoulder, holding him in place, and before he could struggle too much she shoved the injector to his throat.  It made a loud hiss when it discharged its contents.  He went limp and Lana caught him by the armpits, then his head lolled to the side.  For better or worse, it was doing its work.

---

The last thing I felt before blacking out was a sharp pain in my neck.  I expected to wake up in a pool of my own blood, if at all, but I was perfectly clean with my supervisor standing over me.  Her brow was furrowed in worry, an unusual expression of emotion for her.  Weakly I waved up to her so she’d know I was okay, and she relaxed to her normal placid state.  To my surprise I felt great, healthier and more energized than I had before blacking out.  Eagerly I got back on my feet, itching to get back to work.

 

When I stood, I was much less excited to resume rinsing out lab equipment.  To start, I was looking up at the brass button at the top of her skirt, and while she was a good bit taller than me our height difference was not quite this extreme.  When I had more time to take in the situation, I realized it was more like a corduroy wall in front of me stretching for a hundred feet on either side before curving around her hips.  Gazing up, it seemed like Lana loomed over me, with several hundred feet between me and her impassive eyes.  She was less the usual tall glass of water and more a towering giantess to me.

 

“Um, what the hell’s going on?” I asked sheepishly.  If she really was this much bigger than me instead of it being my imagination I wasn’t even sure if she could hear my voice, much less understand what I said.

 

“Well, that’s a funny story,” Lana started.  Ordinarily her voice was high and mousy, but even that had changed.  Now it was deep and booming, with a distinct rumbling quality I could feel in my bones.  With each moment that passed it seemed less likely this was a hallucination.  “See, I just got told that our project was cancelled, and I didn’t want to just give up, so I tested it out on you to see what would happen and…”

 

She was rambling, just like she always did when it was time to justify the budget.  “And what?” I pressed.  “Why does it seem like I’m tiny?”  I got to the heart of the matter so there could be no ambiguous explanations or waving off of my concerns.

 

“A few seconds after I injected you, something happened,” she began.  “Something that I, nor anyone else, could ever have expected, and so we really can’t hold anyone responsible for, but we can’t deny that it happened, now can we?”  As usual, she was doing her best to absolve herself of blame before answering the question.  “There’s a side effect to the serum that only practical application could have revealed.  It changed your body, reducing it greatly in size.  Now, as far as I know, everything else worked as planned, again we haven’t done any tests.  However, you’re now a bit under an inch tall.  Now, I have a hypothesis for why this happened…”

 

If I let her go she could speak for hours, so I broke in.  “We can investigate your hypothesis later, though I’m not sure you should.  Right now, my main concern is whether you can grow me back to my normal size.”

 

Lana bit her bottom lip while she thought of how to respond.  Not a good sign.  She leaned down so her face was closer to me, and somehow that was even worse than having her stupendously large body over me.  Her hands were on her knees, as though she were talking to a child, but that was hardly the most humiliating thing about it.  Her round chin was a few inches above me, meaning I had to crane my neck up toward it, and every feature of her face seemed tremendous.  The dark blue eyes I sometimes likened to the ocean were the size of large ponds now, and her button nose was more like a ramp, nostrils noticeably flaring with each breath.  Pink lips nearly twice my size twitched, and though I could see everything like it was under a magnifying glass she still had immaculate skin to me.

 

“That’s another funny thing.”  Her voice had the same terrible qualities as before but now it was louder, roaring in my ears, and I could feel her hot breath on me.  “No one ever paid to make it reversible, and I don’t think anyone would.  No one’s interested in that, and they specifically wanted this to be permanent, or as permanent as it can be.  And growing you back would be another project on its own, several years, millions of dollars from I don’t even know who, there’s no demand for that sort of thing, and I’m not even sure if reversing the serum would grow you back to begin with.”

 

“So you’re telling me I’m stuck at this size,” I stated, condensing her wordy explanation down to a sentence.  “Not only that, but you can’t or won’t fix it.”

 

“That seems unfairly pessimistic,” Lana replied, trying to force a smile.  “You get to be this size!  And you should be effectively immortal, as far as trauma’s concerned!  That doesn’t sound so bad, and you’ll be the focus of dozens of scientific papers as a willing volunteer.  You’ll live forever as the first test subject of this serum, and the first person to be this size!”

 

I breathed in deeply to steady myself from her speech while trying to process this.  It was an awful lot to take in, in addition to suddenly being the size of an insect.  “So, you’re going to report me as willing regardless,” I stated, working toward building my case.  Lana had already made up her mind, so I was just trying to convince myself.  “That way you’ll deflect from the ethics committee, though it’ll be narrow.  And whether I agree to go through with the tests is unimportant, since I’m not really in a position to decline.  Plus, this can’t be undone, no matter what you or I do.  So I might as well go along, making me a willing volunteer the whole way, so we can both get the credit we’re due.”

 

Lana’s eyes lit up, and I knew I had perfectly understood the situation.  “That’s right!” she boomed.  “I knew you’d come around soon enough.  Then you’re volunteering as a test subject, right?”

 

I shrugged.  “Might as well.  It’s not like I’ll die, right?”

 

“That’s the spirit!”

 

“But where are you going to do these tests?  Another grad student could walk in on us at any time, and then you’d have a lot more questions to answer.”

 

“Don’t worry, I thought of that while you were out,” Lana answered, though I was not reassured.  She stood back to her full height, and I felt puny again as I gawped up at her.  Lana cupped her hands in front of me, six inches from the table.  “I’ll conduct the tests in my house.  It’s not exactly a sterile environment, but we don’t need one for these.  In exchange I’ll make sure you’re fed, clean, and cared for.”

