A single finger curled around Sierra’s waist and hugged her into an equally large thumb, pinching her into an embrace that plucked her from the ground. The open air tickled her naked skin, her only recourse against the chill to nuzzle into her captor’s hand, to rely on her grip. The world outside the gentle fist shifted and twisted in a blur of movement, and then, at the peak of her ascent, Sierra could inhale again and breathe in the view above her. That gigantic face and all of its details came together like a mountainside, the beauty of the scientist smiling over her little form akin to an unbelievable vista that swept Sierra’s spirit into a freeing wind.

Duval, the name chimed in her head, replicating the very tone she used to address that overseer -- a purr to get her attention, an instinctive whine that earned her pity. Despite being washed over with such a feeling of powerlessness, Sierra truly never felt more electrified, more in control. The life she wanted, the world she wanted, had all been her’s -- at least, for that one night that was spent in Duval’s hotel room.

“Slow down there, Sierra!” Kendall’s voice was crudely interjected into the fantasy Sierra had been enjoying. Without that breaking her focus, she may not have ever remembered that she was running on a treadmill there within the community’s rec center. “What are you running away from? A bear? I’ve never seen you like this!”

Sierra chuckled, her throat too dry to reply any better until the treadmill’s pace was brought down. The weight of her weariness only then began to sink onto Sierra, each subsequent step falling further and further out of the rhythm she was entranced by. She slumped off the treadmill with an exhausted sigh; one hand swiped the sweat from her brow, the other clumsily found the water bottle she carried with her.

“Yeah, drink up,” Kendall giggled, standing by with her hands on her hips. She was worked out as well, but had far more control over her poise compared to Sierra. “Something really put a kick in your step, huh?”

After a long chug of water, Sierra gasped for air, nodding to Kendall’s inquiry. “I’ve, uh… I suppose I have some energy to burn…”

“Hah, well, I was about to ask if you wanted to get coffee before heading out, but--”

“Coffee sounds nice!” Sierra laughed, uncurling from her post-exercise hunch. Kendall was surprised again to see this much pep from her friend, who was quick to begin towards the rec center’s lobby. For once, it was her following a step behind Sierra, and she was proving hard to keep up with.

It was lively at the rec center, a spike of activity having risen since the showcase five days prior. There was a fresh feeling among the community, including those who were unable to attend; from their homes in the terrarium, they were able to watch the showcase for themselves, and all were fascinated by the simulated environments and new technologies promised to be on the horizon. Sierra was among those riding that wave of interest, but what her neighbors could not comprehend was the full scope of that which drove her.

“Sorry for the wait,” Sierra apologized as she made it to the booth that Kendall had picked out. She slid Kendall’s order across the table after sitting opposite of her. “All the self-service machines had such long lines. I’ve never seen it so busy at the rec center…”

“I’ve rarely ever seen you at the rec center,” Kendall teased, swirling a spoon through her beverage to cool it. She noticed how the heat and bitterness had no effect on Sierra like it did her. “Did they replace you? At the showcase? And not tell any of us?”

Sierra giggled into her drink, having to set it down to reply. “What?”

“You’re usually, well… How to put it…” Kendall chuckled over every attempted wording in her head. “Uh, you’re normally secluded, at least until you got back from that trip.”

“It was really exciting,” Sierra said. “You were there. Wasn’t it amazing?”

Kendall nodded, but her eyes were not as lit up the way Sierra’s were. “It was fun to get out of this cage, that’s for sure,” she replied. “Exciting, sure. Amazing? I think you had a more fun time than any of us.”

Sierra glanced aside as she delayed her reply with a sip of coffee -- she was quickly running out. “Maybe I did,” she said. “After all, I got to experience that luxury floor.”

“Yeah, that’s probably more fun than cutting wheat in a field,” Kendall laughed. “Was it really that relaxing? When the whole showcase thing was over, you seemed pretty out of it.”

“I-It was a lot to take in. But, I’m really glad I went… It was such a wonderful night. Maybe the best night I’ve had since shrinking.”

“I wonder if we’ll go on something like that again?” Kendall blinked at her coffee’s murky surface. “... Wasn’t the showcase in the middle of the day…?”

“... You’re right,” Sierra nodded, “I-I meant-- it was a wonderful day.” She shook her head to express clarity. “Wow, i-it really felt like it was at night up there! Crazy…”

Their own evening was approaching, with their artificial sunlight beginning to set over the western glass wall. The two women walked back to their neighboring homes together, Kendall separating with a yawn and a promise to sleep early; Sierra, however, was alert and awake, pumping with energy still to burn, and a plan on how to burn it. As soon as she had her front door closed and the curtains pulled over their windows, the tickle of loneliness got her to giggle, her amusement tripping her into the couch with a bounce.

After rolling onto her back, the memories naturally came flowing to her. That stark angle of looking straight skyward had her vividly recall what it was like to gawk at a gigantic, skyscraper-sized woman. Even if it was just her boring ceiling, the image glistening in her eyes had her itching under the fantasy -- Duval, standing impossibly tall over her, her feet larger than any of the houses she kept watch over, her smile hanging high overhead like a faraway cloud.

Sierra cozied into the corner of the couch, her grin spread wide as she reclined. “Her smile is so different,” she mumbled to herself, “after just a few drinks…” Fingers played with the waist of her pants to pull them down, her other hand caressing her breast in a way that swirled her shirt up to her shoulders. When she paused, it was only for a brief breath, to savor every moment of these memories just as she had savored every moment of when these memories occurred.

