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Author's Chapter Notes:
This story is partnered with "Obsessed" as a sort of mini-story. I conceived of and wrote this story in one night, and it's one of my favorites of the ones I've written.
"The desire for possession is insatiable, to such a point that it can survive even love itself. To love,therefore, is to sterilize the person one loves."

--Albert Camus



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Prologue

November 24, 2005


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Thanksgiving in the Scott house was a laid back affair. It wasn't that they didn't do up the turkey and trimmings and such; just that they'd always kept in mind that holidays were supposed to be fun. Well, that and the fact that Mrs. Scott had died a few years earlier—which while tragic, had removed a bucketload of stress. It was one of the reasons Dan and Jill tried to spend their Thanksgivings there—it was a lot more fun than spending them with the Besliles.


At any rate, Scott was busy watching football with his father-in-law, the turkey was steeping in its own juices, the green bean casserole was chock full of French-fried onions, and Jill and her sister Wendy were upstairs, in Jill's old room.


"So how are you liking the new job?" asked Jill, thumbing idly through an old yearbook.


"Oh, you know…it's all right. I mean, shipping isn't exactly glamorous. But it pays the bills."


Jill looked up at her sister. "You seem down, Wen. You have all day. Is something wrong?"


Wendy looked down, and mumbled no.


"Come on, what's up? Is the job bugging you?"


"No, no, it's fine."


"Are you worrying about finding someone, then? Because you're only 22."


"Well, sort of. I mean, no. Not really. I just—it's kinda complicated."


Jill looked at her little sister with a bit of concern. "What's wrong?"


"Well…I know I never told you this—never told anyone this, for that matter—but last February, just before Valentine's Day…."


"What?" said Jill, her concern mounting.


"It—I, uh…I found a tiny man."


"What?" said Jill, a little too quickly.


"I found a tiny man. He was about so big," said Wendy, indicating with her hands a span of about four inches. "His name was Josh—is Josh," she corrected.


"Are you still seeing him?" said Jill. Then—"Is he still…."


"No, no. I never really was. That's just it. It's—it's just a dumb story."


"It's okay," said Jill, leaning forward. "You can tell me."


And so Wendy did.


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1


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"Scotty, wait up!"


Wendy Scott turned, and smiled. "Hey, Michaela."


The voluptuous brunette approached her friend rapidly, breath condensing into little clouds in the cold Ann Arbor twilight. "So, are you going to Rob's party tonight?"


"No, Michaela, I've got to study," said Wendy, half-seriously. She would be studying,but her main purpose in not going to Rob's party was avoiding his roommate Andy—which given their history was understandable.


Wendy's roommate saw through it immediately. "You know, you're going to have to get over your thing with Andy."


"We dated for nine months," said Wendy.


"Yeah, but you broke up in September. Come on, if you don't move on you're never going to find anyone else!"


Wendy smiled weakly. She knew Michaela meant well, and moreover, knew Michaela was right. But she just didn't feel like confronting her past tonight.


"So," she said, changing the subject, "have you heard from Yale yet?"


"I'm in at Yale," said Michaela. "I'm hoping to get in here or at Stanford, though."


"You sure about this lawyer thing? My brother-in-law's an attorney, and he hates his job."


"Yeah, well, I don't intend to be a lawyer forever, you know."


"Right," said Wendy, smiling. They'd spent enough time drinking beer and talking about the future that Wendy knew well that becoming a high-powered attorney was Michaela's first step in the path she saw taking her at least to the United States Senate. She had no such lofty goals, but she hoped her friend would achieve her dreams. They were big ones, to be sure.


"Anyhow, you're sure you won't come?"


"Yeah, I mean…I really should finish up. I've got some reading to do, and if I'm going to have my paper done by March…."


"I know, I know. If you change your mind, I'll make sure to save a cup for you."


They parted, and Wendy trudged onward to their shared apartment. It would be a lonely night, but not the loneliest she'd endured.


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It wasn't much to look at, but student apartment buildings never are. Wendy entered the foyer and closed the door, feeling the warmth reenter her extremities. She'd have to stop trading fashion for warmth—at least until spring. She'd grown up near Lake Michigan; she chided herself internally for not learning lessons she should have learned in he ryouth.


She pulled the mail out of the box, and started to head up the three flights to her apartment, when she stopped short.


She'd seen something moving by the stairs. Just for a second—just a flash of movement. Then nothing.


Some people would've shrugged it off as their imagination. Some would've immediately thought mouse and rushed upstairs to call the landlord.


Wendy backed up, and looked into the corner. And when she couldn't see anything from there, she approached and knelt down to see better.