 

“Then let’s get going,” I said, hoping she’d get the hint.

 

“Let’s.”  Lana remained stock still, leaving me puzzled.  “We can do the first test here, though.  I’ll have to do some conversions to make the measurements accurate, but let me worry about that.  All you need to do is jump into my hands so we can check jumping distance.”

 

I would never make a jump of roughly thirty feet to me, but I could hardly refuse if she wouldn’t intervene.  Putting doubt out of my mind I sprinted toward her, springing off the edge of the counter.  Remarkably I leapt high and far, almost flying toward Lana’s hands.  To my surprise I landed at the base of Lana’s wrist, then rolled back into her palm.  If I were normal sized, that would double the world record.

 

Before I could get up Lana brought her other hand toward me, pinching me between her thumb and forefinger.  She lifted me out of her palm and studied me, looking for any breaks or fractures.  Satisfied that I was intact, Lana carried me toward her, and with her free hand she lifted up her skirt.  Carefully she pressed me against the smooth skin of her thigh and tucked me in behind her stocking, leaving just my head exposed.

 

She pulled the corduroy curtain down over me, then gave it a tap to make sure it was straight.  The world seemed to shift when she took a step, turning and walking toward the lab’s exit.  I started to feel some motion sickness so I looked at her feet, following the colossal pillar I was stuck to down to her burgundy flats.  It would not be a pleasant journey, I knew, but being subjected to her tests would hardly be a walk in the park.  This was merely one of the consequences of signing up to help with such a bizarre experiment. 

 

Riding in Lana’s stocking was not nearly as unpleasant as I expected.  The breeze riding up between her thighs helped offset the heat of her body, and every step with her right leg made a vibration run up it, giving me a brief massage as it passed through me.  I could even move a little bit despite the tight, restrictive nylon that came up to my neck.  To keep my mind occupied I looked down, watching her shoes billow out with each step she took and counting the tiles she glided over with each long stride.

 

That is, until she reached the stairs.  Her footfalls were much harder then, like she was stomping, and I involuntarily yelped with each one.  They were louder too, heavy crashes replacing the gentle clicks from before, and instead of massaging me the vibrations rattled my bones and made my vision shake.  To make matters worse, her stockings were not tight enough with me in them to keep me in place with the added force, and I sank entirely into it.  Gradually the nylon gobbled me up like quicksand, each stair sucking me down a few millimeters more.  By the time her descent was over I was completely past the tight band at the top with the nylon mesh holding me like a large, tremendously snug bag.

 

Forced down from my lofty perch, my achingly slow fall along her leg continued.  Every click of Lana’s shoe slid me a little further toward the floor, and the vibrations got stronger the closer I got to them.  When I got below the hem of her skirt I could see the world beyond, though the view was dark and somewhat cloudy, like I was wearing fogged sunglasses.  I could see the legs of coworkers passing by, completely oblivious to my presence.  No one was going to look close enough at Lana’s inner thigh to notice the tiny bulge I made, much less guess what was making it.

 

For a while I tried to fight the force, digging my hands into the mesh and pulling myself up as far as I could.  My efforts ended up being in vain.  Regardless of how much progress I made the next time Lana set her foot down erased all of it and more, dropping me another millimeter or so.  After several seconds of disappointment and setback I decided to save my still abundant energy for whatever tests she was going to run and gave up.

 

The slow, inexorable descent toward the floor must have been similar to what I would have seen if I had been conscious while shrinking.  Little by little everyone seemed a bit taller and I was closer to the bases of objects I interacted with earlier that day but were now much too gargantuan for me to use.  I tracked my progress by watching the pedestrians walk by.  When I could first see out the corduroy tent, I was around the knees of most people.  Before my eyes my view got lower, and I could scarcely process people’s shins as they raced by.

 

Eventually my feet touched the outside of Lana’s shoe, giving just enough push back to stop my descent, but it was at the worst possible spot.  Lana’s ankle was jammed against my back, pressing me forward and contorting my body.   She effortlessly had me holding a stress position and probably didn’t even know about it, invalidating it as a test.  However, while there was a slight tinge it was not as painful as I expected.  Something, possibly the serum, had dulled my pain receptors, so it was more akin to sitting in an uncomfortable chair.

 

Standing atop Lana’s shoe, I was subjected to the full torque of her strides.  The small movement from before was now a great woosh, making my insides lurch with its start and stop.  When her foot set down, whatever thoughts I had were scrambled while the force of it ran through my cranium, along with my ribs and teeth shaking from the power.  Every small movement from her ankle was evident to me, shoving my torso back and forth with her step.  From my position I could only look out at her tremendous shoe, dozens of yards long with a bow the same height as me on her toes.

 

Watching the world speed past me with each one of Lana’s steps was too disorienting and I set my feet to the side so they would no longer hold me in place.  With the next step I sank into her shoe, dropping my entire lower legs into her flat.  I could have fought against it, but in truth I wanted to go even further down so I wouldn’t have to see how fast she was making me move.  A few more steps later I was shoved all the way into her shoe by the force of her step, blocking everything out from my view.

 

My feet landed against her sole, and I was pressed against Lana’s sole.  Every step she took made a tremendous rumble that resonated in my ears, making an overwhelming boom, and every bone in my body felt the power of her steps.  I couldn’t see anything outside of her shoe, leaving it to my other senses to let me know what was going on.  Every input was a reinforcement of how much larger and more powerful Lana was than me, and there was nothing I could do against it.