A slow start, but she quickly picked up momentum. Sierra sighed as two fingers rubbed her clitoris with drilling intent. Her legs were spread apart, one flung over the couch’s back while the other lazily slumped off the side, both twitching with jolts of excitement. Giggles turned to moans, her temperature rising as she fell more immersed in her memories. She remembered being between Duval’s toes and her desperate dance with them, and she remembered being picked up, made to feel so light and insignificant in that woman’s palm. Duval’s movements were momentous and sweeping, always impressing Sierra even in these recollections -- she still shuddered with sincere fear when she imagined Duval’s drop of weight hitting the mattress, an injection of worry that only accented her arousal, not muddle it. Her body twisted more as she pleasured herself into a graceless position, trying to rekindle those exact feelings of her body being manipulated by Duval’s fingers.

It was not the same as back then, not as real, but her fantasy of the past was genuine enough to bring her to climax. She winced with her hips thrusted forward, orgasming with Duval’s lips envisioned around her and her fingers replaced with that madly lashing tongue. Fully red in the face, Sierra flipped forward and muffled a whine-like moan into the armrest, allowing herself to be unruly in her own privacy.

After holding this tight position for several seconds, Sierra sighed and allowed her body to relax. She had resurfaced back into the silent reality, the only noise being the whirring of her ceiling fan. Even at this end stage of her masturbation, Sierra treated herself to memories of Duval’s voice, her lingering tenseness dwindling away with every comforting word whispered to her.

“I… love you, Duval,” Sierra said to herself, almost too giddy to mutter it aloud. But reaffirmed and smiling brightly, she said it again, “I love you, Duval…”

Duval waited outside the supervisor’s office, seated in a chair with her fingers gripped together and a knee tapping anxiously. Her face was downturned and her expression distant, focused on something that was not there. Every once in a while, her hands would open up and she would stare into her palms; these moments were when she inhaled after going lengths without breathing, too distracted with the conundrum she had tripped herself into to do so naturally.

Before the showcase, thinking of Sierra in her hands was a simple joy to keep herself positive in her low points. As she waited to be called into Ericka’s office, however, the thought of Sierra caused more distress than calm. It was all she could think about -- all she was supposed to think about. Ericka had said as much when they first returned to Shoote Labs, warning Duval that she would need to prepare her case in the coming days. In that time, Duval had readied a number of arguments -- excuses, lies, and half-truths -- but in her throat constantly was the want to give Sierra an apology.

What is she going to think of all this? Duval pondered with a blank gaze down at the floor. Sierra… She was so excited… She was so happy for once…

The door beside her opened, alerting her to sit up straight. Ericka peeked the corner, carrying a lifeless but professional smile. “Shall we?” she said, pushing some perkiness. Duval nodded and followed her, but not without sensing some of Ericka’s own nervousness.

Duval quietly claimed a seat, but Ericka stood by the window that looked over the central complex of the building. In the moments after they shuffled into place, Ericka studied the scientists and engineers down below, watching them move from post to post in the midst of their work day. She did this often, always particularly pleased to be seeing everything in its place and in the proper motions.

It took a sigh from both women before Ericka finally turned and began the meeting proper. “Ophelia… The thing I’m supposed to do here, is fire you.”

The atmosphere had been decided: straight to the point. Duval expected as much, “I-I understand, Ericka… That would be following protocol…”

“It would be,” Ericka exhaled, already twisting back to the window. She contemplated for a moment. “I have to ask, you know. Why?”

Duval sat on the one-word question as though it were the tip of an iceberg, begging her to glide down its slope. She could have played dumb, but it would not have distracted Ericka for long. “Th-They agreed to it,” Duval timidly answered, “t-to being taken, I mean.”

“That doesn’t change anything, Duval,” Ericka replied. She scoffed, “It doesn’t even answer my question. Can’t you tell me why you took someone? What was worth that risk?”

“Ericka… I-- Well, they--”

“And I don’t just mean the risk of your job,” Ericka interjected, looking at Duval through her faint reflection in the glass. “You put this person’s life in danger. One of your own subjects -- so much could have happened!”

“Ericka--”

“You know this, Ophelia -- I know you know this.”

Duval winced, but mentally, she was in a tantrum. In her perspective, she was far more aware of the dangers than anyone else. She had experienced that risk firsthand, on multiple occasions, and she knew the peril Sierra was put into. Since having spent time with Sierra over the course of the project, never before had Duval thought so keenly about her motions and actions, the incredible weight she carried above much tinier people. To be told off like an unruly student in school had her gripping her slacks out of frustration.

But the conversation continued, none of Duval’s emotions making it into her tone. “An… anonymous volunteer... agreed to be my personal subject… for research that I’ve been conducting on my own.”

Ericka turned back to face Duval, lured in by such an interesting point. She leaned against the back of her office chair, “What kind of research is this?”

“Tangent to our own,” Duval confirmed quickly. “B-But nothing that puts them in danger! I-I would never… It’s all just been data collection a-and interviews, nothing that could even affect the project here!” Ericka seemed absorbed into her thoughts, allowing Duval to add, “I-I wanted to bring something exciting to the team, something of my own.”

Ericka bit her lip sympathetically. “This… This really isn’t the way to make a statement in the company, Ophelia…” She pinched the arc of her nose and leaned more weight on the chair’s back. Duval felt that pressure on her own spine, enough to put a drop of sweat on her brow. “If this volunteer ended up hurt because of this independent research, just… Do you realize the disaster that’d be? The PR mayhem that’d cause?”

