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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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