 

I was subjected to Lana’s movements the rest of the way, with no possible recompense on my end.  Her weight held me down, working with the strong tension from her nylons, so I was subject to her power.  Struggling in the least would have been pointless, and each second she gave me a strong reminder that I was trapped within her stocking.  Not only that, but I was trapped insider her shoe at the same time, making me feel like a mere small part of her shoe while she walked.

 

Finally, I heard a key sliding into a lock from far above me, followed by the tumblers turning over.  I welcomed the brief pause in her movement, but it resumed after a brief moment while the door swung inward.  Lana’s footfalls on her hardwood floors were distinctly different from when she was on concrete, making a loud, hollow sound that resonated through the air.  Her feet turned and twisted while she moved, throwing me along with her heel, as she got comfortable in her apartment.  Hers and her feet every movement was apparent to me, tossing me around within her shoe as she took minute steps through her place.

 

At long last the shoe fell away from her foot, and Lana relaxed in one of her chairs.  I saw the enormous world outside of it through her stocking, her coffee table and couch shifted to be significantly darker thanks to the material.  Lana set her foot back down on the floor, blocking the whole view off with her shoe when it came to a thudding stop on the floor.  The nylon around me stretched and loosened while Lana stretched her recently freed toes, wiggling them in the air.

 

The nylon held me still, but Lana’s stocking got gradually looser around me.  I looked up and saw her fingers gradually working her stocking down her leg, gradually loosening the fabric that clenched me against her foot.  Her hands pushed the increasingly slack material down her thighs, then along her shin, and enough slack built up that I was no longer pressed against her heel.  I fell into the waiting net of her stocking, leaving me prone as it continuously became looser.

 

At last, the stocking came loose, and the only thing supporting me was the strong mesh behind me.  Lana turned it upward, and I tumbled over several feet of strong nylon on the descent until I spilled out into Lana’s palm.  I settled into the middle of her hand while she dropped the stocking to the side, leaving me exposed in the middle of her palm.  She looked down at me with her dark blue eyes, completely impassive as she considered my tiny form.

 

“Subject fell into my shoe on the walk home,” Lana dictated, and I saw that she was holding a tape recorder in the other hand.  “Yet, maintained structural integrity as I went.  Subject displays tendencies of increased resistance, but they have not been tested as of yet and may not be accurate.  Therefore, indications derived from this cannot be included in future reports.”

 

Lana set the tape recorder down, then moved that hand to pluck me out of her hand.  Her thumb and forefinger pinched around my body, lifting me out of her palm.  Carefully she carried me over toward an electronic scale and set me down on the metal surface before retracting her hand.  There was a clatter when she picked up the tape recorder again then glanced back down, shining a laser down onto me.

 

“Subject measures in at two point three eight centimeters, and seventeen grams,” Lana declared.  Despite how detached she was toward me, her voice still had a remarkable physical effect on me.  “Baseline established.  Any further compression can be attributed to a result of the tests rather than the serum.”  Lana set the laser back down on the counter, then turned her dark blue eyes back toward me.  Her hand came back toward me, fingers poised to snag me again.  She grabbed me between her digits and gave me a firm squeeze, smushing my body into a narrow line.

 

The tape recorder clicked back on and Lana held it up to her mouth.  As dispassionately as if she were reading an odometer she declared, “Time to begin the first official test.

Lana held me in front of her and opened her fingers, letting me drop out of her hand.  My body retook its usual shape once out of her grip, and I felt the wind rushing by as I fell.  I landed hard on the wooden floor, dropping into a squat on impact.  Nothing was broken, and the only physical sign I had fallen was a tingling in my feet that quickly faded.  Quickly I stood and looked up, amazed at how much farther it looked than the fall that broke my arm when I was a kid.

 

“Subject shows no adverse effects after falling equivalent of roughly 130 meters,” Lana boomed into the recorder.  “However, it must be noted that, due to short actual distance, speed at impact was nowhere near terminal velocity.  Will need to devise a method to test to measure at desired conditions.”  Lana clicked the tape recorder off and looked down at me, her stony demeanor giving me a chill.

 

Standing on the floor between Lana’s feet was an experience I could not have prepared myself for.  The toes of her black suede flats inclined upward slightly, so even their tops were over my head.  Her shoes themselves were tremendous, about as long and wide as a boat while the curved instep promised a challenging climb.  To most people her legs were long and slender, but to me they were fantastic, colossal towers wrapped in nylon with a corduroy wrap binding them at the top.  Above them, her black turtleneck was like a starless night sky, with the rolled fabric at the top drawing attention to her slim neck.  Long, curly ropes of jet-black hair touched the sides of her glasses, and her thin lips were drawn tight while she regarded me.

 

“When I click the recorder off again,” she began, “take off running away from me in a straight line as fast as you can.  Avoid obstacles in the most expedient fashion, but the results will be the least tainted if you go over them.  It may take a while to finish, but do not stop until you are stopped.  To minimize miscommunication, hop twice if you understand.”  I gave her two quick hops, surprisingly reaching her ankles each time, and she brought the recorder back to her mouth.