Duval shuddered. “I’m aware…”

“No,” Ericka scoffed, turning her gaze off of Duval. “You barely know half of it…”

“E-Excuse me…?”

Ericka shook her head. “N-Not now.” She pushed off the chair and paced towards another corner of the room. The bookshelf her eyes glazed over offered no consolation for the decision she was having to make. “Shoote Labs needs only the best and brightest working on this project currently. We need all engines working efficiently as we get closer to a true launch of what we’ve been working on. Incidents like these… have made my trust waver in you, Ophelia.”

Duval felt a sting in her heart, her fingers numb as if chasing something out of their reach. “Ericka, please--”

“That’s why I need you on the team, and to stay focused.” Ericka faced Duval with her arms crossed, her seriousness looming from her corner of the office. Duval replayed the words in her head, only loosely recognizing that not all was lost -- she was being kept. “There’s only so many eyes and ears we can have involved in this project, and only so many of those have written a peer-reviewed thesis on molecular rearrangement. We can’t-- Shoote can’t afford to lose you, and I don’t want to terminate a friend.”

Duval was still; she was in the headlights still, a deer frozen in front of a fate that was seemingly passing by. A scare, a frightening scare at that, but still only a miss. She stuttered, “Th-Thank you-- Ericka, seriously, y-you’re unbelievable--”

Ericka stopped her there, and put a hand before Duval to stop her from lifting out of her chair. “I’m not firing you,” she specified, and her glare narrowed, “but you’re not leaving my sights. I can’t let something else happen like this, not without one or both of us getting nixed.”

“Wh-What, then? What do you want me to do?”

“I just need you to continue working,” Ericka explained, drifting back to her desk in order to retrieve something -- a small black box. “This is a measure I’ll have to take, to make sure your authority as an overseer is practiced properly.”

“Oh, I love what you did with your hair~” Kendall could not resist brushing a finger through a lock of hair that hung off Sierra’s shoulder. The threads spilled right over the digit, so clean and brightened. “It’s so pretty! You should style it more often, Sierra!”

“Hm, do you think so…?” Sierra awkwardly shielded her bashful smile, but she did not mind having her hair toyed with. After all, she did spend the time deep washing it and straightening it, and so having it be noticed was especially affirming. She wanted the change to be as noticeable as possible, considering it would have to catch the eye of one gigantic overseer. “I-It’s not too much, is it?” Sierra asked, lifting some threads of her own into her vision.

“No~ I’m loving it!” Kendall laughed, continuing a step ahead of Sierra. They were headed to the transport station, as well as the other citizens of the terrarium, all prepared to be reviewed for their semi-annual evaluations. “Let me guess: you’re excited to see the overseer, huh?”

Sierra turned cold, but she would not show a single shiver of hesitation. Her lips coiled quickly into a smile, “I-I guess!” It was truly the best route for an excuse -- for whom else would she have styled her hair for? “It’s been awhile, after all,” she went on, her voice a little more subdued. “And that showcase, I think, sort of gave me a new perspective on… this. All this.”

“I might know what you mean,” Kendall replied. Her arms stretched high above her head as they approached the line forming at the station. “It’s nice to be noticed when we’re this small, right?”

“... Right,” Sierra weakly agreed.

“It feels a little too easy,” Kendall chuckled, “that we could just end up forgotten about, or overlooked. Scary stuff, but hey, that’s why we have-- ah, feel that?”

Sierra swallowed, indeed feeling that. Sooner than the others, she sensed the rumbling of footsteps, followed by the distant clacking of heels against the floor. It was routine at this point, but today, Sierra’s heart fluttered more than usual -- her next breath was exhaled shakily as Duval turned the corner, dressed in her clean lab coat and equipped with a tablet for work. It had been several days, and so Sierra felt relieved to be reunited once again with the woman she adored.

Yet, something had felt incorrect to Sierra as she continued to feel the light tremors of footsteps. She hunched that Duval was not coming alone, and she was unfortunately proven right when, just behind the overseer, another woman entered the terrarium chamber. Following Duval up to her side was Ericka, a project supervisor that the shrunken subjects rarely met.

Her presence earned a few questioning glances from the community, but no one was as alerted by Ericka than Sierra. She blinked in attempts to disperse this additional person; Is this really necessary? she wondered. Whatever she has to say, couldn’t Duval just say it?

The two women towered over the terrarium as they stopped a few steps in front of it. Ericka was poised upright with a cheery grin, her hands clasped together at her waist. Duval, however, was motivated only enough to offer a half-smile, her shoulders slumped until Ericka glanced at her. Sierra allowed none of this to fly over her; she was keenly attuned to Duval, and sensed that something was amiss.

“Good morning, everyone! You all look so healthy and lively,” Ericka began, her voice kept subdued similarly to Duval’s controlled volume. “You might remember me as Ericka Einhorn. Duval must be keeping good care of you all. She only ever has positive news to report! The progress you all have made together is astounding, and that showcase only proved it.”

Ericka motioned to the train car that everyone had been boarding. “Go ahead, continue filling in!” she urged. “Everything is still going according to schedule, but I’m here to quickly announce a few adjustments we’re making to some of our routine procedures. These are mostly increases to your security, but none of you should be expected to do anything too differently -- it’s largely all on the end of the overseers.”