In the shadow behind the first step stood a huddled figure. She looked at it, and then looked closer—and gasped.


"Oh my God," she said, quietly, reaching out to grab the trembling person (was it a person? How could it be a person? It was a person!) in her hand.


She lifted it—him—to her face, and looked down at a tiny, red-haired man who was looking back at her with a look of terror and awe.


"Don't worry," she said softly. "I'll take care of you." She didn't know why she saidit—only that she meant it.


Moving quickly, she headed up the stairs, carrying him gently in her right hand.


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She set him on the battered kitchen table, next to the mail. Had she been able to step outside herself, she would have seen the action as absurdly routine; indeed, she did the usual entrance routine on autopilot, coat coming off and shoes being kicked to the side without thought or care as her mind raced on the newest development.


She turned back and approached the quivering man. She pulled out a chair, sat down, and leaning her head down at his level, said, "Don't be afraid. My name's Wendy. What's yours?"


He looked at her, and breathed deep, as if trying to calm himself. "It's J-Josh."


She looked him over, noticing that he was nude (and, she couldn't help but notice, well-built, and proportionately well-endowed), but she resolved not to mention it unless he did. "It's nice to meet you, Josh," she said, calmly. Though her heart was fluttering, she knew that she had to show placidity; the tiny man was quite obviously terrified. And quite understandably, too—part of Wendy's mind thought of what she'd feel like if she was standing naked before a hundred-and-forty-foot-tall boy.


"So," she said, "what happened to you?"


"I shrunk," he said.


She had to fight to repress a smile. Obviously, she thought.


She asked, "How?"


"I don't know! All I know is that I woke up outside this apartment building tiny and naked and—uh—"


He paused, searching for the right word. Finally, he settled on "Confused."


"Confused?"


"Yeah. I can't put everything together. It's like my memory's full of holes. I know my first name, and I think I go to school at Michigan—is this still Michigan?"


"It is," said Wendy.


"But—I don't know how old I am. I think I remember something about being a Junior, but I don't know whether that was a memory from the past or a plan for the future. I don't remember what I was studying, but I remember that at one point I drove a '96 Malibu. But that could've been High School. Damn it!"


She watched him with pity. "It's okay," said Wendy. "If you can remember some of the past, you'll remember the rest soon enough."


"I hope so," said the tiny man, looking down. Then, he looked back up at her. "Look, I don't mean to trouble you. I just—"


"You're no trouble," foreclosed Wendy. "Really, I wasn't doing anything but studying tonight. But first, I think it's important you get warmed up. If you were naked and outside today, you must be cold."


"I couldn't…."


"You could too," said Wendy flatly. "I'm going to draw you a bath."


"Won't a bathtub be too big for me?"


This time, she did let out a giggle. "Yes, I think it would. And besides, this apartment doesn't have one. Shower only, I'm sorry to say. But that's okay—I know how to improvise."


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Ten minutes later, Josh was leaning up against the side of a cereal bowl, letting the warm water remove the last bits of cold from his system.


"Thanks," he said to the giantess who looked down at him. "Listen, I'm sorry about being naked. I just—"


"It's not like you wandered in here, full-sized and naked, and started waggling it," said Wendy with a smile. "Naked is as naked does. I'll see if I can find something for you to wear, if you're really bothered by it."


"I'm, uh—well, I mean, I'm me, so I'm not bothered by it. But I don't want you to be bothered."


"I'm not," said Wendy. "It's not like you're ugly or anything."


She blushed at that—What are you doing? Hitting on him? she chided herself. That's not what he needs right now.


She looked down at him again, and said, "Sorry."


"For what? Complementing me? Saving me? Taking care of me? Okay, apology accepted."


She had to laugh. He was cute and funny. She felt a little stirring. Her inner moralist, sensing this, went into overdrive, and began debating her.


Not right now. The amnesiac G.I. Joe is off limits, Wendy. You hear me?


But he's really cute!


Yes, yes, he is. And if you get him healed up, and his memory comes back, and when he's back to full sized, by all means, take a run. But not now!


But—


Don't say it!


It's just that his being tiny—


DON'T SAY IT!


It's part of the charm, isn't it?


Arrgh! You really want to be stupid, don't you?


Maybe I do.


Fine, you're on your own.


Suits me.


Call me when you wake up.


Wendy smiled, victorious over her conscience. "So, Josh," she said, "are you hungry?"


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2


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She made him soup—soup being within the range of things she could make that she thought he might be able to eat. He complemented her cooking, she behaved coquettishly, and they talked.


He couldn't tell her about his favorite bands or TV shows or his major, because he couldn't remember them. He couldn't tell her about his family or hopes for the future, either. But he could talk nevertheless, riffing off her conversation-starters with quick witand good humor.