 

“Beginning test for increased speed and endurance,” Lana said once it had started recording.  Subject will sprint for as long as possible.  Due to subject’s small size, researcher will pursue in lieu of vehicle.  Pursuit is intended to detect and deter any slowing of movement rate, as well as elicit a fear response, if subject is still capable of one.  Researcher will begin pursuit at rate of one half-step every two seconds, timed with a metronome set to 60 beats per minute, with an increase in pursuit speed if necessary, which will be recorded.  A two second head start will be given to the subject to allow escape from researcher’s gait.”  She clicked it off again, and I began sprinting away from her.

 

I ran faster than I ever had before, pumping my legs as hard as I could.  The wood grain was almost a blur as I ran along it, and though the gaps between boards were about half my height I crossed them without leaping or slowing down.  By the time of the first metronome ping I was halfway to the end of Lana’s coffee table, and I felt I could still go faster.  There was an incredible well of energy inside me, more than I had ever known before, and I had barely tapped it.

 

The metronome’s second ping rang out, followed by a loud crash.  Tremors ran through the ground, but I was moving so fast that my gait was not affected.  I risked turning my head to see how close her foot had landed.  Lana looked like she had frozen mid-step, the tip of her forward foot falling just short of landing on me.  Glancing to her other foot, I saw her flat flared around the toes.  She was already poised to take another step toward me, and the only thing holding her back was respect for the test she had designed herself.

 

I turned back forward and continued my all-out sprint, trying to forget about the gigantic woman who could step on me at any moment.  Two seconds later the ground quaked again, a little weaker than it was last time.  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Lana’s shoe had landed slightly further back than last time.  Unbelievably, I was outrunning a human colossus whose very shoes were several times my height.  Admittedly she had put several artificial constraints on herself to control how fast she could go, but I still felt a sense of accomplishment by doing it.

 

Several more earth-shaking footsteps later I reached my first obstacle: a pencil that had been discarded on the ground.  Without thinking I placed my palms face-down on the top facet and vaulted over it.  I landed on one foot a decent distance away and immediately resumed my run without skipping a step.  The pencil rumbled as it rolled after me, but Lana’s next step brought that to a halt as an earthquake emanated from it.

 

While I was putting space between myself and Lana, I was getting closer to something we had not planned for.  The lacquered, wood grain baseboard of her wall was getting closer with every rapid step, and the test seemed far from over.  Just before slamming into it, I planted a foot against it and sprinted off to the left.  It felt like my momentum transferred immediately, and in just two steps I was back to my previous pace.

 

Click.  “Subject demonstrates problem-solving and independent thought.”

 

A tremendous black wall slammed down in front of me, making the ground tremble when it hit.  There was a small gap at the base, but even at my size I would not be able to slip through it.  I slapped my hands onto it and jumped, stepping against the wall to the side so I could get more altitude.  My feet landed atop the new barrier and I kept going, my feet almost gliding over the black, fuzzy ground.  When I reached the ledge I leapt off, landing back on the ground poised to resume my full-out sprint.  “Additionally, subject displays quick reflexes and agility,” Lana observed, then clicked it off again.

 

Lana let me get ahead of her again before taking another step, signified by the loud thump of her foot.  By now I should have been slowing down, but my body felt just as fresh as when I started.  My muscles were constantly regenerating as I ran, stitching themselves back together at an astounding rate, and my lungs were processing oxygen at a volume that should not have been possible.  Even though I was smaller than Lana’s nose, I felt like a superhuman.

 

I was coming toward a cabinet standing in the corner.  There was a narrow gap between its legs and the wall, just wide enough for me to fit through.  Without hesitation I plunged in, breaking through old cobwebs and kicking up dust.  Despite the dim lighting, I had no problem seeing and turned this corner just as sharply as I had the last one.  A cloud of dust persisted around me, but aside from a little irritation it barely affected me.  Not even my breathing was hindered.

 

When I emerged from behind the cabinet, I was in a short, narrow trench between her shoes and the wall.  After watching me go by, Lana activated the recorder again and dictated, “After brief loss of visual contact, subject re-emerged with no indication of hardship and has not slowed down.  Resuming pursuit at an accelerated rate of one half-step every 75 beats per minute.”  Previously I had barely been putting distance between us, and I suspected that was about to change.

 

Lana’s next step landed close enough for me to feel the air rushing from beneath her shoe as it came down, and the quakes rippling out from the impact caused me to stumble.  I quickly recovered, however, and resumed my course.  Her other foot hit the ground to the side, its toes coming to a rest beside me.  In a panic I tried to run faster, but there was no way.  Since the start I had been running at full speed, and no matter how much I wanted them to my legs would not move any quicker.

 

A shadow fell over me, and Lana’s shoe came down.  Her hard sole slammed into my back and forced me to the ground, then pinned me against the floor.  She pressed down with as much weight as she could muster, trying to flatten me.  Despite what must be her immense weight, however, I was fine, and her shoe slightly curved around me.  The only discomfort was a slight feeling of pressure on my back.

 

“Subject ran for 15 minutes at an equivalent rate of 45 kilometers per hour, showing no signs of slowing or fatigue,” Lana recorded.  “Test was only concluded when subject got caught beneath researcher’s shoe due to an increase in pace.  Additionally, despite a converted burden of almost 40 tons, subject has not been flattened or crushed, and can be felt through five-millimeter shoe sole.”  Her report finished, Lana stopped the recorder.

 

Lana’s shoe moved from atop me, and she stood astride me looking down.  I got back to my feet and stared up at her, still finding it incredulous how much bigger than me she was.  Even more incredibly, I did not feel the slightest bit fatigued after that.  Had she not stopped me, I could have run for hours, and I suspected she thought the same.  If anyone was getting tired, it was her.