Sierra was stalled by what had been explained thus far, but everyone else was continuing into the transport car. Kendall waited for her a few paces ahead, a silent gesture to get Sierra to move along with the others. Still, her gaze was hooked on Ericka, up until she was seated and buckled in. Placing herself in that seat reminded Sierra of that first time she was allowed outside the terrarium, and furthermore, that first time she was able to be alone with Duval. There was a magic to that day, even for how chaotic and absurd it became -- it was an important stepping stone in Sierra’s future, and so it was a fond memory to latch onto.

But that uncanny sensation of something different kept haunting her, and she soon understood why. Ericka continued, “One such change in procedure is that we will be broadly limiting the methods with which overseers interact with you all. We want to avoid unfortunate happenstances as much as possible, and incidents are prone to happen when subjects are being handled by the overseer directly. From now on, we’ll be using mechanical, safer methods of transporting you from location to location whenever possible.”

Sierra was confused, far more than anyone else in the train car. While she nervously tugged at her seat buckle, Kendall nodded optimistically; “No more shaky rides in Duval’s hand?” she stated with a smile. “I can live with that.”

The replacement method of transportation was wheeled in by Ericka, but it remained out of sight to those in the train car. It was a mobile table of sorts that could be pushed around the labs like a cart, but rather than just a flat top, there was a smaller terrarium to keep the intended shrunken subjects safe from harm. A small door was opened in one glass wall, which was then pushed into a similar door to the tiny terminal station. From there, it required only a press of a button for a conveyor device to push the train car up the rails and into this new chamber -- no human contact required.

Sierra stared outside her window longingly while the transfer happened. From her angle, she could not see either of the two scientists, yet she yearned to know what Duval must have been feeling. She wished terribly to ask her upfront what this was about, but their relationship could not allow such a thing. As the mobile table began to move, Sierra decided to hold her tongue until later; at the very least, it was still Duval herself to be pushing the cart forward, and that was thus far enough to tide Sierra over.

Ericka, however, had more to discuss along the way, and every point she brought forward was like a piercing nail to Sierra. “The safety of our subjects is, of course, our top priority,” the supervisor affirmed. “Now that you’ve become more adapted to being with normal-sized humans, we’re going to be pulling the involvement of overseers back to keep those risk factors limited. Tests from now on will keep the overseer at a distance, and there will be stricter policies in how an overseer can interact directly with a subject.”

It all made logical sense, and the rest of the community silently agreed to what was explained. It was only Sierra who broiled under these changes, sweating bullets as she thought of what this meant for her and Duval. I need to talk to her, she told herself. Something feels off, and Duval knows it, too.

The community was rolled over to a lab where they were connected to a similar terminal as before. Within that station, the subjects were dressed out into their noticeable orange jumpsuits, and were then queued in line in front of an individual transport pod. One at at time, they would load into the pod, be taken to a separate work table, and then returned to be swapped out for the next in line -- a slower procedure than usual, but doubtlessly safer than being moved in a human hand without any protection.

What exactly they had been taken to be tested for was their bi-annual vitals check-up. Six months prior, all of the subjects underwent a similar procedure shortly after being awoken in their newly shrunken forms. Back then, the entire process was done by the volunteers themselves, as normal-sized contact was not yet ready to be established. Today, they would be guided by Duval, who would also be marking her own observations of the subjects as they followed along with the routine.

Sierra’s anxiety festered as the queue progressed, reserving her thoughts to herself until she could have her opportunity to be with Duval. She shuddered at the front of the line until the quaking footsteps returned to warm her. Duval rejoined them at the station, lowered the transport pod, and allowed the person inside to step out. Sierra grinned excitedly, and stepped up to the pod as soon as she could--

“Ah-- please, step back until instructed,” Duval interjected with a cold tone. Like a wall, her voice put a block to Sierra’s movement, stopping her outside the pod. “You will be told when to enter.”

Sierra stuttered as badly as she shivered, fretting back from the pod like she had been told. “S-S-Sorry, I-I--” she struggled to speak, blindsided by such a reaction. The little bubble of excitement she had conjured had been popped preemptively, leaving her stunned and disconnected. She stood completely still, awkwardly so in front of the line of subjects behind her, until Duval spoke again after a short interval.

“You may now enter the pod,” Duval said after finishing writing a note. “If you need assistance, wave to me.”

Sierra hesitated only for a moment before following the order to enter. She climbed aboard and strapped herself in, very familiar at this point with how to do so -- it was somewhat insulting to be suggested she could use assistance, but it also struck a more intricate chord in Sierra. This being so unlike Duval, it felt obvious that this was a peculiar way for her to act; indeed, she was acting this way for someone else’s benefit, and that someone could only be Ericka.

After Sierra was settled into the pod, Duval closed the device’s door and lifted it up with an especially tender grasp. The warmth from her hands filled the pod, bathing Sierra with that essence, and further teasing her for that which she yearned for. She hoped that in time this barrier between them could be removed, and that she could sit in Duval’s palm and appreciate that feeling of weightlessness again. It was easy for these daydreams to distract Sierra, but when she looked to Duval, she saw only a serious expression that was only ever aimed straight ahead.

Fortunately for Sierra, the vitals check-up was to be performed one room away. It was a small window without much leeway, but it was a precious opportunity to be away from Ericka -- perhaps the only chance they would get. Sierra planned on what to say as she exited the pod and walked out onto a square-shaped plate, awaiting Duval’s directions.

There was a pause while Duval prepared the station in silence, her eyes never adrift and her expression never cracking. Once ready, she stood a foot away from the counter with a steady posture. “We will begin with a full-body scan,” she said. “This machine will scan you once, and then you will turn and be scanned a second time. Is that understood?”