At some point, he took the wine that she'd proffered in a shot glass the size of a keg,drinking it Gideon-style, and at about the fourth handful, he told her, quietly, "You know, you're incredibly beautiful."


"I am not."


"You are," he said. "It's amazing seeing you like this. You're amazing—I don't evenknow how to describe it. You're a beautiful woman who's stretched out to the size of a skyscraper, and every square inch of you is as lovely as it would be at normal size—there's just more beauty than I can even comprehend."


She was quiet, for just a second. And then, unbidden, she leaned down to kiss him.


As best he could, he returned it.


She moved her tongue over his chest, tasting him carefully. She didn't quite know what she was doing, and her conscience was off sulking anyhow. She decided at that momentto go with him as far as he'd let her.


She moved her tongue downward, and carefully—extremely carefully—touched it.


She heard the gasp, and pulled back, just a bit.


"I'm sorry," she said.


"Don't be," he said.


She moved back to him, and touched it again, carefully moving her tongue over the tiny phallus—well less than an inch long, of course, but long enough that she could move along it, back and forth, back and forth….


At some point, she reached behind him, sliding a finger up and down his back, feeling his tiny legs, his tiny back, his tiny butt—urging him toward her gently.


At some further point, she felt the miniscule spasm in his tiny butt, and felt just the hint of saltiness on her tongue.


She withdrew, and looked down at him. He was looking up at her, wide-eyed.


"Wow," he said, finally.


She smiled back at him. "You enjoyed that?"


"Oh my God…that was amazing."


Wendy leaned down, hands on her chin. "What would you like to do now?" she asked innocently.


He goggled a bit, then smiled. "Well, I may not have much memory, but I don't think I'm the type of guy who would let a good deed go unrewarded."


Wendy arched an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"


"Well," he said, "you've seen me naked…."


Taking his meaning, she smiled self-consciously. "Let's continue this in my room," she said, proffering a hand. He pulled himself up into it, and they left the kitchen together, and headed to her boudoir.


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She stripped self-consciously. She had set him on her bed, and she had at first intended simply to remove her clothes with abandon and join him quickly (but safely) on the bed. But as she stepped back, she realized that this was the first time she'd appear before him naked.


It was silly for many reasons, of course, but that didn't stop her from stripping long enough to elicit a "What's wrong?" from her tiny lover.


"I just, uh—"


"Are you being shy?"


She looked at him, and laughed uneasily. "I guess—well, I'm just picturing everything blown up to skyscraper size, and…well, I'm not sure it's all that pretty."


Josh fixed her with a look that she could feel even at the distance in scale between them."Let me be the judge of that," he said, kindly.


And so she did, removing her jeans and sweatshirt first, then when she heard no cries of shock or revulsion, removing her undergarments.


"I would've shaved my legs if—"


"Wow," she heard. "You are beautiful."


"I'm a mess," she demurred. "I haven't even shaved my pits in the last week."


"You're beautiful," he said, emphatically. "You're a human woman, who grows hair in places human women grow hair. If you want to shave for our second date, feel free—andI'll do my best to get unshrunk. Deal?"


"Deal," she said, quietly. "You know, you don't have to—"


"Oh, please," he said, merrily. "Am I going to turn down a gorgeous woman with breasts the size of tennis courts just because she hasn't shaved for five days?"


"Eight."


"Whatever."


Cautiously, as if expecting her lover to change his mind, she worked her way over to the bed, and lay down next to him.


"So," he said, walking up to her side, "where do I get to explore? What's off limits?"


She laughed. "Nothing's off limits—unless something was off-limits on you."


"You don't mind me taking advantage of you?"

 

"I can't wait."


She felt him pull himself up her side, felt his tiny feet tickling her stomach. She tried to stifle it, but after a second she couldn't any longer. Her giggle knocked him from his feet.


"Oh! Sorry! It tickled!" she said.


"Really! Just for that, I'm going to have to tickle you some more!" he said, as he began dancing crazily about her abdomen.


She giggled nearly uncontrollably, held down only by her firm intention not to harm him in any way. Finally, he stopped; she worried for a second before she realized why.


His tiny hands dug into her right breast—this tickled too, but altogether pleasantly. She simply lay back, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the occasional "My God," as he pulled himself up onto the mesa, and she clenched her teeth as he touched and caressed her nipple gently.


"That feels nice…" she complemented, hoping he'd continue. He did, for a while, before saying softly, "I'm sorry to stop, but I want to see somewhere else."


She didn't giggle at all as she felt him slide down the south side of her breast and back to her stomach. As she felt his feet trace their path, she might have held her breath.