 

“That ought to be a sufficient demonstration,” Lana declared.  Now that I was no longer distracted, her rumbling voice hit me in full.  “There are other tests to run, and I can’t spend all day chasing a tiny test subject around my apartment.”

 

“Could we take a break from the tests?” I shouted up at her, hoping she could hear me.

 

“Your voice displays the characteristic high pitch one would expect from someone so greatly reduced in size, but is sufficiently amplified to be perfectly audible,” Lana observed.  “I’ll have to make a note of that prior to the next test.”  She paused a moment, then asked, “Do you think you need a break?  Do you feel tired?  Fatigued?  Injured?”

 

“Well, no,” I answered.  “But it’d be nice to have a few minutes to relax.”

 

“I agree,” Lana replied, “but we don’t have the luxury of time.  If I can get these results submitted to the funding organization and prepublication by the end of next week, they might reverse their decision.  We have to get all the data we can before then.”  She stepped to the side, nearly clipping my head with the sole of her shoe as it moved over me.  Whatever the next test was, it would at least start with me on the ground.

Lana took a seat on the couch, then pulled out her tape recorder to make a quick note.  “Beginning modified test for muscular strength.  In the absence of an appropriate weight set, subject will engage in a vertical climb.  To my knowledge, subject has no prior knowledge or experience related to climbing, so any success can be attributed to physical power.  Subject will climb approximately 160 meters, timed, while dealing with obstacles.  Test begins now.”  She turned off the recorder before addressing me directly.  “In case that wasn’t clear, that means you’re climbing me.”

 

I had managed to figure it out on my own and was already heading toward her.  Since I was still in good shape from the run, I jogged under the table until I stood at the toe of her shoe.  Lana sat with one leg crossed over the other, letting her dangling foot idly swing back and forth, occasionally kicking the toes up.  It did not look like as long a climb as she announced, but that was probably one of the obstacles she had casually mentioned.  She looked at me aloofly while I stared up at her, trying to figure out the best way to go about this.

 

“You may begin,” she proclaimed, her voice carrying the shock of a starter pistol.  I hopped from the floor and grabbed the toe of her shoe, then scrambled up the suede until I stood on it.    Before I took a step, she sharply pointed her toe until her foot was completely vertical.  When the floor started moving I tumbled forward, just managing to hook my fingers into the opening of her flat.  This must be the first of the obstacles, I thought, while she looked at me impassively.

 

I placed my feet against the suede, walking up the front of her shoe until I was comfortable making a grab.  Simultaneously, I kicked off and released my grip, leaping partway up her foot.  My hands grabbed the nylon, pulling it down a little as I fell, but it held firm.  Her stocking bounced a little from elasticity, and when it stopped I began my ascent.  Moving a hand and the opposite foot at the same time, I climbed Lana’s foot, hooking my digits into the nylon mesh each time.

 

The outside of her leg looked like it would be easiest to climb, so I headed in that direction.  I crawled over the prominent bulge of her ankle and had begun moving over her Achilles heel when she threw the second obstacle toward me.  Lana slammed her heel back to the ground, sending an enormous tremor up her leg and turning me sideways.  One of my hands slipped from its hold, and I dangled from her stocking.  Slowly I started swinging my legs, and when I had built up enough momentum I reached to grab on again.  It was easy to re-establish a hold in the nylon, and I resumed climbing.

 

It was a slightly inverse cliff, but the angle was not nearly as steep as if I had chosen the other side.  I thought of it one movement at a time, conquering her leg in quarter-inch increments.  As with running, it seemed like fatigue was merely a word to me now.  My muscles should have started burning a while ago, but it felt like I had just started.  Even if she was a million feet tall I would be able to eventually reach the top.

 

Something enormous slammed onto the floor, and I realized too late it was her other foot.  Lana lifted the leg I was climbing, and the sudden acceleration made me lose my grip.  I fell down the length of her calf while it raced upward, and I tried my hardest to grab back on.  It was not until I reached her shoe that I could grab onto something, hooking my fingers into the edge of the opening.  My salvation had come just in time, too: right after that it stopped, and I had to clench as tightly as I could to keep from getting thrown upward.

 

When the descent began, my white-knuckle grip acted as a hinge.  I was flipped upside-down so my body leaned against her ankle, then pressed into it so I would not fall off when it stopped.  My plan worked, and I stayed in place when her foot had gone as far as it could.  However, there was another part of this obstacle, as I discovered when Lana slid the shoe off her heel.  Enough of it came free that I no longer had anything supporting me and I toppled backward into her shoe.  At such an extreme angle I could not maintain my grip, and I landed on her insole.

 

Lana casually wiggled her toes, making the entire shoe move with them.  It was like being on a boat constantly bobbing with waves, the gentle rise and fall making me stumble up and down her shoe.  Just when I had gotten used to that she rapidly shook it, tossing me into the walls.  When she finally stopped, her foot settled into a rhythm of almost slipping her shoe back on, then letting it drop again.  I watched her heel descend toward me then lift away several times, waiting for the time it would fully slide back in.  Each time it loomed closer, and I resolved not to end up trapped beneath her heel.

 

The next time Lana’s heel came down I leapt at it, snatching the worn nylon with my fingers.  It lifted away from the shoe, giving me some space, and I swung my legs up to slip my feet into the mesh.  I slid under her heel on my belly, moving at a snail’s pace to keep from dropping back into her shoe.  Her shoe did not stop while I moved, however, and when I reached the curve of her heel it repeatedly blocked my path.  She moved it steadily, and I studied the timing to keep from getting struck in the back.