Sierra swallowed, deciding to act plainly. “I understand.” With her arms stretched out to either side, a scanner swept down the platform she stood upon, then rose again with the same speed. As instructed, Sierra pivoted and allowed Duval to scan a second time, but not without comment: “I-It doesn’t feel like it’s been so long,” she said, “since we did this at the beginning. It’s hard to believe, b-but it’s been six months, hasn’t it?”

Duval’s stare would not cross Sierra, instead retaining focus on numbers that appeared on a monitor. Consequently, she withheld any reply to what Sierra had said, not even a nod of acknowledgement.

But Sierra pressed on as she stepped off the platform and onto the desk. “I remember being terrified of everything I touched… Back then, i-it didn’t quite feel like we had shrunk, but somehow, it feels better now to know just how small I am.” The spirit in her voice was dwindling as she rambled on, unrewarded with a response from Duval. Bitten with frustration, Sierra spoke more boldly, “I-I appreciate you being here, Duval! A-All of us do…”

Another pause was prolonged as Duval occupied her stare into that same monitor, before finally turning back towards Sierra -- the first time their eyes had met. “Thank you,” the overseer said calmly. “We can continue with the procedure. Follow me.”

Duval motioned for Sierra towards an area where she could sit in a specialized chair that would monitor her breathing and heart rate. Both of Sierra’s arms were inserted into pressurized slots, a clamp was pressed to either side of her neck, and finally a mask was equipped over her mouth for her to breathe into. As coldly as these instructions were given was how Sierra followed along, silently obeying Duval and moving forward with the procedure quickly. A long silence persisted while a mechanical hum activated, but after a minute, her arms and neck were released, finishing the procedure.

“That completes today’s assignment,” Duval declared, her face hidden above Sierra behind her tablet. “You may now return to the transport pod. Thank you.”

“Th-That’s it?” Sierra muttered, her voice further dampened by the mask over her mouth. She was slow to start moving, removing one arm at a time from the depressurized slots, but her head was racing with worries, realizing how brief this moment with Duval was to last. She had thought there would be more to do, but she knew now that had just been a hope.

In a bid to have additional time with Duval, Sierra came up with an excuse. “Duval, uh,” she spoke up with a wave of her arm, “I think my mask is stuck, actually. I-It won’t come off.” She fiddled with the mask in a vague way, taking advantage of how her tiny size was hard to decipher. The mask could easily be moved aside if she wanted, but for the sake of some interaction, she pretended that it would not budge.

Duval was hesitant to respond -- for a moment, Sierra wondered if she would help out at all. After that pause, Duval’s hand jittered into view, “Do you… need help, Sierra?” Her eyes, for just a flicker, darted to the side where the door was; Sierra was sure to notice this. “Well… let me see what the problem is, then.”

A finger extended out and drew near to Sierra’s face, careful to not move unexpectedly while at the same time trying to be quick. Duval bit her lip in focus as she worked her nail gently between the mask and Sierra herself, and with no effort at all, the mask was popped off -- as simple as it should have been.

But while Duval’s digit was there, just after undoing the mask, Sierra suddenly leaned forward. A strong kiss, with all of Sierra’s weight, was planted onto the fingertip, and she reached out to stroke the nail as an additional push of affection. Sierra burned like a fire after acting so spontaneous, but for that instant, she felt as light and free as a cloud, appropriately hovering out of the chair with a brimming smile.

Duval, however, was quick to curl her finger away. She tore it out of Sierra’s grip and kept her fist high and away from her, even turning her body as though someone so small could still reach her. Sierra was dumbfounded, paralyzed after having risen out of the chair so confidently, only to discover another long spell of silence. She stared deep into Duval’s perplexed expression, but Duval’s eyes only glimpsed over her with as much uncertainty as the words she was struggling to form.

“S-Sierra, pl-please…” Duval began in a hiss-like whisper, but an inhale interrupted her thought. She reformatted, leaving Sierra in suspense as she thought up her reply. “... You may now return to the transport pod. The others are waiting to continue.”

“Duval…” Sierra’s hands curled into her chest while her legs weakly followed the command, slumping ahead with every step. Instinctively, she wanted to move along, even if it meant being brushed aside so callously, but her emotions spiraled and sparked recklessly, encouraging her to vocalize those feelings. “It’s been several days since we last saw each other,” she argued, coming to a standstill towards the transport pod. She could not move any more than that, barely able to turn her neck up towards the giant woman. “A-Aren’t you… happy to see me?”

Duval withheld the first words she had to say. She swallowed them, and just like before, restarted her train of thought. “... Of course I’m happy,” she answered in a low volume. It was the first thus far that Sierra had heard a genuine tone in her voice, off from that robotic personality. But then, in a hard blink, it returned; “I’m happy to see everyone. It’s good to be back at work. Now, can you enter the transport pod? The others are--”

“I don’t care about them,” Sierra scoffed, “th-they can wait! Err, c-can’t we talk a little? J-Just you… and me…?”

“Sierra, no…” Duval winced, then pressed a thumb against her temple in distress. She breathed and asserted her tone again, “Should I bring Einhorn in to have a discussion?”

“Ericka? N-No, don’t…” Sierra shuddered as though threatened -- she felt much that way, but was impacted more by how Duval relied on it. It was like a tool specifically to disarm Sierra and to dismiss the conversation, a period to end their time together. “... I’m sorry. I-I’ll just get in.”

