It had seemed like a typical day for criminal court for Judge Trinette Trevor.  There were a few sentencings, all due to plea bargains, and a lot of other activity, mostly resulting in cases having follow-up hearings set down the line.

There were, sadly, always familiar faces in the courtroom beyond the attorneys and court staff.  There were the repeat offenders, who comprised most of those in court.  And there were the family members.  For most defendants, more families attended hearings at first than later on.  The more run-ins with the system a defendant had experiences, the fewer family members usually showed up.  Trinette couldn’t always identify people by name or who they were related to, but she knew if she recognized the faces.

On this day, a middle-aged woman sat in the courtroom from the opening of the session until the end.  By this time, all the cases had been disposed of.  Concerned, Trinette asked, “Ma’am, are you here for a particular case?”

The woman stood up.  “Your honor, I wanted to talk to you about my daughter’s situation.”

“Who is your daughter, Ma’am?” Trinette asked.

“Aggie Comyn, your honor,” the woman said.

Inwardly, Trinette winced, although her training as an attorney kept that from showing.  Aggie Comyn was a repeat drug abuser who had been before Trinette.  The judge had sentence Comyn to receive the Small-Maker drug as a term of probation.  But Aggie’s addiction had been stronger than the deterrent, and she had wound up shrinking to the size of a small child due to a high.  She had never regained her full height.  She was only 4-foot-5 after the effects had worn off.  The loss of size was known as Small Maker Overdose Disorder, or SMOD.  It was cases such as Comyn’s, along with more famous ones like that of Lorellen Handshoe, that had gotten the Small-Maker drug banned.

“Mrs. Comyn, you know that there’s a civil lawsuit involved here, I really can’t comment --”

“It’s not that, your honor,” said Mrs. Comyn.  “There’s been a change in my daughter’s condition, and I thought you should know about it.  May I approach the bench?”

Trinette glanced at the court reporter.  Unlike the popular view of a bailiff as courtroom security, here the bailiff was not normally in the courtroom, and mainly guarded a jury during a trial.  Security was downstairs at the entrance, and would have checked over everyone entering, including sending them through a security metal detector. 

Their cases done, the prosecutor and public defender were leaving the courtroom.  The court reporter was doing the same.

Trinette sighed and nodded.  “All right,” she said.  “Come forward, Ma’am.”

Mrs. Comyn, looking nervous, fumbled in her purse and pulled out a lipstick.

“What did you want to tell me, Ma’am?” Trinette asked.

“It’s Aggie,” Mrs. Comyn said.  “She has post-SMOD syndrome.  She’s getting smaller again.”

Trinette had heard of the syndrome, in which people who already permanently lost height due to SMOD shrank again, becoming even smaller.  Usually, such cases resulted in one small additional loss of size, but some cases were more extreme.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ma’am, but I don’t think I can legally talk to you about this,” said the judge, starting to rise.

Mrs. Comyn pulled the top off the lipstick and suddenly blew overtop the lipstick onto Trinette.  Suddenly there was a cloud of powder surrounding Trinette.  She coughed, inhaling some of it.

“You’ll take time to talk to me now,” said Mrs. Comyn.

“What do you --”  Trinette looked around her, stunned, as she realized the sleeves of her robe now draped over the end of her arms, and the bench was getting higher in front of her.  She was shrinking!

“What did you blow on me?”  the dwindling judge asked.

“This!” said Mrs. Comyn, blowing another cloud of it onto the judge.  Trinette watched as the world got even bigger around her.

“You were, what, 5-foot-3 before?” Mrs. Comyn said.  “Well, you’re going to be smaller than my poor, tiny Aggie now, and you’re going even further down!”

Trinette slipped easily free of the oversized robe, and with more difficulty from her blouse (she’d already lost the skirt, shoes, bra and other undergarments).  She climbed onto the chair, hoping to reach the buttons atop the bench that would let her call for security.

But Mrs. Comyn had come around the bench.  “You’re shrinking is slowing too soon,” she said.  “You’ll be too big.  I need you smaller, so you need another dose.”  She blew more powder onto judge, whose shrinking picked up speed.

“See, this is a mix of a concentrated knock-off of the Small-Maker and some cocaine,” Mrs. Comyn said.  “It’s a sort of powdered shrinking cocktail.  It looks like you’re getting down toward doll-size now, and starting to slow again.  Time for another blow.”  She puffed more chemical powder onto the tiny woman.

Trinette tried to hold her breath and shield her mouth.

“That won’t help, my runty little judge,” Mrs. Comyn said.  “This stuff works on contact.  I know.  I got a few grains on me in this process, and I’ve gone from 5-foot-11 to 5-foot-8.  But that’s nothing compared to my poor little girl.  She really is little now, you know.  For someone who was as big as she was, she has one of the most severe cases of post-SMOD syndrome.  She’s shrunken all the way down to 8 inches tall.”