 

As I watched it gently press into the sole of her foot, I realized that I had little to fear from it: all her weight had not crushed me, and I doubted slowly getting tapped by part of her shoe would, either.  I scrambled over the curve of Lana’s heel, taking two hits from her shoe as I went, and emerged on the side of her foot.  Quickly I progressed to her ankle again so I would not slide back into her shoe, then looked up at her.  Lana stared at me with the same impassive, clinical gaze as before, then glanced at her phone.

 

Climbing Lana’s calf the second time was easier.  Her leg was slanted, allowing me to move faster, and it was familiar terrain for me.  I moved with more confidence, too, remembering that if I fell the only result would be having to restart the test.  In only a few minutes I reached her kneecap and felt a strong sense of achievement when I hoisted myself atop the rounded bone.  Expecting another obstacle, I stayed on my belly and kept clutching her stocking.

 

Sure enough, Lana raised her leg in a motion that would have pitched me onto my face had I been standing.  Her shoe crashed onto the floor and she stood, leaving me clinging to her leg again.  The nylon drooped a bit under my weight, but quickly held fast.  She looked down and locked her gaze on me.  “Keep it on the outside,” she boomed.  “I’m your boss, not an amusement park ride.”  I had not even considered going under her skirt for that exact reason.

 

Compared to what had come before, climbing her thigh was a cinch.  Though her legs were skinny, they still pulled the nylon a little further apart here, making it easier to slip my hands between the threads.  In no time at all I had ascended the exposed part of her leg and reached the hem of her skirt.  Continuing up the inside of her thigh would be easier on its face, but she could easily make it very difficult if I did.

 

I clambered over the bottom of her skirt, clutching myself tightly against it to keep from falling and scraping my face against the rough corduroy.  This was the first article of clothing without easy handholds, and I spent a few seconds assessing how to climb it.  Once I made a decision, I wrapped my hands around one of the corduroy ridges and stood so my feet rested against her skirt.  It was like using a rope to walk up a wall, and I soon got into the rhythm of it.  It only took me a minute or so to reach her waist, where I resumed a more standard climbing pose.

 

Lana’s turtleneck was finely threaded, and it took a bit of probing for me to find a proper place to slide my hands in.  Before moving them, I placed my feet in the same gap so I would not have to search again.  It was time-consuming but safe, and I did not want to start from the ground again.  Lana had a flat stomach, giving me a straight, vertical climb, which helped me move faster.

 

When I reached her breasts, however, I balked.  They were not particularly large even at my size, but it was still an inverse climb.  Not only that, but she had squashed the idea of going up her skirt when it was not even something I had considered.   I did not think she would outright object, but I wanted to be certain before I laid a hand on them.

 

Fortunately, Lana was quick to clear up any confusion.  “You can climb up those,” she said.  Clutched against her chest, I felt pleasant vibrations from every syllable as they traveled down her body and through mine.  “They’re just boobs.  But don’t linger!  This is still a test, and like I said, my body is not an amusement park.”

 

With her approval, I reached up and searched for a gap.  The fabric was stretched tighter here so I had an easier time, though I used the same method I had for the rest of her turtleneck.  Dragging myself against the underside of her breast should have felt erotic, but there was nothing sexual about it.  It got easier as I went, and after I crested where her nipple would be it was like going up a hill.  A brief dash later I was just beneath her collar bone, where I got back to climbing.

 

The rest of the journey was easy until I reached where her turtleneck rolled back over.  This was my first contact with her skin during this climb, and going beneath her jaw to a chin would be a challenge for even a seasoned climber.  Lana must have recognized the undue difficulty, since she looked straight up at the ceiling.  It would still be difficult, and her skin provided no natural handholds, but I would give it my best shot.

 

I wrapped myself around the outline of Lana’s esophagus, digging my hands into her soft, supple skin.  For a couple of inches I climbed it like a tree, then had to find a way up from the base of her jaw.  Luckily, her smooth skin practically welcomed my hands, and I gripped a bit of flesh in each hand.  My feet easily found support as they dug into her skin, and all my hands had to do was keep me from falling backwards.  Her skin felt like rose petals as I pushed myself against it, and I was a little disappointed when I rounded her chin.

 

The necessity for action overtook sentiment.  I leapt from her chin right when she lowered it, slamming into her top lip.  Momentarily I dimpled the skin, then began falling.  My hands seized her lower lip as I passed it, pulling the thin, pink skin down with me.  This could not have been comfortable for her, so I scrambled over her lips and grabbed onto the point of her nose.  A quick glance down showed that I had just missed her tongue sliding out, which would have pushed me far enough away that I could not have recovered.

 

Hot air blasted my legs when Lana exhaled, and I struggled to find a way up.  Little by little I moved my hands over each other, digging into the cartilage of her nose to support me.  It was a hard, desperate climb, but I managed to drag myself over the curvature until my legs were no longer dangling below her nostrils.  I swung a leg up and braced it against a nostril, then pushed myself up.  I wrapped myself around the bridge of her nose as best I could, then shimmied up until I was between her eyes.

 

Unsteadily I stood on the sloping surface, leaning against her face for support.  I grabbed the bridge of her glasses and pressed my feet against the bridge of her nose for support when she cleared her throat, breaking my concentration.  “You can stop now,” she declared, her tremendous voice making me grab her glasses tighter out of fear.  “I don’t expect you to reach my crown.”