Maybe we can talk later? Sierra prayed that one of them would say that, but after getting strapped into the pod and being carried back to the other subjects, she was left devoid of that hope. The next in line took her place, taken into the same routine as all the others. As Sierra watched on and continued with the check-up, an emptiness within her expanded, an ailment that was only ever eased by the sheer confusion of the situation.

Sierra was in a shell for the duration of the procedure. Kendall took notice almost immediately, but no questions or concerns could pry Sierra into opening up about what weighed so heavily on her mind. Even her own introspection was at odds with the issue, every thought gray and bleak with what it left Sierra to conclude. The artificial daylight of the terrarium did nothing to brighten her spirits as she found herself marching mindlessly back to her home, unsure if she had said a word to anyone about anything along the way.

She was in her bedroom after a blink -- she had no recollection of moving herself there, left to sit on the corner of her mattress surrounded in dimness. A glance at her pillows and sheets sharply reminded her of how positively she glowed that morning. Today was supposed to be a magical reunion, the first of many days they could steal away for themselves, like how often they had before; under the watchful eyes of the labs, they were supposed to be a secret couple, the risks of which intended to excite their relationship into an adventure all of their own. Looking back, Sierra chided herself for dreaming so wistfully about that future, but nonetheless was her heart damaged by Duval’s distant attitude that day -- she was a different woman than the goddess she vowed her love to those few nights ago.

That evening at the hotel was a prized memory, but Sierra reflected on it now ridden with guilt and anxiety. It felt unreal then, just as it had felt like complete fantasy in that moment. Badly did her skin crawl as she thought warmly of being in Duval’s grasp and exploring her divine body. Her arms wrapped over her stomach as she felt a turning inside her, simultaneous with how her perspective of that night was shifting.

I was delusional the entire time, Sierra told herself. It was never a precious moment. She was drunk-- we both were. Excited, and confused, and… feisty. But it was just a game, wasn’t it?

Sierra shivered into the bed, laying atop the comforter as she huddled into herself for warmth. Was everything so disingenuous as she imagined them to be? Was Duval merely an opportunist, taking up on this chance to have a willing tiny woman all to herself? It was agonizingly easy to believe to be the case, that their night together was a drunken fling meant only to be remembered foggily. What they did was wrong, she admitted both now and then -- but Sierra was serious about what she wanted, how she longed to have that night be her entire life, and she remembered Duval speaking so truly about promises for the future. Had alcohol disguised the reality of their relationship, or was it the catalyst of what Sierra had dreamed for them?

There was, as well, a worse possibility. It plagued the recesses of Sierra’s mind, cast aside but not ignored, growing more and more significant as she dismissed other lines of thought. Such a possibility was a grim conclusion, but a substantial one to consider. Alcohol and circumstances be damned; What if Duval just… just doesn’t love me anymore? She bit her lip, choking back what would have been an unnerving whine. What if she regrets what we did? What if she’s trying to move past it?

“God, no,” Sierra muttered, sweeping a hand across her brow. “No, no. God…” She spat into a laugh, because it was funny -- “If she didn’t love me… I’d just be here then. I’d be here, with nothing. Here… shrunken.” She giggled while massaging her neck, “Th-That isn’t right. I’m not tiny and alone. I can’t be… I can’t end up stuck like this…”

That amusement paled into a disturbing silence, where even Sierra’s inner thoughts were stalled. A dead gaze went across her bed and to the wall as blank as her expression.

After a long dwelling, Sierra pushed herself messily up from the bed. She grabbed at facts to support herself; even if her relationship were to be ruined with Duval, even if she were alone in this tiny glass-sealed world in a lab, there was always time. She could heal, but most importantly, she would return to normal -- all the subjects. In a matter of years, bitter or otherwise, the project would reach its end, and Sierra could return to her ordinary height. She would get paid, she would grovel back to her family, and she would live on.

There was hardly solace in that realization, but it affirmed her when nothing else could. She still thought long about how Duval acted, and how there felt like an unseen pressure pushed onto the overseer. Ultimately, she both believed and wished that she was wrong about everything. Duval loved her, and she loved Duval. She wanted it to be so simple, or for things to go back to how they were, somehow in a natural way.

The introspection was interrupted by a whine Sierra could not control. She had gone the whole day without eating, but despite what her body craved, she had no will to feed herself. Her thoughts were too full for her to realize, her appetite browbeaten by worry and anxiety. The aching felt good, like a justification, at least so Sierra was able to convince herself.

A new message awaited Duval when she first logged into her office computer. Atop a long list of lab-wide announcements and discussions was an email, sent by one of her own subjects within the terrarium. Immediately did it kick Duval awake with curiosity -- contact such as this was reserved for important notices, anything short of an emergency that could not wait until later.

“Kendall, hm?” Duval said the sender’s name aloud, finding a distant relief in knowing who it was from -- or rather, who it was not from. It had been sent earlier after midnight, a peculiar time for Duval to be needed. She opened the message and read what little was written:

“Hi Overseer Duval! I think Im sending this message correctly but i think its important. Lately ive noticed that my neighbor Sierra has been acting oddly. She looks and sounds sick! I tried getting her to talk to you herself but shes being more stubborn than usual! I hope shes okay. Can you check up on her asap??? I think shes trying to not cause trouble for anyone :( “

A stiffer expression scanned the email a second time, leading Duval to the same concern. It weighed heavy on her heart to worry over Sierra’s well-being, but compounding that was her anxiety of how to proceed. Any emails sent by subjects were also forwarded to the supervisors, denying Duval the chance to take Sierra aside privately. It seemed there were no other solutions, regardless of how she racked her brain for another answer; all she could do was follow protocol and work with the permissions Ericka allowed her.