He slid just to the left of her vagina through her thicket of hair, landing right beside her vagina; she had to remember to breathe as she felt tiny pressures on her labia, moving upward slowly.


She felt him against her, entirely, felt the hands moving upward toward an understandable destination. She felt his hands reach under the fold of skin, and touch….


It was as if he had taken an electrode and hooked it up to her pleasure center. Her mind exploded with delectation as he worked on her. As she felt herself let go, she had to force her pelvis not to buck of its own accord. As it was, a few minutes afterward, as she breathed easier, she looked down at her chest, where he'd crawled to after his job was completed. He was leaning against her starboard breast, looking contentedly at her.


"Did I do a good job?" he asked.


She laughed. "The best," she said.


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3


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A few hours later, not long after midnight, they arrived.


Wendy and Josh had cleaned up, and dreamily had lain in bed, talking quietly and earnestly. But after some time, she had insisted on trying to figure out how to get him unshrunk.


"Look," she said, "I know how much fun this has been. But—well, you can't even remember your last name."


"I don't know as I care," Josh had said.


"I know, but I do. And if you can get unshrunk, well—you could get reshrunk at some point down the line, right?"


Thus convinced, she'd looked up the Society. Her call triggered alarm bells.


"So, this is him, huh?" asked Ana Garcia, looking over the homunculus. "It's good you called—this kind of poisoning is rare, but it's nasty."


"Great," said Josh to the gorgeous Latina agent. "What does that mean?"


"Well, we don't know who came up with this stuff, but we think they're developing a weapon. It doesn't just shrink—it messes around with the brain. Long-term—a few months—and it can cause permanent memory loss."


"I only remember today."


"Well, that's probably a good sign. Here, eat this," she said, offering Josh a bit of grayish powder.


He ate the bitter pills, and then his eyes rolled back, and he fell unconscious.


"What the—"


"Relax, Ms. Scott. This is a common reaction."


The two watched as the unconscious manikin began to grow, slowly at first, then rapidly. Less than a minute later, a full-sized, naked man lay on Wendy's couch.


His eyes fluttered, and he looked up.


"Wendy?" he said, smiling.


She nodded, beaming back.


"Your memory should be coming back now," said the agent. "Do you remember your last name?"


"Hogan. Joshua David Hogan. I'm a three-L at Michigan Law School. I'm going to be alawyer! Hey, that's—"


Suddenly, his face fell.


"What?" asked Wendy.


"Oh no," he said, sliding into a sitting position. "Oh, God no."


"What?"


He looked down, his eyes closed. When he looked up, his face was grim. "I'm engaged, Wendy. I'm engaged to a woman named Elizabeth Tauscher. She's an attorney—I mether two years ago when she was a 3-L herself. Oh, no."


Wendy wanted it to go away, wanted the world to stop and wanted to get away, go anywhere. But she instead sighed, and said, "I'm sorry, Josh. I shouldn't have pushed you to—"


"I did it willingly," he said. "I cheated on her. Oh, God."


"No, you didn't," said Wendy, finding firmness somehow in her voice that did not exist anywhere else in her person. "You can't cheat on someone if you don't know about them. You do now. And you have to go back to her. Don't worry—I'll never tell her."


He looked up at her, his eyes half-pleading with her to make a scene, to make him choose. But he said, simply, "I'll never forget you, Wendy. You saved my life."


"I'm glad," she said.


As he left the apartment, she put the dishes away, turned off the lights, went into her room, and shut the door. Exhausted, she lay down on the bed and cried herself to sleep.


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Epilogue

November 24, 2005


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"Anyhow, he got married last week. He invited me, believe it or not—but I couldn't go. I sent him a gift. A bottle of the Riesling we had that night."


Jill looked at her sister, half-lost in thought. "It's terrible, Wen. I'm so sorry you lost him."


"It's not that," said Wendy, quietly. "Josh was great, but he didn't have traits that other men lack. I think I could find someone else. In fact, I think I'm closer than I was before him, but—this is going to sound stupid."


"No," said Jill. "Tell me."


"He'd have to be willing to—well, do some of the things Josh did. I liked being powerful. I liked being 'explored.' And how do I find a guy who wants to do that?"


Jill looked at her sister, gears turning. "I don't know, Wendy. There's bound to be someone."


"Right."


"Look," said Jill, finding herself. "Let's go see if Dan and Dad have dinner ready yet, and let's enjoy Thanksgiving. You never know, Wen. The guy for you might be right around the corner."


They left the room, and Jill paused for just a second.


A slight smile crossed her face. Putting it away, she headed down to dinner.

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