 

I wondered how I was going to get off until I looked down.  She had spread a hand by her chin, easily wide enough to catch me no matter how I fell.  My fingers released their hold on Lana’s silver glasses frames and I dropped, tumbling backward over her nose.  In an instant I fell past her lips and landed in her hand, my impact cushioned by her palm.  It was not even affected by me hitting it, and stubbornly stayed in place.

 

Lana raised the recorder to her lips and activated it with a horrendous click.  I watched the plastic teeth inside rotate while she said, “Subject reached summit after a half hour of climbing.  Factoring in obstacles, subject climbed a total of around 220 meters to reach the summit.  Additionally, subject shows no sign of muscle fatigue or irritation.  Due to the subject’s lack of climbing expertise and the unique challenges provided, this can only be a result of the serum’s strength enhancements.”  She turned it off with another resounding click, then looked down at me.

 

“So, what’s next?” I asked.  It was clear I would not be getting a break, so I figured I should meet what was next head on.

 

“There’s only one more capability that hasn’t been tested yet,” Lana answered.  “So we’ll be testing that.”  Sprawled out in her hand, I was in no position to object.  I was just glad the tests were almost at an end, and I could soon get to whatever life I could have at this size.

Lana’s hand barreled toward me, her thumb and middle finger extended.  She took a moment to properly secure them on the side of the hand I stood in, then continued sliding them in my direction.  The tips of her digits clamped securely around my chest, running from my collar bone down to my knees, and the hand that had been holding me fell away.  Being suspended over a several hundred foot drop felt risky, but I had survived worse in just the past few hours.  To stave off vertigo I focused on Lana’s eyes, though her attention was focused somewhere else.

 

The large black rectangle stopped next to her mouth, and the loud click startled me.  “Beginning acid and hazardous environment resistance test,” she dictates.  “Subject will be immersed in hydrochloric acid for a period of one hour, at which point subject will be removed and evaluated.  Prior to immersion, subject will undergo follow-up tests related to enduring blunt force and cutting.  This is the final item, and if subject endures satisfactorily the serum can be declared a success.”  With another click she turned it off, then tossed the recorder onto the couch behind her.

 

I looked around as best I could with her fingertips constricting my movement.  “You have enough acid for a test in here?” I asked.  “I didn’t think we could take our work home with us like that.”

 

Lana tilted her head slightly before answering.  “Every human has a ready source of hydrochloric acid.”  I gave her a confused look until she opened her mouth wide in explanation.  Her hand carried me toward the gaping maw, lined with a row of sharp teeth above and below with a thin pink ring around it.  She flattened her tongue, making it a ready platform for me, and bore me between her teeth.  When my feet touched the spongy floor of her tongue, she let go and quickly withdrew her fingers.  For the moment her lips remained open, filling the large, pink cave with light while her teeth cast eerie shadows inside the cavern.

 

The floor pitched to the side when Lana flicked her tongue, and I flew into the soft, elastic wall of her cheek.  I rebounded from her inner cheek and landed on hard, mostly flat bone.  The jagged ceiling came toward me, trapping me in a vice grip.  Lana clenched her jaw, trying to mash me between her molars, but my body weathered the pressure without injury.  She briefly relented, then rapidly chewed me like a piece of gum.  While the quick, constant blows were annoying, they barely even discomforted me.

 

Lana nudged me along her teeth with her tongue, nibbling on me as I slid between them.  Her canines jabbed me but did not break skin, and the indentations they made were gone as soon as they unclenched.  She paused with me at her incisors and bit down hard, moving her jaw back and forth to try and grind a tear in my skin, but the rough edges merely scraped harmlessly over my skin.  She pushed me to the other side of the mouth, repeating the process in reverse along the way, and ended by trying to crush me between her molars again before simply holding me between them.

 

A great rush of air and sound came from Lana’s throat, and her teeth battered me while her jaw rapidly raised and lowered.  The amount of light streaming into her mouth varied while her lips opened and closed, and the rapid movements of her tongue further exacerbated the situation.  Amid the forces battering me I realized Lana was making another log entry, and this was how speaking worked before the lips and tongue formed it.

 

“Subject displays no outward signs of damage despite being subjected to piercing, grinding, mashing, and cutting, all at extreme pressure,” she said, each syllable bringing a new gust of wind and making my insides shake.  “Proceeding to primary test.”  Lana’s lips closed tightly, sealing me inside the dark cave.  Even with my enhanced vision, all I could see around me was inky blackness.  There was simply no light for my eyes to pick up.

 

Lana’s teeth opened, and a wide, slimy tentacle pulled me from between them.  It tossed me up, and I hit the roof of her mouth before landing in the middle of her tongue.  Before I had even settled her tongue raised, slamming me into her palate, and held me there.  Her tongue pressed hard and shaped around me, forming a tight seal with the soft, bumpy flesh.  She dragged me forwards and backwards, mashing me against the hard ridges.  A thick pool of saliva gathered around me, lubricating my path as she shoved me along with her tongue.

 

Suddenly her tongue dropped, and I fell from the roof of her mouth.  I landed back on the tender appendage, then rolled down its slope and landed in her frenulum.  It was unbearably soft, and I sank into the pink mass of tissue.  Lana’s tongue landed back on me, driving me further into the spongy pink material.  Pushing it off me should have been a simple matter, but shoving only made me go deeper the harder I pressed.  Her frenulum was just not dense enough to support me until I was deeply submerged in it.