Duval marched hurriedly through the halls, absorbed into her thoughts. It had been three days since she took Sierra’s vitals, and even back then did she suspect her beloved subject might attempt something. She felt Sierra’s yearning to be with her, but did she crave Duval enough to attempt faking an illness? It was an uncomfortable idea to assume, but so too was it to hope that Sierra was genuinely unwell.

Preparing a serious and stone-like persona coming up to the terrarium room, Duval was first met with Ericka, stationed outside the door expectantly. “Good morning, Ophelia~” the supervisor greeted her. “I suppose you saw the message from, err, Kendal, was it?”

“Kendall, yes,” Duval replied. “I-I appreciate you coming down here to help, but I should be able to handle this. It’s a straightforward procedure, so I--”

“Indeed, very straightforward,” Ericka emphasized. “So I’ll just be right behind you if you need me, ma’am. Lead the way!”

Duval blinked, but there was no breaking from Ericka’s watch. She proceeded inside, fixing her lab coat and applying new gloves as she approached the tabled community. Though she made her footfalls subdued as usual, her entrance still caught heads to turn towards her from within the terrarium. A number of people were already active in the morning, making for an audience Duval would have to speak in front of.

With all eyes on her, including Ericka’s, Duval spoke to her subjects. “Good morning, everyone. It has come to our attention that one among you is... in need of medical attention. As a precaution, I will be escorting the individual to a medbay station. Err… Sierra, could you please step outside?”

Her words stirred not Sierra, but her neighbor to step outside and inspect the situation. Kendall was clearly concerned, looking back between the overseer and Sierra’s home. When there was not an immediate answer, Kendall dashed around their fence and up to Sierra’s door, gesturing to Duval that she would help.

“Sierra? Duval is here-- oh…” By the time Kendall knocked on the door, it had just been opened on the other side. She leaned towards the slither-sized opening, peeking in to find Sierra hanging back in the darkness of her house. Kendall pushed forward an optimistic grin, “Hey~ Are you feeling okay?”

“A-Am I feeling…?” Sierra muttered it back, her glare flickering between different expressions of disdain. “Wh-What is this about…? Kendall, wh-why are they…?”

Kendall winced, still bearing her positive smile. “I-I had to say something,” she explained, “after our talk last night… D-Duval will help you, I bet! She’ll at least make sure you’re not sick--”

“I know I’m not sick, Kendall…!” Sierra whined, but she neither the will nor convenience to argue. She felt the vibration of Duval and Ericka peering overhead, a pressure that pulled her out of the door -- how could she ignore being summoned by two giants? She stepped outside, deciding to display her weary state of being to all those watching. Revealed by the sun-like lamp was a complexion much paler than usual, a hunch in her posture that also affected her gait. She stared up in a squint, her balance only maintained by supporting herself on her porch and eventually a helping hand offered by Kendall.

“S-See? Something isn’t right,” Kendall said, putting an arm around Sierra and urging her down the steps. “C’mon, let’s get you out…”

Sierra was pulled forward, feeling as though she were being dragged to her execution. All of the attention cast onto her by those nearby amplified the very fatigue she was called out for. She shuddered in front of Duval, only able to glance up at the cold expression pointed down at her. It was impossible to tell yet if this was another part of their ongoing curse, or if this was a blessing in disguise, an opportunity for her to be alone with Duval -- similar to that time months ago when she staged breaking her wrist.

But in this circumstance, this was no act; Sierra’s weariness was real, and Duval was cut by what she witnessed. Badly did the overseer want to reach down and lift the little woman into a tender grasp, to cradle her into comfort and provide her with everything she wanted. An apology stammered at her lips, but Ericka’s presence petrified her into the expected rhythm of lab protocol.

“Please, uhm, c-continue into this transport pod,” Duval directed, fetching one from her pocket. She shakily placed it down into the terrarium, right outside Sierra’s lawn. Whether or not this ailment was genuine, Duval found the future ahead to be uncertain and disorienting -- how would Sierra act once they were seemingly alone?

Sierra was strangled by those very same thoughts, silently strapping herself into the pod with Kendall’s assistance. She could not believe it was happening, that Duval was taking her away because of Kendall’s concern, but she could only hope this time with the overseer could be as magical as it once was. It could very well be her only opportunity to be able to speak with Duval personally, and to bring resolution to the vagueness of their relationship.

The transport pod was lowered into a small chamber through an open ceiling -- from outside and above, Sierra only saw glimpses of where she was to be deposited. It resembled the medical station she used once before, but the inside of where she was placed was not as familiar. The pod fitted perfectly into a round divet in the ground, allowing her exit into this garage to be flatter than usual. When Sierra stepped outside, she felt the chill of air conditioning, an indication of how tightly controlled her surroundings were.

A wide, wall-high window stretched around this drop-off station. Sierra saw past the blue tint and out to where Duval and Ericka stood, their torsos side-by-side as they towered next to what was likely a counter that the medbay was on. Not yet instructed where to go or what to do, Sierra shivered by her lonesome; the sight of two giants looming outside a strange, caged environment reminded her distinctly of being surrounded by titanic crowds back at the showcase.

Duval and Ericka exchanged whispered words above the medbay. After flipping to something on her tablet, Duval looked at Sierra through the open ceiling. “Continue through that door on your left,” she explained, “and take a seat on one of the beds.”