Trinette finally stopped shrinking, standing stark naked atop a chair that now seemed to her to be bigger than her courtroom had seemed a few minutes ago.

“There!” said Mrs. Comyn.  Now you’re smaller than my girl is, and now you’re pocket-sized.  Now you’re coming with me!”

Mrs. Comyn wrapped Trinette in a handkerchief, taped the edge and dropped it in her purse.  As small as she was, the judge couldn’t work herself free or make a loud enough sound to be heard by normal-sized ears outside the purse.

About this time, security downstairs had noticed that the judge was missing, but her clothes and robes weren’t.  They didn’t see the middle-aged woman exiting by the entrance used by attorneys and for jurors in a jury trial.  She got out and proceeded down the back stairs while security came up the main stairwell.

Trinette could tell her captor was driving a distance, but had no way of knowing how long the trip was.  Eventually, she saw light through the handkerchief, then the shadow of the huge hand reaching for her.

Soon Trinette felt the hand roughly removing the handkerchief and dumping her on a wooden surface.  When she got her bearings, she realized it was a side table in a small, dingy room … and that she wasn’t alone atop it.

“There you are, Judge Trinette Trevor,” said the other woman on the table.  Though she, too, was shrunken, she was nearly double the height of the judge.  “You were such a big woman, sentencing me to a drug to make me smaller just so you could feel big.”

The woman Trinette recognized as Aggie Comyn sauntered up to her.  She bent over at the waist.  “Well, who’s the big woman now?” the 8-inch woman said, poking the 5-inch woman with a finger.

The poke was so hard that it made Trinette stumble over and fall on her rump.  She was so tiny now that an 8-inch-tall woman was a giantess to her -- and that normal-sized monster, Mrs. Comyn, was a colossus.

Aggie stepped back.  “Mom?”

Mrs. Comyn stepped forward and placed a whipped cream container by the judge.  She sprayed it so close that the judge was covered in whipped cream -- and got a face full of propellant.  The intoxicating effects of the propellent triggered even further shrinking.  Trinette was now covered in whipped cream, and couldn’t even see where she was.

Suddenly a giant hand reached into the whipped cream, flopping around until it found Trinette.  It lifted her out and began to lick the whipped cream off her.  “Two inches tall,” said Aggie, now four times Trinette’s height.  “So, tell me, big woman, how does it feel to be smaller than a mouse?”

Trinette was sputtering, trying to clear whipped cream from her lungs.

“Not gonna answer me, huh?” said Aggie.  “Defiant to the end.  Mom?”

More whipped cream, and more propellant, hit Trinette full-blast.  She plummeted downwards in size, and found herself so small that her mass was no longer enough to sink her to the tabletop.  She was swimming in  the whipped cream. 

Aggie’s hand soon found her again.  Now Trinette was only a little more than half an inch tall.  “Big woman!” snorted Aggie.  “More like bug woman!  But … you do look tasty.”

Aggie lifted the diminished judge to her mouth and began to slowly lick the whipped cream from the tiny woman’s body.  She sucked so hard on Trinette’s limbs and head she was afraid they might be pulled off.

Aggie had saved Trinette’s torso for last.  She sucked the whipped cream off the shrunken woman’s breasts, then licked at her crotch so hard that the relatively colossal tongue penetrated.

Then Aggie smiled.  “You do taste good,” the 8-inch woman said.  “Let’s finish the job, shall we?”

Aggie was starting to lift Trinette over her maw when the ex-con shuddered.  “No!  Not now!” she shrieked.

But then Aggie began to shrink, and shrink fast and hard.  Her post-SMOD syndrome had kicked into overdrive, and her size was plummeting.

Suddenly, Trinette was too heavy for Aggie to hold.  The judge fell atop the ex-con, hard enough that it hurt both of them, but neither seriously.

Both shrunken women stood up (well, as up as they could stand.)  Trinette realized that Aggie was now only slightly taller than she was, and the judge was in better shape.

“Let’s see who can take who now,” Trinette said.

Aggie looked panicky.  She screamed upward, “MOM!”

But Mrs. Comyn, with the plan she and Aggie had worked out already complete, had put the whipped cream away.  Not thinking straight, she pulled out her lipstick and blew it on Trinette -- and on Aggie.

“NO!” shrieked the ex-con.  “That stuff’ll shrink me more than her!”

Soon, the judge was only about one millimeter tall -- and was four times the size of Aggie.

While Mrs. Comyn fumbled to blow more powder on just Trinette, the air-conditioning unit in the room kicked on, and the high vent on the dingy old wall blew the powder back on the middle-aged woman, and only her.  Wave after wave of the powder hit her, dropping her down, down, down in size.

Once the powder cloud had cleared, Trinette made her way to the table’s edge.  From there she saw Mrs. Comyn, now only about twice Trinette’s size, crawling out of her clothes.