 

Her tongue lifted off me, and without the downward force keeping me down her frenulum bounced me out.  Lana’s tongue slid beneath me, prying me out of the tissue, and balanced me on its tip.  She held me there for a moment, making sure I was stable, then flicked her tongue back.  I briefly sailed in a low arc before landing on the back, then rolled off it entirely.  A tight ring of muscle supported me while saliva streamed back, pooling up to my waist.

 

With a tremendous schlorp the ground opened, and I fell into her gullet.  Lana’s throat muscles seized me, forcing me down her esophagus.  They were so tight the most I could move was my fingers, and even then, just barely.  A river of saliva accompanied me down her throat, drenching me.

 

It was a short trip, and when Lana’s throat muscles released me I dropped into a foul-smelling chamber.  With no light source I stumbled around aimlessly, saliva splashing with each step.  I bumped into a soft, smooth wall and pressed hard against it, but it held firm.  No matter how much I tore at it I would not be able to get through the wall of Lana’s stomach, and I hoped I would not be leaving through the back exit.

 

The room trembled with vibrations, and through the flesh surrounding me I heard Lana’s voice.  “Subject has entered the testing chamber,” she said.  From inside her, her voice was even louder and deeper, seeming to come from all around me.  “Releasing hydrochloric acid.  In one hour, subject’s status will be checked visually before withdrawal.”

 

The darkness roared, and I heard liquid begin to flow.  Already the air was sweltering, and the addition of Lana’s stomach acid made the temperature rise several degrees further.  While it was hot, however, it did nothing more than make my skin tingle.  It felt like my outer layer of skin was constantly being reinforced and replaced to counteract the acid on it, and my dulled pain receptors made it much easier to bear.  This hour would be a great opportunity to relax and consider how I would live at less than an inch tall once this experiment was over.

 

Ten minutes later, the air was getting thicker and heavier.   With every breath I had to inhale deeper and longer to get even the small amount of oxygen I would need.  There was no air flow into her stomach, and the regular deposits of saliva brought no relief.  I felt tired and light-headed, and my situation was getting worse by the second.  By complete accident, we had found a second flaw with the serum’s effects.

 

I swam through the still-rising pool of acid until I bumped into the wall of Lana’s stomach.  “Lana!” I called out, pounding on the lining with my fist.  I grabbed a wrinkle to keep myself from floating away while I continued hitting it.  “Lana, I’m running out of air!  Get me out of here and do the test somewhere else, I’m dying in here!”  A pair of loud thumps answered me, followed by a powerful shove from outside.  My hold on her stomach slipped, and I drifted back toward the middle.

 

The desperate plea to be let out had cost me dearly.  Every time I inhaled now I had to completely fill my lungs, and I was still losing the battle.  I held my breath as long as I could each time and held off on taking another until it was absolutely necessary, but it was painfully thin.  Soon, there was no oxygen at all remaining, and I ended up with lungs full of air.  After several desperate gasps for something that was not there I closed my eyes, asphyxiating shortly after.

---

A few minutes after she had swallowed the test subject, Lana began getting ready to head out.  The only way to check on him without vomiting would be the sonogram machine in her lab, and there would be nobody there to ask questions at this hour.  She had just slid in her earbuds and started playing music when her stomach lightly churned.  A small application of force seemed to have settled it, and it did not act up for the rest of her walk to the laboratory.

 

Once the machine got warmed up, Lana raised her turtleneck to expose her midriff and applied gel over her stomach.  She applied the wand and began sliding it around, trying to get a clear picture.  There was a clear outline of a person, body completely intact with no bones showing, floating lifelessly on the screen.  A couple of firm pokes failed to rouse him, and she turned the machine off.

 

Lana cleaned the gel off before lowering her shirt and recording the last entry.  “As confirmed through imaging, subject completely unharmed by acid even after attempts to soften subject’s body.  However, due to lack of air flow in the testing chamber, subject asphyxiated before extraction.  As the serum was not expected to protect against asphyxiation, I recommend broader testing while attempting to work out the side effects, and advise against exposing recipients of either the experimental or final version to vacuums or other oxygen-deprived environments.”  She stopped the tape and slid the recorder into her purse, then made for the exit.

 

On the way out, an unopened envelope caught Lana’s eye.  It was addressed to her from the organization that had been providing her with funding.  Curious, she tore the envelope open and read the letter inside.

 

Dr. Lana Ivanov,

 

It has come to my attention that you recently received a letter declaring that your research funding has been cut.  This letter was sent in error: in fact, the organization intends to increase your funding.  Along with this, your university has been informed, and they have agreed to continue matching our contribution.  We apologize for any misfortune resulting from this confusion and eagerly await seeing the finished product in action.

 

Regards,

G.S.

 

Lana read it two more times to make sure her eyes had not deceived her, then set it back on the desk.  She would have funding to do a full trial after all, and hopefully get the one major issue worked out.  If not, she figured she could still find a buyer for it.  The serum may end up being unsuitable for its desired purpose, but she figured there were enough people out there curious what life would be like at an inch tall while functionally invincible that it could have some recreational or entertainment uses.

 

Before walking back home, removed the tape recorder from her purse and opened the tray.  She slid the cassette into her palm, then dropped it into the tiny pocket in her skirt while placing the recorder back on the lab table.  There was no need for this data anymore, and she would be in a lot of trouble if anyone heard it.  Scientific progress had claimed lives before, and this was no different.  Her research was too important to risk for one lab assistant.