“D-Duval?” Sierra spoke up, unsure if she should shout through the glass or up through the ceiling. “Wh-What is this place? I don’t recognize it, I don’t think…” Nonetheless, she opened the door and entered what appeared to be a hospital bedroom. There were two simple beds separated by curtains, a pair of basic chairs around a small table, and a few ordinary appliances for day-to-day living. Tepidly, she still sat herself at the end of one bed, staring outside this room’s wall-high window.

“This is an upgraded medbay station,” Duval answered. “It’s been reserved for critical situations, but… we’re using it now in response to nearly all medical situations, when possible.”

Sierra quietly repeated that word; “critical.” Her fingers played with one another nervously. “Duval, I-I’m… am I going to be okay?”

“Oh, dear…” Duval bit her lip and knelt closer to the medbay, enough that her sympathetic expression filled the window. “I-It’s going to be okay, Sierra. I’ll--” She stopped when Ericka pulled lightly on her shoulder, gesturing for her to rise up to full height. As if being stolen away by Ericka, Sierra watched as Duval’s face lifted back out of view. “Er… We’re going to do some scans, and ask a few questions regarding your health and behavior. Please… lay flat on your back, and be as still as you can for a minute.”

As usual, Sierra obeyed, stretching her weak body out on the mattress. A machine hanging above her buzzed with activity as it began its scan. While it did so, Sierra’s worry festered over Ericka’s involvement. With her being there, she and Duval would never have a moment alone together, prompting her to boldly ask, “Does… Einhorn need to be here? Or, is this part of some research…?”

“Oh, mm…” Duval thought to ask Ericka herself, but she imagined another cool hand pulling her shoulder. “Einhorn is just here to… well…” She stopped; what was Ericka here for? Duval knew well that she was here to monitor the process, but how could she explain that to Sierra?

Fortunately, Ericka had her own answer. “Am I too much?” she half-jokingly asked, a hand over her chest in amusement. “I don’t mean to stress anyone out by being here. Duval, you won’t need me for anything, will you?”

“I-I… No, I don’t believe so.” Duval’s fingers curled tight on the tablet.

“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Ericka decided, stepping backwards from the counter. Sierra watched in stillness, surprised at how easily the supervisor would give in like this, until she heard her continue: “I’ll review everything later this afternoon. Stay positive, Sierra! Duval will make sure you’re feeling better than ever.”

Ericka then left the room, but her aura lingered after what she had stated. Sierra was not alone in feeling this way, as Duval shuddered after the door closed and she turned back to the medbay. The imminent awkward silence was luckily relieved by a ping. “Ah, th-the results…” Duval stammered, as if beeped back into reality. “Y-You can rise now, Sierra. You can change into a medbay gown, i-if you’d prefer.”

Sierra remained quiet, unsure yet if now was her chance to speak to Duval openly -- since Duval continued to act so steely, she assumed it was not. She followed along, grabbing a gown off from a shelf and unfolding it in front of herself. A glance past it saw Duval’s torso again outside the window, but Sierra wished to be watched, wanting that attention while she changed. Slowly, she undid her jacket and continued to the rest of her clothes, biding every second she could.

“Does that report… say anything?” Sierra inquired, not wanting to live in silence all this time. “I-I dunno what could have happened to make me feel this way…”

Duval reviewed the report from her tablet. “There’s… notable weight loss,” she began, finding that to be the most pressing detail. “Signs of dehydration, as well… Have you been eating less?”

Sierra was grateful that her flinch went unseen. Having her shirt halfway over her head, she lied, “I’ve been eating like normal, p-pretty much.” Her pants slid down her legs, leaving her exposed in just her underwear -- yet Duval still would not look, no matter how badly Sierra silently wished she would. “I’ve felt really low energy these last few-- well… this last week, really. Since the showcase…”

Duval bit her lip while a finger stalled at a point on her screen. That hint did not go undetected by her -- Sierra was still attached to that night. She closed her eyes and tried to sort her emotions, but ultimately, she lacked the words to speak to Sierra. In truth, she lacked the ability to speak, shackled by workplace restraints.

“... There should be a computer you can use between the beds,” Duval continued. “We will have to run some extensive tests. Your condition is… somewhat serious. There will be--”

“Duval…! I-I’m…” Sierra hugged the unworn gown against her chest and leaned against the window. Her hand pressed into the glass in a vain stretch towards Duval. “... Can’t we talk?”

“There will be time for discussion later, Sierra,” Duval replied plainly. “If it does not relate to your condition, then please… please refrain from d-distracting me, or anyone that might be helping you.”

“Am I distracting you?” Sierra was appalled, her hand slipping down the pane.

“N-No, you’re not, but…” Duval stepped aside and sighed away from the medbay. She pivoted completely, burning with uncertainty. “But for now, I… need you to cooperate. It’s… for your safety, Sierra. Try to understand.”

Sierra trembled, arguments in her head unwilling to be voiced. Her forehead dropped against the window, and when pushed off from it, she looked again up to Duval. It was so little, almost meaningless, but she had at least earned Duval’s face, the overseer having leaned down slightly to her level.

“I-I’m nervous, Duval,” Sierra whimpered. Her hand tapped the window in a little rhythm, pressed harder against it than before. Her eyes spoke volumes with how much want there was in their shine.

Duval took notice of what Sierra was trying to signal. She lifted her own finger, opposite of Sierra’s hand, and-- it curled back down, and Duval craned up to her full height. Sierra only wanted to feel her touch through the window, but even that was denied to her. Wordlessly, Duval shifted over to a computer, leaving Sierra at the medbay -- an unbearable distance between them, only arms length away, yet separated far from one another.