Just then, Trinette saw a spider slide rapidly down its web.  Before Mrs. Comyn could react, it snagged had and hauled her, screaming, up its line.  With the distances involved -- feet were like miles of kilometers to Trinette now -- there was nothing the judge could do.

The judge turned to Aggie, and was surprised to see the ex-con had started shrinking again.  She was crying.  “Please, help me,” she said.

“Why should I?” asked the judge.

“Because there’s an antidote,” said Aggie, who now fit in the palm of the millimeter-tall woman’s hand.  “But, if I don’t get it soon, the new shrinking stuff’ll interact with my post-SMOD and make me microscopic -- even to you!  There’s no telling how small I’ll shrink!”

“Where is it?” the judge asked.

“Over there!” said Aggie.  She had shrunk further, and was now the size of Trinette’s fingertip.  “Hurry, please!”

Trinette came to a second lipstick, bigger to her than a battleship.  Fortunately, it was laying on its side, and the seal was merely a crawling space to someone the size she now was.

She turned to look at Aggie, who now looked to Trinette to be the size an ant would be if she were normal.  “Is this it?”

Aggie shouted something, but was too small for Trinette to hear.  But she nodded, so Trinette placed the shrinking woman into her hair and crawled in.

Trinette could tell that Aggie was agitatedly trying to communicate something, but now the ex-con was to the judge the size of a gnat to a normal woman.  There was no way Trinette could decipher what she was saying.

Trinette was still a short distance away from the antidote when she realized she couldn’t feel anything to do with Aggie anymore.  The poor woman’s plan had backfired, and she was now microspcopic even to a woman who was herself no more than a human speck.

With difficulty, Trinette got into the antidote.  It was more of a goo, and she climbed into it, making sure to get her hair in, in case that would somehow help Aggie.

Trinette began to grow rapidly.  She quickly became large enough to kick the end off the container.

Trinette continued to grow.  Soon she was able to slide off the tabletop and to the floor.  But, somewhere around three feet tall, she stopped growing.  She tried applying more of the antidote, but it did no good.

“Great,” muttered Trinette.  “Now I’ve got SMOD.”

Then she realized that there was something stirring in her hair.  She gingerly reached up and pulled out Aggie, who had grown back to three inches tall.

The tinier of the two woman looked up at the other.  “Thank you,” she said weakly.

The judge glared down at her.  “You’re not welcome,” she said.

Now large enough to do so, Trinette found a cell phone and called 911.  Police came, rescued her and took both women to the ER.  Aggie was placed in a paper cup after she was placed under arrest.

The story of the shrunken judge made national news, in part because of the new Small-Makers knock-off and in part because it had an antidote -- as well as due to all the sensational elements of the story. 

A few nights later, Trinette was readying herself for bed.  She was starting to get used to having to stand on a step stool to work at the bathroom sink, and having to get all her clothes -- including her judge’s robes -- replaced with scaled down items.  The children’s toothbrush she now used was another reminder.

Then she walked into the bedroom, where her husband, Brandt, was watching Jay Leno.

“And you know, Judge Trinette Trevor has been in the news for her daring escape from a vengeful criminal who attacked her with  a shrinking drug and reduced her height to 3-foot-1,” Leno said.  “Some people say Judge Trevor is thinking of taking on less strenuous duty -- you know, like small claims court.”

“Ouch,” said Trinette.  “You know, he wants me to do his show.  I don’t know if I should, with jokes like that.”

“Glad we got you the agent,“ Brandt said.

“We kind of had to,” Trinette said.  “Haven’t you heard?  In media circles, I’m big.”

Brandt chuckled.  “Seriously, though, Honey, do you want to stay with being a criminal judge?”

Trinette nodded.  “I’m shorter, but I’m not afraid.  I can still mete out justice, although I might have a new perspective on some things.”

“What’s going to happen to Aggie Comyn?” Brandt asked.

“That’s not up to me,” Trinette said.  “She put together a plot to kidnap and assault a sitting judge, with the intent to sexually assault and murder me.  However, she’s still got post SMOD-syndrome.  By the time her case moves through court, with her having a double-dose of SMOD, I’m afraid she’ll be microscopically small.  God help her then; no one else can.  They don‘t even think that experimental cure they tried last week on Lorellen Handshoe would help Aggie, since she‘s been affected by two slightly different shrinking drugs.”

“Do you have any regrets?” Brandt asked.

“No,” Trinette said, smiling sexily.  “In fact, there are some things I like being this size for … because it makes those things bigger to me.”

Brandt beamed.  “Yeah, that is fun,” he said.

“Oh, it’s more than fun, my big, strong husband,” Trinette said.

“Very well, my sexy little wife,” Brandt said.  “Why don’t you show me how much more fun it is?”

Trinette looked down at a cock that was already twice the length of her hand.  She could feel herself getting “gushy” inside.  “OK, big man,” she said, “Teacher is about to give you a lesson.”